#source : calm me down // mother mother

[ciitedexcerpt]

Don't wanna break when I bend.

[bergamotmandarin]

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Anxious Attachment Style

Common Anxious Thoughts, Emotions, and Reactions

THOUGHTS

Mind reading: "That’s it, I know s/he’s leaving me."

All-or-nothing thinking: "I’ve ruined everything, there’s nothing I can do to mend the situation."

"I’ll never find anyone else."

"I knew this was too good to last."

"I have to talk to or see him/her right now."

"S/he can’t treat me this way! I’ll show him/her!"

"S/he is so amazing, why would s/he want to be with me anyway?"

"I knew something would go wrong; nothing ever works out right for me."

"S/he’d better come crawling back to beg my forgiveness, otherwise s/he can forget about me forever."

"Maybe if I look drop-dead gorgeous or act seductive, things will work out."

Remembering all the good things your partner ever did and said after calming down from a fight.

Recalling only the bad things your partner has ever done when you’re fighting.

EMOTIONS

Sad ⚜ Angry ⚜ Fearful ⚜ Resentful ⚜ Frustrated

Hopeless ⚜ Despairing ⚜ Jealous ⚜ Hostile ⚜ Vengeful

Guilty ⚜ Self-loathing ⚜ Restless ⚜ Uneasy ⚜ Humiliated

Hate-filled ⚜ Uncertain ⚜ Agitated ⚜ Rejected ⚜ Depressed

Unloved ⚜ Lonely ⚜ Misunderstood ⚜ Unappreciated

ACTIONS

Act out. ⚜ Attempt to reestablish contact at any cost.

Pick a fight. ⚜ Threaten to leave.

Wait for them to make the first reconciliation move.

Act hostile—roll eyes, look disdainful.

Try to make him/her feel jealous.

Act busy or unapproachable. ⚜ Act manipulatively.

Withdraw—stop talking to their partner or turn away from him/her physically.

Attachment classifications come from watching babies’ behavior.

Below is a short description of how anxious attachment style is defined in children. Some of their responses can also be detected in adults who share the same attachment style.

This baby becomes extremely distressed when mommy leaves the room.

When her mother returns, she reacts ambivalently—she is happy to see her but angry at the same time.

She takes longer to calm down, and even when she does, it is only temporary.

A few seconds later, she’ll angrily push mommy away, wriggle down, and burst into tears again.

Where Do Attachments Styles Come From?

Initially it was assumed that adult attachment styles were primarily a product of your upbringing.

Thus, it was hypothesized that your current attachment style is determined by the way in which you were cared for as a baby:

If your parents were sensitive, available, and responsive, you should have a secure attachment style; if they were inconsistently responsive, you should develop an anxious attachment style; and if they were distant, rigid, and unresponsive, you should develop an avoidant attachment style.

Today, however, we know that attachment styles in adulthood are influenced by a variety of factors, one of which is the way our parents cared for us, but other factors also come into play, including our genes and life experiences.

Source ⚜ More: On Attachment ⚜ References ⚜ Avoidant Attachment

[03jyh23]

— starlight, guide light, and everything in between || jeong yunho

In the quiet moments of parenthood, amidst the tears and the laughter, we find strength in each other's arms, and love that knows no bounds.

first-time dad!yunho x first-time mom!reader

genre: angst, fluff

trigger warnings: infant distress/crying; illegitimate child; parental anxiety/panic; emotional distress; breastfeeding; postpartum experiences

words: 3.8 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! the time has finally come, and im publishing my first Yunho fic 🥹 lately, some kind of maternal instinct seems to have awakened in me, and i had to get it out somehow 😭😭 i guess im getting old. just to clarify, i haven't given birth myself or have kids, so this fic is solely written based on my imagination of what it might feel like postpartum.

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i'd be so grateful for a little love – a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

You were dozing off wrapped in Yunho’s arms, your head in the crook of his neck, his smell calming your tired body. Your eyes were heavy, and it was getting harder to fight sleep. His hand was creasing your sides softly, lulling you to sleep. Being curled up on top of your boyfriend was your favorite place on earth. There was something incredibly comforting about being wrapped up in Yunho’s arms, feeling his warmth and steady heartbeat. It's like your own little sanctuary, a safe place where you can let go of all your worries and just be present in the moment. And falling asleep like that, with the gentle rhythm of Yunho's breathing and the soft touch of his hand, felt like drifting off into a dreamland.

It was a little over a month since your life was turned upside down when your little daughter was born. In that short period, every aspect of your world had shifted, reshaped by the arrival of this tiny, precious bundle of joy. The days had blurred together in a whirlwind of feedings, diaper changes, and sleepless nights. Yet amidst the chaos, there were moments of pure magic—how your daughter's eyes would light up with wonder at the world around her, the soft coos and gurgles that melted your heart, and the overwhelming sense of love that filled every corner of your home. But alongside the joy, there were also moments of doubt and uncertainty. Yunho, however, was deeply scared and anxious about becoming a father to a daughter. The mere thought of holding the fragile little being, feeding her, or changing her, filled him with a sense of fear and hesitation. It almost seemed like he was unable, or unwilling, to form an emotional bond with the newborn. This emotional disconnect was not just limited to the baby. Ever since you gave birth, a sense of apprehension and fear had gripped him. It was as if he was afraid to hold you, to touch you, and to confront the changes that your body had undergone postpartum.

The vulnerability that came with postpartum recovery was like nothing you had ever experienced before. Your body felt foreign, every movement was accompanied by a dull ache, a reminder of the physical toll that bringing your daughter into the world had exacted. But it wasn't just the physical changes that left you feeling vulnerable—it was the emotional upheaval as well. The hormonal fluctuations, the sleep deprivation, the overwhelming responsibility of caring for a newborn—all of it combined to create a perfect storm of doubt and insecurity. In those moments of vulnerability, you had expected Yunho to be your rock, your unwavering source of support and comfort. Yet, his actions—or rather, his lack of them—left you feeling more alone than ever. His hesitation to hold your daughter, and his reluctance to look at your postpartum body, all served as a painful reminder of your perceived shortcomings as a mother and a partner. You couldn't help but wonder if Yunho found you unlovable now if the changes wrought by childbirth had somehow diminished your worth in his eyes. It was a cruel thought, born out of fear and insecurity, but it lingered nonetheless, festering like an open wound in your heart. You couldn't help but feel a sense of helplessness wash over you. The distance between you and your boyfriend felt insurmountable, a gaping chasm that threatened to swallow you whole.

That's why today's little nap meant everything to you. For the first time since the birth of Yunmi, Yunho was holding you like this, providing you with the comfort and warmth you longed for.

"Wait, did you hear that?" Yunho’s soft voice disrupted your nap. Not in your right state of mind yet, you just hummed against his neck, your eyes not opening even for a second. With a gentle hand, Yunho shifted you slightly, allowing himself to slip out from beneath your embrace. As he rose from the bed, you blinked groggily, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to your senses.

"What is it?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. Yunho's expression was one of quiet concern as he motioned towards the crib.

"I think she's awake," he whispered, his tone barely audible in the dimly lit room. Your exhaustion weighed heavily on every limb, making even the simplest tasks seem daunting. With a weariness that seemed to seep into your bones, you clung to the pillows, seeking refuge in their soft embrace.

"Could you get her?" you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse murmur, as you heard the soft cry emanating from the crib. You mustered all your strength to sit up and shake off the tiredness as you looked at Yunho standing still next to the crib, almost as if he was unable to move any closer. Each cry felt like a dagger to your heart, a reminder of your inability to provide the comfort that your daughter so desperately needed.

"I think it's better if you take her," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, his gaze fixed on the wall as if unwilling to meet your eyes. The words struck you like a slap in the face, igniting a firestorm of indignation deep within your chest. Yunho's refusal to take Yunmi stirred a storm of emotions within you. Anger, frustration, hurt—all of it boiled beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment. How could he still refuse to take responsibility for his own daughter? How could he stand there, staring blankly ahead, while you bore the brunt of exhaustion and fatigue?

"Yunho, how can you—" you began as you stood up from the bed, your voice trembling with emotion, but the words caught in your throat, choked off by the weight of your anger and hurt. Tears welled in your eyes, hot and stinging, as you struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. As you approached the crib, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you fought to maintain control. You leaned over the crib to take Yunmi into your arms and care for her. With a shaky breath, you turned away from Yunho, cradling your daughter close to your chest as you retreated to the living room. You weren't surprised that Yunho stayed behind in the bedroom, his presence a silent reminder of the distance that had grown between you. With a heavy heart, you settled onto the couch, cradling Yunmi in your arms as you prepared to breastfeed her. Your daughter's eyelids drooped as she nursed, the weight of exhaustion finally catching up to her. With each gentle suckle, she grew more and more drowsy, her tiny fingers curling against your skin in a gesture of contentment. As you watched her drift off to sleep, a pang of guilt tugged at your heart. You had expected Yunho to be there for you, to support you through the challenges of motherhood, yet time and time again, he had fallen short of your expectations. Yunmi finally drifted off to sleep, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. With a weary sigh, you leaned back against the pillows, holding your daughter close as you closed your eyes, allowing the exhaustion of the day to finally claim you.

You opened your eyes to see Yunho carefully lifting your daughter from your arms, his movements a mix of awkwardness and tenderness. Despite his initial hesitance, there was a determination in the way he cradled her against his chest as if he wanted to make up for any shortcomings. As he tiptoed back into the bedroom, you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth in your heart. Despite the challenges you faced, seeing Yunho taking care of your daughter for what you believed was the first time, filled you with hope for the future. You listened as Yunho gently placed your daughter in her crib, his voice humming a soft lullaby as he tucked her in. Drifting back to sleep, you were roused once more by Yunho's quiet voice emanating from the bedroom.

"I have so much I want to say to you," he whispered, his voice barely above a hushed murmur. Yunho gazed down at Yunmi, her small form tucked snugly into her crib, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. ''I'm so sorry for letting you, and your mommy down since day one...'' A sense of awe washed over him as he watched his daughter, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "You're my little starlight, and I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. Yunmi is Daddy's precious, shining light in the darkness." He reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from her forehead, his touch feather-light against her soft skin. "Daddy is really so sorry," he continued, his voice thick with emotion. "Sorry for all the times I've been afraid, for all the moments I've missed. I want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world, and I'll do whatever it takes to be the father you deserve." As he spoke, he felt a surge of love and determination welling up inside him, a newfound sense of purpose ignited by the presence of his daughter. In her innocent slumber, he saw the promise of a future filled with endless possibilities, a future that he vowed to protect and nurture with all his heart. "I may not have all the answers, and I will make mistakes along the way," he whispered, his voice trembling with sincerity. "But I promise to always be here for you, to love you unconditionally, and to cherish every moment we share." With a tender smile, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin for a moment longer. "I love you and Mommy so much. Sleep well, my little starlight," he whispered his voice a soft lullaby that filled the bedroom with warmth and love. "And know that Daddy will always be here, watching over you, every step of the way. From now on Daddy will do his best." As Yunho's words echoed in the quiet of the apartment, you felt a mix of emotions welling up inside you, threatening to overflow. Tears streamed down your face, unnoticed in the darkness, as a tumultuous storm of feelings raged within your heart. Anger simmered beneath the surface, directed not at Yunho, but at yourself. How could you have been so blind to his struggles, so oblivious to the pain he had been carrying? You berated yourself for not recognizing the signs sooner, for not being there for him when he needed you most. But amidst the anger, there was also a profound sense of relief—a weight lifting from your shoulders as you finally understood the depth of Yunho's feelings. For the first time since your daughter was born, you felt truly connected to him, bound together by the shared experience of parenthood and the raw vulnerability of exposing one's innermost fears. And beneath it all, there was love—a love that transcended words and actions, a love that bound you together despite the challenges you faced. Despite the tears and the turmoil, there was a sense of gratitude in knowing that you were not alone—that together, you could weather any storm that came your way.

A little while later, you heard Yunho returning to the living room, his footsteps soft against the floor. A pang of guilt tugged at your heart as you pretended to be asleep, not wanting him to know that you had overheard his heartfelt words to your daughter. You quickly wiped your tears, and kept your breathing slow and steady, willing yourself to remain still as Yunho approached the couch. Soon, his arms enveloped you in a gentle embrace, lifting you bridal-style and carrying you back to your shared bedroom. Settling you onto the bed, he tucked you in with care, ensuring you were comfortable before gently placing the duvet over you. His touch was tender, his actions speaking volumes of his love and devotion. Yunho pressed down a warm kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment against your skin.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion against your forehead. "I'm just so scared to be a father," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "Scared to hurt her, to make mistakes that she'll never forgive." You felt the weight of his fear pressing down on you, his vulnerability laying bare the depths of his insecurities. With each word, it was as if a window had been opened to his soul, revealing the raw, unfiltered truth of his innermost thoughts and feelings. "I want to be the best father I can be, but... but what if I'm not enough?" His voice cracked with the weight of his uncertainty, his words echoing in the stillness of the room. And then, you felt it—a single tear falling onto your temple, a silent testament to the depth of his pain and fear. In that moment, your heart broke for him, for the struggles he faced and the burdens he carried. "And you," Yunho continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "you've been amazing since day one. I've watched you, seen the way you care for her with such love and devotion. It's like you were born to be a mother, and... and I can't help but feel like I'm falling short." Yunho longed to be the pillar of support you needed, the rock upon which your family could lean in times of trouble. But with each passing day, the weight of his insecurities grew heavier, threatening to crush him beneath their burden. "I'm still so afraid," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper now. "Afraid of letting you down, of letting Yunmi down. But I promise, I'll keep trying. I'll do whatever it takes to be the father she deserves, even if... even if it scares me to my core." In the darkness of the bedroom, his words hung heavy in the air. "I love you so much, Y/N, and I will do better, I will be the support you need." Yunho's voice broke through the silence once again, his words filled with sincerity and remorse.

"And I love you," you finally whispered, your voice filled with tenderness and affection. With a gentle touch, you reached out to wipe away the tears that streaked Yunho's cheeks, your fingers tracing the contours of his face with utmost care.

"You've been awake the entire time?" Yunho's voice broke the silence, his words carrying a mixture of surprise and relief. A shy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze as he met your eyes. You returned his smile, the warmth of his presence washing over you like a gentle breeze.

"Yes," you admitted softly, your voice filled with understanding. "I heard everything." There was no judgment in your words, no recrimination for his vulnerability. Instead, there was only acceptance—a shared acknowledgment of the complexities of love and the struggles that came with it. Yunho's smile widened, a sense of gratitude shining in his eyes.

"Thank you for listening," he whispered, his lips placing yet another kiss on your forehead. "And for being here with me." You reached out to him, your hand finding his in the darkness, a silent reassurance of your love and support.

"Always," you whispered, your voice filled with unwavering devotion. "I'll always be here for you, Yunho. Through thick and thin." Yunho creased your cheek gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "And now get under the covers with me," you giggled mischievously, reaching out to pull Yunho close by his neck. With a playful tug, you caught him off guard, pulling him towards you until he landed on top of you with a soft thud. Yunho's eyes widened in surprise, a startled laugh escaping his lips as he found himself sprawled across the bed, his gaze locked with yours.

"You little trickster," he chuckled, his voice filled with amusement as he shifted to settle beside you under the covers. With a grin, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close until your bodies were pressed together in a warm embrace. The feel of his warmth against your skin sent a shiver of delight down your spine, a feeling of contentment settling over you like a soft blanket. "I haven't kissed you in forever," Yunho murmured, his voice laced with longing as he gazed into your eyes with a mixture of affection and desire. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your heart fluttering at the thought of his lips against yours.

"Then what are you waiting for?" you teased as you leaned in closer to him. With a tender touch, Yunho cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he drew you closer to him. And then, with a gentle tilt of his head, his lips met yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. At that moment, as you melted into each other's embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the warmth and intimacy of the moment. As you pulled away, breathless and flushed with emotion, you felt a sense of completeness wash over you—a reminder that no matter how long it had been since your last kiss, the love you shared was as strong and passionate as ever. A playful sparkle danced in your eyes as you posed the question, your curiosity piqued by Yunho's endearing nickname for your daughter.

"If she's your starlight, then what does it make me?" you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice as you awaited his response. Yunho's gaze softened as he looked at you, a tender smile gracing his lips.

"You," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection, "you're my guiding light. The one that leads me home, no matter how lost I may feel." Your boyfriend's words washed over you like a gentle caress, filling you with a sense of warmth and love. With a smile of your own, you leaned in closer to him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

"And you," you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "you're my everything." And as you melted into each other's embrace, surrounded by the quiet intimacy of the night, you knew that no matter what the future held, as long as you had each other, you could weather any storm that came your way.

The sound of Yunmi's cries pierced through the tranquility of the night, pulling you from the depths of sleep with a jolt. You moved to rise from the bed, instinctively driven to tend to your daughter's needs. But before you could fully untangle yourself from the sheets, Yunho's firm grip on your arm halted your movements.

"I'll get her," he murmured, his voice filled with determination as he gently pulled you back towards the bed. You hesitated for a moment, torn between the instinctual urge to rush to Yunmi's side and the desire to trust Yunho to handle the situation. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a steely resolve there—a determination to prove himself as a capable dad, despite his fears and insecurities. With a silent nod, you allowed yourself to sink back onto the bed, the warmth of Yunho's presence comforting you as you watched him rise to tend to your daughter. As he crossed the room to Yunmi's crib, you couldn't help but feel a surge of pride welling up within you—a recognition of the strength and courage it took for him to step up and take on the role of caregiver. Yunho took her in his arms, gently and tenderly, almost as if he were afraid that his touch alone might hurt her. He held Yunmi close to his chest, rocking gently from side to side, he tried to calm his daughter, yet Yunho's panic escalated as Yunmi's cries persisted, his worry evident in the trembling of his hands and the furrow of his brow.

"Is she okay?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

"She's probably just hungry," you reassured him gently as you stood up for the bed, understanding the depth of his concern. But before you could offer to nurse her yourself, Yunho's response caught you off guard.

"Oh..." he trailed off, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I can't breastfeed her," he murmured, the realization dawning on him as he grappled with the limitations of his role as a father. You reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

"It's okay, baby," you assured him softly. "There are other ways you can help soothe her. We can prepare a bottle together, or you can hold her close while I feed her. What's important is that we're both here for her." Yunho nodded, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and gratitude.

"Thank you," Yunho whispered, his voice filled with emotion as he passed Yunmi gently into your arms, his eyes still big with worry. "Should I prepare a bottle for her?" You smiled softly at his eagerness to help, appreciating his willingness to step up despite his initial panic.

"I think I'll just breastfeed her for now," you replied, your voice gentle and reassuring. "But thank you for offering." Yunho nodded, a sense of relief washing over him as he watched you cradle Yunmi close, the familiarity of the bond between mother and daughter bringing him a sense of comfort. As you settled into the comfortable position, you nursed Yunmi, Yunho remained by your side, offering silent support and encouragement. As you nursed Yunmi, the gentle rhythm of her feeding lulled both her and Yunho into a peaceful slumber. The soft sounds of her contented suckling mixed with the steady beat of their breathing, creating a tranquil symphony that filled the room. With Yunmi cradled in your arms and Yunho nestled close beside you, you felt a profound sense of contentment wash over you. The warmth of their bodies against yours, the softness of their breath against your skin—it was a moment of pure serenity, a snapshot of the quiet joy that parenthood brought. You allowed yourself to bask in the tranquility of the moment, relishing the feeling of being surrounded by the ones you loved most in the world. In the soft glow of the morning light, you watched over them with a heart full of love, knowing that in this simple embrace, you had everything you ever needed.

"Be patient with him. He's trying," you whispered to your daughter, the words soft and tender as you gazed down at her sleeping form.

[thatgenericwriter]

I'm Eepy || Gregory House

Paring: Dr. Gregory House x fem! reader

Summary: House and the reader have a 4 year old child that definitely takes after her father

Warnings: Children, House, Swearing

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You took your eyes away from your kid for 10 seconds. 10 fucking seconds! And when you turned around she was no longer playing with her monster trucks by the nurse's station. You immediately start to panic, frantically searching the entire floor you're on.

Normally you wouldn't be this panic, she runs off all the time, except the last time she wandered off in the hospital she got into the drawers of a patient's room and almost took an entire bottle of pills thinking they were candy.

You collect House's fellows and make them split into teams, sending them to scour the different floors in search of your daughter. By this point, you're on the verge of a panic attack. Your daughter is missing in a giant hospital with so many ways of hurting herself, or getting kidnapped, or just leaving on her own, or---

Your hysterical train of thought is interrupted when you hear your name called out from behind you. Whipping around you find that the source of voice is none other than House. You practically sprint towards him throwing yourself into his arms.

"She's missing and I can't find her and I have everyone looking for her and she's gone and I'm an awful mother and I should have never let her out of my site and how could I---."

"Calm down!" House pushes you back slightly and leans down to be face-to-face with you. "I know where she is."

You look into his eyes before punching him in the shoulder. "Why the FUCK did you not tell me that in the first place!"

"Well I was going to but then someone got all weepy and pathetic so I didn't get the chance."

You roll your eyes at him and scoff, but then you lean back in for another hug. You feel him run his hand along your back soothingly before pulling away and turning towards the elevator.

"Come on I have Thirteen and Kutner watching her right now, but I'm not sure how long they can last around her before their feeling are hurt so bad they cast her out of my office."

You grab his hand and walk to the elevator while picturing your daughter making fun of Thirteen and Kutner. She definitely took after her father in the 'making others feel like trash for fun' category. Something you were trying to teach out of her, but someone keeps teaching her more and more curse words.

As the elevator doors open you let go of House's hand and run to his office. You throw the door open and look around for your daughter. All of the fellows have gathered at the table and give you sushing gestures before pointing behind you.

You turn around to find your daughter lounged in House's yellow chair, her eyes fighting to stay open. You quietly walk through the connecting door and crouch by your daughter's head.

"Hey pretty girl," you stroke her hair lovingly, "you know you can't run off like that. Mommy was so scared. You don't want to scare me do you?"

She groggily shakes her head no before letting out a yawn. "I'm sorry Mommy, but I'm soooooo eepy."

You shake your head with a small smile before kissing your daughter's head lightly and watch as her eyes finally close. Standing up you turn and look through the glass to see House standing there looking at you and your daughter with the most content look you've ever seen on his face.

Turning off the lights and closing the blinds you give one last look at your daughter before walking through the conjoing door and into House's awaiting arms.

"Get a room you two!" Everyone whips their head around to Chase with a furious look on their face.

"Shhhhhhhhh!"

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Author's note: i did not prof read this so if it sucks don't tell me... also I'm going to write more I swear! plz be patient with me as I get through requests!!

[ghostarii]

ECSTASY, FULL OF FREEDOM, PIERRO & CHILDE

ʚɞ unbound in the throes of ecstasy; free from strenuous morality and worldly tethers, you are where you belong. he knows your heart is strung on another, but he also knows that he can’t please you the way he can.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, stepcest, AGE GAP!!!, stepdad!pierro, ft. boyfriend!childe, ddlg themes, daddy kink, spit, possessive!pierro, infidelity, fingering, exhibitionism, face - fucking, dacryphilia, breeding, dry humping, manipulation, corruption kink, finger - sucking, cum eating / swallowing, spanking, praise, degradation, pet names, orgasm ruining / control, just.. just icky pierro, minors & dc antis do not interact.

NOTE ݈݇- ummmm 😅😅😅 welcum back me i guess ! ! !this is prob the most debauched thing ive ever written so nice comments n reblogs would be happily appreciated :3 this went a totally different way than i planned toward the end n it got pretty rushed but i hope u guys like it anyway

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 10.2k

BURNING, WHITE, HEAT. A surge of hellfire courses through your veins and it takes every semblance of power in you to not explode. Your thighs are tightly clenched, attempting to crush his ministrations but dexterous fingers are lengthy enough to continuously tease you. A featherlight brushing against your folds is enough to make you shiver against the warmth. You damn near slam your elbow on top of the table and bash your forehead against your palm, hiding the pleasure on your face as best as you can.

Pierro thinks you must figure him as a fool. He must be stupid to you—a blind idiot—if you think you can get away with this. He stifles down a grunt of disbelief with a sip of his water, deciding to no longer pay attention to the slight quakes of your body.

His eyes are instead fixed on the source of your tremors: the smug redhead who thinks he’s so clever. His left arm lightly jitters behind the table and if he were an idiot, Pierro might have ignored it. He might have ignored how close you two got. He might have even ignored the moans you quietly let slip. But he is no idiot. He is perceptive and right now, he is very angry.

He tries to hide it, to keep the daggers he stares at bay but his patience is thinning by the minute. Ignorance cannot be bliss when it is infiltrated—Pierro tries to turn a blind eye to your deeds but he is not allowed to. When the quiet of the upscale restaurant meets its lowest and your conversation has briefly halted for the allowance of enjoying your meal, his ears can pick up the leaking, sticky path your boyfriend’s fingers take. The sudden hitch in your breath and the calm slosh, slosh from between your legs is a dead giveaway and he can't help but look. He can't help but chew the inside of his cheek instead of his steak and grunt. Anything but, and he might blow the lid off his pristine demeanor.

Those eyes are sharp and you narrowly avoid their threat. You keep your eyes straight and only rarely do you spend a glance at Ajax. He finds pleasure in the way you tighten around his fingers when he presses that spot, right when your mother inquires about another insignificant detail about his life. He likes how you scratch the denim of his pants instead of the table, wordlessly begging him to stop as he brings you closer and closer—

It feels too good; the edging, the twirling, the danger—it births a reward too precious to sacrifice and that's why you don't stop him. You soil your panties and make a fool of yourself, making your mother pause the conversation one too many times to clarify your well-being. It’d be humiliating if it didn't feel so good.

With your thighs tightly clasped around his wrist and your heartbeat pounding through your clit, your orgasm just teeters at the edge, stray streams leaking to be caught on Ajax’s hand. He sends you a look of faux concern and you can just barely fight the urge to bare two rows of teeth at him menacingly.

Pierro, who has utterly capped his limit on how much of this shit he can take, opens his mouth to spew a question that may just humiliate you if you don't play your cards right. He’s a jest—his fun derives from the toil of others and you are his perfect target right now. Serves you right.

The words are quickly snatched from his mouth to his wife’s as soon as the words form on his tongue. A look of disdain is fought off as she tenderly asks you for the nth time, “Are you sure you’re feeling well, sweetie?”

You can lie to her with no problem. To him is where the difficulty arises and this moment, where your eyes have glossed and your body has folded, he could have blown up your whole spot. Ajax plays off the hand between your legs as though it’s on your stomach, using his right hand to gently rest against your shoulder and slowly pull you up.

She’s the idiot Ajax thinks Pierro is. The kind, not-all-there, and not wholly caring idiot who lets dirt build right under her nose—it’s no surprise that she lets you off with that pitiful “I’m okay…just some bad cramping,”.

“I’m sorry,” you breathlessly apologize, presumably coming down from your high. “I should…I think we should cut this short. I’m honestly not feeling too well…”

“Are you sure? You don't..wanna finish..?” Ajax asks you. The smile he hides peeks out behind his feigned frown and the innuendo immediately dawns on you.

Flustered and more embarrassed than you thought you would have been, you lock in your eyes a pitiful stare of Enough. As if that would stop his torment.

His hand slides from between your legs and rests against your thigh, sticky, wet fingertips tapping against your thigh…taunting you. Questioning you.

Your mother patiently awaits your answer as her eyes swivel around in search of a waiter while Pierro continues his glaring assault. There's a narrowing of his eyes that he continuously enacts, as if to warn you, to beg you to try it if you dare. Disobeying him is a thing you've never done but this sly motherfucker beside you has pushed you to try your luck.

“I mean…I do want to—but, I don't think I can. At least, not here, not right now…” you slide your bottom lip between your teeth gingerly, pleading eyes boring into Ajax’s. A look that’s commonly reserved for Pierro, and for the first time, angers him to see it.

Ajax fights back his grin but fails desperately. He nods, turning to face your mother and stepfather. “Well, we should get the princess home and taken care of, shouldn't we?”

Your mother takes the time to gush, drawing out an amused awwww at the pair of you, wrapping around her husband's arm and leaning against it. “How sweet! Isn't he sweet, Pi?”

Staring directly at you, with nothing but a blatant grimace, Pierro nods. “Very sweet.”

Timidly, you avoid his gaze. It does you no favor, either way.

She continues her rambling and all of it goes in one ear and out of the other. Pierro cannot stop staring. Ajax whispering in your ear and the grip you have on his shirt. The glisten that’s wiped off his fingers and thrown haphazardly atop his meal scraps. The devious, wide smile that hasn't been shaken this entire encounter…

Pierro has never wanted to slap someone more. Even more so, he’s never been this angry with you.

“You got the bill, right, hon?” Your mom asks him, the first one of her sentences to penetrate his thoughts.

You and Ajax are standing beside the table now, his hand comfortably resting low on your hip and your body slotted against his. From where he sits, Pierro can smell you. The familiar, decadent sweetness wasted against your thighs calling out to his memory and begging the perversion to rise from the dark recesses and take you against the table— and it only gets worse when he raises his sight to look at you, only to be able to catch the slightest glimpse of your soaked panties pushed to the side.

He looks you in the eyes, a look you hate to see awaiting you when you return the favor.

Pierro nods, turning to your mother with an almost pained smile. “Of course.”

Back to the two of you, gaze sharpened and narrowed, he continues, “You two should go on ahead.”

Ajax is quick to take the dismissal with a cheery grin. One that—more than anything else tonight—pisses Pierro off. “Ah, thanks, Mr. A! Here,” he takes a minute to fish his wallet out of his pocket, “For our part and the tip,”

To you, his attention turns. “Are you ready to go?”

You say nothing but nod instead. Your eyes can't help but surf to your stepdad and you almost offer him a look of pity—a gleam of sorry in your eyes. He spares you not a single look, and with Ajax’s upbeat parting words, the two of you slip away hand-in-hand.

Your mother’s smile is proud. It’s proud, and certain, and genuine, and it makes Pierro angry. Right now, he could expose you to your mother and make everything worse.

“I like him, hon. For her, especially…I’d say it’s perfect but I don't wanna jinx it,” your mother giggles. Pierro’s eye twitches. It takes everything in him to relax because, truly, Ajax has done nothing wrong.

He might be nothing short of perfect and possibly the best thing that could ever happen to you and yet, Pierro can't find it in himself to be happy. That anger is a gnarled form of envy that paints him green. And it’s by the grace of God that nobody but the only one who matters can see that fervent shade on his skin.

He keeps up the charade with your mother with another strained smile. “Yeah, good for her.” He sounds less than enthused but for her sake, she does not pry.

Pierro wants to hate Ajax. It makes it so much harder that he cannot.

━━━━━━

Pierro’s eyes are a beautiful shade of blue. A crystalline gleam—meant to light up under the sky and shimmer like a star of hope. Looking into his eyes gives a cool mystique that urges you to get lost in them. Oftentimes, you do, finding that at the end, awaits you is a warmth far too comforting.

It’s different when those eyes glare back at you. Boring into your very being with a scrutinizing narrowing over every little mistake. The dimness of the house intensifies their stare to the point that you can feel them before you see them.

Your breathing is almost shallow as you trek up the stairs and your eyes are wide and shifty. Your heartbeat has turned irregular and is skipping beats—the mere uncertainty he imposes working overtime in unnerving you. Pierro is not nice when things don't go his way. Even worse, he’s unpredictable. Mostly, he’s vile.

What awaits you is only a mystery that you wish to leave boxed.

Approaching him at the top of the stairs, you slide your hand into his gingerly, hoping that the kindness will grant you some leniency. “I’m sorry I’m late..” you gulp. “I— We— Ajax had stopped to—”

With your hand in his, Pierro has power over your autonomy. He pulls you into him, using his left hand to slot against your waist and hold you against him. Everything he does is in complete silence and it unsettles you.

His eyes rake over you time and time again in the same span of seconds. Your face, near fearful and apologetic, to your upper body, stiff and unsure, to your lower half, turned in on itself and now, of all times, prioritizing modesty. Now, you seem to have an ounce of shame and Pierro can't call it anything but pitiful.

He lets a beat of silence pass with you in his arms. “You’ve disappointed me.”

You part your lips in a silent gasp, wholly surprised that he hasn't tossed you around yet. To his statement, you respond with a light clutch of his button-up — and to that, Pierro huffs. He’s not hearing your crocodile tears and unenthused excuses so you can save it.

“I’m upset that you let that happen. You let him touch you like that in front of me…” His fingers tickle up your back and you instinctively press into him more. A frown stretches over your face - mostly out of concern for where this is leading. Partially because his words genuinely do hold weight.

Raising your head to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry, Daddy,” leaves your mouth incredibly timidly.

His eyes are softer when meeting yours. It almost seems as though he’s immediately forgiven you and in the wake of that thought, you feel better. You feel like leaning into him further is no longer a gesture of fear but comfort. So you lean impossibly closer, nuzzling your head against his chest comfortably. His feigned sense of security has you under his palm like an idiot — a blind fool in the lion’s den.

“Did you like it? Did it feel good…better?” He purrs, lips moving against your head as he kisses you. That's enough to muffle his words but you hear him clearly. The tenderness he exudes works to juxtapose against his instigating words.

“Well…”

“Well?” He catches your trail. He tightens his arms around your body and traps you against him.

It’s almost oppressive; you’d say so if it wasn't for the familiarity it brings. But it contrasts with the grit in his tone — a sharpened edge prodding at you menacingly, just waiting for you to say the wrong thing to impale you.

With a gulp too audible coming from you, you shrug warily. As much as you want to, you can't lie to him. “It wasn't better…but it wasn't bad…”

Humorous. What a humorous attempt at trying to not anger him further; Pierro has to stifle a laugh at your expense but you can feel the humility.

“Did you cum?” He asks straightforwardly. His left hand trickles down your back and brushes against your waist. His fingers brush the hem of your skirt out of the way and slide to grope your ass, using one finger to slip between your thighs and collect the wetness. At that, he notes the lack of underwear. You, so daring, so racy, let that asshole take your panties as a souvenir. His voice grows deeper—angrier—as he inquires further. “Did you cry his name? Maybe you called him baby. Maybe daddy—”

“No!” You interject, a bit too loudly, at that. “No—I didn't. I would never.” Because you’re my daddy—you choose to omit that part.

He only laughs. Somewhat menacingly, but brightened when your eyes catch his grin. “Do you want me to praise you for that?”

“Do you think you deserve that?” There’s no escaping his questioning; you're trapped. He knows you hate being talked down to—you hate the confrontation, the disappointment, the dissatisfaction with you and he does it on purpose. He catches the way you avoid looking at him and blink rapidly, airing away the mist that comes to paint your eyes.

It takes you a moment to shake your head no, your entire face dropping at the action. You were wrong, you were bad, and now he won't be nice to you. He's going to use you, he's going to fuck you up and make you wish you'd denied Ajax altogether.

“I’m glad you know that.” He says, condescendingly. “I’m going to show you what you deserve.”

With his gruff admission, the hand on your ass grips tighter and you gasp silently. When your eyes meet once more, he sends you a look that you know all too well: one you can't say no to, and one you’ve grown to not ever want to say no to.

Your toes are bent as you push yourself up to meet his face, arms naturally sliding up and around his broad shoulders.

Lips closer than they've been in weeks and eyes locked more seriously than this entire night, you two fall into a pit of risk, leaning closer and closer. You try to lean in and he only offers you a ghostly peck. Breaths fanning each other and lips gingerly caressing the other, Pierro utters out one last request: “Say you deserve it.”

He controls your body spiritually — a carnal desire is unleashed within you that makes you stupidly want him, pressing your lips against his softly, wantonly, “I deserve it.”

It’s obvious that you give into him. Stumbling into that bed of forbidden desire, tangling in the sheets of lust.

Pierro wastes no time in pulling you into your bedroom, covering your tracks with the hallway light flickered off and your door locked. He’s overzealous and nearly rips your clothes off of you, every touch housing a raging, impassioned fire.

You let it happen — letting him guide your way and taking control. Your mouths slot and move alongside one another disgustingly perfectly and if it didn't feel so fucking right, you’d grimace and scream your head off. Instead, you take him down with you, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him on top of you, needing him more than you should.

The world becomes a mere distant memory as he licks into your mouth, finding your tongue to dance with and suck on. Your legs stretched around his body allows him to bunch your skirt up, grinding his clothed hard-on against your bare cunt. Kisses are subsequently broken by squeaky moans and you, a puddle under his touch, can do nothing but that—leaning your head back when the friction overcomes you and kissing back is no longer a priority.

Sloppy, wet kisses trail from your mouth to your cheek, then to your ear, then down your neck, then to your collarbone. Your somewhat modest neckline is then pushed out of his way, allowing him to lay a barrage of kisses against your skin.

No words are exchanged verbally but in every action they’re screamed. Pierro wants to lay claim on you, to purify your body after being defiled by the redheaded miscreant you call a boyfriend. You went out of his sight and returned with a pest on your hip and nothing besides anger overcame him. In all its jagged forms: envy, bitterness, resentment, desire—Pierro had been waiting to take you down again, to remind you who you truly belong to.

He sucks and nips fervently at the skin until you whimper and wince and unknowingly confirm the existence of a mark there. An uneven, ugly blotch to claim you as his.

This is repeated across the expanse of your neck and chest, an uneven pattern drawn in his wake. When he pulls off of you, your face is knitted in shocked pleasure and your body chases him: hips bucking toward the air in desperate search. He hangs over you, using one hand to grab your cheeks and squish them up. You're so fucking cute, he could chew you up—among other things—but right now, he coos menacingly at you. “Cute.”

When he fully removes himself from you, sitting beside you, you know what awaits you. When the clattering of his belt hits your ears, you know what you need to do.

What you need to do is show your daddy his place in your world; so, begrudgingly, you sweep yourself up onto your knees.

His hand comes to the back of your head to softly cradle you and you lean into it, fluttering your lashes at him in hopes of receiving his leniency. He, however, is a punisher, and your knife in his back won’t be forgiven so easily.

“You’re so lucky I even touched you,” he grits. His thumb strokes your cheek and creates this sense of security. It’d be calming if you didn't know him. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”

“You are,” you pout. “It’s just—I like Ajax, too. I’m confused…”

He sits up slightly, capturing your glossy gaze in his. “Do you like Ajax or love me?”

His eyes flicker to your clutched thighs and you cower slightly, feeling the regret caving in your chest. The pout you sport curves wider and Pierro almost smiles at how easy it is to dig at you.

You open your mouth to answer but he shushes you, shaking his head no. The hand on your cheek runs to your backside and palms your ass, slapping the flesh with intensity. The sound rings off of the walls and the impact resounds in your body, rippling through with an itching sting left in its wake. You whimper and look up at him, watery eyes meeting a merciless crystal blue. Tenderly rubbing the spot, he continues, “Show me.”

You do what you're told and that's what Pierro cherishes about you. That's what makes him red in anger at the pure idea of you showing this to anyone else—being this for anyone else.

Ajax doesn't deserve a sweet girl like you. He can't take care of a sweet girl like you.

And you can't take care of a man the way you take care of Pierro. He won't allow it.

You manage to pull his cock from behind the waistband of his boxers. He’s pulsing furiously in your palm and the weight he carries makes how feverishly he’s been needing you painfully apparent. He leaks a creamy stream of pre and it awaits your attention. Just the light hold you keep on his shaft elicits a groan from the man and his hips involuntarily buck upward, wordlessly signaling his need for you.

The slightly salty bead swims onto your tongue as you kitten lick the tip, gingerly beginning to stroke half circles around his cock.

He clears his throat, slamming his palm against your cheek again, “Don’t tease, baby. Take it in.”

You oblige his request and slide him onto your tongue. You hollow your cheeks and grimace as you try to fit as much of him into your mouth. Slobber dribbles out of your mouth and cascades down his length, creating a moat above the hand you keep tight around his base.

The longer you keep him there, the harsher your gags get — you sputter around his girth before pulling up for air, gasping in a dramatic heap of air. He chuckles at you and uses his thumb to wipe away a string of spit on your cheek.

“You can do better than that,” he coos. “Go deeper.”

Again, you pull your lips as wide as they can stretch around him. You try to swing your tongue around his girth as skillfully as you can accomplish, swiping at the prominent vein that beats for you.

He groans out a curse, throwing his head back while simultaneously gripping the back of your head. “Deeper,” he growls.

You try to slink deeper, but he presses at your reflex, a messy series of gags slopping around his dick. Still, you persevere: unfolding your lips to wrap around his girth and suck harshly.

“Shit,” he drawls, pushing your head down further. “Just like that; you’re so fucking good for Daddy.”

Your hands move to his thighs and attempt to claw at them, but you're left gripping his slacks. Your mouth quickly becomes tired as you try, and the light bob you facilitate grows weak. Subsequently, Pierro takes control: placing both hands on your head and pushing you down.

You swallow around him but it doesn't subdue the echo of your gagging. He bottoms out in your mouth and you can do nothing but sputter and choke, letting a lake of slobber spill down his length.

It becomes messy extremely fast with Pierro on the reigns. He thrusts into your mouth in tandem with pulling your head down, creating a nasty rhythm that you can only be a variable to.

“That’s it, princess,” he praises breathily. The smile you try to make goes unnoticed, but the swarm in your stomach doesn't.

He’s relentless and desperate, only offering reprieve when your eyes grow foggy and your breathing shallow. His hips stutter and his balls throb—Pierro is on the brink of pleasure that no amount of imagination can give him. Your mouth is a warm piece of heaven that warms and leaks all over him, soiling his pants in a mixture of spit bubbles and precum. It’s nasty, but it’s your nasty: something only you can do for him. He has you in the palm of his hand, doing exactly what he wants, being exactly who he wants you to be, and he couldn't ask for you to be more perfect. His palm cracks down again on your ass, almost as a sign of commemoration.

Gray brows are furrowed and knitted and the struggle to keep his eyes trained on you is real. Every time the back of your throat squeezes around his cock head he chokes on a guttural moan, your praises gliding off his tongue like butter. The arrangement is near perfect and it’s doing its weight in placing pleasure upon the man. He’s at pleasure’s mercy and finds himself in the pits of thought, stumbling upon the feeling of love. Pierro has found true escape in you and everything you can do for him and that is why he can't let you go.

He can't let you go—not when you whine around his dick and send him the most perfect vibrations, pushing his orgasm over the edge.

“Oh, shit,” he hisses. He holds your head tightly in place, not allowing you a bit of space to move as he cums. “Take it all…yeah—”

A series of hushed, deep, groans escape from his mouth as thick splashes of cum spill into your mouth. The spurts pool on your tongue and the fullness of your mouth becomes too much to bear. Your warning slaps on his thighs let him know to let you come up, and with your cheeks bubbled to hold his release, you breathe your first breath of cool air.

He chuckles at your expression, holding out his hand for you to lean into once again. “Open up.”

You take a moment to swallow before brandishing your tongue to him. He grins proudly, glaring at you with a soft expression. You wrap your hands around his arm, kissing the heel of his palm before nuzzling your cheek against it again. Fluttery eyelashes are passed at him as you gingerly inquire, “Did I do good, Daddy?”

“Great, baby.” He confirms, sitting up. “I knew my girl could do it. You always can, always so good for me.”

The praises go straight to your core and reawaken the unfinished business he left you with. He knows what to say to make you melt and unfortunately, you do. Melting in his palm makes you susceptible to anything he says. It's only a given that when he asks you again, “You’re going to be my girl forever, right?” you answer immediately with a strong nod.

At that, his confident grin grows and he leans forward, pulling you into a kiss.

The taste of his cum is prominent on your tongue and he sucks the flavor off, gathering it in his mouth before distributing it back into yours. It's nasty and he repeats it until your head is hazy and you're chasing his lips. His hand around your neck is able to hold you up just centimeters away from his lips.

“Don’t forget who you belong to.”

━━━━━━

Yellow is your color.

Pierro thinks the color compliments you beautifully—like you were meant to bask under a golden kiss of sun. He likes the way it snugs in your curves, unable to hold back your supple skin with its thin tethers. It’s too much for the world to see — a sight supposedly for Pierro’s eyes only — but you trot around without a care in your bubbly head. That, in itself, does not bother him; Ajax on the other side of the door, does.

Ajax catching you in his arms bothers Pierro. The man can't help but stare from his viewpoint, following Ajax’s wandering hands from the small of your back to the curve of your ass. He unabashedly palms the skin and you only giggle, smothering his face in welcome kisses and strawberry lipgloss.

When your feet are back on the ground, you're nuzzling against him as if you’re scared of detaching from him, and he wears that same coy grin as always, wrapping an arm around your body as you begin to lead him toward the backyard. You speak indistinctly and Pierro’s envious glare seems to have no effect on you. Ajax senses it, however; and as though he is throwing it in Pierro’s face, he pulls you closer as his free arm raises to wave at your stepfather: “Hey, Mr. A!” Leaves his mouth cheerfully.

The grimace Pierro wears is only half-stifled and he doesn't care to fix his face. He nods at the young man, “Hello to you too, Ajax.”

You avoid his gaze skillfully but that look of guilt is not missed. That only irritates Pierro further: his thick eyebrows furrow and his lips waver downwards. If you know it's bad, why do you keep doing this?

It must be a beckoning of his attention—and if that’s the case, you have it wholly in the palms of your hands.

Again, you speak hushedly to your boy toy. Pierro’s eyes hone in on the movement of your lips: so soft, so tender, so kind as they murmur against Ajax’s ear. Whatever you say is undetermined by Pierro — but judging from the stiffly excited mannerisms Ajax thereafter enacts, he can only imagine.

“We were going to head out to the pool…” Finally, you address him.

Confidence is strongly prominent in your voice despite your trailing off. Compared to the soft, undefiant tone you usually direct toward your daddy, your strength is all-telling: Ajax has built up an over-confident backbone in you. Not so luckily for you, Pierro has no qualms about breaking it down.

So, instead of shooting his ire through glaring daggers, Pierro smirks. He smirks and shrugs with one shoulder, following the action by gulping down the final swig of his midday pick-me-up. “Alright then,”

“Have fun.” The words are supposed to be encouraging but, if anything, they're daunting.

The air gets tense, noticeably so. Ajax awkwardly clears his throat and the intense staring match you and Pierro hold is severed. Your eyes shift to the ginger and you force a convincing grin to pull at your lips. “Let's go.”

Ajax lets you lead the way, purposely avoiding looking at Pierro. In your thirty-second trek to the backyard door, his gaze only intensifies. Holes are burned into your back and you shoot straight up when his voice calls out to you again. You act as though you're in a horror movie: slowly turning your head over your shoulder for fear of what awaits your back end.

“The guests’ll be arriving soon,” he informs. “Your mother’s going to be back and finish setting up out there.”

His information seems to be his acknowledgment of your transgressions. You plan to defile his claim on you in the very home he takes you down in—he’ll be damned if you cross that line.

You’re playing a dangerous game with no incentive for you. As he departs, stalking away upstairs to get a clear view of your actions from his office, the thought that maybe, just maybe, his frustration is your incentive, brings a smile to his face.

That thought dawns the idea on him that he has created an insatiable, debauched monster, and it's in his hands to tame her.

To you, you don't know what you're doing.

You like Ajax. You like the way he treats you, the way he talks to you, the way he touches you, the way he kisses you—you’re chasing his lips desperately as he pins you against the wall of the pool, wanting to take him under the water and drown with him. Maybe then, that icky turmoil brewing in your stomach would subside.

You like Ajax; you want him. But you need Pierro. Even as your boyfriend kisses you feverishly, your eyes are wide and glued to the second-story window that you know Pierro is watching you out of.

He gives you something that you hate to require. Those big, buff arms wrap around you, and those chapped, experienced lips speak words of comfort to you that all your life, you've only ever wanted. Pierro promises to love you forever, be there for you forever, and protect you forever — he promises to be the sole male constant in your life: the only man you’ll ever need. You're inclined to believe him because he’s made everything you've ever wanted come true. But—Ajax; those things can come from him, too.

His kisses are softer than Pierro’s but just as impassioned—if not more. He’s receptive to your impatience, licking his way into your mouth and tangling his tongue with yours messily. Moaning into your mouth to let you know that the tugs on his hair feel good, gripping onto your waist to grind your clothed cunt against his knee, pulling apart and cracking a smile at the connected string of spit that hangs from your puffy lips, telling you in a hushed whisper “I missed you,” to butter you up and melt you in his palms. Ajax is nicer with how he treats you. He kisses down your neck to punctuate his sentence. His kisses halt their trail at the apex of your collarbone, leaving his eyes to peer up at you wantonly.

“I missed you too,” you breathe out. You did miss him and his delicacy. Your eyes flash up to the window and you feel relief at the unmoved curtains — returning your gaze to your boyfriend and smiling at him. Inviting Ajax to your parents’ pool party was your way of convincing yourself. What happened between you and Pierro can be replicated with someone who you can be with and someone who can be with you.

What you want is that trophy love: that pedestal in someone's heart for every envious eye to watch you atop of. You want to be loved loudly and proudly, and Ajax can do that and so much more, for you.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and he leans into your touch, craning leftward. He looks at you with wide, beating hearts in his eyes, and you bite your lip to hold back a smile. “I think we have a few minutes alone…”

Those hearts turn into a mischievous sparkle, “I can work with that.”

Quickly, he’s reconnecting your lips as his right hand wanders from your waist to beneath the fabric of your bikini bottoms. You gasp into your kiss as his middle finger surfs through your folds, immediately prodding at your entrance.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper, briefly looking over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of movement behind the curtains and it halts your breath. “We don't have time,”

He laughs against your face, smooching from your lips to across your cheek and to your ear. He nips the lobe just as he pushes the tip of his finger in and you move your hold onto his shoulders, gripping tightly. His tongue flicks gently at your ear as his finger slowly inches in, and with its slender length, beats of quiet breathing and airflow pass before he’s knuckle deep. “You wouldn't mind getting caught,”

The digit is swiveled around before he presses the rough pad of his finger against your gummy sweet spot. You hold in a moan by biting your bottom lip but the sound leaks out in weakened whines. “You never have before.”

Anyone could see what you're doing and that thought births nothing but excitement coursing through your veins. Your pleasured scowl quickly stretches into a grin— and Ajax catches it, kissing your chin.

Soon, your hole is accommodating the entrance of his ring finger. The digits are thereafter scissored inside of your pussy and the water around the two of you ripples furiously. Your boyfriend has never been particular about being discreet and this occasion is no different—if anything, he’s showing off. At least, Pierro seems to think so.

Pleasure blinds your eyes so the man standing in the window is missed by you. Every bit of your awareness is being fingered out of you; Ajax’s agile fingers dancing around in your hole seemingly spooning out your senses. Nothing, save for the hot source of ecstasy pooling in your core, matters to you. You're grinding down on his fingers, whining out wantonly as low as you can but it's in vain—your sweet, pleasured hymns can be picked out by Pierro’s ears.

It irritates him but he does not stop watching. He can't—not when you're about to cum and you're gripping so tightly on Ajax. You're leaning over the edge of the pool and scratching your back against the rough gravel with desperate abandon. The movement of your lips is unidentifiable from his distance, but knowing you, you're probably pitifully begging for him to make you cum.

Ajax has the liberty of controlling your pleasure and he does so amateurly. When you plead once again, babbling out his name, Ajax obliges. He says to you, unheard by Pierro, “I’ve got you, baby. Cum on my fingers.”

His fingers curl and roll against your spot and your moans are ringing out unabashedly. If your mother or the guests were to arrive and stroll up your driveway, there’s no doubt they wouldn't be able to hear your laments over the bushes. Carelessly and blissfully, you sing your boyfriend’s praises as he presses you toward your climax, wriggling his fingers inside of your tightened hole through your orgasm.

Pierro watches you shake and jump under his touch and his eye twitches. Here you are, parading your freedom in front of him again. He’d turn you out and worse in that pool if it wasn't for your mother. She is his way to get to you and if she were to find out how he defiles her daughter in ways he doesn't dare do to her, he’d be deprived of his vice.

He doesn't notice the white knuckle grip he keeps on the window sill until his fingers begin to ache. Pierro is envious of a red-haired prick half his age and size and he couldn't be more embarrassed. It would be you—only you—to make these juvenile feelings rise so fervently within him.

The way Pierro feels for you is skewed and indecent and so, so raw. It’s unexplainable in simple words and he doesn't dare waste his breath on telling you sugary things to make you stay. He claims you, bares all of his imperfections to you as you do him, and anchors you to the bottom of his endless pit of debauchery alongside him. Yet, you can still swim out of his grasp and into the slimy hands of another like-minded, perverse predator and that won't do.

His body is moving before he can scramble up an excuse to intrude on the two of you. Unaware of his appearance, you're slipping your hand into Ajax’s swim trunks, passing your thumb over his slit featherlightly.

He sighs out shakily, grabbing your forearm. “We shouldn't start something we can't finish.”

You, full of confidence and arousal, flash your signature, convincing doe eyes up at him. “We should’ve thought about that earlier then.” You rebut, leaning in to kiss him just as you begin to pump his length.

Pool water is terrible lube but the softness of your hand makes up for it: Ajax is moaning into your kiss and lazily bucking into your hand. God, everything is so perfect right now. The warm sun, the cool water, the sweet breeze, the—

“You two already got in?!” Suddenly, the back door is sliding open and your mother steps out, hauling two large shopping bags in each hand. You and Ajax jump apart, trying your best to turn around and meet her inconspicuously.

She seems to not notice, but Pierro, who comes out after her, has that knowing look that when it greets you, all nervousness centers itself in your bones. Your mother had beaten him to the back door by a mere second. Had it gone his way, the two of you would be pissing yourselves shamefully.

Ajax picks up the slack of maintaining your cover: picking his feet up off the pool floor and kicking off the wall, swimming toward your mother. “Yeah, sorry, Mrs. A!” He apologizes, hoisting himself out of the pool to assist her. “We just wanted to test the water,”

He nods at you to come join and you quickly follow the notion, hopping out of the pool and walking around to where they stand. Your mother pulls floaties and noodles and boxes of miscellaneous decorations out of the bags, setting them down on the ground and table. With her gaze focused downward, you and Ajax are able to share looks over her back: his eyes sending you an assured glare and wink and yours sending back worried gleams.

“We’re good,” he mouths, and before you can give him a response, your mother stands up.

“How was it? It’s not too cold, is it?”

This time you answer her. “No; it was perfect.” You say, giving Ajax a look that tells him your words were meant for him.

Unbeknownst to your games, your mother cheers. “Great—I’m gonna freshen up and get changed. Can you…” she trails off and motions her hands around the abundance of new items. You catch her meaning and confirm her request with a nod.

As quickly as she appeared, she walked off and back into the house. Her missing frame gives Ajax the space to step closer to you, inching his hands around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

It's a gesture that, in all of its inherent sweetness, carries a suggestiveness that has you giggly and ticklish. You're unable to focus on the task in front of you and are instead fighting off the needy kisses from your boyfriend.

“Stop…” you laugh, your voice sounding wholly unconvincing.

He ignores your request, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and kissing the skin tenderly. “I can’t stop,” he says, muffled. “You got me started—”

He squeezes you tighter and deepens the kiss on your neck. His tongue flicks and flattens against the skin and your smile flattens as you sigh out, instantly melting into him. Ajax knows just how to weaken you, a power he shares with Pierro, and you are too weak to fight it. Those kisses are targeted at the perfect spot that fogs your brain and withers your standing. Your mouth wavers as he marks a hickey on your skin, and the smallest, weakest moans tumble out of your mouth.

“Ajax…” you whisper warningly, “We can't.”

“We can.” He argues, moving from your neck to behind your ear. He knows just how to tempt you and just as susceptible as you are, you fall for it. “Where’s your room?”

You go to answer—but the sight of him in your peripheral has your mouth drying up.

Pierro finally takes his first step outside and the sight he beholds is sickening. His left cheek is balled around his tongue and his eyes are as critical as ever. You have to pat Ajax’s thigh to alert him and he’s pulling off of you, his pale complexion flushing a blazing red. “M-Mr. A! Uh—”

Uninterested in his haphazard excuse, Pierro cuts him off. “Your mother is asking for you.” Eyes boring into you elicit every bit of shame to course through you in hot embarrassment.

Without another word shared, you scurry off into the house, passing Pierro with only a brief brush of your skin. You can feel the irritation radiating off of him and you shudder under that realization.

You've made a mistake. A very, very big mistake.

���━━━━━

All you want is to be with Ajax. Wrapped in his muscular arms, under the crisp sun and the chill breeze—sipping on homemade lemonade and biting into flaky club sandwiches—it is all so perfect, so right, for you. With him, nothing goes wrong—and yet, nothing ever goes right.

Pierro never seems to lag too far behind the two of you. After assisting your mother in picking which sundress to slip into, returning to blissful, summer day peace with your boyfriend proved difficult.

You find him beside the grill with Pierro, awkwardly chatting it up with his hard-on painfully raging against the inside of his blue swim trunks. And just as you appear to pull him away, Pierro magically fishes up a task for him to do.

“You can't go with him,” he says. “The kids are getting antsy. Why don't you bring out some popsicles?”

And so you do. Returning with a bag of popsicles and handing them out to the numerous children running around your backyard. And when you finish, Ajax returns, huffing out deep breaths and dripping sweat. Luckily enough, one cherry popsicle was left over.

You’d finally managed to get Pierro off your back—your mother and her girlfriends required his immediate attention in the kitchen and drew him away from the backyard. So you and your lover are offered a moment of reprieve.

You straddle his lap, peeling the plastic off of the popsicle and tapping the treat against his lips. He’s receptive and takes the popsicle in, collecting the flavor on his tongue. You watch him intently, locking eyes with him and keeping that contact as you pull it away, leaning in to catch the taste of his mouth.

The cherry flavor is abundant and even sweeter on his tongue. Keeping it PG is out of the question when you're sucking on his tongue so feverishly—no longer chasing that cherry taste but instead him. You need him bad and judging from the twitching in his cock, he needs you just as bad.

“Baby,” he grunts, using one hand to cup the small of your back and the other to bring the popsicle back to his mouth. He tries to halt the subtle gyrating of your hips but you are determined to slot his shaft between your folds through your layers of swimwear. “It's too risky out here. Let’s go to your room.”

You laugh, beating him to it and briefly wrapping your lips around the top. “I never thought I’d hear you say it's too risky,”

“But, okay,” you sigh out, pausing your ministrations and sitting flat on his lap. “Let's go, then.”

Eager as could be, the two of you gather your things off the lounge chair and race to the inside of the house.

Successfully, Pierro’s attention is missed, and you make it up to your bedroom. Once the door is closed, you're jumping onto the bed with abandon and begin making out feverishly. Hours of built-up tension come crashing down upon you as he pins you down, wedging between your legs and rutting desperately against your pussy.

“Ah,” you moan out, arching up into him. His head is buried in the cavern of your chest, suckling and smooching along the valley. Your skin is supple and easy to latch onto—he’s losing himself in your scent and softness and taste. You pull at his hair, jerking your hips upward for more. “Please, ‘Jax; give it to me—”

Unbeknownst to you, Pierro is on the prowl. Hours have passed like minutes and soon the sky has melted into a rosy yellow and the guests have slowly begun to peel out.

His eyes search for the pair of you and upon coming up empty, his attitude is tweaked.

“Honey?” He calls out to his wife. As he returns to the inside of the house—sparing brief dismissals to the parting guests—he feigns sweetness toward her.

She, still occupied in the citywide gossip among her girlfriends, only lazily pays mind to the inquiry of her husband. “Um, hold on, dear—Tiff did what?!”

The group of women laugh and continue explaining the messy affair of some woman named Tiffany and Pierro could not care less. He doesn't care about Tiffany’s affairs; it’s yours that calls monopoly over his mind.

You must have been able to sneak off with your boy toy. Curse your attention-hogging mother. Had it not been for her, you wouldn't have been stripped from beneath his palm so stealthily.

Once he gets his hands on that ginger brat—

“I think I saw them go upstairs earlier.” She says it so passively, so dismissively, Pierro almost digests the information normally. Almost.

He doesn't even know which question to pose to get the answer he wants. So, he doesn't. He lets an irritated grumble fall from his mouth as he turns on his heels. Useless. She is ultimately useless and it’s times like this where Pierro wishes he’d met you first.

His footsteps echo up the stairs but to your jaded ears, they're nonexistent.

You sit atop Ajax now, rocking feverishly back and forth along his cock. Your hands are planted on his chest and his hands are on your waist, aiding you in your grinding. This is more passionate and needy than any other experience you've had with Ajax thus far, and the weak babbles of his name tumbling out of your mouth prove that.

Friction builds furiously in your heat and sends electric waves splashing through your veins. It’s what you've been looking for all day: a climactic, ardent affair to invoke the most needed orgasm of your life.

Maybe with this one, how you feel will be solidified.

You're rocking hard, knocking your headboard against the wall. Pierro can hear it as he approaches the top of the stairs and he wonders how much audacity you have.

The next few seconds are a blur: his footsteps approach, and so does your orgasm. You cry out your boyfriend’s name as he encourages your climax, and Pierro wraps his hand around the doorknob. You throw your head back as your orgasm seeps through the floodgates and the door swings open.

So far gone, so unaware in your blissful paradise that Pierro’s looming figure behind you doesn't matter to you. His presence is intense and suffocating and over your shoulder, Ajax catches the sight of him and stiffens up. Their eyes lock and every daring bone in his body is snapped to hustle you off of him. “Babe—”

“What?” You huff out, breathlessly. “I-I’m so close, ‘Jax—please…”

You peel your eyes open against their heavy will, looking down at your boyfriend. That shadow cast on the wall ahead of you catches your attention first. You recognize the silhouette but it isn't until you peer over your shoulder and catch that icy glare that you're all too fearful of—now, anyway.

In your shocked jumping off of Ajax, you manage to roll off the side of the bed and collapse to the floor with a screechy yelp. Ajax struggles to get himself together: fumbling around with his clothing and jaggedly standing up. “M-Mr. A—! I—”

The look Pierro sends has him clamming up and nervously laughing. There's no need for excuses or coy innuendos—you’ve been caught. Now, you need to be punished.

Without a second glance back, your boyfriend scrambles up his things and takes his leave. You want to call him back in, but all courageous function ceases to work before him. With Ajax gone, it's just you and Pierro, and never has that thought scared you before as it is now.

He closes the door and takes short, heavy steps toward you. You stay on the floor, folding your legs behind you and using your planted hands for stability. At this, the difference between the two of you is exaggerated: he stands tall and big over you, the curled bambi caught between a rock and a hard place.

Dense silence hangs in the air. Your lips quiver and shift, as though a jumble of words wish to spill but you don't allow it. You don't allow those tears that mist your eyes to fall out either, rapidly blinking back the flow of guilt. Just the unsure air he imposes makes you want to burst into tears and plead your case.

He continues to say not a word; taking a seat on your bed and only using his hand to direct you onto his lap. The motion is so small and insignificant but it terrifies you no less. Pierro is a jest: a jack of unforeseen trades and when he is ticked off, every nasty card up his sleeve comes out to play. You find yourself obliging with your head hanging low, saving yourself the intensity in his eyes.

When you sit, his arms embrace you. They slink around your waist and hug you into place but they are anything but comforting. It’s suffocating, it’s tense.

A moment is taken to breathe you in. Burrowing his nose against your neck and scrunching the feature distastefully at the overwhelming spicy scent atop your soft skin. Ajax— you smell like Ajax.

“I thought I made myself clear the last time.” The deep timbre of his whisper rumbles in your spine. It startles you straight and the confrontational air pulls out your weakness. You hate trouble, you hate being bad, you hate how he does this to you.

His breathing is soft on your neck. It tickles but it doesn't make you want to laugh. You want to cry and beg for his forgiveness. I’m sorry, Daddy, I really am! You think to cry. I’m yours, your good girl, Daddy!

Nothing comes out of you, so he continues. “I give myself to you because I care about you. Everything you could ever need is right here with me, so answer me: why?”

Your expression is pained and guilty. He knows you better than you do and he knows how to sucker punch your heart. You thought your day with Ajax would clarify the conflicting feelings in your heart, but your time with Pierro unwinds all assurity.

Tears roll down your cheeks and you struggle to put together a sentence. “Daddy…I—” you hic, a sob tumbling over your words. You turn into him and string your arms around him, weeping onto his shoulder and soiling his shirt. “I-I'm so confused…”

“What are you confused about?” His question holds not an ounce of sympathy. Still, he soothes your back with his palm, ushering out every guilty tear you weep. “I do everything for you, with you, to you—what could he be that I couldn't?”

Kind, gentle, tender, freeing. Ajax is the silk breather in your synthetic cage. He gives you a bright, lightening feeling that, against Pierro’s uncharted depths, saves you. You can't tell him that you’re finding love in Ajax. He’ll raise every dead flaw right out of you.

“Tell me what to do to make it better.”

You don't even notice his hands slipping under the cups of your bikini top. Your nipples are caught between his fingers, softly being tweaked and pinched until the tight pebbles stiffen the bud. Your cries gradually subside until you're sniffling and hiccupping, noticing his absent-minded ministrations and pulsing cock under your ass.

The worst part about realizing your position is that you don't want to escape. Maybe letting him have his way with you again will lessen the load on your shoulders. Anything to blur the confusing lines.

“Has he ever seen you cry like this?” He asks. You shake your head no. “He wouldn't even know what to do to make it all go away, would he?” No—you shake your head no. “What would you do without me? Huh?”

“I don't know.” You’d be normal, maybe. You wouldn't depend on him to fix what's always breaking inside you. You'd love and date and experience life without the debilitating crutch of your daddy there to hold you back.

With Ajax, nothing goes wrong but nothing goes right. With Pierro, everything goes wrong but everything feels so right.

So skewed, so lost, so unfounded, your relationship is the pinnacle of gnarled. He is the leader of your abyssal path and yet, also your savior from it. A world without him in it is hard to imagine — and when you're on his lap, in his arms like this, it’s hard to want to imagine it.

“You don't ever want to know, do you?” Again, no—you’re shaking your head no as though it’s the only motion you know how to do. “Then stop driving me away. Let me love you.”

He’s kissing over your skin, palming your boobs softly. It’s familiar and safe and you know that in the end, he’ll still be there. Etched in your skin and mind, reminding you that there's someone to fall into when life becomes too much. You can lean into Pierro with security—and just like that, all of your valiant agency is melted away.

“Okay,” is the only word you say, and it's the only word he needs.

━━━━━━

Nine days. Pierro has called you twelve times, texted you thirty-seven times, and has lost his mind three times in the nine days that you've been gone.

You're mad at him, he understands that now. He pushed you and drove you away, he understands that now, so why can't you answer his calls and talk to him?

“She needs space,” your mother says. She wraps her arms around him from the back and smoothes the wrinkles in his shirt. “She’s grown and in love and needs her space to flourish, Pi. Don't suffocate her.”

Okay. He would have left it alone at that. When you need him, you’ll come back; you always do.

But your mother could not let well enough be. “Besides, she’s with Ajax. They’ll be keeping each other company while we…”

The rest of that was lost in his head. Evidently, Pierro is not getting across to you. When he spoke to you that evening of the pool party, that was to be the last time that redhead’s name was thought of, and, yet, here you are, running into his arms.

It wouldn't drive him crazy if he didn't have you first. If everything you've ever known and done wasn't by his hand. You are his little girl, his prize at the end of a tiring marriage, his happy ending after a long day, his.

His instant joy— Ding!

Pierro’s phone is in his hand in seconds. The deep snores of his wife let him know that tiptoeing away won't be necessary. Your name, decorated in a sole red heart, pops up two more times, and before he unveils the messages, his mind swirls with the string of excuses you're probably typing out.

The texts are short and insignificant when he lays eyes on the attachment. A three-minute and forty-eight-second video with your glossy, smiley face in the thumbnail. He swings the door of his office shut and sits down, immediately pressing play.

You're giggling in the immediate beginning before your laughs are morphed into a string of moans. The angle fixates on your face, downturned and droopy in pleasure—a face Pierro is all too familiar with. Catching sight of it on the other side of a phone is angering, to say the least.

Wet slopping is heard in the foreground, competing with your moans for volume. It’s slow and romantic—in and out, in and out, in and out—each thrust eliciting a shallow hiss from behind the camera and a pleading whine from in front of it. The angle shifts just as he breathes out, his pale hand drifting from the side of your waist to massage your clit. “Like that, baby? That good for you?”

You hum in confirmation, bucking up into his hand. “S-so good—mmfh, ‘J-Jax—!”

He laughs behind the camera, zooming into your sloppy cunt. You're dripping: thick, glossy beads of slick pooling in your slit and spilling around his dick. It shines a gleaming reflection under the light of the flash and Ajax is quick to rapidly rub through and splash your arousal around. The clicking sound that elicits is viscid and resounding but the pleasured sobs you choke out are louder. He moves the camera up to your face, streaks of tears splashing down your hot cheeks.

His fingers intrude between your parted lips and you immediately slurp your arousal off his fingers. “So nasty…what if daddy saw you like this?”

The tone in his voice is teasing- patronizing, as though the total wreck you are before him is a joke. You open teary eyes to stare into the camera, a wide grin pulling at your lips around his fingers. Your pupils are wide and blown: an endless, dark pit of lust that when appearing on the phone seems as though it’s entrancing Pierro.

Your hands wrap around Ajax’s forearm—and you moan one last time around his fingers, swiveling your tongue around the digits before pulling them out. You bring his hand to wrap around your throat, grinning wide. Those lustful eyes leave the camera and presumably to Ajax behind the camera and your lips part slowly. “You are my daddy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Ajax mutters behind the camera, and the stability of the angle wavers. The pair of you share breathless laughs.

That motherfucker, Pierro thinks, gripping the phone tighter. In the final twenty seconds, Ajax curses under his breath, putting your pussy in view. His pace is a lot sloppier and desperate now and his voice cracks as he moans your name. “‘M gonna cum—”

You draw out a sharp whine, using your fingers to pinch and feverishly flick your clit. “Please..” you breathe out. “Cum in me, Daddy.”

The video ends. Pierro cannot believe his eyes nor his ears—you—he can't believe this.

He doesn't bother reading the next incoming messages. He’s already racing downstairs and yanking his keys off of the hook.

Pierro’s a jest and the joke is about to be on you.

[maldaptivedreamer]

Save An Outlaw... - Arcane

Sevika groans, grasping her side. Warmth floods onto her hand as blood trails down her arm. Digging her heels into dark fur, she urges the horse faster. 

She huffs, shaking her head as she tries to chase away the darkness fogging the edges of her vision. Her snarl quickly fades, her body unable to resist the exhaustion consuming her.

content: Sevika x fem reader, errors/mistakes, wild west au, outlaw/cowboy sevika, young adult sevika, strained mother/daughter relationship, fighting/violence, guns, blood/gore, violence against animals, description of animal harm/mutilation, name calling, canon character cameo

wc: ~8k

a/n: This fic was inspired by the ao3 fic, I'm a Lady Lover Darlin', by Athena_Winter13. I love Sevika and cowboy Sevika hits different. Also this turned out to be pretty long, so I'll be posting it in 3 or 4 big chunks.

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

Masterlist Next Part

The setting sun warms your face as you urge your horse faster. The town lights fade behind you as you ride further into the plains.

Slowing your pace, you click your tongue against your teeth in frustration. Dismounting, you pace back and forth, clawing a hand through your hair in agitation.

“I don’t understand, Honey. Mama’s crazy. I mean-” Scoffing humorlessly, you spin towards the light brown horse and throw your arms out by your sides. “I’m doin’ just fine on the ranch. Don’t need no man to keep up the ranch. Pa’s been gone a while and she’s done just fine without him.” 

Your heaving chest gradually slows as you silently stand there, watching Honey peacefully graze on a patch of grass. Groaning, you rub your face. “I know. I know. She’s just worried for me but that don’t mean-”

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Your hair whips wildly against your face as you spin towards the noise. The foliage rustles, branches trembling together. 

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Furrowing your brows, you curse yourself for leaving the gun at the ranch. Scanning your surroundings, you desperately search for a weapon but only find a large stick. You can't help but laugh at your own stupidity before picking up the branch and cautiously approaching the source of the clacking. The sound of horse hooves and whinnying grows louder as you move closer, treading lightly around the dense foliage.

And then you see her.

A woman, around your age, lying on the ground. Blood darkens the material of her clothes and two shiny pistols lie holstered on her hip. Her muscular arms lay limp on her outstretched legs.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Your eyes snap towards a large horse, its’ dark coat gleaming in the lowering sun. Swallowing nervously, you cautiously throw away your makeshift weapon and raise a placating hand towards the horse. He responds with a loud whinny and waves his head towards the woman. Your mind races with questions and theories as you take tentative steps towards the stranger.

"Yeah, sure. I got it, I got it... Hope your owner doesn't kill me." You mutter under your breath, trying to mask your nerves. "Or is alive." You add even quieter.

Grimacing, you lower to your knees. You eye her pistols, watching her as you slowly take them out of her holsters.

Placing a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder, you nudge her in an effort to wake her. Suddenly, she jolts awake and you let out a scream, falling backwards in surprise. Snarling, she reaches for her guns.

Heart racing, you press a hand to your chest to calm your rushed breaths. The stranger struggles to keep her eyes open. 

"Yah know, your growlin’ and huffin’ loses a bit of its’ scary when you’re bleedin’ out." You joke, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. Slowly rising to your feet, you wave her pistols at her. "I took these just in case you tried to kill me."

Wrinkling your nose at her defensive stance, you shrug. "Though I'm sure you could kill me without it." You shove the guns deep into your skirt pocket and scan her form again. As much as you joked about her not looking scary, she definitely is. Pressed into a boulder and growling like a cornered animal. 

With a worried expression, you gently lower yourself to the ground, trying to show the woman that you mean no harm. "Listen." You say softly. “My town’s close. It’s small but we’ve got a doctor that can help you.”

Her silver eyes are frantic with fear and desperation as she scowls at you. “My guns, now.” She demands raspily.

Pursing your lips to the side, you frown at her. “With all due respect ma’am, I’d feel more secure if you didn’t have your guns.”

Her face is unwavering and she stares in silence.

Your lips part as you grow incredulous, watching as her red cloak wettens further with blood. Groaning, you cave. You make your annoyance clear as you sigh, pressing the cylinder release on each revolver. Eyeing her sarcastically, you tip the guns. The bullets clang against one another as they fall to the ground. 

Tossing them into her lap, you smile sharply. “Happy now?”

She quickly holsters them on her thighs. Grunting, the sound layered in pain, she presses a bloody hand against the rough surface of the boulder and slowly pushes herself to her feet. You step forward instinctively to help her, but she gives you a pointed glare.

Huffing in frustration, you stand with your arms crossed, watching as she struggles to stay upright against the rock wall. You roll your eyes at her stubbornness. “Plan on gettin’ on that horse all by yourself too, cowboy?” You say, unimpressed.

Sweat beads down her forehead and she can't hide her sharp intake of breath as she sways. Her face takes on a grayish hue and you rush to her side, ignoring her protests. “Easy, cowboy. Let’s getcha all patched up and you can be on your merry way, hmm?”

As you try to lead her towards her horse, her legs tangle with yours and you stumble, struggling to support her weight.

“C’mon.” You pant, urging her horse closer. “You wanted me to help and I’m helpin’. You gotta come a little closer.” You grunt out.

It doesn’t. You curse this stubborn, beautiful woman and her equally infuriating horse.

Tears fill your eyes in anticipation of getting her on the horse. You bite your tongue to keep from crying out, grunting with effort as you finally reach the stallion. You press your damp forehead into its fur, taking a moment to catch your breath. 

Before you can fully gather yourself, the stranger slips out of your grasp and mounts her horse. Your eyes grow wide as she heaves herself onto the stallion’s back.

Gasping, you throw your arms around her muscular thigh as she falls limp. Pressing your head into her thigh, you grit your teeth. “God-fucking-dammit.”

You take a few deep breaths, preparing yourself before jumping onto the horse behind her and using your body to steady her with each slow movement.

You wrap your arms around her tightly and grab onto the reins. A quick click of your tongue summons your horse to your side. And with that, you start your slow journey back to town.

Sevika slowly opens her eyes to the sight of a wooden ceiling above her. The bed beneath her feels soft and comfortable, a luxury she hasn't experienced in a long time. As she moves to sit up, her hand automatically falls to her stomach and she finds clean bandages wrapped around the wound. With a groan, she heaves her legs over the side of the bed and stands, wincing at the nauseating pain that shoots through her body.

Stumbling towards the door, she hears muffled voices coming from outside.

...

You resist the urge to groan. “Mama, I-”

Your mother’s voice is short as her face scrunches in anger. “You don’t know her. How many times I gotta tell you, she could’a hurt you. And you shouldn’t have been out so far past sundown.”

Your voice grows slightly high pitched as you try to defend yourself. “Mama, that’s not-”

“You think just anybody gets shot like that. You-”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. Absentmindedly, your eyes wander to a corner behind your mother. A small spider has inhabited the space, a fly flails in its intricate web and you watch in fascination.

“Are you listening to me?” Your mother’s sharp voice pierces your ears.

Wincing, you peek one eye at her and shrug. “Would it help if I said yes?”

She inhales a breath to continue, but the door is pushed open, interrupting her lecture. You sigh in relief as your mother turns to the stranger. Her lips part in a strained smile. Your mother’s voice is steely as she introduces you both to the stranger. “Good to see you awake, been nappin’ for quite a while. Gave everyone in town quite the scare.”

The woman glances at you, before nodding to your mother. She gruffly speaks, her throat scratchy and dry. “How long have I been ‘nappin’?”

Grimacing, you take a hesitant step forward and answer. “Bout four days.”

Her eyes rake over your frame, almost dismissively. Your mother glances between you skeptically, her voice protective as she steps into the space between you. “What’s your name, stranger?”

Clearing her throat, the woman ignores your mother's question and shifts her muscular frame against the wooden door frame. Her voice is demanding. “Where’s my stuff?”

You wince at her tone and quickly intervene. “Your horse’s bein’ well taken care of. Your stuff’s just in the room behind you.” Your eyes flicker to your mom, before you give the stranger a purposeful nod into the room. “I can help get you settled, right mama?” You turn back to your mother and flash her an innocent smile. 

Your mother’s eyes pinch in anger before she covers it up with a wide grin, her knuckles white as she grips her skirt tightly. “I’ll get started on dinner then. You let me know if you need anything.” She looks at you with a mix of frustration and concern before hesitantly going downstairs.

You both watch her leave, the air thick with tension.

Your smile fades as soon as she's out of sight. Turning to face the stranger, you lift a brow at her unmoving form. “You gonna go in or you wanna ask your questions out here?” You ask dryly, your voice laced with annoyance.

You both silently sit on opposing sides of the room. Grimacing, your eyes dance around the room while hers remain steady on you. You fidget under her intense gaze, nervously scratching at your wrist. Letting out a resigned sigh, you finally break the tense stillness. “I told you, I had to hide ‘em so that they’d help you. I’m sorry.”

Silver eyes darken into a murky gray and she purses her lips angrily. “Well, un-hide them and bring them to me.” 

Huffing a breath, you roll your shoulders and meet her gaze. “And where exactly do you plan on hidin’ them? You look plenty scary and everyone in town is already keepin’ a close eye on you. If they see you carryin’ then there’s no tellin’ what they’ll do.”

The stranger's eyes narrow, the intensity of her glare sending a chill down your spine. “If you think I can’t kill a few deputies with my hands, you're wrong.”

Sputtering, you jump out of your seat and frantically wave your hands in front of you. “Woah, woah, woah. Hold your horses, cowboy. Ain’t no lawmen here. I told you, my town’s small. If you’re runnin’ from something’ then this was the best place to end up.”

The stranger remains expressionless, causing another uncomfortable silence to settle over the room. Your nerves begin to tingle and your tongue feels like lead in your mouth. Cringing, your voice comes out awkward and rushed. “So- uhh- you hungry? And what’s your name? If you don’t wanna tell anyone your name for whatever reason then just give me a fake name. Jus’ somethin’ to call you by would be nice instead of ‘stranger’, yah know?”

Sighing, Sevika feels a gnawing hunger in her stomach. Huffing another annoyed breath, she stands and answers you. “Sevika.”

You quickly move ahead of her and send her an unsure smile. “S’good to meet yah Sevika. If that’s your real name. Oh, and just so you know, you kind of smell like shit right now. But don't worry, I'll show you where the shower is later." The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them. Silently sighing in embarrassment, you cringe, your shoulders curling in on themselves.

With a deep breath, you rise from your crouched position. Adjusting your hat, you click your tongue and swing your leg over Honey. With a steady trot, you follow the fence line, scanning for any signs of further damage or breaches. Absentmindedly, your mind wanders to the stranger in your home. Sevika.

The sun beats down relentlessly as you guide Honey along the fence line. Your thoughts drift back to Sevika, wondering what kind of trouble she might be in. A woman with a gunshot wound doesn't exactly scream 'law-abiding citizen.' But there's something about her that intrigues you, despite her gruff demeanor.

A flicker in your peripheral vision snaps you back to attention. You pull Honey to a stop, squinting against the glare. Seeing a small gap in the fence where the barbed wire has frayed, you approach the damaged section. With a grunt, you dismount.

As you examine the break, the sound of approaching hoofbeats makes you turn. Your breath catches in your throat as you see Sevika riding towards you, her red cloak billowing behind her. She still looks grey and sickly.

Frowning, you shield your eyes from the sun and speak up to her. “The hell are you doin’?”

Sevika scowls at you. “I’m leavin’.”

Nodding, you send her a sarcastic smile. “And exactly, how far do you think you’ll get before you bleed out?” Shrugging, you chuckle mockingly. “And this time I won’t be there to rescue you, princess.”

Sevika's scowl deepens at your words. She shifts uncomfortably in the saddle, her face drawn in pain. "I can take care of myself." She growls, but her voice lacks any real heat as she grasps her side.

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing her skeptically. "Sure you can. That's why I found you half-dead in the middle of nowhere." You take a step closer to her horse, your voice softening. "Look, I get it. You're not the type to sit still and let others help you. But you're in no shape to be ridin’ off alone."

Sevika's jaw clenches as she glares down at you, clearly torn between her desire to leave and the reality of her condition. You can see the internal struggle playing out on her face.

With a sigh, you place your hands on your hips. "You've got a safe place to rest up and heal. Why the rush to leave?"

Her silver eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why do you care? You don't know me."

"Maybe my mama’s teachin’s of that ‘take care of thy neighbor’ bullshit finally stuck." You retort with a smirk. "Or maybe I don’t want the supplies and time I spent on the mysterious stranger I rescued to go to waste." You lie, attempting to appease her.

Sevika remains silent, her gaze intense as she studies you. You can almost see the gears turning in her head as she weighs her options.

Finally, she lets out a resigned sigh and slowly slides off her horse. “I’m not takin’ your pity. I’ll work for everything. And I want my shit back.” She grumbles.

Eyeing her from the corner of your eye, you grab your tools and give her an easy task. In her pain induced haze, she doesn’t notice.

You both work in silence for hours, the repairs taking longer with her help.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you glance over at Sevika. She's leaning heavily against a nearby post, her face ashen and her breathing labored.

"Alright, the fence’s done." You announce, trying to keep the concern out of your voice. "Let's head back and get somethin’ to eat."

Sevika opens her mouth to protest, but a sudden wave of pain causes her to grimace and clutch at her side. You move quickly to support her and she attempts to push you away.

"Don't be stubborn." You mutter as you help her onto her horse. "You've done more than enough to earn your keep today. If you don’t rest now, you’ll just have to stay longer." With an exhausted nod, Sevika trots to the house.

You quickly follow behind, hovering close to her.

Reaching the bunkhouse, you leave the horses at the porch. Finding the building empty, you nod towards the bathroom. “Why don’t you go clean up, replace your bandages, and I’ll get started on the food?”

Sevika hesitates, her pride clearly battling with her exhaustion and pain. Finally, she gives a curt nod, gathering some clothes and limping towards the bathroom, one hand still pressed against her wound.

You busy yourself in the small kitchen, throwing together a hearty stew. As you're stirring the pot, you hear the bathroom door open. Sevika emerges, her hair damp and her face looking slightly healthier.

"Sit." You say, nodding towards the table. "Food's almost ready."

Sevika obeys without protest, sinking into a chair with a barely concealed wince. You ladle out two bowls of stew and set one in front of her, along with a chunk of bread.

You both eat in silence. Each spoonful of food is a slow, deliberate movement as you watch her closely, your eyes fixed on her stomach.

Your spoon scrapes against the bottom of the bowl as you study her. "How's your stomach?" You finally ask, your question laced with worry and concern.

Sevika pauses mid-bite, her silver eyes flicking up to meet yours. For a moment, she says nothing, seeming to weigh her words carefully.

"It's fine." She finally grunts, returning her attention to her bowl.

You can't help but scoff at her stubborn response. "Yeah, alright."

Sevika's eyes narrow at you, but you ignore it. "Look, I know you're not one for showin' weakness or askin' for help. But if that wound gets infected, you could die. So how about we cut the bullshit and you tell me how it's really feelin'?" You say bluntly.

For a long moment, Sevika just stares at you, her face unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, her shoulders slump.

"It… hurts." She admits reluctantly. “And I…”

She trails off and you wave your hand for her to continue. Sighing, her spoon plops into the bowl as she drops it. “I couldn’t change the bandages.”

You nod, pursing your lips. "Alright, let's take a look then."

Sevika hesitates, her pride clearly warring with her need for help. Finally, she gives a curt nod and slowly stands, grimacing as the movement pulls at her wound.

You lead her to the bathroom, gesturing for her to sit on the edge of the tub.

"Shirt off." You instruct, rummaging through a cabinet for fresh bandages and antiseptic.

Sevika complies slowly, her movements stiff and pained. Kneeling in front of her, your eyes meet hers briefly before you focus on her wound.

"This might hurt a bit." You warn softly as you begin to peel away the old bandages. Sevika remains stoic, but you can see the tension in her jaw as she grits her teeth against the pain.

The wound is angry and red, but thankfully shows no signs of infection. You clean it gently, feeling Sevika's muscles tense under your touch.

Attempting to distract her, you start talking. “It looks good so far, no inflammation or anythin’. Should take about 2 or 3 months to fully heal.”

As you work on Sevika's wound, you can feel her intense gaze on you. You try to keep your hands steady as you apply the fresh bandages, hyper-aware of her proximity and the warmth radiating from her skin.

"There." You say softly, smoothing down the last edge of the bandage. "All done."

You look up, meeting Sevika's silver eyes. For a moment, neither of you move. Then Sevika clears her throat, breaking the spell.

"Thanks." She mutters gruffly, reaching for her shirt.

You stand quickly, averting your eyes as she buttons up her shirt. "No problem. Just… let me know if you need help again, alright?"

Sevika nods curtly, her walls firmly back in place.

Nodding back, you send her a tense smile and leave.

Sevika is still cautiously detached, but you can see the tension, ever so slowly, dissipating with each day as she regains her strength.

Running your tongue over your dry lips, you rub your face in frustration and slowly traipse towards the horse stables. As you approach, the sound of raised voices catches your attention and your feet quicken into a run.

“Watch your tongue, boy.”

“Fuck. You. If you think that bitch dotin’ on you means anything, then-”

You burst into the stables, heart pounding. Sevika stands tall over John’s smaller figure, her fists clenched at her side. John's face is red with anger, a vein throbbing in his forehead.

"Hey." You hiss, rushing between them. "What the hell is goin' on?"

John sneers, pointing an accusing finger at Sevika. "This outsider thinks she can just waltz in here. She don't belong here!"

Sevika's eyes flash dangerously. "I don't want nothin' from you or this town. I'll be leaving as soon as I can."

You place a hand on Sevika's arm, feeling the tension in her muscles. "John. Back off."

John spits on the ground. "What?” He asks incredulously, before his tone shifts condescendingly. “Why? You too busy lickin’-”

With a fierce growl, you curl your hand into a tight fist and put all your weight behind it. The force of your punch meets the bridge of his nose with a loud crunch, causing his face to whip violently to the side. Undeterred, he quickly retaliates with a hit to your mouth.

Grunting through the pain, you launch yourself at him in a tackle. Straddling him, your knees pin his arms to the ground and you unleash a series of punches on his face. Each impact sends shockwaves of pain through both of you, but adrenaline fuels you.

Sevika stands to the side, silently watching you.

Moving back, you spit on the ground next to him. "You crazy fucking bitch!" John wails, his voice muffled by his hands.

You stand over him, your fist still clenched and shaking with anger. "Leave and don’t fuckin’ come back." You snarl.

John stumbles onto his feet, shooting both you and Sevika a venomous glare before stumbling out of the stable. As the sound of his footsteps fades, you turn to Sevika, your anger slowly dissipating.

"You alright?" You ask, eyeing her with concern.

Sevika’s face is an unreadable mask. "Didn't need your help.”

Scoffing out a laugh, you flex your aching hands. “Who said I was defendin’ you? He essentially called me a cock ridin’ bitch and it’s not the first time he’s mouthed off. Been dyin’ to get rid of that asshole.”

Sevika turns her head away from you, her silver eyes sparkling with amusement as she exhales. You feel the tension in your body release and a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of her smile, albeit small.

Her gaze roams over your figure as she licks her lips and tilts her head, studying you intently. A mischievous glint flashes in her silver eyes as she speaks. “Who woulda thought somethin’ so little and gentle like you, coulda put a grown man on his ass?”

Huffing out a tired laugh, you swipe a bead of blood from your lip. “Oh, I’m plenty gentle. But I’m rough when I need tah get the job done, baby.” A playful smile tugs at your lips as you glance at Sevika before dusting yourself off. “And I wouldn’t exactly call John a grown man.”

Sevika hides a smirk and nods towards the house, her voice teasing. “Guess it’s my turn to play nurse, huh?”

You nod, wincing as the adrenaline fades. “Fuck, I forgot how much that fucking hurts." Sevika's smirk widens as you shake out your hands, following you back to the house.

As you both make your way back to the house, you can't help but notice the way Sevika's eyes linger on you. There's a newfound respect in her gaze, mixed with something else you can't quite place.

Inside, Sevika starts rummaging through drawers for the first aid kit.

“Underneath the sink.” You perch on the edge of the table, watching her move and bend despite her own injury.

"Got it." She says gruffly, turning back to you with supplies in hand. She steps close, almost caging you against the table. Her body heat radiates against you as she examines your face. Her calloused fingers gently probe your swollen lip and you wince.

"Sorry." She mutters, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She begins cleaning the cut, her touch surprisingly gentle and you can’t help but stare at her as she works.

"You didn't have to do that." She murmurs, moving towards your bloodied knuckles.

You wince slightly at the sting. "Like I said, it wasn't just about you. John's had it comin' for a long time."

Grey eyes meet yours briefly before she silently nods. Swallowing, you ignore the flutter just below your navel and shakily speak. “Thank you.”

She pauses, her hand hovering in the air before slowly lowering it. Her lips part as she lifts her gaze, her breath catching slightly. You hold your own breath, watching as her eyes flicker to your lips before returning to meet yours.

A heavy warmth settles over your body as you feel the soft brush of her breath against your dry lips and you drop your eyes to her plush lips.

Her voice is low and husky as she responds. “Welcome.” Lowering her head towards yours, she starts closing the distance between your lips with agonizing slowness.

“What the hell happened!?!” The loud slam of the front door echoes through the house as your mother storms inside, her footsteps heavy and angry. You both instinctively move away from each other. Her touch still lingers on your skin and you feel your shoulders drop in disappointment.

Trying to compose yourself, you raise a hand to your mouth. You attempt to clear your throat, but only manage a small cough. "In here mama." Your voice breaks.

Your mother purses her lips when she sees you, before slowly approaching you. She looks tired, with dark circles under her eyes and lines of worry etched into her forehead. You avoid looking at either one of them as she grasps your chin and tilts your face towards hers. Sucking her teeth, she releases your chin and picks up your hand, roughly brushing her thumb over your bruised knuckles.

A sharp pain shoots through your hand and you instinctively pull it back. “Oww. What the hell mama?” You cry out in surprise.

Stepping back, your mother rubs her forehead in frustration. “What happened?” She asks, her voice laced with concern and disappointment.

Frowning at her, you speak defensively. “John was yellin all kinds a’ stuff and mouthin’ off. Was callin’ me names and stuff.”

Inhaling an angry breath, she closes her eyes. “You got into a fight with John cause he was callin’ you names?”

Smiling sarcastically, you shake your head. “Okay, well one, it wasn’t much of a fight. And two.” You glance at Sevika. “He called me a cum guzzlin whore. And a dick ridin’ cunt before he hit me. Was I not supposed to defend myself?” You ask, tone incredulous despite your embelishments.

Your mother's eyes widen in shock. She opens her mouth to speak but seems at a loss.

"This wasn’t the first time." Your mother finally manages, her voice strained at the statement. Sevika shifts closer to you, her eyes darting between you and your mother. "You should have come to me." She grits out.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. "And what would you have done, mama?"

Your mother's lips press into a thin line. "I would have believed you. I do believe you. I would have talked to him."

"I talked to him plenty." You retort, your voice rising. "Do you think that I can’t handle things myself?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Your mother insists firmly. “But you need to know what battles to fight and which to walk away from, especially if you’re gonna take over my ranch.”

You feel your anger rising, your face flushing with heat as your hands clench on the counter. “That’s all I’ve ever been prepared for. If I’m not ready, who’s fault do you think that is?”

Your mother's eyes narrow. “I should pop you in your goddamn mouth, girl. And that’s one fight you won’t ever be able to win.” Sevika tenses and your mother’s gaze flicks briefly to her before returning to you with heavy intensity.

Clenching your jaw, you send Sevika a look before taking a deep breath, visibly trying to calm yourself. “I’ve got everything from here, cowboy. Why don’t you head back to the bunkhouse and rest?”

Sevika ignores your mother’s annoyed glare, searching your face. “You sure?”

You feel a hint of comforting warmth break through the haze of anger and you nod with a small smile. “I’m sure, cowboy.” 

Nibbling on your lip, you narrow your eyes at her after a moment of contemplation. Keeping your eyes on your mother, you move to Sevika and lower your voice. "Rafter. Above Honey’s stall.”

Recognition flashes over her face and you send her a nod, backing away. “I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

Sevika sends your mother a dark look before leaving you both alone to sit in the stifling silence.

Feeling the anger return in full force, you can’t help the bitter comment that whips off your tongue. “Still think John’s good for me mama? I told you, I didn’t like him.”

Narrowing her eyes, she purses her lips in anger. “No. You ran away, like a child.” She takes a step closer. “You’re a grown woman, act like it.” She hisses.

“I ran away, because if I hadn’t, I would have told you that I didn’t want a life like yours. Pathetically, waiting on hand and foot for a man I don't love, much less like.” You send her a sharp smile. “I was walking away.” You match her tone, throwing her words back at her as you turn away.

With a loud groan, you forcefully throw your blanket off of you. Your tired eyes burn and water as you struggle to fully open them. Weary and disoriented, you slowly pull yourself up and begin to clumsily get ready in the dimly lit room.

The lingering anger from your argument rises as you leave your room. You let out a loud sigh as you take slow, heavy, steps down the creaky stairs. Passively aggressively, you hope you’ve made enough noise to wake her up.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you pause, listening for any signs of movement from your mother's room. Nothing.

With a mixture of relief and disappointment, you head towards the kitchen. You move mechanically, chugging a glass of water and snatching an apple from the countertop.

With a crisp crunch, you take a bite of your apple and step out onto the wooden porch. The cool morning air greets your skin, causing you to shiver slightly. Moths flutter around the porch light, their delicate wings beating against the warm glow. In the distance, crickets chirp in harmony.

Then. They don’t. The sounds of nature are replaced by an eerie silence that settles over the ranch.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you mutter under your breath. “What the fuck?” 

As you move closer, squinting your eyes in the darkness, you see it. A gap in the fence. Panic rises within you as growls and the sound of screeching animals fill the air.

The apple falls to the ground with a dull thump as you sprint back into the house. You take each step two at a time as you rush up to your mother's room. You burst through the door and with a flick of your wrist, you flip on the light. Flinging open the door to her closet, you push her clothes aside.

She jumps up with a gasp and screams. ”What the hell are you doin’!?!”

Ignoring her question, you grab the shotgun from its place and quickly load it with salt rounds.

"There's a hole in the fence." You explain urgently. “A pack got in. The dogs are holdin’ em off, but somethin’s wrong.”

Firmly gripping the gun, you rush out to the bunkhouse. Kicking open the door, you flip on the lights and shout. “Up, now! There’s a pack attackin’ the cattle.” They jump up and you don’t stay to watch them get ready.

Sprinting back out into the darkness, you deftly leap over the splintered remains of the fence, your gun raised.

The ranch dogs bark and snap at the snarling wolves surrounding them, but they are heavily outnumbered. The wolves’ ears are pressed flat against their heads, their hackles raised in anger. They refuse to back down, their eyes wild with hunger. Some are already stained with blood and bits of flesh hang from their gnarled mouths.

You take aim at the closest wolf and pull the trigger, unleashing a spray of salt rocks that hit its body with a loud crack. It flails in pain with a whimper, retreating slightly.

Heavy footfalls rush up behind you, but your eyes remain on the snarling animals. Taking aim again, you shoot, hitting another wolf. "What do you need me to do?" Sevika's voice echoes in your ear.

"You find those guns?" You grunt without taking your eyes off the advancing wolves.

“Yeah.” She responds gruffly.

Sighing with relief, you roll your shoulder. “Good. If they get too close, shoot.”

Closing in, you take careful aim and fire off shots at any that come within range. Sevika shoots a lunging wolf as the other ranch hands finally join you.

Gunfire and the sound of snarling wolves fills the air as you and the ranch hands fight to drive back the pack. Your ears ring from the constant barrage of shots, but you remain steady.

Sevika moves with surprising agility beside you, her own occasional shots ringing out. You catch glimpses of her in your peripheral vision - her face set in grim determination, silver eyes flashing in the darkness.

….

The chaos of the night fades as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. You stand amidst the aftermath, surveying the damage with a heavy heart. Several cattle lie motionless on the blood-stained grass, their bodies torn and mangled. The surviving herd huddles together, still trembling from the attack.

Your ranch hands move about, tending to the injured animals, disposing of the dead ones, and herding the frightened ones. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder.

Sevika approaches you, her face grim and spattered with dirt and blood. "How bad is it?" She asks, her voice low and gravelly.

You run a hand through your hair, your exhaustion and stress evident in every movement. "Could've been worse." You mutter. "Lost about four, maybe more. Won't know the full extent 'til we search the ranch and do a proper count".

Rubbing the crease between your brows, you sigh. “Fuck me, it’s too early for this shit.”

Striding over to one of the corpses, you bend down and carefully examine the dead cow. Its once plump and healthy body now lies lifeless on the ground, chunks missing and entrails spilling into the grass below.

“What’re you lookin’ for?” Sevika wrinkles her nose in disgust, covering it slightly with her hand.

Narrowing your eyes, you furrow your brow in concern. "Somethin' don't feel right." You mutter, clicking your tongue as you tilt your head. You inspect the blood that covers the cow's body, noticing how it has congealed into a thick, dark brown crust around the edges. “Does this look fresh to you?”

She shrugs indifferently. “I don’t know.”

Standing up straight, you use your boot to lift the cow's head, revealing a clean line on its neck. Closing your eyes briefly, you let out a seething sigh. “Shit.” You curse.

Running a hand over your weary face, you wince as your fingers brush against the cut on your lip. It stings and you can taste the metallic tang of blood as you stalk towards the broken fence.

Examining the damage with a deep frown, you turn to one of the ranch hands standing nearby. “Lay it on me, Arlo. What’d you find?” You say with a tense exhale.

“Well.” He begins, lifting his hat to scratch at his head. Flicking his nose, he points at the fence post with a calloused finger. “I don’t know of any axe-wieldin’ wolves, but it looks like the posts were hacked to shit and the railing planks were tossed.”

Raising your hand, you lightly trace the splintered wood of the fence post.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he continues. “The gate’s bein’ worked on now. But whoever did this was pretty pissed.”

Nodding in agreement, you drop your hand and pat him on the shoulder with gratitude.

Stepping away from the fence, you shield your eyes from the harsh rays of the sun, peering up at the house. Your mother sits on the porch, her expression unreadable as she rocks back and forth in her chair. You release a tense breath and roll your shoulders. Deciding to retreat to the stables, you drop your hand and turn towards Sevika, silently gesturing for her to follow.

You both settle onto a bench and you prop up the shotgun against the wall beside you. Rubbing your hands on your thighs, you attempt to still them as they tremble with residual adrenaline.

"Nice thing to wake up to, ain’t it?" Sevika's gravelly voice breaks the silence.

You grunt in response, acknowledging her statement with a slight nod.

Sevika shifts, her thigh brushing yours as she leans back into the wall. “How you doin’?” Her silver eyes flick up to meet yours.

“I’m fine.” You reply curtly.

Immediately regretting your tone, you cringe inwardly. But Sevika simply chuckles lowly, a deep rumble that eases the tightness in your chest. “Yeah, alright. How’re your face and hands?”

“Care to take a closer look for yourself, cowboy?” The retort slips easily, too easily, from your lips and you immediately regret it. Your eyes dart around around nervously and you straighten, clearing your throat. “This is a fuckin’ mess. Wonder what happened.” Your tone is laced with sarcasm.

Sevika studies you for a moment as you avoid making eye contact. Eventually, she nods and clears her throat before leaning onto her knees, her thigh rubbing against yours. “John.” She huffs out.

You ignore the heat of her thigh and rest your head against the wall with a groan. “Can’t wait to have that conversation. Mama’s gonna be real great to talk to after yesterday.” Your words are dripping with cynism and frustration.

You close your eyes, letting out a long exhale. Sevika remains silent beside you, her presence oddly comforting.

After a few moments, you open your eyes and turn to face her. "He's always been a sore loser, but this is a new low. He couldn’t have made it more obvious. I mean, the timin's too convenient. Right after our fight, and the cattle… " You trail off, shaking your head.

Sevika's jaw clenches, her grey eyes tracing the angry lines etched on your face. The muscles in her jaw tense and flex as she speaks. "Why was he around for so long?"

You scowl, feeling a surge of fury rising in your chest. “You can thank my mama for that.” Your voice comes out low and harsh, your words dripping with bitterness. Rubbing your temples, you stand up from your seat.

"Well, I’m off to see the wizard." You try to inject some humor into your statement, but it falls flat in the tense atmosphere. "Wish me luck, cowboy." You lift the shotgun into your hands.

Sevika's eyes narrow dangerously, her gaze following you as you make your way towards the door. "If you need me." She says with a hint of worry. "I’ll be close by."

Sending her a grateful smile, you nod silently in farewell before making your exit.

Each step towards the house feels like trudging through quicksand, each one sapping more and more of your energy.

Your mother continues staring, expressionless, at the damage to the ranch as you step onto the porch. The old chair beneath her squeaks with each rocking movement.

Sitting down on the old wicker chair, it lets out a tired creak, matching your own exhausted sigh. You lay the gun across your lap, nervously picking at the skin around your fingers as your eyes dart back and forth between each worker on the ranch, their faces reflecting the same exhaustion that you feel.

"We still need to search the ranch but we know we lost four." You begin. "Three are injured, one went into labor early. But the rest are fine, just scared shitless." You pause, rubbing your burning eyes. “Gate and fence should be finished in the next few hours. George’s circlin’ the perimeter, lookin’ for any other damage and strays, and I’ll go back around later.”

Squeak… Squeak… Squeak…

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees and letting out another heavy sigh.

Rubbing your chin, you lick your lips and draw in a deep breath. “We both know who did this.” You squint into the distance with a frown.

Slowly turning to you, she finally responds, lifting a mocking eyebrow. “And what are you gonna do about that exactly?”

Your nose flares in anger and you clench your hands in restraint. “I’m not gonna sit here and do nothing. I have to do something. And I’m gonna start with finding him.” You hiss with a tense jaw.

With determination in your shoulders, you stand and walk towards the stables. The ground crunches under your boots as you make your way down the path. “Look at what happened the last time you did something.” She calls out behind you.

Your mother's words hit you, stopping you in your tracks. You whirl around, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. 

"What happened last time?” You say, your voice high with disbelief. “You mean when I defended myself against that asshole? When I stood up for myself like you never did?"

She rises from her chair, her own eyes flashing. "I'm talkin' about you pickin' fights you can't win. Look what it's cost us already!"

"Cost us?" You spit back. "This ain't on me, mama. This is on John, and on you for bringin' him 'round here in the first place!"

Your mother's face hardens. "Watch your tone, girl. I'm still your mama."

"Then act like it!" You shout, your voice cracking with emotion. You roughly tap your chest. "For once, just fucking once, take my side!"

You don't wait for her response, spinning on your heel. Spotting George’s approaching group, you redirect towards him.

As he begins to dismount, you raise a hand. “Hold on. Tell me what you found first.”

Leaning forward on his saddle, he readjusts himself before answering. “Someone clipped the barbed wire in two spots. We’ve already patched ‘em up. Found three more dead cows."

The relentless sun beats down on your back, causing a bead of sweat to trickle down your spine. You nod, squinting up at George. “I need you and whoever else you pick to pay a visit to Mama John. If her son’s there, bring him here. If he’s not, question her.”

You turn towards the stables and Nora calls out to you. “Think it was John, boss?”

You scoff, not pausing in your strides. “I don’t think. I know.“

As you approach, you see Sevika leaning against the stable door, arms crossed over her chest. Her silver eyes meet yours, a question in their depths.

"I'm goin' after him." You say before she can ask. "You comin'?"

A ghost of a smile flits across Sevika's face and she pushes off of the door. "Lead the way angel."

You give a grateful nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "Thanks for havin' my back out there." You squeeze her arm as you brush past her.

As you saddle up Honey, you sneak a glance at Sevika and see her shrug nonchalantly, her face giving away little. "Didn't do much." She says in a cool tone.

"You did plenty. Quick on the draw, even with that boo-boo of yours." You insist softly, trying to convey your sincerity. "I'm glad you were there.”

Pausing on the buckles of the saddle, you lock eyes with her. “That you’re here." You say with emphasis.

That emotion you can't place flickers over Sevika's face again. She clears her throat and jumps onto her stallions back. "So, where’re we headin’?"

As you lick your dry lips, your gaze drifts down before returning to Sevika. You mount your horse with a grunt. “Doesn’t have much family, but his mama’s got a house on the edge of town. I sent a pair of ‘em that way.” You nod towards one of the dusty roads before heading in the opposite direction. “We’ll split off. Head to the general store.” 

Raising an eyebrow, she follows closely behind you. The streets are lined with wooden buildings, some showing signs of wear and tear while others gleam with fresh paint. As you pass by, heads turn to watch your arrival, their nosy eyes hungrily biting into your skin. But you pay them no mind, focusing instead on the path to the general store.

Sevika meets every invasive gaze with a glare, and tilts her head at you in curiosity. “The owner a gossip?”

Puffing out an amused breath, you shake your head. “Nah, but I’ll be sure to call him that to piss him off sometime.”

Finally, you reach the center of town. The wooden structure looms ahead, its creaky sign swinging gently in the breeze.

You can hear the whispers from curious onlookers as you guide Honey to a stop in front of the building. Dismounting, you tie Honey’s reigns to the railing and wait for Sevika.

As she slides off her horse, you lean in close and lower your voice. "Don’t mind him if he starts teasin’. He’s harmeless."

Sevika nods, her eyes scanning the street warily. "And if he isn’t?"

You shrug, pushing open the creaky wooden door. "He is."

As you both enter the store, a bell chimes softly overhead. The air inside is cool and musty, a welcome relief from the scorching heat outside. Shelves lined with various goods stretch from floor to ceiling, creating narrow aisles throughout the space.

A heavyset man with prominent mutton chops looks up expectantly from behind the counter, his eyes lingering on Sevika. "Was wondering when you’d show up." He drawls, setting aside the ledger he was writing in.

You approach the counter, your boots creaking against the wooden floorboards. "You seen John?"

His bushy eyebrows furrow downward in sympathy. "Hate to tell you this, kid." He pauses, glancing over your shoulder at Sevika. “But he’s gone. ”

Your heart drops and you shake your head in disbelief. “What d’you mean he’s gone?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose wearily with a meaty hand, he sighs deeply. “I mean, he's gone. He left.” Raising his head, he nods towards the back of the shop. “The boy spotted ‘im high-tailin’ it out of town on horseback at sunrise.”

Your heart sinks as you realize how you just barely missed him. Sevika’s monotoned voice helps ground you slightly. “Any guess on how far he could be? Where he’d go?”

He shakes his head, with an apologetic smile. “I don’t. But I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Thank you Benzo. I appreciate it, like always.” You reply dejectedly.

He gives a slight nod in return. “Course, kid. M’ sorry I couldn’t have been more help.”

You knock a bruised knuckle against the counter in frustration before shaking your head. “You were plenty help. It’s just not anythin’ I wanted to hear.”

Sending him a terse, but grateful smile, you both leave.

Next Part

[emmafrostdefender]

a fine line between god and animal | logan howlett x fem reader

chapter 1 - biting the apple | masterlist | read the prologue first

two new mutants arrive at the mansion.

i am churning this thing out and i have a very specific direction that i'm going to take it. the story does not really follow the canon plot because that would be boringgg. trust me, i know where this bus is heading. i hope you stay along for the ride! figuratively and literally! wink wink

warnings: cursing, religion, religious trauma, fighting, canon typical violence, 5.5k words

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“Before you all leave, I want to give you food for thought. One of the heaviest themes of Frankenstein revolves around the idea of nature versus nurture. Is the creature inherently evil, or was his treatment by society what turned him into a monster?” You pose the question to your students as class comes to a close.

The similarities to your own existence is not lost on you. You hope the metaphor clicks in their minds as it did yours when you first read the classic novel. Charles made it assigned reading when he taught comparative literature at the school. When you were old enough, you took the job. And you were inspired by some of his lessons, of course.

“We will be discussing this theme next week, so those of you that haven’t done your reading…” You don’t finish your sentence, but make a face that communicates all they need to know.

Your students leave the classroom and you slump against your desk. Despite your outside calm, inside your thoughts are racing. 

Scott and Ororo aren’t back yet and you feel as if you could break something. Or a million somethings. 

The reasonable part of you knows that if something bad happened, Charles would know and tell you immediately. But the unreasonable part of you wants to drain your energy source to find them. To sneak your mind around the globe until you pick up on their footsteps crunching the ground or their signature heartbeats sending pulses into the air.

Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you to the door that leads to the underground base of the X-Men. You’re going stir crazy.

Earlier in the day, before classes started, you assisted Jean in refining her powers. She wasn’t able to move a car with her mind, but she managed to start the engine without a key in the ignition. To you, that seemed more impressive. To the professor, it was exactly what he didn’t want. He wanted her to control her powers.

That word again. Control.

His reactions to Jean’s issues made you all the more wary to reveal your own struggles. With the recent revelation of Magneto’s scheme to abduct you, hesitancy bubbled up in your chest at adding anything more to Charles’ metaphorical plate. You would just be a burden.

Exiting the elevator, you enter the completely metal hallway, something of a labyrinth to newcomers. Your shoes echo against the metal and you look from left to right. No one else graces your path as you walk to the training room. There is another one upstairs that the students use when training with Scott, but you personally prefer this one. Far away from onlookers.

Your abilities don’t necessarily lend themselves to you having any physical prowess, but you managed to get trained up quite well in your years at the mansion. “The metaphysical is very much so connected to the physical. The health of your powers could very well depend on the health of your body,” Charles told you long ago. 

With nothing to do but wait, you change into the clothes from your locker and wrap your knuckles with tape. The large room is empty and you approach a punching bag. You begin. 

The rhythm you find is steady and fast. Hit after hit, blow after blow. The bag swings on its chain, bouncing back and forth between your hands. You punch and punch and punch, feeling anger build in your system. In your mind's eye, you see the bloody heart that was stolen from your chest. You see the chains holding you down. You see your mother’s face, staring at you in disgust. You see vines. Thousands of vines, each reaching to wrap themselves around your body, your arms, your legs, your neck. They rip the cross from your necklace, leaving a stinging brand there. You see your father’s lifeless form. 

And you feel your skull starting to split open when a voice says your name.

You nearly scream at the intrusion and your head flies around. “Holy shit, Jean! I could’ve killed you!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” she says with hesitancy. She’s looking at you like you’re a wounded animal about to lash out. Her eyes flit to the punching bag over your shoulder.

You look at it and gape at your handiwork. The bag ripped at the seams and sand spilled from the tears onto the ground. 

“Imagining Scott’s head?” She jokes, but it sounds strained. You hardly hear it.

You still stare at the punching bag, not quite sure what to make of this. You losing control was as infrequent as pigs flying, so…never.

A soft hand touches your shoulder. “Are you okay?” Jean asks so caringly.

You rip your gaze from the bag and look at her. You change your expression from one of near tears to one of slight amusement. “Must’ve gotten a little too enthusiastic.”

She analyzes you quickly, so quick you might’ve missed it if you didn’t know her so well. “I wanted to let you know that the jet is on its way back. They were able to locate the mutants.” You feel something in your chest relax. “Not in record time, though.”

You smirk. “Of course not. They didn’t have me.”

“Can you come help me prep the bay for when they get here?”

You nod. “Just let me change and I’ll meet you there.”

She turns to walk away and you watch her leave. Your gaze drops to your hands, where the tape did nothing to prevent the bruises forming around your knuckles. Looking at the clock hanging above the entrance, you realize two hours have passed. It’s nearly ten o’clock. 

As you enter the locker room, you swear you can still feel burning skin where your cross lays. 

You enter the loading dock of the jet in your regular attire and are greeted by Jean and the professor. They seem to be in deep discussion when you arrive, but snap their heads up the second they sense you coming. You can tell they were talking about you. 

You plaster a smile on your face and say sarcastically, “Looks like they managed to find them without me, after all.”

“They would’ve been here an hour after they left if you were with them, I’m sure,” Jean says with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Obviously.”

You shift your attention to Charles, who has begun using a computer to track the jet’s movements. Jean starts working the switchboard. You ask, “How many mutants did they pick up?”

His gaze does not move from the computer. “Two. A young girl and an older man. They were on separate paths until they met and started traveling together.” 

Your eyebrows furrow. “What made you think to bring them here?”

Charles has always been slightly particular when choosing the people to bring to his school. And even more hesitant to bring fully grown adults. At your question, his eyes shift to yours. “Why did I bring you to this school?”

You blink.

“To offer you protection. To offer you safety from a world that hurt you repeatedly. And to help you understand your abilities and use them for good. Not just to teach you Latin and calculus,” he adds with a smile. 

You nod, but still have a lingering question. “But why--”

He cuts you off, “Why am I bringing an adult man to our mansion as well?” He pauses. “Because he is extremely powerful. That kind of power can either be used toward the greater good, or harnessed for evil.”

By Erik.

“I see,” you say, hand mindlessly playing with your necklace.

Charles returns to the computer and says to you and Jean, “Get ready, they are nearly here.”

You are usually a part of the retrieval missions, making you less used to assisting with arrivals. However, you bring out two stretchers from the medical room and place them neatly by the door after getting a call from the jet. “They were in a rough fight with one of the members of the Brotherhood and the man is out cold. We think he has regenerative abilities so he isn’t badly injured, but the girl was with him when they got into a car accident. She’ll need attention. She’s jarred, but not unresponsive,” Ororo says.

Another of your jobs on the team is designated medic. You have innate knowledge of the human body and medical herbs because of your powers. It was never something you questioned when you were younger. If you scratched your arm or busted your lip open, you would skip into the woods and find something natural to heal yourself. Still, you begged Charles not to assign you to teaching biology. You despised the subject.

The ceiling of the hangar opens to reveal a velvety night sky. You feel the jet before you see it, the push it has on the trees around the mansion tingle your fingertips. The trees' movements stir your power source in your stomach, a warm, buttery feeling. The sleek aircraft lowers gently into the bay, your hair being pushed over your shoulders by the air movement. You feel relief at the sight of your friends returning from the mission; they exit the jet and you smile. Your grin droops at the sight of their expressions.

“We need you to look over these two, stat,” Scott says with urgency. 

You hurriedly bring the stretchers to the jet’s ramp and enter the main compartment with Scott and Ororo. Inside, they point you to a young girl, maybe sixteen years old, with brown hair and a soft face sitting in one of the seats. The two of them work to remove the man who sits slouched over in one of the front seats. The way they grunt, you’d think he weighs a ton.

The girl’s hands are wrapped tightly around the straps keeping her to the chair. When you approach, she jumps and stares at you with terrified eyes. “Hi, honey,” you say calmly. You introduce yourself. “I’m going to be taking care of you, okay? I just need you to undo these straps.”

She shakes her head tightly. “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?” You ask. 

She thinks between the two options and asks, “Am I safe?”

Your heart breaks. Upset coils in your stomach at the thought of all the people who have hurt this little girl. “Yes. You’re safe here.”

She seems to think this over and makes her decision. Her hands shakily unlatch themselves from the straps and move to unbuckle herself. You reach to help her, but she flinches. “Don’t touch me, please,” she says with desperation.

Your hands retract immediately.

“I just, it’s my…” she struggles with the words. “I hurt people when they touch me.”

You nod in understanding. That must have been a terrifying revelation for her. “That’s okay. We’ll get you all sorted out here. You are okay.”

She seems to relax a bit. You look over your shoulder and see your two friends lugging the man down the ramp and rolling him onto the stretcher. If this were any other scenario, you would laugh at Scott for struggling so much. 

You turn back to the girl and say, “And what’s your name?”

“Marie-- I mean, Rogue.” The way she says it makes you think she is still trying out the name for size.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Rogue.” You look her over and ask, “Are you able to walk or do you need help?”

She has undone the straps and sits a bit more forward in her chair. “I think I can stand.”

Rogue puts weight on her leg as she moves to stand up, but winces at the feeling and immediately sits back down. 

“Can I touch your clothes or is that also a problem?”

“You can. It’s just my skin.”

You sling her arm over your shoulder, careful not to touch any exposed skin, and help her out of the chair. “Just put your weight on me, hon’.”

She does as you say and leans against you completely. When you have exited the jet, you help her sit on the stretcher. The others have left, presumably to attend to the man. Charles is the only one left and he moves his wheelchair over to greet the young girl. “What is this place?” she asks after his introduction.

“It’s a place for people like you. And me. And her.” He points to you and you feel yourself smile. “It’s somewhere safe.”

Your gloved hand moves carefully over Rogue’s legs, feeling for any fractured bones or torn skin invisible to the eye.

She’s been relatively quiet for the duration of her examination, but she asks, “So, what can you do?”

You look up at her and grin. “I can do a lot of things.” You stand and walk to the shelves of potted plants on the wall to your right. You hold up one of the more pathetic looking plants and say, “See how this one is all wilted?”

Rogue nods. 

You pull your glove off with your teeth. “Watch this.”

Once your hand rests delicately against the plant’s stem, its wilting flowers perk up. A lush green color returns to its body, becoming perfectly healthy again. You look over at her and her mouth is gaping at the sight. “But why do you keep all the plants here if they’ll die without you?”

You put the plant back in its place and slip your glove back on. As you make your way back to the examination table, you say, “That’s exactly why. The professor used it as a tool to help me understand my importance here. To help me distinguish between the big parts of my powers and the smaller, more delicate parts.” You shrug as you grab some medical tape meant to alleviate and correct sprains. “I also like having company when I’m down here.”

“Company?” she asks when you kneel before her again to start wrapping her ankle.

“They talk to me,” you say, slightly mischievously.

Her mouth gapes again. “So, that’s your mutation? Talking to plants?”

“It’s a lot deeper than that. The Earth and I are like two sides of the same coin. Through our connection, I can track people if they are grounded. I can grow and heal things, but also kill them. I can create beauty, but also take it away. And I’m recently starting to realize I’m much more connected to humans than I thought.”

She considers this as you finish wrapping her ankle. 

You laugh a little. “Most of those are Professor X’s words, not mine.”

Charles arrives after a few minutes of comfortable silence, asking Rogue to come with him. You give her a small smile and tell her, “Make sure to drink those herbs with water once every day. It’ll help the pain.”

She gives you a tentative smile back. 

Before she leaves, you squeeze her gloved hand. “You’re gonna do great.”

Once the two of them are gone, you decide it's time to check on Jean and the man. She took him to the laboratory where digital scans of mutants’ brains and bodies could be completed. You walk down the hall and enter the door to the left, seeing Jean in her white lab coat. She is analyzing what looks to be brain waves on the monitor in front of her. “Oh, good,” she says when she turns to see you. “I wanted you to take a look at him. See if there’s anything I’m missing.”

You approach the table where he lays and take your first real look at him.

He is shirtless to allow the nodes and wires access to his chest. You scan over his body, seeing no obvious outer injuries. His face is calm in his induced state of comatose, but etched with what seems like a permanent line between his eyebrows. You have the urge to smooth it with your thumb.

“His name is Logan Howlett. He has extremely impressive regenerative abilities.”

Your eyes continue to study the ridges of his face. “Is that his mutation?” The thought of Charles saying he is a very powerful mutant crosses your mind. 

“That’s part of it. Once he wakes up, we'll give him a chance to tell us more. And then we’ll do a full body scan; Charles thinks there’s something else to him. He’s not wrong. Logan’s brain activity is far different from anyone I’ve ever seen,” she says in slight awe.

You continue to gaze at him. There is something else to him. Something you can’t quite place.

“Could you check his vitals for me? I didn’t notice anything strange, but I want to be sure,” Jean asks.

Hesitancy fills your body. For some reason, you don’t want to touch him. Some sort of dread pits in your stomach. Something will happen. 

Despite your body’s strange resistance, you nod curtly. You approach the table and lean over him. His scent fills your nose. It’s woodsy and smokey, all mixed with something metal that twinges your nostrils. You close your eyes and inhale, pressing your hand to his chest. In a second, you’ve been pulled to him, a vice grip around your wrist. Jean yells and starts pulling at your shoulders. Your body goes alive and you twist your arm around and headbutt him, causing him to loosen his grip on you. However, the moment your skull collides with his, you nearly pass out from the impact. It feels like he’s made of metal. 

“Oh, my God,” you groan, collapsing to the floor. Your head is throbbing.

Before you or Jean can react, he’s jumped off the table. It looks like he’s grabbed six knives and placed them between his fingers. “Where the hell am I?” he shouts.

Jean holds up her hands, but you’re still recovering on the floor, holding your forehead in your hands. Jesus, fuck. You hope He will excuse your language.

“You’re at Xavier’s School for Mutants in New York. We aren’t going to hurt you,” Jean says calmly. “Well, not anymore.” Her eyes flick down to you and you make a face.

“It wasn’t my fault he fucking attacked me,” you say with narrowed eyes. You glance at him, annoyance replacing the pain that had swept across your forehead. “What’s with the claws?” you ask, now realizing that what you thought were knives were actually thin metal spikes protruding from between his knuckles.

He stares at you, chest heaving. Then back at Jean. Fury clouds his eyesight, but you know there’s fear in there, too. 

“Look, we’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe here,” Jean says again. “I just need you to calm down and we can talk.”

The throbbing has eased and you make your way to stand. 

Something like a sarcastic grin falls on his lips. “Oh, sure, we can talk.” 

You position yourself, readying for a fight. “Get Scott,” you say to Jean quietly. 

“You sure?” she whispers back.

“Yeah, I’ve got this.”

She looks between the two of you for a moment, then runs out of the room. You hear her shoes echo in the hallway. 

“You really want to do this, bub?” he asks in a voice so quiet, you nearly miss it.

You watch him carefully. You know that you’ll never beat him, but you can keep him occupied until reinforcements arrive. “Do you really want to do this?” you respond with a grin.

Something lights in his eyes, something thrilling that makes your heart pound. He pounces, jumping over the table, his claws aiming for your throat. You dodge the attack, rolling to the side. You are back on your feet in an instant, crouching low to the ground. “Got anything else in you, big boy?” you tease, grin spreading wider at his fuming expression.

He yells, running at you with a speed you wouldn’t think him capable of. He shoves you to the ground with retracted claws and you grunt at the impact, but kick his legs out from under him, causing him to fall to the floor as you crawl away. He yanks your leg, making you stumble once more. You kick with all your might, but he won’t let go. Thinking you might be the stupidest person alive, you let him drag you so you’re pinned beneath him. “Sexy,” you say with a wink.

You can feel his steady heartbeat this close. "You're annoying," he hisses. You see his eyes drop to the cross around your neck and take that as your opportunity to kick him in the groin. He grunts and his hold around you weakens. You shove him off of you and stand to make a move for the door. You don’t think he’ll kill you, but you don’t want to take that chance.

Before you reach the door, an arm wraps around your waist and pulls you harshly against a solid body. You hadn’t noticed before, but he’s tall. Very tall. “Where do you think you’re going?” he whispers in your ear.

It sends a thrill down your spine.

“Are you always this friendly?” you whisper back, hand coming up to touch his arm. Your fingers hardly wrap around his forearm.

In the blink of an eye, he has detached himself from you, falling to the floor. Your fingers tingle from the use of your power, slowing his heart rate enough that he would go unconscious, but not enough to kill him. With his regenerative abilities, though, you assume he’ll be back on his feet in about five minutes. You hardly ever use that ability, finding it invasive. With this man, however, you think your actions are justified.

You nudge his leg with your foot when Jean and Scott come running in. “Holy shit, you took him out yourself?” Scott asks incredulously. 

“I just slowed his heart rate so that he wouldn’t break all the bones in my body. I appreciate your faith in me, though, Scott,” you say, wiping your brow.

He approaches the man on the floor, coming to stand beside you. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. He nearly broke my skull, though.”

Scott raises a brow. 

“How are we going to get him adjusted if he won’t speak to us without starting a fight?” Jean asks as she starts to fix the state of the room.

“I think our best bet is to leave him alone,” you say.

Scott looks at you. His visor blocks his eyes, but you can tell they are looking at you as if you are crazy. “Leave him alone? He’ll wreak havoc trying to find a way out.”

You shrug. “I think there’s someone who might be able to convince him to stay.”

“Better than getting a face full of claws,” Jean says, glancing at his limp body.

Exhaustion washes over you when you take the elevator back upstairs. It’s three in the morning and the events of the day are finally hitting you square in the chest.

You slump against the metal railing of the elevator, relishing in the silence. Jean and Scott stayed with Logan to put him in a state of deep sleep so that he wouldn’t go stalking around the mansion at night. You could imagine how some poor child would react to running into such a large and imposing man in the middle of the night. It would be terrifying.

You run your fingers through your hair and pinch the bridge of your nose. His smell lingers around you, crowding your space. 

What a prick.

Fighting you like that when all you wanted to do was help him? What was he going to do? Kill you?

A part of you wants to believe that he wouldn’t do that, but another part of you understands that he would’ve done anything to get out of here.

Logan.

You test the name out on your tongue. You wonder if he has another name, too. Something all of his enemies know by heart.

Deciding that that was enough thinking for the night, you shut your brain off and exit the elevator. You make your way to your bedroom and collapse on your bed, sleep hitting you like a bus.

You wake, body aching and head throbbing. Although you managed to escape the fight with no outer wounds, your body protests as you remove yourself from your bed. Thank God it’s Saturday.

Thankfully, your mind allowed you a break from the night terrors that plagued you so frequently, instead replacing them with dreams of walking through a forest. As you walked farther into the dank, the trees began to die, but you woke before anything else could happen. 

You get ready for the day and make your way downstairs. In the kitchen, you see Ororo sitting at the counter with a mug of coffee in her hands. Before you can voice your question, she says, “There’s some in the pot.”

You grin and pour the coffee into your bright pink mug along with the creamer that sits by the pot. Scott calls the shade an affront to the color pink. “So…” you start.

“He isn’t awake yet. Charles thinks he’ll be up in an hour or so.”

Relief slumps your shoulders and you take a seat across from her, moving the coffee around in your mug before you take a sip. “He is crazy strong, Ororo,” you scoff. “It felt like his skeleton was made of metal. And his claws…” You shake your head.

“Charles thinks he’ll be useful to us.”

“I know. I just hope he calms down a bit.” 

Ororo gives you a sheepish smile. “You have to admit, he is handsome, though.”

You laugh. “That’s the impression he gave you?”

She shrugs. “I might have a different one if I had to fight him.”

You contemplate her statement. You suppose he was handsome, but it didn’t startle you when you first saw him. It was the kind of beauty that creeps up and you don’t realize it until you’ve been staring at them for too long. He was rugged, yes, but there was something enticing about his looks. A boyish quality. You remember the smirk that donned his face when he challenged you to a fight.

You shake your head. “Yeah, he definitely made an interesting impression.”

The two of you leave the kitchen once some of the older students begin filing in, many making their own breakfasts instead of eating the provided meal with the other students in the dining room. “Are we training today?” you ask as the two of you walk down the main hall.

“I think Charles wants us to wait until he’s spoken with Logan. Wants us to meet him properly.”

You roll your eyes. ‘Meet him properly.’ Tackling someone to the ground isn’t a proper greeting?

“Be nice,” you hear someone say behind you. Jean falls into stride with the two of you. 

“Jean! Don’t read my thoughts,” you say, pushing her lightly.

“But you think so loudly,” she complains.

The three of you make your way outside, deciding to steer clear of the mansion until Logan has had his conversation with Charles. “I really don’t want to run into him again. It would not be conducive to a healthy future relationship,” you mutter.

“He is kind of volatile, isn’t he?” Jean asks rhetorically. “I mean, he attacked with no real provocation.”

“Waking up in a room you’ve never been in with two strangers isn’t provoking enough?” Ororo asks, taking a seat at one of the lawn tables. You join her, leaning back in your chair.

Being in nature calms your nerves, but also sets them alight. Your senses come to life again and you hear the running water of the fountain, the wind whistling through the trees, and the small animals stepping in the grass. As Jean and Ororo continue their conversation, you close your eyes and lean your head back and allow yourself to connect. It is only the second day after the full moon, which means your sensitivity to everything around you is still high. You pull at the energy from the ground, letting it throb through your body. You feel the aching in your body disappear, feel your muscles rejuvenated, feel the blood pumping through your veins.

You hear the humming of a man’s voice, scratchy and slightly off-key. It’s a voice you haven’t heard in years. He’s humming something that only graces your ears in dreams. It scratches your scalp and kisses your forehead. Dad.

You steady your breathing, trying to latch onto his voice. You’ve never experienced this in the daytime; it usually only happens when you’re asleep or in a deep meditative state. The words of your friends fade away.

In your mind’s eye, you stand from the table and follow the humming into the woods. You stumble over fallen branches, but your unusual miscoordination doesn’t prick the logical part of your brain. All you can think of is your father. His voice roaming through the trees, taking you deeper into the woods. And suddenly, you are somewhere else.

The church. 

His voice is gone.

“No,” you whimper, turning into a young girl again. 

You feel the shackles of the past lock around your wrists, forcing you to your knees. A screech escapes your throat at a forcible yank of your hair backwards. You look up to see your mother staring down at you. Her eyes are pitch black. “Your father rejects you. Even in death, he will not visit your wretched soul,” she says with a sneer, pulling your hair farther back. It feels as if she is trying to rip it from your skull.

“He never rejected me,” you spit.

“Are you so sure?”

You open your eyes with a deep inhale. It wasn’t real. You remind yourself.

Jean and Ororo stare at you, waiting for your response to something. You subtly shake your head of the images conjured by your mind and ask, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

You hope they assume your exhaustion from last night got the better of you and you simply dozed off for a moment. “Logan is ready to meet us,” Jean says, her eyes a reflection of worry. Not toward meeting Logan, to your dismay.

“Oh, great.”

Despite a desire to remain calm, your heart thunders in your chest. You worry your cross between your fingers. You have no idea what to expect from him; you fully believe he will pounce at you again. 

Ororo holds your hand as the three of you enter Charles’ study. Scott sits on the armrest of one of the chairs in the room, arms folded over his chest. Charles is behind his desk and sitting ever so casually on the edge of the desk, is Logan.

He wears a gray X-Men sweatshirt and the jeans he had on when he arrived at the mansion. His eyes fall to yours immediately, recognition filling his gaze. You break eye contact dismissively, going to sit on the other armrest of the chair Scott sits on. You keep your eyes strictly on Charles, but you feel Logan’s on you. Your heart doesn’t steady.

“Everyone, this is Logan Howlett. The Wolverine,” Charles says, gesturing to the man sitting on his desk.

Scott huffs a laugh. “Wolverine? Like the animal?”

You nudge him in the side. “As if Cyclops is any better.”

Charles clears his throat. “Please.”

“We are the X-Men, some of which you have already met.” Charles gives you a pointed look. You throw your hands up in defense. “I promise you not all of your introductions will be so…violent.”

Scott snickers. 

“Shut the hell up,” you hiss. Your eyes flick to Logan’s. He watches the interaction between you two carefully.

Charles goes around the room, introducing each of your friends to the stranger. When he gets to you, Logan’s stare bears into you heavier than it had before. It intimidates you, but doesn’t scare you. Charles tells him your name, following with, “Others know her as Proserpina, the Roman goddess of spring.”

You don’t expect him to say anything, but his voice fills your ears for the first time since last night. “The goddess of spring is who knocked me out cold last night?”

“It’s not just nature I can manipulate,” you say tersely. “Bub.”

His eyes narrow as his lips turn up in a smirk.

Charles finishes the introductions and tells the team that training will commence in thirty minutes. The second his spiel is over, you stand. Deciding to jump into the fire, you approach Logan. “Sorry about last night,” he says.

It takes you by surprise. You expected more of a fight from him.

“Uh, it’s okay,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “You gave me some much needed practice.”

You sense your friends watching your interaction from afar. Although they are conversing casually, you feel their eyes on you.

“Yeah, you seemed a little rusty, Pro.”

You narrow your eyes. “And you seemed a little overzealous, Wolverine.”

He grunts. “If that’s overzealous, then I worry for your boyfriend.” He points to Scott on the word boyfriend.

“Scott?” You laugh. “Now, that’s a good joke. You’re funny.”

A look of confusion crosses his face and you leave him like that, feeling content with how the conversation ended. Screw a healthy relationship.

━━━━━━━━━━☆━━━━━━━━━━━

i had to get this out of my brain or i was going to go crazy. i hope you enjoyed! im excited to keep writing them :)

[featguler]

it made us restless ────── my god, this reminds me of when we were young.

lewis hamilton is seen reconnecting with an old lover.

⌗ pairing : lewis hamilton x reader ⌗ tags : reader is female, and her faceclaim is established. reader is a singer. not proofread, possibly shitty. ⌗ notes : this is my 200 followers special!! a different sports!! i haven't done a 100 followers special because i'm technically supposed to write for a football athlete that is not from real madrid, but i haven't decided who i wanna do for that so... you get this first :3 also i tried doing something different with the header!!! title and description is from 'when we were young' by adele ♡ masterlist.

FACECLAIM 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ yura yunita ( instagram )

DISCLAIMER 𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ 𐙚 i am not affiliated with yura yunita, lewis hamilton, or anyone mentioned in this fic 𐙚 any similarities in name, time, and place is purely coincidental 𐙚 do not mind the time stamps 𐙚 click on the pictures if it seems blurry

ynusername

liked by hamiltonsource, ynluvr, lewishamilton, and others

ynusername some of that ldt (long distance tennis) 🤪 @.lewishamilton tagged lewishamilton view all comments

lewishamilton <33 ❤️ by author

ynusername <33

username okay so anyone else got recommended this post on their timeline... seven years later...

username let me tell you about the heart attack i got... username i fr thought they were getting back together

lewishamilton i totally beat you though ❤️ by author

ynusername liar liar pants on fire → lewishamilton my pants aren't on fire?? → ynusername i wouldn't know you're half the world away → lewishamilton aw sorry pretty baby :( <33 username oh... this relationship wasn't a hoax... → username ??? 😭😭😭 username they were CUTE cute huh..

username i love you my mother and my father please adopt me

username wow seeing my comment from 7 years ago here is crazy... → username 😭😭😭

username this must be a sign from the universe huh...??? HUH???

username it's literally just the instagram algorithm fucking things up again calm down username REAL i'm not even following y/n

yourfriend cutiessss! ❤️ by author

ynusername i love you! 🥺

ynsource

liked by ynfanaccount, ynluvr, hamiltonsource, and others

ynsource my sources say that y/n is rekindling with an old lover 🤭 tagged ynusername view all comments

username and what sources are these

ynsource trust me → username LITERALLY "trust me bro" SOURCE???

username creating unnecessary drama

username i feel like it's been a few months ❤️ by author

ynsource 🫣

hamiltonsource wait can u tell me ❤️ by author

ynsource ofc baby username not the ship going so strong that their fan accounts are also in a love affair

username that's a dinner for TWO...

username she's allowed to have friends you know → username or other men idk → username no other men → username ?????

ynusername

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ynusername some fresh air before the tour 🤝 which dates will you be going? :-) <33 view all comments

username oh she's teasing us

username guys.......... they're obviously talking again right

ynusername i'll see you all!!!

username I'LL SEE YOU I LOVE YOU username SEE YOU SEE YOU SEE YOU username vitamin SEE YOU!!! ❤️ by author → ynusername ohh that's cute → username WAIT ILY THANK YOU FOR REPLYING → ynusername <33

username I'M GOING TO THE ARLINGTON SHOW QUEEN ❤️ by author

ynsource work those hamstrings 😍

username i feel like i'm in a cult

hamiltonsource we will... be seeing you <33

ynusername which dates? xo <33 ynsource HOW DID YOU GET A REPLY BUT NOT ME??? @.hamiltonsource → hamiltonsource i'm just better baby

username london 2nd night! <33 ❤️ by author

username she's fucking with us right

georgerussell63 monaco date ❤️ by author

ynusername which obviously exists → georgerussell63 🤣 ❤️ by author username great now we have both of *****' ex interacting with one another

username why are we so afraid to say the word lewis

username SHHHH THAT'S FORBIDDEN AROUND HERE → username wtf??? i'll @ him idc @.lewishamilton → username real → username @.lewishamilton

ynusername

liked by ynsource, ynluvr, yniloveu others

ynusername found some gems for a couple of years ago 🥰 view all comments

username were you getting married 😹

ynusername 🤫

ynsource to WHO!?!?!?!?

username happy bday queen

username it's not her bday yet 😭

ynluvr oh you are GORGEOUS gorgeous ❤️ by author

ynusername <33

username white is fr her colour

username whoever is going to marry her will be so lucky to see her walking down the aisle... 🥺

lewishamilton

liked by ynusername, hamiltonsource, and others

lewishamilton First paddock birthday in a while 🎂🥳 <33 tagged ynusername view all comments

ynusername happy birthday to me!!! ❤️ by author

lewishamilton Birthday girl! → ynusername :-)

username HARDLAUNCH?????

username me when the world didn't end in 2015

username my mom thinks i'm insane for tossing my phone across the room after seeing this

hamiltonsource happy birthday mom @.ynusername

ynsource go away that's MY mom??? → hamiltonsource OUR mom 🥰

username HEEELLLLLLOOOOO??

username OMG.....

username wait why am i emotional

username seeing lewis post y/n gave me such intense whiplash i think i was transported back to 2011

username i have no one to send this to

[readychilledwine]

Hellos. Could do something where the reader is azriel mate and they are kidnapped. She sacrifices her wings to save his life. And mention how az is angry that it happened and whatever u think will look good. Thank you.

👀👀👀👀 I, uh, may have a thing for shattering my own heart only to pick up the pieces. So yes. Yes, I can. Hopefully, you enjoy it, and I did it justice, dearest!

Beauty in Pain

Azriel x Illyrian reader

Warnings - not over descriptive mentions of torture and dismemberment, Azriel goes feral, depression, the usual unedited by an outside source.

Word count -2030

Peep pt 2

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

You were better trained than this. 

That reminder was echoing inside your mind like a war drum, beating senselessly into your thoughts as you were dragged down the barely lit pathway under the temple. You knew no one was coming. Faebane had blocked the mating bond, blocked your ability to call Rhys or Feyre. You'd be lucky if they found you, alive or dead.

It had started a routine mission. Head to the war camps, ask the leader for reports, speak with the females, head home to your mate.

Your mate. The one you prayed had felt the bond grow cold despite the many promises to never shut each other out. The one who'd slaughter every single male involved in this when he found out where you were, who had you, and what they planned to do or will have done.

You didn't fight as they laid you face down on the concrete block in the room. They had planned this, planned how long to keep you on a specific dose of faebane, no food, and no water. Planned the beatings used to weaken you on a cycle. You felt it and flinched as two sets of hands roughly grabbed your left wing. 

You were prepared to be clipped as a form of torture for the information they wanted. You knew it was coming. But as blinding pain left you with no choice but to scream out for your mate, for your brother, for Rhysand, you knew the plan was worse than you had imagined.

But you did not yield. You bared the pain, allowing it to try and break you until the world grew cold and dark.

—-----------

Azriel was pacing Rhysand's office. He had not slept in the 7 long days you had been overdue for, at the very least, a check in, after the missive Rhys and Cassian had received.

They have not started training the females. I will be home or rewrite soon. I promise. The three Illyrian males had trusted you to handle it. They had trusted you would be safe, unharmed, respected. 

And despite every alarm ringing in his heart, mind, and soul, Azriel had not gone to you right away. 

Rhysand's eyes glazed over, his face dropping slowly as he received whatever message he was receiving. He came back to them slowly, moving without speaking as he started grabbing weapons and tossing them to Azriel and Cassian. 

The High Lord's voice was dealthy calm as he finally spoke. "A set of wings, freshly removed, was just found outside of my mother's cabin. There's no signs of (y/n) anywhere in any of the camps the twins searched. The only thing reported to them was in the northernmost camp."

Rhysand breathed deeply. "A female was carried through the camp, unconscious with her head and body covered. That same night the camp heard screams from midnight until early into the morning."

Cassian's breath caught in his throat before he immediately grabbed Rhysand's arm. "Take me there, now." 

"How long ago," Azriel's voice had gone cold and detached. "How long ago did that happen? How long has she been sitting Mother knows where with untreated wounds or dead?"

Rhysand refused to look at Azriel, reaching to grab his brother's hand, before finally whispering. "4 days."

—------------

The rescue had turned into a bloodbath. There was zero question as a panicked shadows all but dragged the three of them to an abandoned temple.

It reeked of her blood, her sweat, her tears. 

It held an almost haunting aura as if the terror and pain of her screams had scarred the ancient stone, marking it to forever echo her agony to anyone walking inside.

Azriel didn't want to ask questions. He didn't want prisoners. He wanted payment in blood. 

He had cut through every single male that appeared in their path before Rhysand and Cassian even had a chance to interfere on his way to the dungeons his shadows were pleading with him to get to quickly. 

And now one last male stood between him and the cell she laid unconscious in. "Move or be moved," Rhysand told him coolly. "I would not push your luck." 

The male stared at a blood soaked Azriel. His shadows were curling over his shoulders like snakes waiting to strike. His wings flared wide in dominance and anger. His 7 siphons glowing. 

The young male moved, allowing Rhysand to grab him and winnow him away to the Prison before Azriel could beat him to death as well. Cassian moved quickly to the door, opening it with the key they had found, before entering the small cell containing his sister.

The anguished sob that left Cassian was the only confirmation Azriel needed. "Y/n," he heard Cassian tapping your body. "Come on, sis. Wake up."

Dying. Azriel's shadows confirmed. Infections. We cannot safely winnow her. Rhys is bringing a healing team. Need more space. 

Azriel moved into the cell, holding the scream in his throat as he was overwhelmed with the urge to run to you. Cassian had you cradled into his chest, rocking you back and forth before looking up at Azriel, eyes rimmed with tears. "We need to get her somewhere that Madja can use to work on her. Rhys is bringing her and a team of healers here." Azriel held his arms out, a silent demand in the movement. 

Cassian only nodded. Standing and carefully transferring your beaten and bleeding body into Azriel's arms, following him out of the room.

—---------------

3 long weeks of silence had passed in the House of Wind. 

No one had gone to Azriel's room.

No one had spoken to him without the male lashing out.

There was nothing they could do to comfort him but allow him to be with you.

When you first got home, while you were lying unconscious with Madja, Helion, and Lucien looking after you, Rhys had managed to get out of the male Azriel allowed to live one very simple thing. 

You let them torture you, let them completely take your wings, to force you to look into death's eyes, and you had allowed them to do it to protect Azriel. You had refused to give them his schedule to visit the camps. You refused to tell them when he'd be there alone again. You refused to tell them which pathway he flew in using or where he'd shadow-walk himself to first.

You had lost your wings to protect him. Your husband, your mate.

Azriel had lost it then, guilt eating away at him, and began beating the male to death with his bare fists as Cassian and Rhysand just watched. They knew what was echoing in his mind. She will live, Madja had said, but she will never be the same. Her wings can't be reattached or saved, no one has the ability to give her back what was taken.

You hadn't spoken to Azriel, Rhys, or Cassian when you finally woke up. You only sat in your window, staring at the sky. 

The one you'd never feel going through your hair again. The one you'd never touch again. The one you'd never taste again.

It was funny, you thought to yourself, to have been protected and trained to ensure this never happened, only for the moment it did to come 500 long years later. 

It had been a full week later when Azriel cornered you in the shower and just held your naked body for you two to speak. Another week passed before you allowed him to kiss you and hold you without him having to force the contact. You had yet to show interest in leaving the bedroom the two of you shared. 

You felt familiar scarred hands on your bare shoulders, wrapping around to your collarbones before running up the front of your neck and tilting your head back. "Dinner alone tonight or dinner with our family?" His voice was scratched from the crying you two had been doing. His eyes were swollen and red. "I already know the answer, I just need to verbally hear it."

"I wish to be alone." He nodded. Taking the cue and leaving you to your window as he sat back on the couch, head falling into his hands, as he began to cry again.

You watched his shoulders shaking, listened to his almost silenced sniffling. You knew things had forever changed in your relationship. 

There would be no more missions for you.

No more trips with Amren away from him.

No more walking Velaris alone.

There would be no more date nights spent flying.

No more jumping from high places together, allowing yourselves to fall until the last possible second, only to spread those precious wings.

There'd be no more wing play late into the early mornings, edging each other with small touches in certain places until you were both begging for relief.

But you knew deep down, more than anything, there would be a new Azriel. One that would have one more thing to hold against himself. One that would have one more moment of his life to look back on and use as an argument for how he wasn't enough.

And you couldn't have that. You would not stand for it.

You couldn't have the broken male you had spent time healing with, growing with, and struggling with. You could not have the one who blamed himself for every little thing again.

You stood on slightly unstable feet, and walked to your closet, a shadow trailing you. Rhys had immediately replaced your clothing, ensuring you would not have to go through ordering it yourself, and had the twins place the new materials into your closet. A simple black dress was what you picked. It would stop right above your knees, hug your torso beautifully. You closed the closet door, calling for Rhys silently in your mind and jumping as his hands appeared behind you. "I need help." You whispered. 

His eyes searched yours before nodding and helping you change into the dress. Allowing you to use him to balance. A kiss was placed on the back of your head as he laced it up. Gentle, but full of emotion. And he winnowed away. 

You left the closet, walking to Azriel on the couch slowly with a pair of his trousers and a black button-up shirt in hand. "I changed my mind. I'm craving that cake, the almond one with the vanilla frosting."

Azriel scoffed lightly. "I am not leaving you to go get cake. I will ask Rhysand-"

"I need you to fly me there, Az. I want to go get the cake, eat it at the Cafe with coffee, and then I want you to take me for a walk on the Sindra. And maybe go to that book store. The used book one."

He was silent before looking at you. His hazel eyes were full of question. "Y/n-"

"If my mate will not take me, I will ask my brother. I want cake, and I want my husband to take me to get it."

"I don't think you understand how heartbreaking not being able to truly fly is going to be, my heart."

You only repeated yourself, voice smaller this time. "If my mate will not take me, I will ask my brother. I want cake." You paused, eyes welling with tears. "I deserve cake and coffee. If I want cake and coffee for dinner, I expect my mate, the male who married me and bound himself to me, to take me."

Azriel nodded. Grabbing the clothing from you and he changed in silence. He stood on the balcony waiting as you took calming breaths and walked outside for the first time in many weeks.

"I am not responsible for the setback in your mental health after this." 

"No, but you are monetarily responsible for my cake and purchases. Let's go." He took you in his arms, holding you close to his chest and took off hard. 

And in that moment, you both knew something new had begun. You were laughing as he concentrated way more than usual to fly. You were smiling at how this allowed you to feel his body heat, to hear his heartbeat, to touch his face. 

You were laughing at how he began genuinely laughing at you. Not understanding where the sudden joy filling the bond and over flowing it like a faucet set to run for too long came from.

It wasn't until he paused in the sky, hovering so he could look down at your smiling face did you both realize something.

Losing your wings was just the beginning. 

[ciitedexcerpt]

Put myself through living hell all so I could feel what I felt when you took me in, absolved my sins.

[plaguedwithlove]

Based on a asmr roleplay i suddenly remembered a while ago, and i can't find it :((

Yan!Werewolf x Fem!reader

summary:  Why you?...All you wanted was to help your sick father, and it costed you your freedom, innocence, and livelihood

Warnings: my first dark romance story and smut so apologies if this is shit, 18+, stalking, non-con, rough first time, virginity loss, non-con touching, kidnapping, breeding kink, monster-fucking?? but y'all fuck when he's in human form, mentions of and inevitable forced pregnancy

—--

Violent coughs erupted from your father’s room, he had barely made any progress to recovery for about 2 weeks. Rushing up to his room, you give him a small smile and re-wet the cloth on his forehead 

“My loving daughter, I’m ashamed of myself that you devote your time to taking care of your pathetic father, you should be enjoying your young adulthood!..” 

You giggle and shake your head “Oh hush father, you’ve taken care of me since girlhood and now it’s my turn to take care of you, I will stay by your side for as long as I need to.” 

With a teary smile, your father grabs your hand and firmly grasps it “Your mother’s spirit lives in you, she too had such loyalty and love.” 

Returning his smile, you nod “I miss her, papa..”

Although your mother died when you were rather young, merely being 9 when she passed. You still remembered the mundane activities you’ve done with her and you all remember them fondly 

One of your favorite memories with your mother was when you both went for a walk in the forest and she reminisced of how she met your father 

“He slipped on his bottom and I came to his aid, I could see hearts in his eyes..” your mother giggles. She then looks at you and strokes your hair, “One day you’ll meet that someone who gives you the butterflies and you’ll know they’re the one you’ll spend the rest of your life with.” 

Going back to reality, your father speaks “As do I, she would be proud of the beautiful young lady you’ve become.” More coughs escaped from his mouth, your eyebrows furrow in worry 

“Here, papa.” helping your father drink the warm tea, his coughing calms down. “You aren’t getting any much better, I’ll head into town tomorrow and get more medicine. But please rest for now, papa,” 

With a weak nod, your father lies back down but before closing his eyes he gives you one more smile 

“Thank you my sweet (Name)..” 

“Of course, good night..”

Making your way out of his room, you look back at your father one last time before shutting the door

Grabbing your bag, you make your way outside, even if you couldn’t go into town at this hour, you still wanted to at least pick more herbs nearby

While the sun was still out, you hastily make your way to the field of rosemary's 

—--

A lone man strides through the forest, he was starved 

Both for meat and affection

He hadn’t had a successful satisfying kill in days, and quite frankly he was on the edge now, and the fact he was sexually frustrated would worsen his state of mind

Frustration and hunger was his drive, and whatever poor decently-sized creature was within a mile radius would meet an unfortunate end 

His ear and nose twitches

He knew this smell all too well, a potential prey 

Hastily, he makes his way toward the source of this delicious smell

The closer he got, the more his hunger enhanced 

Until, the smell of his prey mixed with the scent of rosemary 

He obscures himself behind a tree, waiting for the perfect moment

As soon as his prey got in better range of his sight, he could make out a figure, it was no deer, it was a human, a female human  

Peeking his head out more, his head tilts upon seeing the human

The werewolf has seen humans before, but never this close, nor this beautiful 

He stares at the woman's body, from her docile looking face, her breasts, and plump arse

Now that he thought about it, he was at the ripe age of finding a mate, after all most of his friends have already tied the knot and even had some mini versions of them!

And she certainly looked to be at a child-bearing age

He had to have her...

Upon noticing she was dusting herself off and ready to leave, he moved from his spot in a flash, steadily making way to his mate

HIs sudden movements startled as the woman gasps and looked around for the source of the sound

She was easily startled, cute....

Deciding to play with her for a little, he reveals himself to her, standing on his full height

—--

Your eyes widen at the tall figure in front of you, your breathing quickens and start to panic

"Well..what do we have here?" voice deep and menacing

Looking up, you're met with a rugged-looking man, he was tanned, with dark chestnut messy hair cascading down his shoulders. But what stuck out most to you was his amber eyes, bright under the moonlight, pupils piercing into you. He was far from human...those eyes no doubt belonged to those men who transform into monstrous beasts on the full moon

"Lost little lamb?"

"N-no, I was on my home just now...good night." before you could make a run for it, the tall man blocks your way, for a big guy, he was surprisingly agile, making your fear increase ten fold

"Not so fast, you've crossed into my territory, now you must pay the price."

Your heads suddenly turn toward him, since when did this field belong to anyone? You've been here many times, and there was never a claim on this field. "Sir, please! I have no possessions worth taking from me! I only have herbs for my sick father!"

"Ahh I see, so you're the one stealing from my field?"

"Please forgive me, I needed them to heal my father!"

"Save your pitiful pleas thief.." with a devilish smirk, the man lowers his upper body to inspect you

The man lowly chuckles at how adorably pathetic you looked, all under his mercy

"Hmm, quite plumply cheeks...meaty thighs..." he then pushes his face on the crook of your neck, inhaling your smell "Delectable...you would make a fine meal..." feeling you tense up and shiver with fear made his senses go wild

"But...lucky you, I've been lonely these days... I need something pretty to warm my den.." Hearing what he was implying, you look at the man with fear and confusion

"I'll take you as my mate...and you will bear my offspring." he licks his lips, revealing sharp canines

Your eyes widened in horror. You were in the prime of young adulthood and still had a life ahead of you! Marriage and children were still far away from your plans! "No, no, no! I have a father to look after, I can't and I won't!" pushing away from him, he grasps your wrist in an iron grip

"Oh well that's just too bad for that old fool, you trespassed and now you must pay up by giving yourself away to me, if you keep resisting I'll just have to eat you up and kill that meek father of yours."

Seeing all the spirit and will drain from you, made him swell with pride and triumph "Now what will be your choice, my mate?" he whispers and grabs a lock of your hair, kissing it

Fat glumps of tears build up in your waterline, this was it, your life was over all because of this hormonal and dangerous man beast

"Please...leave my father out of this..."

"Then you know what you must choose, pet.."

Closing your eyes, tears shed down your cheek and you nod "Just leave my father alone..."

The man grins, and grabs your chin, making make eye contact with him "Good choice...but don't you worry, I'll be your family now, along with all the children we will have." He slams his lips on yours, devouring them

You choke and gasp as he assaults your throat, his tongue forcing its way inside all over your mouth

Pulling away briefly, he lets out a raspy chortle. "That's it. Keep crying for me." he turns you around, throwing your bag out in the field to be forgetten. He pulls apart your dress, the tearing of the fabric was the only noise heard in the forest, your cries only worsens

"Erix." He suddenly says

You look at him with confusion

"Erix is my name, be sure to scream it."

With one final pull, your dress is in tethers, leaving you bare only in your underclothes

Erix's large palms pulls on the straps of your brassiere, leaving it to fall on the ground

Immediately, you cover yourself by wrapping your arms around your breasts

Behind you, you hear Erix taking off his trousers

"Tch, your weak struggling is only turning me on more..." With ease, Erix grabs your arms, pulling them away from your chest

As he slowly pushes you down on the grass, your crying starts to silence, quietly accepting your fate

"C'mon, sing for me, pretty.." one of Erix's textured-hands made their way on your breast fondling it, but you turn cold upon feeling something hot and hard rubbing on your ass

You let out a small gasp

"That's right, you'll start making noises again." He then grabs your underwear, pulling them down to your ankles, throwing them away. Erix's large hands grab the fat of your thighs, holding them up to spread your legs, and then grabs his long, hardened flesh, aligning it to your sweet entrance. With ease, he forces himself inside you

You were not prepared for the penetration. You've never experienced intercourse all your life, making the pain all but less painful. It didn't help that Erix's manhood was most likely much larger than an average human male. Your poor body bleeds and suffers from his harsh movements

The cries you suppressed earlier leak out again to a painful wailing

Helplessly, you lie on your side, continuously being pounded from behind

You hear Erix groaning louder and louder along with feeling his pace quickening, he then shifts up from his side to get on his knees and get more leverage and friction, both his hands grabbing the cheeks of your ass, slapping them making you cry uncontrollably

Your face is shoved on the grass. The push and pull was almost hurting your neck and hips. Then you felt it, a sudden feeling of warm fluid coursing inside you, slapping of skin to skin was the only sound heard along with carnal growls in the grassy field

As Erix's pace slows down, the moment you feared commenced, warm thick fluid enters your body, his seed. He keeps the lower half of you up in the air and doesn't pull out instead pushing his hips back and forth on yours to make sure you took it

He then turns you around. "Gotta make sure the job gets done right." This time, he rubs the remaining of his bodily fluids on your vagina, acting as a temporary lube, for your body still refuses to take in his length. Erix continues his violation on you, but this time, the pain lessened this round, and instead, you feel pleasure, turning your cries into moans. Finally, your pussy releases lube

While you watch with lidded eyes on the man fucking you, you get a good look at his naked body, hairy and toned. Damn you for finding him attractive, your eyes trail down to his cock disappearing and reappearing inside you, it was a miracle that you were taking him before you got wet

"Ahh...Erix..." you spoke his name for the first time and wrap your legs around his waist to feel every motion of his dick

"Hah.. you're coming around now, my flower, your body is taking mine in..." Erix firmly grips your hips and throws his head back, groaning each time his hips meet yours. You weren't even trying to match this pace anymore as he did all the work by using your body to his pleasure

He looks back down at you, face covered in dirt with such a erotic expression. He then looks at your bouncing tits, the beautiful mounds of flesh that would feed his children one day

The thought only turns him on more, and he speeds up, your eyes widen, and your moans get louder. Even though you still felt pleasure, Erix's brutal pace sent shocks of pains in your abdomen. The pain was enough for tears to form again. Your cries grab Erix's attention, and then you feel a wet and warm muscle on your cheek, Erix was licking your tears away

You once again feel the warmth from earlier inside you, but you are a fool to think he would stop here or the third time

Afterall, the night was still young. The forest and the stars above would bear witness to the savage violation of your body, the consummation of this twisted union

Hours upon hours passed of Erix's assault on your body, it had been long since you lost the will to fight back as it was useless against this beast who's blood was pulsing with sexual hormones and with the intention of impregnating you no matter what

Round after round, he never stopped, his stamina was endless. Until you finally feel him slowing his thrusting to a complete stop, you were dreading the moment he would start another harsh thrust inside you, but it never came

His slow and heavy breaths match yours, sweat was glistening off his body. Erix leans closer you, slightly pressing his weight on you. He then leaves gentle licks on your neck along with kisses while one of his hands grope one of your breasts gently fondling them

"Mine."

—--

It had been four months since Erix forced you to become his wife

As he planned, you fell pregnant with his child, he really had overdone himself that night, you still remembered the long cruel hours of him using your body as long as he pleased

Getting up from the bed, you've been craving raw meat these days, and Erix had just came back with a fresh kill

"Eat this, then our child will grow strong. It's in our tradition for expecting mothers to eat a deer's heart." Erix hands you a deer's heart, it grossed you out, yet the child inside you begged for it

Despite your child being a product of forced love, you couldn't bring yourself to hate the parasite growing inside you, the poor child had no control over who their parents were or how they were conceived. And so, you endured eating the heart for the sake of your baby

After finishing the heart with great difficulty, you clean yourself up and Erix places his hands on your now large waist

"Such a good mother you are, I knew you'd be the best woman to have my children."

Closing your eyes, you hold yourself from pushing Erix away and run away, you place your hands on your belly too but away from where Erix's hands were

While rubbing your belly, you think of your poor father, had he died? Had he recovered? But considering he was barely in good health while you were around, deep down it was most likely he had succumbed to his illness. The thought sent a tightness to your chest. 'I hope it's bright up there with mother...'

With a kiss on your temple, Erix pats your belly one last time before whispering in your ear "I'll be back, both of you take care." He then pulls away from you and makes his way out of the cottage

Emotionlessly, you waddle your way back to the bed

For being barely past your first trimester, your belly had grown so much already that you suspect your baby will be born earlier than human children. After all, the baby is half werewolf. They will most likely grow faster than the average human child as well.

Drowning in the furs on the bed, your hand mindlessly draws circles on your round belly, and you feel the baby kicking gently as if loving the attention they were receiving from their mother.

"You like that, don't you, little one? Your father did unspeakable things to me that led to your creation, but I will love you nonetheless." You smile fondly as your baby kicks again

Looking out the window of the cottage, the place had been a bit run-down when you first moved in, Erix made an effort to tidy up the place

"If you're a boy, I'm thinking of naming you after your grandpa. But if you're a girl, maybe your grandma? That's only if your father will let me have the naming rights." You chuckle to yourself, you will pull on Erix's ear if he doesn't let you name the child, especially since he's forcing you to have his children, he'd better let you name every child he puts in you

Sitting back up, you lean your back against the headboard, looking at your belly and wrapping your arms around it, the precious life you carry was your only source of joy in life now

While gazing out the window, the field of your front yard reminds of the same field you and mother would leisure in, perhaps you would spend time with your children there too. Then you remembered your mother's words, “One day you’ll meet that someone who gives you the butterflies and you’ll know they’re the one you’ll spend the rest of your life with.”, you close your eyes and take deep breaths

"Mother, he's the one."

He's the one who forced himself into your life

_____

Writing smut is fun wtf

Might make a pt 2 where Erix puts more babies in y/n and mayb fuck her in werewolf form 👀

I made the ending a bit fluffy and whether or not you wanna interpret Y/n having Stockholm syndrome it's up to you, but its good to note that she still resents Erix, but I rarely find fics where the reader genuinely cares for the baby, it's fair why they would resent the child but at the same time I feel bad for the kid 🫠🫠🫠

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA if

i had a falling out with this friend of mine, who is also a tumblr user. there have been a lot of reasons for that, and one of the many-many reasons were her political views, that are generally considered questionable by people around here. people usually wanna know if the person they're interacting with is that type of a person. disclaimer: she's not like. A Bigot. or something. it's just that a lot of people are uncomfortable interacting with someone who holds those views.

she's like, not exactly open about them but reblogs a ton from people who are and made a couple posts that make them obvious.

however, she likes interacting with all kinds of people despite their DNIs and stuff, because she thinks there's no harm as long as they don't know, even if it's all on her blog.

now, to the aita part. we don't follow each other anymore but tumblr recommends her posts to me a lot, perhaps because we used to be mutuals/i have some of her posts liked and i cba to go through all my likes to unlike them. no, i don't wanna block her because i don't block people. as a matter of principle. i tried filtering her username out but i end up always clicking on the post anyway. i'm one nosy bitch, what can i say?

sometimes, she posts about my hyperfixation. something that is very dear and important to me. i don't know the reason why she's doing it because she knows nothing about it and doesn't care about it, but sometimes she makes throwaway comments "based on what she heard" (so, based on what I told her while we were still friends).

and for every time she does so that i end up seeing (happened like 5ish times now), i send one of her mutuals who would be uncomfortable interacting with her had they known about her views an anonymous ask about it. i don't leak anything personal that she'd told me or anything of the sort, i just link the accounts of people she reblogs from and some of her posts on the topic like "hey, take a look at that". each time, it results in the person blocking her and thanking me for telling them in a separate post.

on one hand, i'm technically doing the right thing, since these people hate interacting with people like her, and they just didn't browse her blog enough to know that that's the kind of person she is, even though it's all open source. they're grateful i told them, too.

on the other, i'm doing it for incredibly childish and selfish reasons. had i not seen her bring my hyperfixation up, i wouldn't have done that because i'm not mother theresa like that. but for that reason, it brings me immense satisfaction to do so. especially when she posts stuff like "omg, (name) blocked me... why" and has no clue why. in my mind, it's punishment for touching something that i consider My Thing. i kind of want her to someday understand what's going on, even if it's stupid and territorial of me. like that's what's gonna continue happening if you continue touching My Thing, not giving it the respect it deserves at that too. as i've said, she only regurgitates the stuff i told her because she doesn't care about it. i have a suspicion she's only doing it to piss me off in case i still visit her blog. no idea but it does piss me off. and doing what i described really calms me down.

so, aita?

[lovelykil]

baby assignment

ᯓ izuku midoriya

synopsis; class 1-a has been assigned to take care of fake babies for an assignment! This assignment will be helpful for hero work and other skills as well. some are wary of this assignment, especially the pairing. You got paired up with Izuku.

note; I've been wanting to make this for awhile , uhmm this is my own personal au?? Idk if anyone has done this but there's gonna be multiple parts I believe. So this is part one :3

part 2

"WHY AM I PAIRED UP WITH RED 40 HERE??!" katsuki's loud and familiar angry voice boomed inside the classroom, everyone turned toward him with their fake baby in their carriers. Kirishima grabbed a carrier from Aizawa's desk that held the baby inside and walked over to the blonde.

"dude you're gonna make the baby cry.." He shoves the carrier into Bakugo's chest after retrieving the fetus. Katsuki's face scrunches up, a tic mark twitches on his forehead when he grips the carrier that was shoved into his chest by his 'partner'

"YOU THINK I CARE ABOUT THAT STUPID BA—"

Mr. Aizawa clears his groggy throat, cutting off his impatient student. "as I was saying," he takes a glance over at Bakugo, the blonde scoffs in reaction and looks the other way.

"you all have been assigned to take care of your kid for a week, make sure you fulfill its needs while juggling your own life as well. That includes hero work. That's why you have been paired up," upon looking around the room there was some interesting pairs that raised some brows.

like mineta and tsu and todoroki and yaoyorozu.

aizawa continues on, his voice nonchalant and rough.

"you'll need to collaborate with your partners for this assignment if not then you'll fail miserably and I will be alerted." He pulls out a checklist and looks around the room, everyone exchanges a worried look then return back to the teacher.

"class is over, don't screw up. Get out."

. . .

everyone walks out with their partner already conversing with one another, some freaking out and others surprisingly calm.

you walk out of the classroom with izuku and hold up the carrier to examine your child. "what a weird assignment.."

"weird? I think this assignment gives us an opportunity to work with each other more, converse, and rely on one another which in any case, communication is key, especially with hero work." Midoriya cradles his chin, disagreeing your opinion.

you set the carrier down to look over at his thinking face then focus forward.

"well I—"

he quickly cuts you off to begin his never-ending rambling, "and to be honest, it might help us when tending to kids and babies. Since there will come times when there's a possibility we'll have to take care of a child when the mother, father or spouse is in trouble. I think the baby has something inside it that triggers it to cry, move, whine, maybe even crawl? I wonder if the Department of Support helped to make these fake animatronics... we haven't seen what it does just yet, but judging by the appearance when Kirishima took the baby out from its carrier, the baby looks freakishly re—"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"

you look down at the crying kid already feeling unmotivated, its loud shrieks echo through the long hallways. Some classmates in front of you turn to the source, which was coming from you and Midoriya.

the freckled boy squirmed while you chuckled nervously at your classmates ahead of you.

"did it cry because of me?!" Izuku cries out as the baby keeps whining in the background. You pull down the cover to the carrier in hopes of canceling out some noise. "probably. Maybe the support team made this baby especially for you whenever you start to rant off." You look over at him with a teasing grin.

you two motion toward the exit.

your partner sulks to himself probably losing his self-confidence now because of your teasing comment.

"do you really think that? This baby is not gonna like me Y/n..."

you freak out a bit, quickly taking back your joke. Whenever it came to Midoriya you really had to tone down your jokes around him.. he gets emotional.. really fast.

you open the door for him, "no no! I was joking..? I mean either way we're both gonna have to endure this, you better not give up on me." He steps outside the building and looks over at you.

you let the door close by itself, looking up at him with a fierce grin. Those green eyes of his sparkle in your view, he seems more motivated and confident again. Your grin turns into a warm smile, a faint blush creeps on your face.

Deku nods with determination, then looks down at the baby. He lifts the shield covering it and smiles down at it.

"It's going to be a long week, but we'll get through it." He murmurs. You smile down at him but then look up at the sky. It was adorned with hues of pink and orange painted across like a canvas. You begin to go into deep thought about this assignment, your pupils gradually constrict with each racing thought of this baby.. taking care of it for a week.

"yeah, we'll get through it... oh gosh... it's going to be a long week."

[leclercsfilm]

i am your legacy

aegon is out of character. i do indeed hate alicent so much that she turned me into feeling pity for aegon. if alicent has no hater im dead. english is not my first language.

aegon looked at the door.

every moment, he anticipated his mother entering with her own cup of wine, as if she was teasing him. he knew her plan. it was not hard to not know her plan.

for her, he was just a playable character in this game of twist and turns. he was her way. out or in, it doesn't matter.

the noise was heard, yet he didn't look up. he knew better. alicent finally entered the room.

they always came to this. she would always remained him of his duty, of his right. but his right was given, not earned. and, because of that, he was truly afraid.

aegon knew the real reason behind the cruel death of his beloved son. aegon's younger brother, killed lucerys. which caused the anger on the blacks side. it should have ended right then, year's ago, with aemond's eye out.

now aegon wished he could at least comfort his family about this new 'situation'.

their actions have consequences. just because they've made aegon a king, that doesn't mean they are not immune to the blow.

it's almost as no one truly cares. aegon locked himself in his chambers, yet no one tried to even reach for his door. everyone is referring to his son as 'the boy' as if they are not related at all.

they are not even angry, or sad for his violent death. they are just angry for the lack of naivety of people. they are angry because their power slipped away from them.

'i see you are here, not attending your duites...' - she barks at him

'i see no reason to do so.'

'you are king, at least you need to keep an appearance.' she chuckled 'people are looking up to you now. you are their source of power.'

'what kind of power do i have, mother? what power do i have over you and your rats?' - aegon looked at her

he was at the table, playing with his fingers. he stopped doing it for so many years. after his sons vdeath, he became quickly familiar with an old habit of his.

'we will not have this conversation now.' - she furrowed her brows, and pressed her lips. she is taunting him.

'i don't see any use of me then.' - aegon looked down at his feet.

alicent pitied only herself. she wasnt like this before. what if it wasn't his son beheaded that night, what if it was helaena, or maybe aemond? would she then care at all?

'its rather funny, how many things have you done in my name...'

mocking her, reminding her of her constant failure of trying to be into politics. she had a taste of politics once, and now she had a right to marsh into council and question his decisions.

a silence overruled. the only noise that was heard was alicent letting go of her necklace that she was playing with since begining.

'for your actions my people will blame me, not you, mother.'

alicent closed her eyes to calm herself. she quickly grabbed her goblet, thinking as if all of this was for her son, right? or was it for her father? maybe somehow it all turned out to be for her?

'it was easier with my dead father.' - aegon stated out of blue.

he touched his unruly thin hair, thinking for himself, was it the silver hair that made people follow him? clearly, it can't be his manhood. rhaenyra's heir has it as well. but he does not have his silver hair.

'he would do his own thing. in his own world. alone in a room.'

alicent stared at her son. they never had a conversation about viserys. that man was dead for them since begining.

'maybe you tormented him as you do me now.' - aegon countinued with his insults

alicent quicly stands.

'how dare you question my loyalty, my doings with your father? viserys was nothing but a content man beside me. rhaenyra left him here alone when he was fighting with that awful illness-'

'we all know why my half-sister left.' - he started

'you speaking exhausts me more then waking up after a night full of wine, mother.' - aegon countinioued his insults

'the best thing you can do is to leave. let the king to attend his duties, with his council.'

his melancholy turned bittersweet. his face was graced with a little smirk, who is fighting to not become a mocking laugh.

alicent turned away, leaving her gobblet at the table. she was already overwhelmed with a fight from morning with cole. now she has angry aegon roaming the castle.

'without you mother, of course. maybe you need to pray... you've lost a grandson, haven't you?'

'or, perhaps, queen mother would like to do.... nothing?'

with that, alicent had left. she needed to see father and encourage to feed aegons ego before he does something unrational.

gabblet full of wine was thrown. wine was all over the floor, shining in a candle light.

'you forgot i am you legacy. you forgot i can be just like you.'

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader: Together Apart Ch.1

Warnings/Mentions: History of abuse, neglect, strong language, mentions of character death, alcohol and drug abuse, ptsd, shared trauma, reader is cold, angst, fluff, eventual smut

Summary: The little boy you patched up in the trailer park grows up, your paths finally aligning to bring you together. The man who was once only a rare source of comfort becomes your other half, only to pull back when you need him the most.

Notes: Based off of this post. Basically an angsty story detailing your relationship with Daryl and the group over the years, and when Daryl starts to grow distant from you.

Growing up was hard. Growing up without your loving father was even harder. 

You accepted the cigarette pressed in front of your lips from his hand and took a deep pull, holding it in your lungs until you felt your heart finally slow from its painful pace. He took his hand away from your face and took an equally long drag. 

“When's Merle getting out?” You asked as you absentmindedly scratched the dry blood off your fingernails, your nose still throbbing from your mother's fist. 

“Next week.” 

You were young then. God, way too young to be smoking cigarettes. Most kids your age stole them from their parents, bringing them into the eighth grade classrooms to sell or trade. 

Merle did come back the next week, but not for long. He eventually abandoned the two of you for the military, something his younger brother was really torn up about. After Merle left, said younger brother spent a lot of nights on your back porch couch. Your mother didn't mind, in reality she didn't give a shit at all, normally too high to care, or going through withdrawals so bad she only wanted to beat on you and blame you for your father's disappearance. 

You began to deeply miss Merle and the comfort he would bring, mostly in the form of alcohol or illegal substances. He'd always make you promise not to tell anyone, and you'd always say you weren't a fucking idiot. You were lucky you'd grown up on the same street as the Dixon brothers, it had inadvertently caused the older to view you as an estranged little sibling, sparing you from his foul advances. 

The Dixon brothers eventually became a rare sight. You all were just too busy with your own bullshit. You had a little brother to look after, and you did your best to shield him from your mother's antics, but one day the teacher saw that big bruise on his back and CPS took him away. You really missed Merle then, because at least he had the decency to sell you drugs instead of asking to trade for sexual favors. That made a substance induced escape a lot harder, forcing you to go into the city to find a decent dealer. 

You were sitting on your back porch crying with blood all over your face when you saw them again. 

They were frantic, tearing into your driveway with their dad's truck, shouting at you to get your shit and get in. Your mother was too doped up to understand what was happening, slumped on your dirty living room sofa with a bloody straw still on her lap. Merle had tried to get her to get up and come, shouting about ‘goddamn dead people eating everyone’(using a less kind word than people), but in your post-beating rage you left without her, leaving her on your couch to succumb to either an overdose, or whatever the hell the Dixons were warning her about. 

You begged Merle to go by the foster home to look for your brother. Begged, cried, and eventually screamed, and he screamed right back at you. Daryl barely managed to calm the two of you down with a hopeful explanation that the building that housed your brother was the safest place he could be. That didn't stop you from trying to steal their truck later that night though, which only ended up in another screaming match and a bloody spat with the undead. 

“Turn left here. Left, here!” 

“Well shit, give me more than a goddamn two second warning fucktard!” It was a wonder Merle hadn't lost his voice from the near constant shouting, at Daryl and you. This time it was the former, attempting at giving his brother directions to the safe zone in Atlanta, reading off a dirty crumpled map with text made for ants to read. 

You rubbed between your eyebrows and continued looking out your window as Merle turned around in the middle of the road to take the left into the highway. 

The sound of your name being called had you internally groaning. “Hey,” Merle snapped again, looking over at you in the passenger seat. “I said get my bag.”

You all but slung his plastic baggie into his lap. He took out a pill bottle with the label ripped off and fished out three pills, dropping them into his green pill grinder as he drove with his knees. 

“Just let me drive, man.” Daryl complained after having to correct the wheel for the elder brother. 

“Ay! Keep your stupid fucking hands off my wheel before you lose ‘em.” 

Most of the drive was like that. And it was even worse when after seeing Atlanta fucking napalmed. You were all close to losing it, and thankfully right before your Mexican standoff ensued, you found a group. 

You couldn't stand most of them. Most were too soft, too nice, too stupid or too weak. The strongest men were pieces of shit, and the men that weren't despicable were either weak or insane. Glenn didn't bother you too much, especially after you witnessed his weasel-like skills. He was like a roach, always surviving, even when a building fell on him. 

The majority of your time was spent hunting. 

The first day you went out with your recurve bow, which had once belonged to your father, Shane had questioned you. 

“You know how to use that thing?” He asked as he watched you flip your raggedy leather quiver over your shoulder.

You bent down to tie your boots and nodded. 

“You ever use one of those before?”

“Yes. You got a light?” 

Shane took a second before fishing out a lighter from his back pocket, moving intentionally slow as if to show you he was your superior. You snatched the green bic from his hand and lit your cigarette, shoving it back out towards him. 

“Dixons are already out hunting. Left this morning. Why don't you just stay here and help out? We could really use the hands. Women of the camp are sometimes more important-”

You walked off into the woods before he could continue. 

It was satisfying bringing your doe back to camp, even though dragging the thing back was a cruel and grueling process. You asked T-Dog and Ed to help you string it up, making sure to be as noisy as you could, a thick middle finger to Shane. You drained and gutted the carcass, making sure to ask Shane with a smug smile what he wanted to do with the intestines.

“Take it away from camp.” He spoke with his fingers a lot, rough pointing in an aggressive manner. “That shits gonna draw those things near.”

“Makes good bait for fish.”

Andrea and her sister Amy backed you up, even though they cringed and grimaced taking their share down to the quarry. 

Merle and Daryl had finally settled down after a while in camp. Merle wasn't seconds away from murder anymore, and Daryl found peace in his hunting. Eventually Glenn got you your own tent, which you were ecstatic about, no longer having to share one with the two men. 

Merle called your name through a mouthful of stewed deer meat. “Sweetie, hand me a beer why don't ya.” 

Lori looked up over her bowl. “Would it kill you to say please?”

You tossed the warm bottle to Merle, not acknowledging her attempt at sticking up for you. He didn't bother you, his insults or disrespect never did, growing up with someone like that sort of makes you blind to it, especially when you were used to so much worse from your mother. 

“Would it kill you to suck my nuts?” 

Shane stepped in and you groaned, rolling your eyes and taking your stew back to your tent. 

After Daryl's mother passed you saw him more and more. You were about eleven when it happened, you remembered the house fire and the day they moved into the trailer closer to yours. Daryl was almost constantly covered in bruises then. Always a black eye, always a purple bicep, always dried blood under his nails. He didn't smoke with you much after that, his mother having died from a cigarette induced house fire. That was when Merle had left, but your memory of the timeline was foggy. It had been so long ago and so much was constantly happening that you might've misremembered a lot of it. 

“Sleep good?” Your groggy voice caused Daryl to look up from his task of sharpening his knife.

“Nah. You?”

You yawned and sat next to him in front of the fire, stretching your sleepy limbs and taking a sip of his water. “Now that Merle's farting and snoring aren't waking me up every ten minutes, yes. Thought he would shit himself with how bad that tent stank.”

Daryl let out a knowing chuckle and tossed his whetstone in the open flap of his tent. He slipped his blade back in its holster on his belt before grabbing a crooked cigarette from his shirt pocket. 

“Fuckin' hate this place.” He muttered around the filter as he cupped his hand around the flame of his lighter. He snapped his zippo shut and put it back in his jeans pocket. “Me and Merle been talkin’.”

“About what?” You began crunching on a handful of almonds you stole from Lori the night prior. 

“These people, they're… they're fuckin’ idiots.” He sighed as he blew out a stream of smoke, waving his hand around for enunciation. He held it to your lips for you to take a drag, watching as you pulled in a lungful before he took it away. “We should just leave 'em. They probably want us gone anyway.”

You observed him, not responding, chewing on the inside of your cheek. 

“Well? You comin’?”

“Course I am. But I don't think we should leave.”

“Why the hell not? You hear the shit they say about us?” He scoffed, his brows furrowed. “Inbred hicks with their ‘trailer trash whore’. Y’know, they think we all fuck each other when we go off huntin’. Good for nothin' bastards. Should just rob ‘em and leave.”

“I don't give a shit what they think. I give a shit about my odds of survival, which are higher with guns.”

“We got guns. N’we can jus’ take theirs.” He argued, referencing the duffle bag of stolen guns in the hidden compartment of their truck. “Besides, chances are we're safer on our own than these dumb shits, catching frogs with the kids in the damn quarry.” 

“Hey, I'll come if you leave. I couldn't care less about these people. But they keep that RV locked up real tight. It's gonna be a bitch to get into, especially with the rifleman wannabe on top and his gun slingin’ daughter, or whoever the fuck she is to him. Shane's already watching us too much. Let's just wait a while till he stops following me around like I'm some sort of violent nutcase.”

You had unknowingly sealed the fate of many lives with your argument. 

“Gonna go in the city.” Merle said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder, jumping out of his truck bed, careful to not knock over his bike in the process. “Y'all need anything? Tampons?” 

“No.”

“Was askin’ Darlene.”

“Shut the hell up man.” Daryl grumbled and finished preparing his crossbow for his hunt. “An’ no, don't need a damn thing.”

“Get some SlimJims.” Your favorite low cost snack. Growing up in a trailer park gave you a superior taste in snacks, SlimJims and Funyuns being your favorite. 

“Why you want that when I got all the meat sticks you need sugar?” Merle laughed crudely, nearly bumping you over with a sloppy kiss goodbye to your cheek. You smirked and playfully pushed him off, watching as he left with the rest of the supply group. 

“C'mon. Let's go before all the damn squirrels get eaten.” Daryl put his crossbow on his back and you picked up your weapons before following him off into the woods. 

You had good luck that day. Daryl had a rope full of squirrels and you were tracking down a deer he'd sunk a few arrows into. 

“Not gonna need SlimJims no more.” Daryl breathed as the two of you crept silently through the woods, following the trail of bubbly blood. 

“As much as I love your roasted squirrel, it just doesn't have the same kick to it.”

“Never heard you complainin’.”

“Yeah, it's ‘cause I'm not a bitch.”

“You? Not a bitch?”

“Only to people who deserve a good bitchin’.”

“Seems like everyone these days needs a little of that.”

“Hah, yeah. We better get that deer before the dead do, Merle's gonna be hungry as fuck when he gets back.”

You didn't react when Rick Grimes told you he'd cuffed Merle to a roof. You didn't react when it was revealed T-Dog, one of the only people you liked in Shanes group, had dropped the key and left him up there. He'd profusely apologized and you just stared at him, doing everything in your power not to punch him in the throat. 

You did react when you saw Merle's hand on that roof, his body nowhere to be seen. You cursed and shoved Rick so hard he hit the metal side of the fire escape with a bang, and Daryl, eager to jump in, ran to your side with blazing eyes. If it wasn't for the other people there and the guns they held,  you would've killed him that day. Mauled him like the animal you were and left him there just as he did Merle. 

In the absence of his brother, you found Daryl had seemed to subliminally put you in his place, a figure to follow and learn from. Not that you had too much to teach him, but knowing you were the eldest sibling in your family had you fitting into place with him perfectly. 

You guessed you could call Daryl your friend now. You never had many friends, only in elementary school, sticking to yourself most of the time. The kid going to school smelling like cigarettes with the same clothes they wore the day before was never a popular choice for companionship. You never minded it though. The abuse you suffered at the hands of your mother had turned you into a cold and calloused human. Daryl was simply an object of mutual benefit for you back then, a source of company, cigarettes, alcohol. Whatever he could get his hands on. And he was easier to relate to than Merle, who had a good ten years on you. 

But now, he was the only person you had left. Your mother was gone, your precious baby brother God knows where, and your male mentor was still missing, out there with one hand, his state of existence unknown to you. He was most likely dead. Shane's group had quickly become “Rick's group”, and you still held no fondness for any of them. Andrea had formed an odd one sided relationship with you, she craved your status. The group saw you as on level with the men, you never needed gun training like the rest of them, you got to keep your own gun, and no one ever tried to prevent you from doing something you wanted to do. 

It was clear though, none of them really liked you all that much. They treated you like more of an outsider than they had Merle. You couldn't blame them, you wouldn't like someone like you. You were a mean and cold bitch, always keeping to yourself and only viewing them as a transactional business. They provided safety in numbers and you provided fresh kill and a gun. 

One of the only times you behaved like a friendly human being was when you arrived at the CDC. It was hard to recognize you after you showered and cleaned up, washed your clothes and didn't smell like cigarettes or blood anymore. While your clothes were washing you had to borrow some from the former employees, a deep purple sweater and black slacks that somehow fit you perfectly. You caught Shane watching you walk down the hall, and you quickly responded with a snotty face of disgust. 

A stomach full of hot seasoned food and wine loosened you up a bit. You sat next to Daryl and smiled, even laughed a few times, much to the shock of the others. 

“C'mon, one more glass.” Daryl grinned as he filled your cup with more wine before you could object. “Don't be a baby.” 

“Sure thing Darlene.” You snorted as you took a sip, earning an eye roll and a scoff from Daryl. 

“Yeah, keep it up.” He feigned aggression as he downed his third glass. “Won't be so funny when you got teeth in your throat.”

“Not before I lose my boot up your ass.” 

The banter was refreshing. The trip out of the quarry had been exhausting. It felt like you were admitting to failure when you were forced to give up your search for Merle, and oftentimes you debated on stealing his bike out of the back of your truck and going back to find him. But there was always something stopping you, every single time. 

Sleeping on an actual mattress felt amazing. You'd offered to take the couch as a joke, and when Daryl made his way to the bed you dove into the sheets before he could plop down on it. 

“You really are a goddamn bitch.” He slurred and slung his bag at the foot of the couch, falling back dramatically.

“Drink some water before you get a hangover.” You tossed him a fresh bottle from the room fridge, and he begrudgingly downed it. You turned the light off and climbed into bed, groaning at the feeling of the soft and dry mattress.

“You think Merle’s alive?”

You blinked, opening your eyes and looking towards the couch. It was dark, you'd assumed he'd been asleep by then, there had been several long minutes of silence. 

“Yeah. I know he is.” You were surprised by his question. Daryl had always been the one reassuring you of Merle's status, claiming he was impossible to kill, and that he could feel in his bones that his brother was alive. It also made you a bit uncomfortable, you'd never comforted anyone before that wasn't your little brother. Let alone Daryl. The most you'd done for him was offer him sanctuary on your porch and cleaned his wounds if they were bad. 

“Go to sleep Daryl.” 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams (wasn't sure if you guys wanted to be tagged since its eventual smut but here u go)

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