#to be one step behind from being good enough

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: this was a commissioned werewolf piece, it’s 1.2k words long!

Everyone warned you that being out late at night was dangerous, but you never listened… and that would end up costing you in the end.

You had trouble sleeping, and in your earlier years, you despised how long and lonely each night could be… but now that you lived on your own, that changed.

The night was special to you. It was a time where everyone else was asleep and you could really let loose. Some nights you’d listen to music until morning, or maybe binge a show you had been putting off for months.

Though, others you left the safety of your little home and wandered into the woods.

It was well past your usual bedtime when you decided to get some fresh air. You felt cooped up in your room, and even after pacing and trying to find something to do in your house, nothing caught your interest.

You already tried masturbating to help you sleep, but it didn’t work. Now your pussy was wet and aching, and you didn’t even get to cum. There was only one other way to get yourself to rest…

The forest was calling to you, luring you out with the promise of adventure and crisp air that could clear your mind and lull you to sleep.

Usually you wouldn’t mind being up all night, but tomorrow you had to be up early for work. Most days you went in after lunch at the earliest, but one of your coworkers was sick with the flu and asked you to cover his shift.

Although you wanted to decline and sleep in, he had saved your ass a few times already and you owed him.

So, you put on your sneakers and a coat before grabbing a flashlight and leaving the safety of your home.

Everything about the forest felt comfortable and familiar. The crunch of leaves under your feet, the soft sounds of creatures scurrying from tree to tree, and even the wind made your tension ease.

For a while, you felt at peace…

Then, you tended up. Something was watching you from afar, and you could feel someone’s stare burning into the back of your head.

When you turned to see who was there, you didn’t spot anyone. You waved your arm, your flashlight’s beam moving over rocks and trees… before something glinted in a bush about 20 feet away.

It was an animal’s eyes, and whatever it was, you could tell it was huge.

For a moment you gazed on in horror, your eyes wide and hand trembling. The creature met your gaze, and that’s when it stepped forward.

You didn’t even notice you dropped your flashlight until after you were sprinting through the dark forest, tripping over a branch and scrambling to get back up. Thorns scraped your knees and arms, making you cry out in fear.

You could hear it behind you, panting and letting out a low growl. You caught sight of its yellow eyes and sharp fangs.

It looked to be some kind of wolf standing on its hind legs, but you didn’t stop to examine it thoroughly, you were running for your life.

But you weren’t fast enough.

The creature could see in the dark, and you couldn’t. Every time you tripped or stumbled you were slowed down, and eventually it was on top of you.

You cried out as you felt its large claws circle around your arms, pinning you against the ground. It hovered over you, panting from either excitement or fatigue, you couldn’t tell which.

Now that it had you in its grasp, you were able to get a good look at its appearance.

The creature was nearly twice your size, his gray fur bristled and wolf ears twitching as drool dripped from its sharp toothed maw.

All you could do was tremble and cry. This was the end, you hadn’t listened to your loved ones’ advice and now you were looking death in the face.

Hopefully it would be over quickly…

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away from it… but instead of it attacking, you felt something… hard and wet rubbing against your thigh.

For a few seconds you kept your eyes closed, but they shot open when you felt one of its large, paw-like hands roughly grope your clothed cunt as its tail thumped behind it.

It was sniffing you, licking at your neck where your scent was most prominent. His fluffy wolf ears were flicking as he kept pawing at your pussy, as if trying to arouse you so he could smell more of that delicious aroma.

His teeth weren’t used to tear your flesh and eat you alive… instead he bit your shirt and tore it off, his tongue lapping at your bare breasts.

This thing didn’t want to eat you… he wanted to mate! It must have smelled the slick still on your panties and cunt from earlier!

If you played along, maybe you’d get home safely after all!

You could tell the poor thing was struggling by the way he let out pathetic whines as his cock bobbed needily. To help it out, you guided his hands to your breasts.

“Play with these, okay?”

His ears perked up and his tail picked up speed as he groped and kneaded your tits, his yellow eyes following the way they bounced and squished together. While he did that, you pulled down your pants and panties.

Honestly, you were aroused, embarrassingly so. He could smell it, immediately going to bury his face into your cunt the second he caught your scent.

“Th-that’s it-“ you blubbered out. He was inexperienced and rough, but his tongue was so big that it rubbed against your clit every time anyway. It was clear that he was desperate to mate, but couldn’t stop himself from tasting you first.

Before you could cum, he pulled back, his fat cock shoving itself unceremoniously inside of you. Fortunately you were just wet enough so it didn’t break you, but the stretch was painful and uncomfortable.

His hips slapped against yours as he mounted you, his hands gripping your soft flesh so tightly you could hardly bear it. The feeling of his nails digging into your hips hurt… but also added to the pleasure.

He was hitting your gspot, making your pussy clench around him as you had your first orgasm of the night.

The thrusts were going at an animalistic pace, and when your knees gave out he lifted you up and bounced you on his cock.

You felt your belly bulge, he was absolutely huge and was bottoming out inside of you. Suddenly his cock began to expand, and you realized too late that he was knotting you.

Your womb was stuffed full of his cum, and he howled at the full moon as his thick ropes of cum spurted into you, painting your walls white.

The werewolf let out a sigh, his knot keeping you connected to him as he calmed down. He was so relaxed and happy after his orgasm, licking your head affectionately and curling up around you.

It looked like you weren’t going to be able to cover for your coworker tomorrow… not when the werewolf was following you home for round two.

“Don’t wolves mate for life..?” you questioned yourself aloud, looking back at the werewolf as he followed behind you like a loyal puppy.

You’d have to find that out later… all you wanted to do was sleep after that experience.

————————

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[loafysainz]

hey gorgeous! how are you? can i request a story where carlos is just a normal guy with an average paying 9-5 and y/n is secretly a millionaire that’s a ceo with a massive company but hides it and lives in his small house and his average lifestyle but he somehow finds out and is complete shock? if not no problems ❤️

MY RICH GF | CS 55

carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: no warn

hope you like it sender!! 🤍

There’s a saying—if you’ve ever read Fortune, the magazine that actually knows where the world’s richest hide their money:

"Not every millionaire is easy to pin down. Don’t trust any rich list you see—it barely scratches the surface." And that’s exactly how people describe The YLN Family.

Carlos had no clue. Not a single one.

Because as far as he knew, you were just a normal, stable employee at Finance Corporate—some mid-level corporate job that paid well enough but wasn’t flashy. You had a nice apartment, dressed well, never seemed to stress about money. But nothing about you screamed insane generational wealth. He never questioned it. Why would he? Not everyone in his life had to be ridiculously rich.

What he didn’t know was that your family owned the biggest car manufacturing empire in the world. That your father had spent millions making sure his family name was nowhere near any public records, that your assets were buried under layers of shell companies, trusts, and offshore accounts.

The only article that had ever mentioned your parents was some old feature in Legacy & Wealth, calling them “the ghost millionaires of the auto industry.” But that was it. No photos, no real details. Just speculation.

And Carlos? He was so far from putting the pieces together. He still thought youre just regular employee, but maybe you just saved up. He still thought it was a little weird that you never mentioned money struggles, but maybe you were just really good at managing finances.

The thought that you could buy and sell half the grid without breaking a sweat? Never even crossed his mind.

*****

Carlos had planned the night perfectly.

His company had been invited to the grand launch of your own company���some huge new venture that, apparently, was a big deal in the industry. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about going, but when he realized it was a black-tie event with free-flowing champagne, he figured he might as well make the most of it.

And since he didn’t want to go alone, he’d asked you to come with him.

"I can’t," you’d said over coffee that morning. "I have to work late."

He hadn’t pushed. You were always responsible like that—always staying late, never complaining. He even felt a little bad for you, missing out on a fancy event just to sit in an office under fluorescent lights.

Except now, standing in the middle of the ballroom, Carlos wasn’t sure whether to laugh or just be pissed.

Because there you were.

Not in an office. Not in work clothes. Not stuck behind a desk.

You were standing at the front of the room, shaking hands with executives, your name being announced like royalty. And as the words left the speaker’s lips—"Tonight, we celebrate the launch of (Company Name), a vision brought to life by none other than YFN"—Carlos finally realized.

You hadn’t been "working late."

You were hosting this.

Carlos downed the rest of his drink and walked up to you just as you stepped away from a conversation.

"You know," he said, voice laced with something sharp, "I didn’t realize 'working late' meant champagne and a whole damn ballroom."

You turned, eyes widening slightly in surprise before settling into something softer. "Carlos—"

"Guess I should’ve asked what kind of company you work for, huh?" His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Would’ve been nice to know my girlfriend isn’t just 'doing fine' but actually—what do they call you? millionaire heir?"

There was a pause. You exhaled, pressing your lips together before tilting your head slightly.

"Are you mad?"

Carlos blinked.

He wanted to say yes. Wanted to tell you how stupid he felt for never realizing. But the truth was, he wasn’t angry. He was just—stunned.

"I don’t know," he admitted. "Should I be?"

You sighed, shifting closer. "I didn’t hide it to lie to you. I just… I wanted to be normal. With you."

Carlos let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "And what, you thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it?"

You shook your head. "I thought you wouldn’t look at me the same."

Silence stretched between you. Then, finally, Carlos let out a dry chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little.

"You know, I should’ve guessed something was off when you never complained about rent."

You laughed, warm and genuine, and Carlos felt the last bit of his frustration melt away. Because at the end of the day, you were still you—the person he’d fallen for. The same way he was still him. And this? This was just another thing to understand about each other.

"So," he said, smirking slightly. "Since you’re secretly rich, does this mean you’re paying for dinner next time?"

You grinned, leaning in just enough for your perfume to cloud his thoughts.

"If you’re nice to me."

Carlos exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

And just like that, everything was right again.

[ill0usainte]

CALL GIRL ON THE WAY! pt. 1

pairings: doctor!zayne x nurse!reader

cw: masturbation, thoughts of being inside of a pussy, virgin!zayne

Leaning against his chair, Zayne sighed. It had been a couple of minutes since he'd been staring at the link Dr. Greyson sent him. His eyes trailed over the message on his phone.

Greyson: You might like this, Dr. Zayne.

Greyson sent an attachment:

"Call Girl Fantasy: Make your erotic desires come true!"

Zayne scoffed at Greyson's message, sending a suggestive attachment during work hours. He knew his colleague was only trying to help. As a 27-year-old virgin, Zayne still didn't have a lover. His parents had been pestering him every visit asking if he finally has a lover, but Zayne would brush the topic away, saying he was busy with work.

He knew his parents were worried about him not taking care of himself, working late every time. Zayne understood their concern, but he felt like he was off-putting when it came to starting a relationship. He knew, many women at the hospital had taken an interest in him, especially his patients. However, he always brushed them away, focusing on being their doctor.

Zayne exhaled, turning off his phone and placing it on his desk. He relaxed his back against the chair, closing his eyes, and running a hand through his hair. He was tired of the new surgeries coming in, making his schedule packed.

Feeling stressed, the message popped up in his mind again. He scorned the attachment, finding it unamusing.

"Make your erotic desires come true," He muttered.

"Only desperate people would want that."

He found it immature for people to be desperate about fulfilling their sexual desires. He does it too, but not often-- just jacking off in his car in an empty parking lot to relieve stress.

However, Zayne did imagine what it would feel like to be inside of a warm tight pussy. He knew using his hand wasn't enough to make him cum. Sometimes, when he gets frustrated while stroking his aching cock, he would stop mid-way, panting heavily, still feeling his cock harden.

Resting his head against the steering wheel-- feeling the heat rise up through his body. He'd wait until his cock softens so he could go back to the hospital.

Poor him:(

Zayne pushed his thoughts away when he heard a knock outside his office. He cleared his throat, fixed his posture, grabbed a pen, and started signing paperwork, as if he hadn't been imagining what it felt to be inside of someone seconds ago.

"Come in," He replied, eyes glued to his paperwork.

You stepped inside, holding important documents from the cardiac department.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Zayne," You greeted him, closing the door behind you. Zayne pushed back his glasses, putting down his pen, and lifting his head to look at you.

"Good afternoon, Nurse Y/N," He greeted back, making you smile as you nodded in acknowledgement.

You were one of the new nurses who transferred to the hospital a few months ago. As a newcomer, you quickly rose through the ranks in the cardiac department, catching Zayne's attention. You both communicated a bit during acquaintance parties the hospital held every month, but you weren't close. However, you could tell the doctor had taken an interest in you.

"I'm here to drop off some documents from the department," You said, placing them on his desk. Zayne nodded, taking the documents from your hands. Your hands brushed against each other, and you quickly removed yours, letting out a chuckle.

Zayne raised a brow in response, looking at you. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

You shook your head, smiling. "No, Dr. Zayne."

Zayne clicked his tongue, looking you up and down before shaking his head lightly. You cleared your throat and spoke, "I'll be taking my leave now." He nodded, watching you walk away and head to the exit of his office.

Once the door closed, Zayne sighed, taking his glasses off and placing them on his desk. He grabbed his phone, leaning against his chair, and turning it on. His thumb swiped the screen, and Greyson's message popped up. His eyes trailed on the attachment that was sent, moving his thumb-- hesitating.

Click.

Just a new idea I've come up lol

[gyaruhana]

Do you write for hyun ju? Cause i have this idea where she and reader are dating and in the mingle game, we saved young mi and took her place in dying hehehehehe thats all tyy

Hyun-Ju/Player 120 - Sacrifice

Synopsis: you sacrifice yourself to save Youngmi.

A/N: sad sad sad idea ughh

Warnings: angst..

From the moment you stepped foot in this hellhole, death had been looming over your shoulder.

If it were up to you, you would've left after the first game. Sure, money was an issue but you valued your life more than you valued money. Even if the sum was 45.6 billion won, you didn't want to risk your life so carelessly. Besides, there were 455 other people who you'd have to compete against. You didn't see the odds being in your favor.

Fortunately, you managed to make a nice group of friends who you grew to trust through each passing game. You grew closest with a trans woman by the name of Hyun-Ju. You were honestly surprised to make such a good friend here of all places but you were certainly glad you did. Hyun-Ju provided you with much needed comfort and your conversations always filled the quiet air after a particularly challenging game.

Strangely enough, you didn't feel as scared when she was close by. Even though you watched so many people die, you didn't fear you'd be next when she was around. You knew she'd keep you safe and you'd gladly return the favor.

That's how you're here now.

The game was mingle and it involved making groups based on the number called out before the timer runs out. Things had gotten a little messy as Youngmi had accidentally been knocked down while running behind them. Of course, Hyun-Ju realized this after stepping in the room when there was little time left on the clock.

She ran out to try grab Youngmi when someone else barged in, pushing her back and telling her there wasn't enough time. You looked at Hyun-Ju's distraught face as she tried to move past and get out to help Youngmi. It was a rather reckless desperation but Youngmi was important to her. A friend who she cared for.

You glanced toward the timer and read the clock. 6 seconds left.

Without another thought, you pushed past them and opened the door before grabbing Youngmi and helping her up. You didn't waste any time in pushing her in the room before closing the door behind her knowing that you couldn't stay when they already had enough people in the room. On que, the door locked and Hyun-Ju immediately went to it, banging on it desperately.

"What are you doing? Why would you do that?!" She yelled angrily as she looked at you. Hyun-Ju wanted nothing more than for this door to burst open. She would've pushed that guy out for you. She didn't want you to die - not like this. Not when you were one of the few people who actually showed her a shred of empathy and kindness.

"Hyun-Ju, it's fine. I'm fine," you say reassuringly. While you were scared that death would soon take you, you put on a brave face for her. Even as tears formed in both your eyes and hers. "I'm sorry," Hyun-Ju spoke and you quickly shake your head in disapproval. She had no reason to be sorry. This was your choice.

"Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. This was my decision. My decision, okay?" you speak with a smile that didn't match the fear and worry in your eyes. "You're still going to win that money and go to Thailand, yeah? For me?" you speak and Hyun-Ju couldn't help but let out a choked sob at your words.

"..Yeah," she responded with a nod as she averted her gaze for a moment to compose herself. "Good," you say before the sound of footsteps comes closer to you. You turned around and were met face to face with a guard holding his gun to your face. The sight immediately made Hyun-Ju panic as she started banging on the door again and yelling again.

"No! No!" Hyun-Ju cried out but her cries were quickly cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Some of your blood splattered on her face leaving her in a stunned silence as she came to terms with what just happened. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door as she cried. She was upset and angry. You were supposed to live. Not die like this.

But it was too late now. You were dead, and you were never coming back.

[spencerreids-wifey]

𝐈 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐒. 𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐃

Category: Angst, fluff

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warning: infertility issues

Summary: After a whole year of trying for a baby and being left with nothing, reader goes to the hospital for answers only to get bad news, Spencer later than comforts her after she blames herself.

You were seated on the couch in the living room of you and Spencer's apartment. The tv was on, but you weren't listening to a word that was being said. You just quietly sat, replaying the words that the doctor had said to you earlier.

"So I've run some tests, multiple actually." Your doctor said as she came into the room, closing the door behind her. She looked down at the papers in her hand.

With hope, you looked at her. "And?"

She cleared her throat and hesitated for a bit before she spoke. "I'm sorry, but results show that you have a primary ovarian insufficiency."

You just looked at her with confusion, "I- I don't know what that means, what does that mean?"

"It means that, unfortunately, your ovaries aren't functioning the way they should, and your body isn't producing enough eggs for conception."

Your lips parted, and you let out a breath. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Primary ovarian insufficiency?" She repeated quietly, more to herself than to the doctor.

"I want to let you know that this is common and can happen for numerous reasons." The doctor looked at you, giving you a pity look. "Generic factors, autoimmune conditions, or sometimes there isn't a a clear cause."

Listening to her talk, you felt the inside of you shatter, but you didn't want to break down in front of her. "Thank you." You mumbled, not trusting yourself to say more.

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Reid." The doctor frowned and added. "Do know that there are plenty of ways to-"

You shook your head. "Don't..please."

The drive home was a blur, the world outside your car window smearing together in muted shades of gray.

You barely remembered unlocking the door to your shared apartment, your mind consumed with one thought: How am I supposed to tell Spencer?

Having kids was something you and Spencer had talked about before you even got married.

You saw how his eyes lit up at the thought of having kids of his own, the way he'd interact with Henry and Michael, and it warmed your heart, and you wanted nothing more than to bless him with the opportunity to be a Dad.

But now that was just a mere dream, a dream that would never happen, because of you.

That's when you heard Spencer's key from outside, and he opened the door, stepping inside and setting his bag off and closing the door behind him.

Immediately, he went over to you, leaned down, and gave you a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, sweetie."

You didn't answer, and that's when Spencer got a good look at the expression that was held on your face, and he knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" He asked, concerned.

You looked up at, your heart pounding and tears welled up, threatening to spill, and Spencer was in front of you in an instant, his hands gently resting on your arms.

"Sweetheart?" He prompted softly.

"I went to the doctors..." You mumbled.

Spencer's expression softened, before he left to go on his case you had mentioned how you wanted to go to the doctors and get some tests ran, he knew it bothered you that for a whole year the two of you had been trying for a baby, only to be disappointed every time.

"And?" He sat down next to you on the sofa.

That's when tears rolled down her face. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Spence-"

Spencer frowned and his hand came up to your face and he calmly spoke. "Hey..hey...talk to me."

"I'm sorry, I'll never be able to give you kids."

The silence that followed felt deafening. You kept your eyes on the floor, bracing yourself for his reaction, for disappointment, for anything.

Then, without hesitation, he closed the distance between you and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your hair and he sighed. “I know how much this meant to you.”

You broke then, burying your face in his chest as sobs wracked your body. “I—I’m so sorry, Spence. I can’t give you kids. I know how much you wanted a family. I feel like I’ve failed you.”

His grip on you tightened, and he gently pulled back, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, look at me,” he urged, his voice steady and reassuring.

When you finally met his gaze, you saw nothing but love in his warm hazel eyes.

“You haven’t failed me,” he said firmly to make sure you understood the words. “Not now, not ever. I don’t need anything else to be happy, sweetheart. You make me happy. All I need is you."

"But I know you’ve always wanted to be a dad,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“And I’ve always wanted you more,” he countered without missing a beat. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from the team, it’s that family isn’t always about blood. We can figure this out together—whether that means adoption or something else—or we can just be us. You’re everything I’ve ever needed, and that’s never going to change."

You looked up into his eyes and saw that he meant every word he was saying.

He wiped the tears that fell from your eyes. "You have given me so much. First off, all you let a loser like me take you out..."

You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at his words.

"And then you proceeded to give me the chance to call you my wife..." Spencer took your hand and smiled. "You've given me so much, and I appreciate you, and this....information doesn't change the way I see you or feel about you."

“I don’t deserve you,” you whispered, a faint smile breaking through your tears.

“Of course, you do,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I’m going to remind you of that every day if I have to.”

In that moment, you felt the weight on your shoulders begin to lift. You weren’t sure what the future held, but as long as you had Spencer by your side, you knew you’d be okay.

[itsnesss]

𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 | hwang in-jo (the frontman) × fem!reader

summary | you stand in silence, completely under his control. every movement, every touch is his command, and you obey without question, craving his approval. your submission is absolute, each action bringing you closer to the edge of your devotion

warnings | smut, explicit content, dom!frontman, sub!reader, eroticism, objectification, fingering, size kink, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 3.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The echo of your footsteps resonates against the walls of the dark room, the only sound daring to break the sepulchral silence of the place. Your short dress barely brushes your thighs as you walk, and the black mask snug over your eyes doesn’t manage to hide the shine in your gaze. You know he’s watching you, seated on that enormous black leather sofa with the giant screen in front of him. He always watches you, even though he never says it.

He’s wearing his mask too, as always. Black, with elegant and terrifying lines, a symbol of absolute authority. You’ve never seen his face, and deep down, you know you never will. But you don’t need to see it; the strength of his presence is enough to remind you who’s in charge here.

"Come closer." His voice, deep and commanding, cuts through the air like a blade. He doesn’t need to repeat himself; your legs automatically move toward him.

In front of the sofa, you stop and lower your head slightly, a gesture you’ve learned he likes. You don’t need words; he knows you’re waiting for his orders.

"Get me a glass of whiskey."

His tone leaves no room for argument. You turn around, your movements delicate and precise, like a porcelain doll designed solely to please him. You walk to the bar in the corner of the room, feeling his eyes—hidden behind the mask—on you the entire time. You know he doesn’t miss a single detail: the way the dress clings to your body, how your small hands move gracefully as you take the bottle and the glass.

You uncork the bottle and pour the golden liquid, ensuring the amount is exact. Not too much, not too little. You bring it back to him, walking with calculated steps, your heels resonating like a metronome marking the rhythm of your devotion.

When you arrive, you lean slightly to offer him the glass. He takes it, but his eyes never leave you—or at least, that’s what you imagine. Through the mask, it’s impossible to know what he’s thinking, but you can feel his intensity, the weight of his attention.

"Sit down."

The order is simple, but your heart skips a beat. You know what it means. You know where he wants you to sit.

With slow, careful movements, you place yourself on his lap. His hands, large and firm, rest on your hips, ensuring you don’t move too much.

"Are you comfortable?" His tone is softer, almost mocking, but you know it’s a test.

"Yes, sir," you murmur, nodding slightly.

He brings the glass to his lips, taking a sip as his eyes, hidden behind the mask, return to the screen. The sound of screams and gunfire from the games fills the room, but for you, everything fades away. The only thing that matters is being here, close to him, doing as he asks.

One of his hands slowly moves up your back, stopping just at the base of your neck. His touch isn’t affectionate, but it isn’t cruel either. It’s possessive, a silent reminder that you belong to him.

"You’ve been good today," he says after a long silence. His gaze seems to harden even through the mask as a player on the screen makes a fatal mistake. "You always do as I say, don’t you?"

"Always, sir," you respond firmly, without hesitation. Because it’s the truth. Because your only reason for existing is to follow his orders, to please him, to be his perfect doll.

He smiles, or at least you imagine he does. The slight tilt of his head and the change in his posture tell you he’s pleased.

"Good girl." The hand on your neck moves forward, until it covers your throat. Your breath stops for a moment, but you don't dare make a move. His fingers press gently and then release, like a caress.

His fingers trace their way back to your nape, where they begin to caress you gently. It is not a loving or affectionate touch; it is possessive, as if you were on display for an invisible audience, and he was just waiting for someone to claim you.

"I want you to take off the dress," he says suddenly, his voice low and grave.

You nod, trying to keep your breathing as calm as possible, as if this were a normal game. It is; it's just that he always plays with an advantage.

You slowly rise from his legs, giving him space to see you better. His eyes follow you, like the camera in a movie you can't control.

The dress falls to your feet, revealing your naked body. You have your hair up in a high bun, as always, because he prefers you that way. All so that you are more interesting, so that you feel more intimidated, so that he always has control.

"Well" he says, his voice low and soothing. He places the glass on the table. The game continues on the screen behind him, but he no longer seems to care. "Come here". The order is brief and unequivocal.

You obey, walking towards him until you stand between his open legs. His arms stretch over the sofa's armrests; the dark sleeves of his shirt, fitted to his muscular forearms, cannot hide the tension in his muscles.

"What do you want me to do, sir?" you ask obediently, because you know that's how it should be.

His fingers stretch out and stop just before touching your thighs. He stares at them for a moment before moving his hand up to cover your hip.

His grip is strong, but his touch is gentle, as if he were trying to calm a frightened animal.

"Don't ask me questions," he says softly. "Do what you're told". His eyes shift to the left, towards the table where he left the glass. "Pour me another whiskey" .

"Yes, Sir," you respond immediately.

Six steps are all you need to reach the table, but your legs feel like melted wax as you walk. You are afraid of doing anything wrong, of not pleasing him enough. You know that if that happens, he will punish you, and you don't want that. You never want that.

You uncork the bottle with precise movements and fill the glass exactly as you did before. After placing the bottle on the table, you turn towards him with the glass in your hand. The movement makes your hips sway slightly; his eyes must be fixed on them, but you don't allow yourself to look.

You stand between his legs again and lean forward to offer him the glass, without losing your composure, without trembling. You let him take it, his fingers brushing against yours fleetingly. You can't help but feel a spark of tension when his skin touches yours.

"You're trembling" he says coldly, after placing the glass on the table. "Why?" His fingers cover your hips again, and his thumbs move in small circles. "Have I scared you?"

"No, sir," you say quickly, as if that were the last thing you wanted. "It never scares me" . It's the truth, but there's a hint of fear in your words. The fear of not pleasing, of not doing enough.

He tilts his head, the mask covering his face like a shadow. His smile resembles a grimace, but you can't take your eyes off it.

"I understand," he says. His fingers caress you gently, as if they were comforting you.

You feel as if you have passed a test; as if, at least for now, you have pleased him enough.

"But there's something else you can do," he says, softly but with the authority that makes you tremble. Something I would love.

You nod. His fingers move downwards, brushing your thighs firmly and caressing them as if they were a carpet. The sensation makes you bite your cheeks, but you don't make a move. Not until he gives you permission.

His eyes linger on your breasts.

"That I like" he says. The hand that covers your thigh moves up to touch the tip of your nipple. You pull back slightly at the feel of his touch, but you don't dare move too much. "You like everything, don't you?"

"Everything, sir".

"I'm glad," he says. His fingers play with your nipples, caressing and stretching them in a way that makes you scream silently. "I'm very happy". His eyes remain fixed on your breasts, as if he were drawing them.

"Now come here" he says suddenly, his eyes shifting towards you. "I want to see better". He extends a hand and grabs your arm, pulling you forward without hesitation.

"Get on my lap" he orders. "And do it slowly".

The words are like an order that makes you tremble, but you obey, climbing up his legs slowly. The erection in his pants is palpable against the back of your thighs.

He whispers an approving sound when you sit on his lap. His fingers cover your breasts again, squeezing them and caressing your nipples with a soft but firm touch. His fingers continue their journey downwards until they touch your crotch, and when you feel more dazed than ever, he caresses your sex with a light touch, like a feather brushing your skin.

"Mmm, I like seeing you like this" he says softly. His fingers don't move away. The way he touches you is as if he were examining a precious jewel and didn't know what to do with it. "You are so wet, so beautiful. Do you like me doing this to you?"

"Yes," you say, because you know it's what he wants to hear. His fingers caress your inner lips, brushing against the clitoris with a light touch.

He smiles again, a dark and mocking grimace through the mask. His eyes seem to shine with satisfaction.

"And I'm glad you're enjoying it" he says. His fingers give your clitoris a little touch and then stop. "But there's something else you want, isn't there?"

"Yes..." The words slip from your lips without you realizing. "I love him". You feel a shiver in your legs as you say it, but you can't help it. You can't lie to him when he knows who you really are.

His fingers glide along the inside of your thighs, like a playful hand on a soft carpet. You don't dare to move, to breathe, to do anything that might ruin the moment.

"I understand," he says softly. "And it makes me happy" . His fingers slowly rise to touch your sex again.

"I'm going to give you what you desire". His fingers stop over your crotch. "If you behave" .

"I will do it," you promise, with a serious and sincere tone. Anything but not doing it.

"Good" he says. His voice sounds approving and pleased, like a king who has found a loyal servant.

"Good". His fingers change direction, taking the zipper of his pants between them. "Let me help you" he says. His fingers unzip the zipper with an audible sound and release his erection.

You nod and lean towards him, raising your knees to position yourself over his thighs and leaving space for his erection. You can't look at it without feeling embarrassed, but you have to. You have to look at her, because he orders it, because he wants it that way.

It is thick and long, the tip red and shiny. Her fingers encircle the base, covering the foreskin, before pushing it up, inside you.

"It's big" he says when you sit on top of him, wrapping around him with a muffled scream. "But you know what you have to do, don't you?" The question isn't real; it doesn't expect an answer. "You have to do it" .

You have to. There's no turning back, there's no escape. You just have to do it, because he ordered you to.

You start to move, the sofa sheets scraping against your thighs as you slowly rise and fall on his erection. He doesn't help you, doesn't grab or hold you; he just sits there, looking at you with an expression you can't see behind his mask.

The movements become a steady rhythm, the moans escape your lips as you make room for his erection with each rise and fall. You know he has control; he always has. He could make you stop with just one order, but he doesn't.

His hand glides over your back and hips before finding its way to your sex. His fingers caress it lightly before finding your clitoris; the contact makes you scream loudly.

"You're so wet" he says softly, his fingers playing with your inner lips. "So wet. You like it a lot, don't you?"

You can't answer. The question is like a test, something you know you can answer, but you fear you might get it wrong.

"Fine," he says softly after a moment of silence.

"Good" . His fingers change the rhythm on your clitoris, making them slower and softer. "I understand" . His fingers trace small circles over your sex.

"So you like me" he says softly, with a measured rhythm. "I like you a lot. His fingers touch your labia minora before sliding over the surface of the clitoris again.

"Say it" he orders with authority. His fingers stop moving when they await a response.

"Say that you like me". Her tone is like a knife, but the order is unequivocal.

"I like it a lot" you say, with a whisper that feels like a scream in your ears. "A lot" The sound of the word "mucho" makes his fingers move a little faster over your clitoris.

"So you like it" he says, with a dark smile behind the mask. "I understand". His fingers start to speed up again, making everything faster and stronger.

You can barely breathe when he touches you, your body covered in sweat and your sex dripping with moisture. You feel like you're going to die; not from pain, not from fear, but because pleasure has ruined you.

"That's how" he says "That's how I like it". His hand on your waist tightens as you make yourself smaller on him.

"This is how you should do it". His hand on your clitoris stops and he begins to caress your labia minora with a light but firm touch "I like that you are mine" he says, after a moment of pause.

"I like it a lot". Her words are not a question; they are an order. "And I know you like me too". His fingers begin to tug at your labia over and over again. "Don't be afraid" he says as your screams begin to grow in intensity.

"Don't do it" . His fingers brush against the clitoris suddenly, just before something explodes in your sex. The feeling is as if something were breaking your soul, as if your breath were slipping through your fingers while I hold you.

Your back arches as he holds you, your pussy turning each of his movements into an orgasm that makes the pleasure escape from you in a scream.

His fingers continue to caress your labia and clitoris as the orgasm consumes you, as if it would never stop.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the orgasm begins to fade. Your body crumbles in his arms, your breath becomes a gasping torrent.

He holds you for a moment longer before letting you rest on his thighs. The erection remains inside you, hard and thick.

"You were good," he says softly as he starts moving under you again. "Very good." His eyes shine behind the mask, with a glimmer you can't decipher.

"I'm very happy". His fingers will cradle your hips and move you over him with a gentle rhythm.

"Do you know why?" You don't expect an answer; he never does when he asks a question.

"I stay away a lot because you know I'm the one in control". His fingers tighten around your hips for a moment, like a silent threat. "I will always have him" . His fingers loosen their grip on your hips again, but the rhythm of your movements doesn't change.

"And that's what I like the most". His fingers descend to touch your buttocks, caressing them gently before touching your thighs.

"Yes" he says as if he were talking to himself "That's what I like the most".

His fingers encircle your clitoris, playing with it. Each movement makes you scream a little more, as if someone were fiddling with a fire button in your crotch.

"So this is what you want" he says softly as your screams become sharper.

"You want me to fuck you like this, don't you?" His fingers quicken their pace on your clitoris. "You want it like this". He grabs your waist with his free hand, stopping your movements so you can't move. "You want to let him touch you, don't you?"

You nod, with your eyes closed. Your breath escapes between your lips and a torrent of sweat covers your back.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 35. concert (half-written)

a/n: alt title: y/n having her y/n moment

you watch as everyone is admitted one by one from behind the door, peeking out so you don't cause too much ruckus. some find seats while others trade their ticket in for a beverage, and others chat amongst one another.

the beat against your chest gets more drastic as soon as the last pair are inside. you watch the two head to the upstairs seating before going back behind the door and taking a deep breath.

after a few minutes the chatter starts to settle down. everyone is comfy with their beverages and situated, which means it's time for the performance to start.

a staff member gets on stage and checks the microphone, then the guitar before she speaks toward the crowd, capturing their attention.

"hello everyone! good evening. the show will start soon, thank you for your compliance! enjoy!"

a wave of cheers and applaud roars throughout the cafe, overwhelming you just a bit. you still can't believe it, there's a whole crowd for you out there.

the staff member, jia, comes backstage and gives you a comforting smile. you've gotten to know her briefly and she's the sweetest person you know. she's supportive of your work and had been understanding as she helped you adjust and get to know the label, as well as their building.

"everything is ready." jia says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "are you?"

"y-yeah." you mumble. she pulls you in suddenly for a hug, rubbing your back softly.

"they'll love you, promise. fighting!" she cheers, putting a fist up.

you chuckle. "fighting!"

she pats you on the back once more before pushing you out there. you take a deep breath before stepping out, the murmuring simmering down and erupting into cheers. you smile as the lights around dim everywhere except the ones above you, emphasizing your moment.

you grab your electric guitar, putting the strap over so it can sit on your neck before you step closer to the microphone. you tap once, then twice, and finally a third time before speaking into it.

"hello?" you say quizically, unsure if you're unlucky enough to start your first show off with a mic that decides to cut off when it's your time to shine. "ah, it's working. hi everyone!"

there's another set of cheers, much louder than before, you might add.

"wow, oh my gosh, haha, you guys are so full of energy this is so cool." your nerves ease slightly and a giggle escapes when you hear someone calling you cute. "right. wow, this is so crazy—me being up here and all. thank you so much for being here. I'm beyond grateful for your support, and... honestly, I almost cried backstage before coming out here." that earns a ripple of laughter and a few heartfelt "awww's" from the audience.

someone shouts, "we love you!" and you can't help but laugh, the warmth of their support beginning to melt your anxiety.

"right. i'm starting off with my first song: i don’t wanna be okay without you. it originally was a small project that i uploaded on youtube after a very... eventful night." you start, strumming the first chords of the song. "i was so emotional so i sat down, sang, uploaded it, and fell asleep to push away what i felt. i woke up to a ton of notifications and my life changed significantly after that. this song will always be one of my favorites. okay, I'll stop talking now." you joke.

you strum again, the chords echoing through the room. you close your eyes for a moment, letting the familiarity of the song center you before you start singing. your voice is soft but steady, and as the melody builds, so does your confidence. people are swaying in their chairs, some mouthing the words. a group near the table holds up their phones to record, their faces flowing with excitement.

when the final note fades, the applause is immediate and enthusiastic. you're met with a wave of relief and pride that almost knocks you over. "thank you," you say into the mic, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much. "wow, okay. this all just got really real. wow, thank you so much."

the crowd "awww's" at your words and really just you in general, making you giggle. and then you take a moment to sip some water, glancing around the room, soaking in the faces turned toward you.

"this next song is called letter—" you're interrupted briefly by cheers and claps. you smile widely before continuing, "I also wrote this after going through, well, a lot. but this was a little later down the line." you admit nervously, fiddling with the mic stand. "it's kind of surreal to be here now. I've already said this, but things have flipped so much then. everything in my life has just been great and I'm just beyond grateful." you pause, feeling a teasing grin spread across your face. "these first two songs—and not the last—are kind of inspired by someone who, uh, did me dirty. that's all I can say. as much as I hate them, I'm not that petty.”

the crowd bursts into laughter and a few cheers. "spill!" someone shouts, making you laugh even harder.

"i don't know," you reply cheekily, "i think the songs say a good amount of it all."

letter has a slower, more brooding start, and as you sing, the room quiets down to let your voice take over. the raw emotion of the song seems to resonate with the crowd, and for a moment, it feels like it's just you, your guitar, and the song.

as the song ends, you're met with another round of applause, louder this time, and a few whistles that make your face flush. "thank you so much," you say, your voice more confident now. "okay, now that I've gotten through those two, let's have some fun."

the next part of your set transitions into covers, and the energy in the room shifts. "alright," you say with a grin, "I had some songs I wanted to cover, so I hope you all will enjoy. I've covered some of these before and a lot of people seemed to like it."

the room comes alive with the first notes, immediately catching on to the melody. best part by daniel caesar is recognizable two notes in, so the cheers and expressions of surprise that follow make you giggle.

people start singing along softly and it suddenly feels less like a concert in the best way possible. you, your fans, and the thing you love most: music. the harmony fills the cafe and so do flashlights on phones that sway from side to side. it really feels like you're sharing the moment with everyone and not just performing.

you keep the energy mellow with i fall in love too easily by chet baker, letting the soft jazz tones melt into the warm air. then, you pick up the pace slightly with easy by mac ayres and isn’t she lovely by stevie wonder. the audience sways to the rhythm, some people tapping their feet against the floor. every now and then, you catch someone's eye in the crowd and share a quick smile, feeling the connection deepen.

the cafe feels like a living room with how relaxed and carefree everyone is. it's like all the worries from outside have been left at the door and you're all just basking in the music. you laugh as the crowd sings along to the chorus’s, their voices blending with yours in a way that feels effortless and beautiful.

between songs, you chat casually with the audience. "you all sound amazing, by the way." you say, and the room bursts into cheers again. "seriously, I mean, maybe I should get off stage and let one of you sub in, that alright?" you ask, earning a wave of laughs.

it's comforting and refreshing to see how much fun everyone is having, and it fuels your energy as you get ready to finish the last cover you planned out. you take another sip of water and glance at the clock on the back wall, not ready for the night to end just yet.

"right, okay. i had two songs planned, which are both originals. I've posted one on youtube, but the other has been hiding in my notes app and voice memos for maybe a month now." you say, strumming a chord. "we'll start off with evergreen." and as soon as you say it there's a few cheers. you grin, strumming the next chord. "this is also heavily inspired by the same person I mentioned earlier. don't let someone make you feel worthless, not when you're worth so much." you add, earning a few chuckles and sympathetic looks from the crowd.

you pause, letting the melody settle over the room before you start singing. the reaction is instant—murmurs of recognition ripple through the audience, and a few people shout out excitedly.

your voice is steady, but there's a rawness in it that makes the words hit differently in this live setting as if the crowd knows the reason for making this song.

the song flows without effort, but as you reach the chorus, a wave of emotion washes over you. this isn't just a song anymore; it's a shared moment, one that feels like you're peeling back layers of yourself for everyone to see. the crowd sways, a few people even holding up their phones to capture the performance. by the time you finish, the applause is deafening, and you can't help but grin bashfully under all the attention.

"thank you," you say, voice wavering just a bit. "that song means a lot to me, so hearing you all react like that... it's everything." you take a deep breath, fingers brushing nervously over the strings of your guitar. "now, this next one... I've never played it live before. it's called clementine, and, uh, I guess you could say it's still learning how to walk, haha. it's also a piece of my heart, and I want you all to hear it first before it gets released... well, who knows when. "

the room falls into a heavy silence as you start to strum—it almost feels sacred. you start softly, the notes delicate and deliberate, and your voice follows, carrying the weight of the lyrics. as the song is sung, you can feel the emotion in the room shifting—some people are wiping at their eyes while others are just watching you with complete captivating spread on their features.

by the time you reach the final verse, your own voice falters slightly, thick with emotion. you close your eyes, letting the last few notes linger in the air before they fade into the quiet. for a moment, the room stays still, as if everyone is holding their breath, and then the applause erupts. it's not just loud—it's heartfelt, full of appreciation and love that makes your chest tighten.

you set your guitar down carefully, bringing the mic closer. "wow," you breathe out, breath shaky as tears prick at your eyes. "I don't want this to end. this night has been... it's been everything I hoped for and more." you pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "but I promise this is just the beginning, thanks to my label wavy. there will be a next time, and it's going to be even better and bigger."

the crowd cheers, and you can't stop yourself from laughing softly. "oh, and one last thing before I go," you add, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm working on something special! a debut album! a few songs including the two I have just performed."

the reaction is instant—a wave of excited chatter and applause that makes you smile wider, your heart full and light.

" i wasn't gonna say anything but... well, you've seen my twitter. i can't keep secrets, can I?" even through the overwhelming emotion, everyone laughs including you. "thank you so, so much," you say, waving eagerly as the lights dim. "you've made tonight unforgettable. I'll see you all soon!"

as you exit, the applause follows you, the sound echoing in your ears like a promise. you can't stop smiling even as you step backstage, letting the emotions of the night finally catch up to you. this moment, you know, is one you'll carry on for the rest of your life.

—

as you pack your guitar and change into something comfier—a hoodie and sweatpants—jia knocks on the door. you fix your hair before yelling, "come in!"

the door opens and she steps inside, watching you set your guitar case on the table.

"did you need something? i'm almost ready, I just needed to fix myself up." you say to her.

she shakes her head, smiling almost mischievously. "it's alright, I'll help you with your things. there's a surprise out in the cafe, along with a beverage that the owner made. you might want to check it out."

"aw, the owner didn't have to. oh, and what surprise?"

"you'll see." jia says, tugging at your arm and pushing you out. "you've got your personal items and everything, we'll take care of the rest. have a good night y/n."

"thanks?" you chuckle, stepping out.

you head out and see a few employees wiping the tables down. thankfully, your fans weren't messy at all. they cleaned up after themselves and threw their cups away without asking. you really are lucky.

there's a hot chocolate waiting by the barista area with a beautiful heart design. you take a picture before reading the note beside it:

"congratulations! we are honored to have you here as our musical guest. we hope to have you here again soon :)

—gomdori cafe <3"

you smile at the little note, folding it neatly and placing it in your pocket before you feel a tap on your shoulder. when you turn around, your eyes widen immediately.

yunjin and hanni are standing there with big smiles gracing their faces, amusement flooding their features as your reaction deepens.

"nice performance!" yunjin beams before you tackle her into a hug, nearly cutting off her air supply.

"what the fuck are you doing here? i thought you were busy?" you say into her neck.

"even if i were, i'd drop anything to watch my best friends first concert. that was wonderful." yunjin mumbles, tightening her embrace.

"you're insane." you scoff, pulling away and pushing her shoulder teasingly. “is this what you were fucking posting about? oh my god, i should’ve known.”

then, you turn to hanni. just seeing her makes your heart swell. she's grinning still from the interaction between yunjin, then widening her eyes as you pull her in for a hug as well. it's sudden but just right.

hanni is a little smaller, so you kind of engulf her in your arms. but you're warm, smell good, and really cute, so she hugs you back with the same force. yunjin watches you two with a smirk, noticing the undertones of the moment.

"surprise." she says sweetly.

"i can't believe you came too." you sshifting your weight on both feet as you hug her. "thank you."

hanni pulls away and smiles, looking into your eyes and making you blush.

"i wouldn't miss this, i'm your biggest fan." she jokes.

yunjin laughs, shaking her head. "this was hanni's idea, actually."

"really?" you ask.

"yup. she texted me when you made the announcement. we both wanted to surprise you."

you sigh, shaking your head. "you guys are terrible. were you here the whole time?"

hanni nods. "mhm. heard all of your awkward reactions too."

"oh shut up." you groan.

"it was cute though." hanni says quieter than before, rolling her eyes at you. “and you did great, so don’t worry.”

yunjin catches the spark between you immediately, raising her brows at the sight but not commenting.

the three of you then head out, yunjin and hanni congratulate and compliment you (though not without teasing), and you are left the happiest you've ever been. this was definitely a night to remember: you, your fans, the music, and two of the people you care about.

a/n (2): a bit iffy about how this was written + the pacing but I hope u guys liked it, let me know...!

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taglist ! @namojoon @ly-gushka @layonaiguess @artrizzler19 @yerimbrit @sixflame438 @nwjnsloona @saysirhc @nimnia @somedaydream @trovao-penguins @modanisgf @c-yerim @starstruckgoateepuppy @tzuyusdoughnut @kaypanaq @peranoo @haerinkisser @electronicluminarycoffee @yoohtonyy @secretcessy @keiji-jin @awkwardtoafault @syronns @linnnsworld @inybits @ynwrites

[roystartt]

It's been a few weeks since Tommy finally cracked and went and spoke to Evan and the pair managed to actually communicate.

And the last few weeks have been heavy, lots of talking, there's been tears and mini arguments as they both valiantly tried to finally make the other understand where they were coming from. But it's been good too, they both want to make this work, extracting promises to always talk in the future before running away or jumping five steps ahead.

But there's also been quiet times where they just soak up each others presence in a way neither of them can get enough. As if they can make up for those missing months by pure osmosis.

Tonight's one of those nights where they're trying to reconnect with each other, on this journey they're on to finally get to know eachother. They'd ordered takeout and were now tangled up together on the couch whilst some romcom played on the TV in the background. Not that they're really paying attention to the TV, preferring to switch between lazy makeouts that neither are really trying to get to lead anywhere anytime soon; and just staring into each others eyes, sometimes murmering gentle conversation.

'You know,' Evan starts, when he pulls aways from another lazy kiss, 'the 118 were surprising good at never letting me know.'

This just confuses Tommy, but by now he is more than used to being behind in the conversation as he knows that whenever Evan speaks, there's a trail of mental gymnastics happening silently inside his head before he ever speaks out loud. It impresses Tommy whenever Evan explains to him all the different jumps he makes to connect two subjects. He wishes sometimes he could climb inside Evan's mind and truly experience it.

''What do you mean, sweetheart?' He probes when it doesn't seem like Evan was going to clarify.

Evan shifts a bit to lean his back against Tommy's chest and reaches for one of his hands to fiddle with his fingers. 'You know, when we were broken up, they would never let on when they had seen you. Your name went from being one of the most popular topics of conversation to basically taboo.' He elaborates with a laugh.

But his new position meant he could feel more than see Tommy freeze and tense up at his words. Evan turned his head back so he could see his boyfriend's face and frowned at the look upon it. 'What is it?'

'Evan...' Tommy started, hesitantly. 'What makes you think any of the 118 saw me when we were broken up?'

This caused Evan to fully shift back around so they were facing eachother again, he out a hand on Tommy's chest, half for balance and half to ground himself in the other man. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, I'm pretty sure I was their public enemy number one,' Tommy explained softly, bringing a hand up to stroke one of Evan's curls, 'Not that I blame them of course.'

This only caused the frown lines on Eva 's face to deepen. 'B-but you were friends with all of them before we even got together the first time. Chimney never shut up about how glad he was to properly reconnect with you past a phonecall every few years. And I basically had to share custody of you with Eddie!'

Tommy smiled softly, leaning up to press a comforting kiss against Evan's birthmark. 'That's true, but then I went and broke their brother's heart.'

'You were just trying to protect your own heart!.' Evan defended him fiercely, causing Tommy to chuckle. He loved how far they'd come in understanding and forgiving each other.

'Yes, but they didn't know that sweetheart.'

Evan deflated, sinking all of his weight onto Tommy. 'They really stopped doing things with you?'

'I would cut ties with anyone that hurt you like that too, Evan. I'm just eternally grateful that you gave me a second chance.' He leaned in to give him a proper kiss, hoping to distract Evan from the topic of conversation.

It only worked for a few seconds before Evan was shooting up, indignant all over again. 'Please say they at least texted you to check in on how you were coping?'

'Evan, I-' Tommy sighed, struggling to find the words to calm Evan down, not wanting to further incriminate their friends, but also not wanting to lie.

Evan could read what Tommy wasn't saying and before he could stop him Evan was off the couch and storming towards the door. 'Babe! Wait, where are you going?'

'I am going to give them a piece of my mind. They spent weeks eating my baked goods and telling me not to call you, and they couldn't even pick up the phone to check on you!?' Evan was practically seething at this point.

Moving quickly, Tommy met Evan at the door, stopping him from where he was angrily trying to shove on a jacket. 'Sweetheart, it's 11pm at night, I don't think waking them up from sleep to shout at them for being on your side is going to do much good. They were just trying to look out for you the best way they knew how.'

'Yeah, well who was on your side Tommy? You deserved to have someone looking out for you too.' Evan exploded, heated.

Tommy grabbed Evan by the hips and pulled him in close, hugging him until he could feel Evan start to calm. 'Well, luckily, I have you to look out for me. And I'm not going to be foolish enough to give that up ever again.'

His words were enough to finally have Evan fully relax into Tommy's arms. 'Well good, because I'm never letting you give it up again, either.' He sighed, before quietly continuing; 'I'm just disappointed that they didn't also look out for you. I thought they were better than that.'

'They're your family, Evan. They acted out of love for you, they didn't owe me anything.'

'Bullshit, you are their family now too, and they best never forget that again.' Evan grumbled, his face pressed into Tommy's neck.

Evan smiled coyly, before waggling his eyebrows, 'I did defend you pretty hard. It's going to take a lot to show me how really grateful you are.'

'How about you hold off on their lectures for now, and let me take you to bed.' Tommy proposed, tilting his head back so Evan could see his face. 'You could let me show you how grateful I am to have you as my biggest defender.'

'Hmmm, let me try,' was Tommy's reply before he took Evan's lips in his own, this kiss considerably more passionate than the ones they had been exchanging on the couch earlier on. If Tommy had his way, he'd never stop trying his best to show Evan just how eternally grateful he is to have him by his side.

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part seven

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

Rafe had taken you to the physical therapy room that was located in the downstairs portion of the hospital. You were excited, finally getting out of the room, finally getting to move. You’d mostly been doing your exercises with Rafe or the therapist in your hospital room for the last few months, unable to move more than a few feet at a time with your crutches. Today, they thought you were ready to begin putting weight on your leg, the bone finally being healed enough to withstand the pressure. But, as you found yourself sitting in front of him in a wheelchair in front of two parallel bars as he knelt in front of you, coaxing you to actually, physically put your best foot forward, you felt inadequate. The space in between the bars was daunting and you were scared. You felt like you weren’t up for the challenge. Would you ever walk again? and if you couldn’t do what he was asking, would you never get to have him the way you wanted – would you ever be – the you that you knew again? As you looked down at him, you could tell he sensed your fear, you could tell that not only did this mean a lot to you, it meant a lot to him. 

“What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?” 

He asked, his tone playful, but also lined with concern. 

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m scared that I can’t hold my own weight. I haven’t been able to in so long.” 

You whispered into the thin space between his body and yours. He grabbed your hands from the arms of the wheelchair, balancing on the balls of his feet. 

“You can, I promise.” 

He reassured you softly, but you didn’t know what to say or do. 

“What if I never walk again, Rafe? What if I’m like this forever and no one ever loves me because of it?” 

He was startled at your question because he already knew one person who was so deeply in love with you that it was painful. He didn’t care if you were wheelchair bound for the rest of your life; that wouldn’t change how he felt. But, he needed you to be happy, to be able to teach again and the only way he was going to get you out of this headspace was to show you a little bit of tough love. 

“Look at me – you’re not paralyzed. Your pelvis was broken, yes and so was your leg. But, I fixed it, sweetheart. The only person standing in your way right now is you. You have every capability to walk and you will. It’s not going to feel good at first, it’s going to hurt. But, I’m going to be here, right behind you for every step, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Your vision became cloudy with unshed tears. Sometimes it felt like Rafe knew whatever you needed in every moment and he provided it, effortlessly, without question. 

“Okay. I trust you.” 

You whispered again, sniffles filling the thin air in between the two of you as Rafe wiped the tears that had fallen off of your rosy colored cheeks. Rafe gave you a reassuring nod before moving to place a walker in front of you. You looked at it, unsure of how you felt about moving, about standing on your own two feet after spending the two weeks it had been since your surgery on strict orders of bed rest. He moved behind you, arms reaching underneath your armpits, pushing you upward once you gave him the okay. The physical therapist stood close by, coaxing you forward with words – directions – that you couldn’t quite make out. 

“Hands on the handles, baby. I’ve got you, I promise.” 

Rafe cooed in your ear, his reassuring words were all you could focus on as the pain of standing for the first time in two weeks hit your senses. Tears pricked your eyes – the sensation of your limbs hitting the floor bringing an ache in your bones that was so great, it reminded you of the initial pain you felt when you heard the crunch of your car collide with the other vehicle. You let out a whimper and the tears fell down your face once more. 

“Rafe –, i-it’s too much –, it hurts too much!” 

Your scream sounded more like a battle cry to him and it felt like his heart was going to stop beating any second – seeing you like this, it was too much, it hurt too much.

“Easy, sweetheart. I know it hurts, baby. I’m so sorry. Can you take just one step for me? Just one and we can go back to your room and eat shitty food and watch movies all day, I promise.” 

He encouraged you and you obliged, holding your breath as you willed your weak muscles to move. They shook as you were able to barely lift one foot off the ground, sliding it forward as your body protested and your muscles screamed, ready to succumb to the ground beneath you. 

“Look at you, pretty girl – walking! Take another step for me, okay?” 

You knew Rafe was right, you knew you needed to do this. So, you listened, repeating the same gut-wrenching process with your other foot. It was successful and after five steps, Rafe let you rest, ready to take you back to your room and cuddle you until you fell asleep. He lifted you, carrying you back to the wheelchair, noting how tired you were. He couldn’t put you through the pain of five more steps – it would’ve killed him. 

“Okay, pretty girl. Let’s go take a nap.” 

He whispered against your sweat soaked hairline, planting a kiss before pulling away and wheelcing you back upstairs to your room. 

-

It hadn’t been long after he got you settled back into your bed and curled up next to you that he had realized you were sad, the weight of your inability to function on your own weighed heavy on your chest and as you cuddled deeper into his chest for the third time he probed you just a bit. 

“Sweet girl, if you get any closer I think you’ll be inside my skin.” 

He spoke in a sarcastic, joke-y voice. But, you suddenly felt insecure at his words. 

He means you’re clingy. 

He means get off of him. 

He means you’re a burden to him. 

“O-Oh, I’m sorry. I can get off of you. I don’t mean to be clingy.” 

You spoke, trying to move away from him and his breath caught in his throat. The stutter, the hurt that lined your words – it hit him like a ton of bricks.  Clingy? Had he just fucked up? He pulled you close to him again, wanting nothing more than for you to bury yourself in his chest again but this time your body felt rigid against him. Had he underestimated how fragile you were? Had he broken you into pieces again after trying so desperately to put you back together? 

“No –, that’s not what I meant. I was just making a joke, sweetheart.”

You gingerly nodded, thinking that maybe you were just being sensitive after having such a hard, emotional morning. 

“You know I always want you close to me, right? Don’t you know that by now?” 

He questioned, pulling your chin up with his thumb and forefinger so your eyes met his. He noted the unshed tears in your eyes and his chest began to grow tighter by the second. 

“Sweetheart, what’s the matter? What’s going on inside your pretty little brain?” 

He probed you sweetly, only wanting to do whatever he could to aid the pain you were feeling. 

“Everything just feels heavy, I guess.” 

You sniffled.

“What do you mean?” 

He questioned, running his free hand through your hair as he pushed the strands away from your face in a soothing manner, waiting for you to tell him how to fix it. 

“I’m just sad –, I just feel weird. I wish I could walk more than five wobbly steps and I wish I asn’t confined to a hospital and I wish wouldn’t have gotten blood on that beautiful dress I spent my last thirty dollars on for some stupid blind date.” 

The words came out of your mouth in a jumbled, fast manner. But he was able to decipher them all, the mumbled panic that was so uniquely you never bothered him. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’m right here, I’ll always be right here.” 

It was more of a declaration than a sentence and you hoped he was telling the truth. That was your last thought before falling asleep in his strong arms. 

-

Jenni had received a very detailed text from Rafe; begging, crying, pleading, for her help with a surprise he was planning for you. You were currently peacefully sleeping in his arms and had been for hours now. He didn’t have the heart to wake you after the morning you had – the pain etched on your face and the emotional fragility you had shown him, he just couldn’t bring himself to wake you from whatever beautiful things you were dreaming of. Instead, he continued to cuddle into you, brushing the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks and his fingers in and out of the strands of your hair. He needed Jenni’s help, held down by your body and not having the heart to move you or rid himself of your warmth, really it was more for him than for you. He just wanted to hold you, to be close to you. He took all his time with Molly for granted and he vowed not to do it ever again. Which left Jenni and her rockstar team of nurses who knew how the hell to plan anything and everything to plan the dreamy first date he had in mind for you. He knew you needed this, he knew you deserved it after everything you’d been through and he knew it was time that he made a move if he was going to make one. He even felt Molly give him the nudge from wherever she was. If she was going to send him anyone, he knew she would’ve sent you because you were everything good that he remembered about her – the kindness, the beauty, the wisdom, the pain. You were inherently good and tonight would be the night he’d show you. 

Jenni bought a dress for you to wear – satin, pale blue, the same one you had been crying over hours previously in Rafe’s arms – the same one you had come into the emergency room in, drenched in your own blood. For him, it had to be this dress, that was the only real request that had to met for the night to be successful in his mind and Jenni obliged. He hoped that when you wore it tonight, that you would feel reborn, that it would replace the memory of the last time it's cool fabric met your skin and the pain you associated with it. He hoped that whoever you were meant to meet the night of your accident, whatever was supposed to happen on that blind date was drowned out by the special night he had planned for you and that if you remembered anything about the accident – it was that it brought you together. Jenni stood in the doorway of your room giving Rafe a soft smile and a nod, ensuring him that her work was done and everything was ready for the two of you. You laid in his arms, the both of you having been watching procedural crime shows for the past hour – they were your favorite. Your attention was drawn away from the tv as Rafe turned the volume down and looked you in the eyes. 

“Pretty girl, I have a surprise for you.” 

He spoke sweetly, with the Rafe Cameron smile on his face. He was jittery and excited and you were curious, so you took the bait. 

“And what have I done to deserve a surprise?” 

You questioned, with a sarcastic laugh. 

“You’ve been such a good girl, today.” 

His voice was sensual and sexy as he placed a kiss on your cheek as blush rose from beneath it. 

“And what might this surprise be?” 

You questioned, laughing as his lips met the skin of your cheekbone, the tickle of his stubble making its presence known against your senses. 

“Not telling – Jenni’s gonna help you get all dolled up and I'll be back, okay sweetheart?” 

He gave you a soft smile and it sent arousal to your core – wondering what in God’s green earth this beautiful man had planned for you and what you had done to deserve even a fraction of his attention. 

“Okay, sweet boy.” 

You smiled and he left the room. Jenni pulled the dress out from behind the bathroom door where it hung. It was pressed and as she brought it close to you, you ran your fingertips down the cool, satin material. 

“How did you get it clean?” 

You wondered out loud, astonished at the shape of the dress. 

“I didn’t. I bought you a new one. Rafe requested this one be worn tonight, if that’s okay with you.” 

You were at a loss for words at his thoughtfulness – to send Jenni out to find this dress, the dress. You couldn’t fathom how you even deserved to breathe the same air that he did. You couldn’t form a sentence, you only nodded with teary eyes and a bright smile. She helped you into it before curling your hair and adding a small amount of makeup to your face – foundation and lip gloss was all you had requested and just as she added the gloss to your plump lips, Rafe stood in the doorway with a bouquet of tulips hanging from his hand as he leaned against the doorway and gawked at you. 

“You are just the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 

He spoke, jaw hanging open before bringing his lips into a smile. It was your turn to gawk as your eyes took him in. His face was where you started, taking in every change that had been made to his appearance. He was even hotter outside of scrubs. His hair sat messily on his head, his stubble; now gone, leaving a mustache on his upper lip and for someone who wasn’t a mustache kind of girl – it was doing things to you. His shirt was littered with a black and white checker print with sporadic palm leaves layering on top. It clung to his arms in a way that you didn’t think was possible, but nevertheless, it was and it was only increasing your attraction to him by the second. The top two buttons were undone, his bare chest joining the party and you couldn’t complain – you had imagined what he looked like shirtless over a thousand times; never expecting you’d get to see him like this.  He paired it with black jeans and tennis shoes, they were black too. 

“You’re sweet.” 

You said, blush rising on your cheeks. He moved to the bed, where you sat and embraced Jenni in a hug. 

“Thank you. I owe ya one.” 

He whispered into her ear. 

“Just don’t fuck it up, Rafferty.” 

She grunted, smacking him playfully in the back of the head. He winced and tried to rub the spot where she hit him in an attempt to get the pain to go away. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” 

He asked, kneeling at your feet as he slid the sandals Jenni had picked out for you over your freshly painted toes. 

“I’m ready.” 

You replied, giving him a smile as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

-

You still couldn’t walk very far which meant Rafe had to push your wheelchair to the elevator and up all twenty-three floors of the hospital before the two of you made it to the rooftop. As the doors of the elevator swung open, and you took in the sight before you, your chest felt like it was going to cave in. The rooftop, which was usually only used as a helicopter landing pad for critical patients, had been transformed into a romantic getaway – string lights hung over the entirety of the space and a thick white quilt lined the concrete where a picnic basket sat waiting for you and Rafe to enjoy the contents inside of it. 

“Rafe, what is all this?” 

You questioned him and the joy on your face was enough to make his head explode. 

“This, my sweet, sweet girl, is our first date.” 

He cooed as he lifted you from the wheelchair bridal-style and sat you on top of a pillow that laid on the quilt. Your still healing pelvis would appreciate him for it later. He moved to sit across from you and took the orange juice he had prepared out of the basket, pouring it into a wine glass for you and handing it to you. 

“Rafe –, this –, this is so special. Thank you.” 

You gave him the biggest smile you could muster up, placing your hand over your heart to express how much it meant to you. 

“You’re welcome, sweet girl. You deserve it. I thought since you can’t leave the hospital and this is where we met, what better place than here?” 

He replied and you smiled. 

“So, what do people talk about on first dates? I mean I haven’t been on one in a long time.” 

You chuckled as you spoke and it lightened the mood. You were both nervous and you could feel it in the air that maybe he hadn’t been on one in a while either. 

“I haven’t either, baby. It’s okay.” 

He reached over, his hand intertwining with yours and you leaned into his touch. 

“You know that restaurant, La fogata? I was actually supposed to meet a girl there the night you came into the emergency room and when I saw you –, I just couldn’t leave.” 

His voice went from joyful to somber quickly. 

“That’s crazy because that’s where I was on my way to when I was hit. That’s where my blind date was supposed to be at. I’m sorry I kept you from your date, Rafe.” 

He looked at you with bewildered eyes. 

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. I’m grateful that I was the one who got to take care of you even though I wished you had never gotten hurt so badly. Do you know who you were supposed to meet?” 

He questioned. 

“No, sadly I never got his name. A friend set us up, I just knew he was a doctor.” 

“What’s the name of your friend?” 

He asked you, wondering what the odds were that you were his date and fate had brought you together anyways. 

“Uh, Sarah. Sarah Cameron. We went to college together –” 

He sat, bewildered, shocked, confused. He felt so many emotions at once that he didn’t know what he felt. How had you been right under his nose for all of these years?

“What is it, Rafe?” 

You questioned in concern as you stared at his form. 

“Baby, Sarah is my sister. She set us up.” 

Your eyes went wide and the two of you looked at each other, shock littering your faces and you busted out laughing – huge, enormous belly laughs littered the air around you. When you finally came back down to earth, Rafe opened the picnic basket bringing out food from La Fogata – spanish rice, chicken, and cheese dip. He dished it out for you and you enjoyed the food, not having anything other than your biscuits and hospital food for what had felt like forever. 

“So, what is an eligible bachelor like you doing going on blind dates anyways?” 

He swallowed thickly, knowing the ball he was about to drop on you, wondering if you’d run in the opposite direction. 

“My wife died.” 

There was silence between the two of you for what felt like an hour, the cool breeze and the stars the only thing you could focus on. 

He was married. Of course, he was fucking married. He was beautiful and perfect and wounded. What kind of hell this sweet boy had gone through and he never even mentioned it, until now. 

“W-what?” 

You finally asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. 

“She was in an accident similar to yours, she had injuries like you did, but when she came into the ER – she had lost too much blood. She was basically gone when she got here and t-then, she just died.” 

Tears lined his eyes as he spoke. He had no intention of sharing this information with you tonight, but he did anyway. He trusted you with his heart. 

“Rafe, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. But, I do know what it’s like to grieve someone who’s still alive and I know how painful that is, so I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” 

He gripped your hand like his life depended on it. 

“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure she sent you to me.” 

Your eyes welled with tears at his words. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

He asked, politely – always a gentleman – and you nodded your head vigorously, leaning in as the journey between your lips and his was stopped and your mouths collided in a wet, sloppy, passionate kiss. His hands cupped your cheeks and yoru hands met his hair, the tickle of his mustache on your top lips made you smile, for a brief moment kissing with your teeth as his tongue fought to control yours. You fit in his mouth like you were always meant to be there, like you were always meant to be his – and maybe you were. 

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[wannabespacesmuggler]

TO GOOD TO BE TRUE ➵ A. HOTCHNER [1]

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You've found yourself spending more time with Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner after a mysterious figure begins following you home. After your stalker's arrest, you believe your freedom is too good to be true. Maybe Arron should've listened.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stalking, kidnapping, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, mentions of Foyet, flashbacks in italics, part one of two

Word Count: 4k

Author’s Note: Your boy has been rewatching Criminal Minds, and Hotch has always been my favorite. After realizing how little Aaron Hotchner fanfic there is on Tumblr, I decided to write my own. This is part one of two — let me know if you want to be tagged in part two.

“You know, you don’t have to bring me coffee every morning.”

You watch Hotch’s eyebrows knit together as a deep stoicism floods his handsome features, but he still graciously takes the small thermos from your hands, which is full of fresh, hot coffee. The two of you have been doing this same song and dance for the past three months — since Hotch started acting as your personal Uber to and from Quantico.

You had noticed a dark vehicle following you on your way home from work several times. At first, you thought you were just being paranoid — a natural side effect of your job with the BAU. But then you started feeling uncomfortable in your own home, as if someone was watching you the entire time. You mentioned it to Garcia offhandedly one morning, and she begged you to tell either Hotch or Morgan. To her dismay, you waved off her concern. In all honesty, you were conflicted. Half of you desperately wanted to tell Hotch and Morgan what was going on — the two men in your life who consistently make you feel safe. However, the other half of you wants to face this fear on your own because what if this is nothing but your own mind playing tricks on you? I mean, you’re an FBI agent after all. You didn’t want to face the embarrassment of telling the two bravest men you’ve ever known that you’re afraid of something lurking in the shadows. 

But then you received the first note. 

You finally had a weekend away from the BAU to relax and catch up on some much needed sleep, but those plans immediately fell apart once you picked up your mail on Saturday morning. There, shoved between your water bill and a Crate and Barrel catalogue was a nondescript envelope with no return address and one word messily written on the front: your name. Inside of the envelope were dozens of photos of you living normally, taken over the course of several months: waiting for the bus on your way to work, grabbing drinks after a long case with Derek and Penelope, relaxing in your own home on your rare days off. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a handwritten note inside with a single sentence written in the same messy handwriting from the front of the envelope: I know who you are.

You immediately called Derek, who was out the door before you could even finish explaining. He spent the short car ride to your townhome scolding you for not telling him about this situation. You shouldn’t be surprised. The two of you met during training at the FBI Academy. Derek Morgan, at face value, was nothing more than a cocky hot shot, but he became your closest companion at the Academy. He’d never really noticed you in class, until one day in hand-to-hand combat training. You were scrappy and eager to prove yourself and Derek watched as you took down the biggest recruit in the class with nothing more than your wits. The odds were stacked against you and yet, you fought like you had the winning hand. In that moment, you earned his undying respect. After the training was done, he watched the man you’d taken down attempt to take a cheap shot at you from behind while you were distracted by a group of recruits. Derek stepped in immediately grabbing his arm before he could get his hands on you. And in that moment, he earned your undying respect. From then on, the two of you were thick as thieves — two bright eyed recruits against the world. You graduated together, kept in touch as the two of you went back to your hometowns, and when Morgan was recruited by Hotch you were the first name he offered when asked if he knew anyone else interested in working for the BAU. So, you shouldn’t be surprised that Derek is overprotective when you tell him about your situation — he’s been looking out for you since the beginning.

Derek took a look at the note and photos when he arrived at your townhome and immediately knew that this was not a situation that the two of you could handle alone. No, you needed the team to help investigate this. But first, you needed to call Hotch. Hotch was, arguably, more concerned than Derek when you called and explained the situation. After the momentary shock wore off, Hotch ordered you to meet him at Quantico with Derek.

Everything after that felt like a blur — as if your life was suddenly set to fast forward. 

Derek helped you gather all your important belongings into a couple of bags and loaded them into his car before heading off to Quantico. To no one’s surprise, Hotch beat the two of you there and immediately asked to see the envelope when you entered the bullpen. You watched as Hotch spread the photos out on an empty table. His brow furrowed and his face twisted into a tight scowl, as his eyes carefully studied every image. Hotch enlisted your help creating a timeline of the photos as Derek called the rest of the team. They arrived over the course of the next hour: Rossi first with an ample amount of coffee and Garcia not far behind. The team got to work finishing the timeline, while Reid memorized every aspect of the note and Morgan went through a cognitive interview with you. Eventually, you all hit a wall. Without a license plate number or a physical description, the profile was just too vague and the search parameters were too wide. Hotch eventually sent the rest of the team home, except for Derek. He ushered both of you into his office and began making a plan of immediate action: getting you set up in an FBI safe house, making sure that there is a constant patrol outside of the premises, setting up a carpool system to and from work.

“Just think of it as a thank you for driving me every day.”

Hotch scoffs at your words before taking a long sip and putting the thermos down in his cup holder. His expression notably softens as he regards you once more. At some point during your late night and early morning one-on-one drives, your relationship with Hotch moved from strictly professional into something much more tender. And you aren’t the only one aware of this not so subtle change. On the rare mornings that Hotch cannot pick you up due to a conflict with Jack’s schooling, Morgan picks you up and grills you about the nature of your relationship with Aaron Hotchner. 

“You know you don’t have to thank me, right?”

A small smile spreads across your face at Hotch’s question. You know you don’t have to thank him, not only is it his job to ensure your safety, but you are also fully aware that he likes the responsibility. It’s his natural instinct to protect you. And it’s a different type of protection than Derek’s brotherly, reactive protectiveness. Derek steps in without a second thought when you’re in danger. Whereas Hotch has a watchful, proactive protectiveness. He has a knack for sensing danger before there are any warning signs. You often feel his eyes on you in the bullpen, on the jet, and in the field, deciphering your facial expressions and body language. 

“I know, but still.”

Hotch rolls his eyes as he pulls out of the driveway, but you notice the ghost of a smile that pulls at the corners of his lips. It doesn’t take long to get to work from the safe house, it’s conveniently almost halfway between Quantico and Hotch’s apartment. What you don’t know is that it isn’t convenient, it’s purposeful. Although Hotch respects and trusts Derek almost more than anyone else and knows he’d protect you with his life, this is something he needed to do. He’s not sure if he could sleep at night if he wasn’t the one making sure that you got back to the safe house at the end of the day or the one checking in with the patrols every morning. 

Hotch parks in his designated spot and climbs out of the vehicle, grabbing both his bag and yours before walking into the building with you side-by-side. Your routine is second nature now. Hell, it’s hard to remember when you didn’t spend this much time with Hotch. He’s become somewhat of a safety net for you. No matter what’s happening with your life or with a case, Hotch is always there at the end of the day to talk it out. 

The bullpen is bustling with activity as the two of you enter. Derek’s voice cuts through the commotion and he motions you both to the conference room. 

“We got him.”

Your brow furrows at Derek’s statement and Hotch’s expression matches your own. 

“We just arrested a white male, early thirties, driving a black four door sedan near your townhome with various photographs of you in the back seat. Reid’s conducting a handwriting test now to compare to the letters we’ve received, but we’re sure we got him.”

Tears well up in your eyes at Derek’s words and you pull him into a tight hug. It was beginning to feel like you’d be in that safe house forever. Although your stalker has always been a top priority for the team, there were always other cases that needed your attention. At first, your stalker was sending letters to you almost every day, either to your townhome or direct to Quantico. But as their contact slowed down over time and there was less and less evidence to gather intel from. You pull away from Derek’s embrace and immediately glance behind your shoulder, to Hotch. A bright grin has spread across your face and Hotch has a hard time remembering the last time he’s seen you this happy.

Hotch had a front seat ticket to your descent into a reasonable madness. Watching as you supplemented your non-existent sleep schedule with a staggering amount of caffeine. He understands your situation better than anyone else. He’s fairly certain he never got a full night’s rest when Foyet was after him — reviewing case files late into the night and early into morning until they were burned into his memory. He knew based on the dark circles under your eyes and your ever decreasing energy level that you’d been doing the same. Hotch kept an eye on you, but didn’t intervene. 

Not until one late night about a month and a half after you were moved to the safe house. The two of you were the only ones left at the office. You had told Hotch that you needed to stay late to finish the paperwork that’s been piling up on your desk. He knows that both Morgan and Reid offered to take some of it off of your plate, but you’re stubborn and you won’t let your personal setbacks affect your professional life. As Hotch finished the last of his paperwork, his eyes landed on you. You were sitting at your desk, sandwiched between Morgan and Reid’s, with an astonishing amount of case files. Hotch was about to busy himself with something else since you were still focused intently on your own work, but stopped as he noticed your pencil snap due to the intense amount of pressure you’d been writing with. It was such a simple inconvenience, but it pulled you into a sudden tailspin. You threw the pencil down onto your desk angrily before pushing your chair out and rushing to the break room.

Hotch waited for a moment before following you. He found you sitting on the floor, back against the counter, and head in your hands. Without a word, he slid down next to you and simply sat shoulder-to-shoulder with you. Your breathing was uneven and you suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed that Hotch just watched you lose your shit over something as simple as a pencil.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Hotch shook his head at your apology and covered your hands with his once began nervously picking at your fingers which were already worked red and raw. You lifted your head up to look at him and Hotch’s heart damn near stopped once he noticed the tears streaming down your face. 

“You don’t have to apologize. I know how hard this is.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at his words and you let out a shaky breath. 

“I just feel stupid right now, Hotch. I shouldn’t be this upset over a pencil.”

“We both know this isn’t about the pencil.”

For a moment you both just sat in comfortable silence, as you relished in the warmth of Hotch’s large hand around yours. Hotch has always been an incredible profiler — there’s no one else on the team that can manage to get inside an unsub's head like him. But you think that maybe the person he’s always been best at reading is you. You have known Derek Morgan for over a decade, but no one knows you better than Aaron Hotchner.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Hotch.”

Your defeated tone made Hotch’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest. This wasn’t like you. You weren’t one to simply lay down and take the punches. No, Hotch had always admired your resilience. But there’s only so much one person can take, and you were at your breaking point.

“I know. But you have to take care of yourself or at least let me — let us — help you.”

His words made him cringe slightly. He’s tried to stay professional during all of this, but it has been difficult. It had been easy covering up his soft spot for you when he only saw you at work, but the lines between work life and personal life had blurred. At first he had simply just driven you to and from work, but after a particularly bad night during your second week in the safe house Hotch started coming in after work every day to search the premises for you. And it quickly became a slippery slope after that. He started staying a little later day by day and then, a month in, you asked if he wanted to stay for a drink and he knew the professional thing to do was to say no, but he was enjoying his time with you too much to be professional. So now here he was, the unit chief of the BAU teetering on the edge of something a little too personal with one of his agents. 

“First things first, you need to get some sleep.”

Hotch shakes off the memory and stiffens his posture. This is exciting news, but as the unit chief he needs to make sure this man’s arrest and interrogation isn’t rushed. He wants nothing more than for you to feel safe in your own home again; however, in order to do that he needs the team to do this correctly. He starts giving orders to Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss before turning to you.

“You know, you don’t have to sit in on the interrogation, right?”

You know it’s supposed to be a question, but his tone is matter-of-fact. The underlying meaning of his words is clear to you: it’s better that you’re not there. It’s not patronizing, no his words are laced with care and concern. He’s trying to do what’s best for you, without taking away your autonomy. You give him a nod before responding. 

“I’ve got some desk work to get done, anyways.”

You turn on your heel, grabbing a stack of case files from Derek’s desk on the way. With your back turned to the conference room, Hotch looks at the only person left: JJ. She’s looking at him expectantly as the last member of the BAU without a plan of action. 

“JJ, I need you to do me a favor. Keep an eye on them, okay?”

JJ watches as Hotch’s eyes find you at your desk, before returning back to her. She raises an eyebrow quizzically, but nods at his request. You start working diligently on Derek’s unfinished paperwork, but your curiosity peaks as JJ approaches you. To your surprise, she simply slides into Reid’s desk and starts getting to work on her own files. You brush off your curiosity as you’re ultimately glad to have some company. The two of you work quietly together for the next couple of hours while the team works to put your stalker behind bars. Sometime after midday, JJ finally looks up from her work and gives you a gentle smile.

“Want to take a break and grab some coffee?”

You let out a sigh as the words leave JJ’s mouth and you close the file in your hands. 

“Please. My eyes are killing me.”

The two of you make your way to the break room and JJ pours three mugs full of coffee. Before you can question her about the third mug, Hotch’s figure sidles next to you. JJ slides two mugs towards the both of you, before giving you a knowing look and making her way back to the bullpen. You grab cream and sugar, putting an ample amount into your mug as Hotch takes his black. He could laugh at the juxtaposition: bitter and sweet. After taking a sip from your mug, you place it on the counter and turn your attention to Hotch.

“Good news or bad news?”

You wish you could read his face, but his workplace stoicism has settled deep into his features. That is, until his lip quirks up every so slightly into a small, lopsided smile. 

“We got him.”

You let out a heavy sigh of relief as you take in his words. You’re not quite sure how to react at this moment. A part of you is still in disbelief that this is actually happening, but then your posture relaxes as the severe anxiety you’ve experienced for three months straight starts to dissipate. Without thinking, you lean your head forward to meet Hotch’s shoulder and wrap your arms around his waist. Hotch looks around the break room which is uncharacteristically empty before wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders. 

“It just feels too good to be true.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but he still manages to make them out. And his arm tightens around your shoulders in response. He knows. Of course he knows. Even though he killed Foyet with his own hands, he still finds himself looking over his shoulder for the man. That anxiety — that fear — nestles deep into your bones and stays with you like a parasite. Hotch knows he’s still working through his own trauma, and he’ll stand by you as a helpful, steady hand as you begin healing yourself. You reluctantly pull away from Hotch and take a step back.

“So I can go home?”

Hotch nods at your question.

“I can help you pack up your things when we get back to the safe house.”

You shake your head at his offer. There aren’t enough personal items at your safe house to warrant help and the thought of independence tastes sweet on your tongue.

“Actually, I’m going to do this on my own.”

Hotch’s brow furrows, but you interrupt him before he can protest.

“Aaron, I haven’t been able to do anything by myself for three months. I need this.”

His face softens at your words. He knows he can’t force you to have an escort. After all, the threat has been neutralized. But there’s still this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. This need to hold you close and keep you safe. But this feeling doesn't stem from his position as unit chief. No, this feeling is due to the affection that has taken hold of his heart. Affections he’s been trying to keep at bay long before he started acting as your personal bodyguard. He not only fears for your safety, but also for the change that is about to happen in your relationship with him. You don’t need him around anymore. Hotch will spend his mornings taking Jack to school and you’ll start going out with Derek and Penelope after work again. Things will go back to normal — and that’s what he’s afraid of. But that’s not fair to you, so he bites down his emotions and gives you a curt nod. 

“I understand.”

The hollowness in his voice doesn’t escape you and for a moment, you fear that you’ve hurt him with your decision. But why would that make sense? You know Hotch has missed spending time with his son and now all that time he’s had to waste protecting you can be spent on Jack. Still, there’s something in his tone, the way that his words are void of all emotion, that rubs you the wrong way. But he turns to make his way back to his office before you can question him further. And you fear that this unspoken, tender thing you built with Aaron Hotchner over the past three months left with him. You swallow your heartbreak and go to find Derek.

Hotch collapses into his desk chair with a heavy sigh and attempts to busy himself with the paperwork he snatched off your desk. It helps for a few hours, but you’re there in the back of his mind the entire time. He knows you’re right — you need to feel independent again. But something you said keeps nagging him: it just feels too good to be true. He looks down at his phone, if he leaves now he’ll make it home in time to eat dinner with Jack. As he grabs his coat from the back of his chair, he sends you a quick text to ease his worries. It’s simple, just asking if you made it home safely. He doesn’t wait for your response, instead he pockets his phone, puts on his jacket, and makes his way to his car.

His night passes quickly as he enjoys a meal with his son and helps him with the last of his homework. It isn’t until he puts Jack to bed, that he finally looks at his phone again. His anxiety spikes as he notices that you didn’t respond. Hell, you didn’t even read the message. He quickly dials Morgan’s number, hoping you’d simply gone out with him and Penelope to celebrate your newfound freedom. He picks up on the second ring and Hotch asks if he’s heard from you.

“No, but Garcia and I are on our way to their place.”

Hotch lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Can you tell them to check their phone when you get there?”

“Will do, Hotch.”

Hotch mutters a thank you before hanging up. He distracts himself with dishes as waits for your response. Suddenly, embarrassed at how needy he’s become. He craves your attention in a way that makes him feel vulnerable. Finally, his phone vibrates against the kitchen counter, but to his surprise it’s Morgan’s name that lights up the screen.

“Hotch, we’ve got a problem.”

Hotch’s heart rate quickens at Morgan’s words. His tone is sharper than the last time they spoke, laced with a concern that mirrors his own. 

“What’s wrong Morgan?”

“They aren’t here, but their phone is and the door has been kicked in.”

Hotch’s heart stops, and for a moment he genuinely worries that he might be experiencing cardiac arrest. But Morgan’s voice calling his name pulls him out of his terror.

“Hotch, I’m pretty sure they’ve been taken.”

“I’ll meet you there in 20. Call the rest of the team.”

Hotch hangs up before Morgan has a chance to respond. 

He should have trusted his instincts. Everything about the arrest this morning seemed too perfect — as if your stalker was dropped in front of them wrapped in a bow. He tries to ignore your words still nagging at him: it just feels too good to be true. But a wave of nausea suddenly hits him as he realizes you were right.

This was too good to be true because they got the wrong man.

[neverpathia]

one thing I have to say is that a lot of cheateds do have a bit of a card-game motif, but so do a lot of opportunists. so whenever I see a guy with a playing card somewhere, it's time to identify him using the sliding scale of polished versus fucked. it falls on whether he wears a dumb little suit and tie, or if he's scarred and slathered with bandages.

paranoid has a lot of medical imagery while broken is often associated with religion? I've seen a couple of priest/nun brokens already. and a good number of paranoids have heart palpitation symbols, gloves, anatomical references and the like. broken also gets a lot of cracks.

also to anyone who needs to hear this: don't stress too hard on how these little guys look! I get that everyone here has amazing designs, but that doesn't make your own interpretations any less valid. you don't have to make them especially unique or defined or anything

and here's my insight on humanoid design ideas. go

it would be pretty neat if the voices that directly identify with the princesses resemble them the most. so for instance, stubborn looks like advy, or oppy looks like witch. something about how they're just the same in the end.

broken with an elaborate ceremonial hairstyle that weighs too heavy upon his head, but still looks pretty for the sake of his goddess. meanwhile, skeptic is balding. and smitten has the most luscious locks and voluptuous curls known to mankind.

smitten with so many ribbons and ruffles and frills. smitten who dresses like a Victorian duke.

opportunist who tries to conceal animalistic features beneath hats and gloves. fanged opportunist, dripping literal venom with every word. vampire opportunist fuck it

contrarian with too many hats. contrarian with too many of everything: jackets, socks, accessories, different patterns. and then he regrets it when he steps into the summer heat.

I don't see enough delinquent/gangster cheated. which surprises me because I see him drawn in punk a lot for one-off things, but it's not normally on his base designs. organised-crime cheated who follows his honour code to the end, despite how far he's willing to go for blood and vengeance, or perhaps because of it. mafia cheated, anyone?

lawyer skeptic. scientist/researcher skeptic. professor skeptic. come on, he doesn't just have to be a detective.

paranoid as an alchemist, apothecary, or occult healer. come on. please. please I beg of you give me an enchantress paranoid. please I want my pretty magic wife. if any of you ever give me pretty magic wife, my life is yours.

paranoid with long tangled hair that he constantly fidgets with, tugs at, and pulls out when stressed. maybe he keeps it long because he doesn't trust haircuts, since the scissors are always far too close for comfort. paranoid who always ties his hair the same familiar way, and appreciates the light grounding pressure this exerts onto his head. maybe he keeps pushing his hair back even when it's not falling into his face, just as a little nervous tic.

sleep-deprived paranoid with deep, dark eye circles. wide bloodshot eyes. long lashes that are frayed and bent. glasses to correct vision that's probably actually perfectly fine. a slender and haggard frame from eating too little, because he never trusts his food. and maybe he'd actually be beautiful, almost ethereal, if he weren't so fucked up.

perhaps his outfit's torn and riddled with holes, if not for the fact that he keeps clawing at the fabric. perhaps he has too many little bags and pouches and pockets. perhaps there's hidden pockets behind his cloak (I gave @/glitchh1337 that idea, I think!) because you can never be too prepared. also, people need to depict him being insane more. I'll just put that out there.

oh wait fuck this is getting real long. can you tell who my favourite voice is?

so yeah.

It's fascinating to see how easily certain voice's traits carry over when creating a design for them. Like, when I see a new voice line up it's generally quite obvious who's Smitten and who's Stubborn as they're quite straightforward for how one could design them. Smitten's dramaticism lend themselves to easily think of some lovestruck nobleman with frilly feathers to boot or in Stubborn's case a rather large, muscular individual often covered in scars.

Some can look similar to each other, Para and Broken are often more disheveled but you can always tell who Broken is because they're the saddest looking one in the cast.

I think some of the harder ones to identify, and design, can be Skeptic, Oppy, and Cheated. Unlike the others who can have multiple interpretations or different angles to come at it from the ideas they represent are harder to visualize. Skeptic is generally designed as a detective-type with a trench coat and hat but if you're leaving them like Quiet without clothes what do you have left to work with..? What exactly is an...Opportunist? What screams someone who would take advantage of the situation at almost all costs? A businessman? Out here in the middle of a forest? Cheated follows similar lines of logic often with a gambling or card motif. Facial expressions and body language are key as well but again, if Skeptic isn't in a thinking pose would you know it's Skeptic?

The things they represent aren't so clear-cut or have a limited amount of iconography associated with them. Stray too far from the beaten path and it's hard to easily identify them. Of course there are other factors depending on the design philosophy for all of the voices: how abstract they are, do they retain bird-like features, are they even birds, clothes, colors, heights. The list could go on.

Tldr; I love looking at all the voice designs, how they interact, how they act. Be creative with your designs, explore different avenues, look at things from another perspective. Make Skeptic an old librarian or Cold a toucan for all I care. Do art, enjoy art.

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: In His Hands – Part 2

Part 3

Life with Marshall had become an unspoken game ever since your confession. He wasn’t letting you live it down—not in a teasing way, but in his way of fully leaning into the knowledge that his hands drove you crazy.

And, as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t mind.

The Concert

It started backstage at one of his concerts. You were leaning against the wall, scrolling through your phone while Marshall got hyped up with his crew. His energy was electric, his confidence palpable as he cracked jokes and moved around the room.

But you couldn’t help it—your eyes kept drifting to him, specifically his hands. The way he casually adjusted his mic, how his fingers drummed against his thigh to an unheard beat, the veins that stood out as he stretched his fingers.

You were so lost in thought you didn’t notice him walking up to you until he was right in front of you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Caught you staring again,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I wasn’t staring,” you replied quickly, though your cheeks betrayed you.

“Uh-huh,” he said, stepping closer and bracing a hand on the wall beside your head. His other hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What is it about them, huh?” he teased, flexing his fingers for emphasis. “Is it the veins? The size? Tell me, baby.”

“Marshall!” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

He chuckled, leaning down so his lips brushed your ear. “I love how much you love them. And I’m gonna make sure you never stop.”

---

The Kitchen, Again

A few days later, you were back in the kitchen, struggling to open a jar of pasta sauce.

“Come on,” you muttered, gritting your teeth as you twisted the lid.

Marshall walked in, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe. “Need help?”

You shot him a look. “Don’t start.”

He grinned, walking over and plucking the jar from your hands with ease. His large hands wrapped around it, and with one firm twist, the lid popped off.

“Show-off,” you muttered, grabbing the jar from him.

“Admit it,” he said, leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “You love it.”

You tried to glare at him, but the smirk on his face and the way his hands brushed against yours as he handed the jar back made it impossible.

“Maybe I do,” you admitted softly.

His grin widened, and he leaned closer. “Good. ‘Cause I don’t mind being your favorite thing.”

---

The Studio, Again

It happened again at the studio, but this time it was different. You were sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around you as he absentmindedly tapped out a rhythm on your thigh.

You stared at his hand, watching the way his fingers moved. It wasn’t just the size of them—it was the way he used them. Precise, confident, but with an underlying gentleness that always made you feel safe.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

“Your hands,” you admitted, feeling bold.

He froze for a moment before his hand stilled on your thigh. “Yeah?”

You nodded, turning to look at him. “You have no idea what they do to me.”

His eyes darkened, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Oh, I think I’m starting to get it.”

He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek before trailing them down to your neck. His touch was light, teasing, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Marshall,” you whispered, your breath hitching.

“Yeah, baby?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Maybe,” he admitted, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist. “But you like it, don’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it, and the smug grin on his face told you he already knew the answer.

---

The Bedroom Revelation

That night, as you lay in bed together, you found yourself tracing the lines of his hand with your fingers. He watched you in silence, a small smile tugging at his lips as you explored every inch of his hand.

“You really are obsessed, huh?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Can you blame me?” you replied, glancing up at him.

“No,” he said, his voice low. “I think it’s cute.”

You rolled your eyes, but he caught your chin, tilting your face up to his.

“I mean it,” he said. “You make me feel like I can do anything, just by the way you look at me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you leaned up to kiss him softly.

“I love your hands,” you admitted against his lips. “But I love you more.”

“Good,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “Because they’re yours. All of me is.”

[howlingday]

So I was wondering how you would write Jaune’s death using his allusion to Joan Of Arc. I’ve always had idea that as Salem grew more powerful especially after taking down atlas and vale, Salem supporters would start popping up

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

The Final Death of Jaune Arc

"So, this is the huntsman who's been causing you so much trouble?"

The sweet words spoken did little put Jaune at ease. The first time he fought Salem, she easily overpowered himself, Ren, and Yang, as well as Oscar, Emerald, and Hazel, the latter two shifting to their side before the latter of the latter sacrificed himself to buy the rest time to escape. Now, here he was, alone, with only the rescued Team CRDL to serve as his messenger to the rest of his friends. His scroll was destroyed along with the rest of his gear, including his armor.

"I remember you from Atlas." The Witch giggled. "You managed to block my magic with your shield, though it did little to keep you standing."

Jaune didn't have a response to that. Mostly because he was on his knees, shifting his glare between her and the woman responsible for his capture. Cinder looked at him with a bemused smirk, as though she was in Salem's place of mocking the young man. Her inhuman talons shifted between an impatient dance and an eager flex, as though she were digging through the air. It wasn't until Salem called to her that her fingers rested.

"Cinder, dear," Salem called to the woman who brought nothing but misery to Jaune, "do you recognize this one?"

"Hardly." Cinder flared her nostrils as she began. "I can't be expected to remember every failure who stood between myself and the power of the Maidens."

"Really?" The Grimm Queen voice had a lilt like she was amused by Cinder's response. "Because it looks like he remembers you." She fixed her gaze to him, impressed his eyes didn't shrink in fear as they met hers. "Do you know Cinder by any chance?"

Jaune didn't humor looking at Cinder as he spoke. "She's the worst. She'd kill anyone to get her hand on any power she can. Including you."

Flames spewed through Cinder's teeth as she took a step forward. However, her rage was easily abated as Salem held her hand, warning the Fall Maiden to not step further than she had. The monster's eyes flashed with a quiet rage as she gazed down at her subject, before they laxed and returned to looking upon Jaune once more.

"It seems he knows you as well as I do, Cinder. Are you sure you don't remember him?"

"At the end of today," Cinder growled, "it won't matter anymore."

"I see..."

Salem stood from her throne overlooking the arena. Jaune recognized a fighting pit from his years of both reading about heroes fighting villains as well as his dad's favorite pastime of yelling at the TV. This, however, wouldn't feature huntsmen and huntresses battling for the amusement of the unarmed masses. Instead, Jaune would be the main event, and every odd was stacked against him.

Atop the arena were other members of Salem's Inner Circle. Tyrian Callows had to keep catching himself from jumping in to fight Jaune himself while Mercury Black looked uneasily between the two, as if he were responsible for the madman. The other two were a pair that Jaune barely recognized from wanted posters around Shade Academy; Jax and Gillian Asturias, twins from a long-forgotten royal family.

In the distance, down every tunnel that was sealed off was a bark or a bellow or a snarl of some form or another. Behind each door was a Grimm of one kind or another, each eager to sink their teeth or claws or other lethal means into Jaune's flesh. The cocktail of negative emotions like his anger at Cinder and himself as well as the fear of being at the mercy of a room of actual killers would be enough to drive any Grimm into a frenzy.

'This is it.' Jaune thought. 'This is where I die.' New emotions awashed within him. Hope. 'Cardin, I hope you and your team save more people to make up for what you've done.' Courage. 'Oscar, good luck because you're going to need it.' Friendship. 'Team RWBY, it's been an honor and a privilege.' Love. 'Ren, Nora, take care of each other.' Joy. 'Pyrrha, I'll see you soon.'

The Grimm began to quiet, the smile on Salem's face fading with the cacophony. She'd enjoyed the fear she was spreading to this huntsman, but he was something different. Something she hadn't experienced in a huntsman or huntress in a long time. There were those few and far between who showed bravery, true bravery, in the face of the inevitable. The first who came to mind was him of all people.

"Cinder," she spoke after a far too long silence, "I believe it is best you kept your promises." A Seer floated from her side, carrying a familiar weapon in its tendrils. "And you, little huntsman, shall be given the opportunity to prove your worth."

Cautiously, Jaune freed Crocea Mors from its captor. Releasing the blade, he expanded the shield in time to catch Cinder charging in with her blades. Tyrian cackled with glee as the Fall Maiden and her greatest nuisance locked eyes before pushing each other back. Jaune thrust his blade into Cinder's guard, but she deftly avoided the attack as she countered with her own glowing blades. Jaune stepped back, keeping his shield firm and allowing the magic weapons to slide across his guard.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Tyrian cackled from his perch. "Stab her! Gut her! Show her what her own beating heart looks like~!" Mercury cast a glance at his self-imposed mentor before looking down to the fight. If Cinder killed Jaune, then that was one less good guy to come bother them. But was that really a good thing?

Cinder made a leap backwards, finishing with a fireball launching for Jaune's center. He made a low jump to the side, his feet quickly finding the ground before using his shield to keep the heated projectile from getting too close to him. He ran along the wall, keeping his rear guarded from any surprise attack before jumping away for a guarded thrust against Cinder. She escaped into the air, smirking as her feet were aflame and keeping her out of reach.

"A shame you can't fly." She taunted before pointing a finger at his head, readying to launch another fireball.

"Boo!" Tyrian jeered. "Fighting so cowardly as to use magic without the grace of our goddess!"

Cinder, high in the air as she was, spared a glance to Tyrian. Fury filled her amber eyes as smoke billowed from her maw. "Whose side are you on?!"

"His, obviously." Tyrian giggled, pointing nonchalantly at Cinder's opponent. It then suddenly flexed upwards.

Cinder turned in time to see Jaune already having launched himself into the air, swiftly closing the distance as his shield slammed into her chest and chipping against her chin, the impact disorienting her enough to make her fall. She blacked out for a moment, though she was swiftly awoken as her arm was severed at the shoulder. The Grimm inside began screaming in agony as it clawed at her from within. Ash soared from the open wound as the lopped talon and arm writhed against the blackened floor.

Jaune looked upon Cinder, who clutched her ichor bleeding wound with tears spilling from her human eye. As she glared at him, Jaune couldn't help but wonder what she was feeling as she met his eyes. Was it anger that she was bested by someone she thought was below her concern? Was it hatred that she was left so powerless once more? Was it... fear, that her life would come to an end, and that Jaune would be the one to kill her the same way she'd killed all those people before? At that moment, Jaune didn't know what she was feeling, but his next choice would be his last.

Turning his back to her, Jaune walked away from the weeping Cinder. He had chosen mercy, and she would kill him for it. There was enough dust left in Jaune's shield for one last move. One last, stupid move. He tossed it ahead of him and waved his arms at his audience.

"Who's next?!"

There was no hesitation from Tyrian, not even as Mercury reached out to stop him. The Faunus jumped from his perch, leaping down to sink his weapons into Jaune's flesh. However, he would gravely miss as the huntsman jumped forward, slamming both of his booted feet onto his shield, triggering the gravity dust repulsion and launching himself into the air one final time, charging for Salem. If this is where he died, he would die facing death itself.

Tyrian screamed in agonized shock as his goddess was stabbed. The Asturias twins were in as much shock as Mercury as Salem emotionlessly allowed the blade to pass into her chest. Ash spilled from her wound, failing to kill her as Jaune had aimed to do. She rolled her eyes at his feeble attempt.

"How disappointing." She growled before gasping. Looking down, she found another blade, this one black as a moonless and starless night, pierced alongside Jaune's sword's own failed attempt. Blue light then engulfed the room as Cinder smiled from above the blade's handle, where it hilted into Jaune's unguarded back.

"How amusing." A voice said from above, coming from a blue figure, whose face was hidden behind a golden mask. "I am Delere, the guardian who resides within the Relic of Destruction. By my power, I can unmake that which has been made, though it must not have been made by an equal or higher power than myself."

"But what if it was made by a power that was made by a power as high as yourself?" Cinder asked. "Such as if this sword struck a man born of a man and woman made by The Brothers themselves?"

"Then it can be destroyed by my power, as it was made by a power lesser than my own. Is this man whom you wish to destroy, or is it this woman? The man can be destroy, as he matches what you claim, but the woman was directly made by The Brothers." For a moment, Salem sneered in victory.

"Neither." Cinder answered. "I wish to destroy the curse of immortality placed on this woman. It was made by the pool that was made by the Brothers." At this. Salem shivered with fear.

"Very well." With a flash, Delere nodded before everything returned to as it was. Tyrian's screams echoed across the room once more, only growing in intensity as he watched blood spilled from Salem's chest and mouth. Where once was his goddess now sat a dying woman.

"Well... played..." Salem groaned before she slumped, her body going limp as both blades were removed from where her heart had been.

However, it was only the relic that was removed with force. Crocea Mors simply fell from its target, scraping along the lifeless body of Jaune's foe. Pressing her hand to Jaune's back, even going so far as to sear his flesh with her hand and making him groan in further agony, she freed her own blade and sent Jaune to the floor. By intention or luck, he fell facing his hated enemy.

Cinder looked upon Jaune, who still clung to his sword in his hand without even a single tear in his eyes as he bled. As he stared at her, Cinder became angry at what he was thinking as he met her eyes. Was it sympathy that their unknowingly shared enemy was now dead by their hands? Was it some twisted form of love that they could at least be the means of each other's ends? Or was it... joy, that his struggles were over, and that Cinder was the one who granted him this death wish, allowing him to reunite with Pyrrha Nikos? At this time, Cinder couldn't say what he was thinking, but her next choice would be her first.

Without their master to guide them, the Grimm began to go wild with bestial fury. They came in a horde, descending upon the remains of Salem's former allies. The first they attacked was Tyrian, still consumed by his grief before he too was consumed by the monsters that had once served the same masters as he. Mercury was quick to grab the Asturias twins, guiding them to a secret passage that would lead them to a bullhead to their shared escape, assuming the Grimm didn't attack there first.

Cinder simply walked above it all, leaving the battleground before any Grimm was stupid enough to think she was next. Looking back to Jaune, she could hear a distant voice in her head softly weeping. She pushed it down, choosing to continue moving forward in her dark pursuit of power.

The queen was dead. Long live the queen.

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguments, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

I sat cross legged at the small vanity in my room, blending out the last bit of highlighter on my cheekbones. My outfit I had planned to wear was already laid out on the bed behind me, ready for the evening ahead. My hair was half done, still tied back loosely as I finished off my makeup. It felt nice to have a little time to myself to unwind and prepare, especially after the long day of travelling.

I was in the middle of putting eyeliner in my waterline when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in" I called out, not looking away from the mirror as I focused on not poking my eye.

The door creaked open, and I glanced at the reflection to see Matt stepping in, a glass in his hand. "Vodka lemonade" he said, his voice still carrying the unmistakable slur of someone who had had a little too much to drink.

I turned fully to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You remembered what I drink?"

He shrugged, his grin lopsided but genuine. "Of course. Hard to forget when its the only thing you drink"

I rolled my eyes, taking the glass from him. "Thanks, I guess" I said, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. The moment it hit my tongue, I winced, coughing slightly. "Oh my god Matt! All I can taste is vodka!"

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe like it was holding him upright. "Yeah well, you’ve got some catching up to do. Consider it motivation."

I shook my head, setting the glass down on the vanity. "It’s almost like you’re trying to kill me" I teased, but there wasn’t any bite to my words.

He gave me a wink, nearly stumbling in the process, and we both laughed. For a moment, it was like we never hated each other. It was weird. Today, we’d actually been nice to each other. From the plane to downstairs to now, it was almost like we’d turned a corner. Or maybe the alcohol had simply dulled his usual sarcasm.

Matt straightened up and glanced around my room, his eyes landing on the green crochet outfit on the bed. "That what you’re wearing tonight?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Yep" I said, turning back to the mirror to finish my eye makeup. "I’m just hoping it comes to get the way I have it in my head."

"Bet it’ll look good" he said, his tone softer than I expected. When I glanced back at him, he was already heading out the door. "Hurry up though. Dinner waits for no one, especially when you’re as drunk as I am."

"I’ll be down soon" I replied, watching as he gave me a lazy wave and disappeared into the hallway. After Matt left my room, I set the vodka lemonade on the dresser, deciding to pace myself as I continued getting ready. As I stood back to admire the final look, I adjusted my halterneck top, making sure everything sat just right. 

I slipped on my nude heels, grabbed a small clutch, and downed half of the vodka lemonade Matt had brought up. The burn of vodka was strong, but he wasn’t wrong, I did have catching up to do if I wanted to match their buzz. By the time I walked down to the foyer, everyone was gathered there.

“You took long enough” Nick teased with a grin as I joined them.

“Beauty takes time, Nicholas” I shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

We stepped out of the villa together, the warm evening breeze carrying the faint scent of sea salt. The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far, but navigating the uneven path in heels was proving to be a challenge. After a few steps, I stumbled slightly on a dip in the road.

“You alright?” Matt asked, catching up to me.

“Yeah, these heels and this road aren’t exactly the best of friends, a bit like us” I muttered, half laughing at myself.

Without saying a word, he offered his arm. I hesitated for a moment before looping my hand through it.

“Don’t make it weird” he said, smirking down at me.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it” I replied with a sarcastic smile, though I appreciated the gesture.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy spot with string lights draped across the patio. As we approached our reserved table, I heard Nick let out a quiet yell.

“What are you guys doing here?!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and excitement.

I looked up to see a couple seated at our table, their parents. Their mom stood up with a wide smile, pulling Nick into a hug.

“We’ve been in Hawaii for the last few days” she said warmly. “We wanted to surprise you!”

Their dad chimed in, “But don’t worry, we’re staying on the opposite side of the island. We’re not here to crash your whole trip.”

Nick let out a laugh, still processing the surprise. Chris and Matt looked equally stunned but pleased to see them. 

The waiter approached to seat us, and we quickly rearranged our tables, one table with four seats and one table with three. I glanced at Matt, who caught my eye with an amused look.

“This should be fun” he said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t figure out how drunk you three are” I whispered back, earning a small chuckle from him.

We settled into our seats, Nate sat across from me, Matt was next to him, and Chris was beside me, while Nick took one of the seats at the table with his parents.

Chris leaned forward toward his parents while pointing at me,  his tone casual yet proud as he introduced me to his parents. “This is Y/n” he said. “She works with me for Fresh Love. We’ve been working hard on the new drop, couldn’t do it without her!.”

I smiled politely, but before I could say anything, Nick chimed in from the other table, his grin as wide as ever. “And she’s also my best friend” he added, his playful tone leaving no room for debate.

Their mom smiled warmly, nodding in approval, but the moment didn’t last long. Nick dove into conversation with his parents, leaving the four of us at our table to converse with each other.

Nate glanced up at Matt and Chris, his lips curling into a smirk. “Actually, I never asked how’d Vegas treat you two? Looked like you guys were.. occupied” he said, his words almost like he was implying something.

Chris chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Occupied is one way to put it. Christina practically glued herself to Matt” he teased, earning a scoff from Matt.

Hearing another woman’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no reason to feel jealous, and yet, the idea of Matt being drooled over by someone else stirred something in me that I couldn’t quite place. It was irrational, and I knew it, so I kept my thoughts to myself, silently picking at the edge of my napkin.

Nick’s voice broke the conversation as he turned to Chris. “Hey, wanna head outside for some pictures real quick before we order?”

Chris nodded, standing up and following Nick without hesitation, leaving just me, Matt, and Nate at the table.

There was a brief moment of silence before their mom, who I assume was half listening to our earlier conversation, leaned over with a smile. “So Nate, do you have anyone special in your life right now?”

Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not at all” he replied, his tone light.

Matt, of course, couldn’t resist. “Harsh one.” He snickered under his breath, looking directly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his comment. Before I could even ask what he meant, Matt took things further. He smirked and leaned back in his chair, his voice loud and clear. “Y/n and Nate went on a date last week, you know that?”

My heart sank, my face flushing red as all eyes seemed to land on me.

“What?” I stammered, but Nate jumped in before I could say anything more.

“It wasn’t like that at all” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We just grabbed dinner as friends.”

Matt wasn’t ready to let it go, though. “Oh, come on, Y/n” he teased, his voice making a mockery out of me. “Why so quiet? Feeling the sting of public rejection?”

My stomach twisted in humiliation. I could feel my face burning as I desperately avoided eye contact with anyone at the table. The old Matt was back just like that.

“Matt, stop being so rude” their mom interjected sharply, her tone firm. She turned back to her husband, trying to steer the conversation away from Matt’s antics.

“Yeah c’mon man we’re just friends” Nate tried to make it clear.

But Matt wasn’t done. His next words hit like a punch to the gut. “Oof, imagine just being a quick fuck and then friendzoned.”

The air left my lungs. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I could feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. None of what he said was true, but the damage was done.

“I.. I’m actually not feeling the best right now.. I think it's the heat.. excuse me” I said quickly, my voice cracking as I stood up. I turned to their parents, forcing a polite smile through the lump in my throat. “But it was lovely to meet you.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the table, the tears streaming down my face before I even reached the door.

As I pushed through the entrance, I nearly ran into Nick and Chris, who were heading back inside.

“Y/n?” Chris asked, his expression immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel well” I mumbled, not stopping to explain. Before either of them could say another word, I kept walking, desperate to escape the restaurant, the humiliation, and, most of all, Matt.

I still felt the heat on my face, not from the warm Hawaiian night, but from the lingering embarrassment curling in my stomach. I really hoped his parents didn’t hear him say that. I was halfway down the quiet street when I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me.

“Y/n, wait!”

I clenched my jaw, picking up my pace, but Matt was faster, jogging until he caught up beside me. “Come on, don’t be like that” he said, slightly out of breath. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

I stopped abruptly, whipping around to face him. “Oh, really? Because bringing up that in front of your parents sure didn’t make me feel like the star of the evening.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor fading. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just messing around, you know how I am-”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, I do. That’s the problem.” I turned back around, ready to keep walking, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” His voice was softer now, the arrogance stripped away. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “And yet it did.”

He exhaled heavily, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let him smooth this over with some half assed apology.

“Y/n” he tried again, “I just-”

“I don’t care, Matt.” My voice was cold, firm. “You always do this. Say something without thinking, then act like it’s not a big deal when it is. I don’t need an apology. I just need you to stop.”

He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out a way to fix this, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it. So I stepped around him and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the dimly lit street, finally at a loss for words.

He didn’t follow me this time. Maybe he finally got the message, or maybe he knew pushing it any further would only make things worse. Either way, I didn’t care. My chest still burned from embarrassment, and my head was buzzing with frustration as I made my way back toward the villa.

I reached the villa, slamming the door behind me before kicking off my heels and making my way to the room. The relief of being alone and actually having a bedroom door for privacy was short lived because not even five minutes later, there was a knock.

I sighed, already knowing who it was. “Go away, Matt.”

“Just let me in for a second” he called through the door. “Please.”

I rolled my eyes, but something in his voice made me hesitate. It wasn’t his usual cocky tone. It sounded.. tired. Frustrated, even.

Against my better judgment, I walked to the door and swung it open. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

Matt stepped inside, his jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Look” he started, pausing for a second before meeting my eyes. “I was a dick. I know that.”

I folded my arms. “Great self awareness. Anything else?”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I was trying to be funny, or maybe I was just being an idiot, probably both. But I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

I scoffed. “You said I was a quick fuck that got friendzoned, Matt. How else was that supposed to come out?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it” I shot back, my voice rising. “In front of your parents, no less. Do you even think before you speak, or do you just say the first thing that pops into your head?”

“I-” He stopped, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think you’d care so much.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Care? Are you serious? You embarrassed me, Matt. You made me look like some desperate fool who got used and thrown away. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or something worse. I could tell he wanted to argue, to push back, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” I continued, folding my arms. “It’s not just what you said, it’s that you acted like you knew everything. Like you had some inside joke at my expense. And for what? A laugh?”

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that-”

“Then what was it like?” I challenged, my voice rising. “Because you made it sound like I was some easy target for Nate. And for the record, nothing ever even happened between us.”

Matt’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” I snapped. “That night? Seven Minutes in Heaven? We didn’t even kiss. We sat there and talked, thought we’d mess with everyone's heads. And when we went out when you were in Vegas, and we made it clear we were just friends. There was nothing more to it.”

Matt blinked, like the idea had never even crossed his mind. “So you-”

“I never hooked up with Nate.” I interrupted, my tone sharp. “Not then. Not ever. So whatever picture you had in your head, whatever assumptions you made, they were wrong.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands still shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, you didn’t” I said bitterly. “Because you never asked. You just assumed.”

I could see it sinking in, the weight of his words finally hitting him, but I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. I just felt tired.

Matt let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah” I said, my voice flat. “You were.”

He glanced at me, like he wanted to say more, but I was done.

“I don’t have the energy for this” I muttered, stepping back toward the door. “I’m done, Matt. I don’t care how sorry you are. Just leave me alone. It’s best if we just stay out of each other's way for the rest of the trip.”

His jaw tensed, but this time, he didn’t fight it. He just nodded.

“Alright” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

I didn’t reply. I just closed the door, locking it this time.

a/n : everything is .. not changing?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[mydearviserra]

Daughter of mine

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Alicent Hightower X Daughter reader]

Part one

Note: no nsfw, mother/daughter platonic relationship!! Reader husband is aemond

Warning: death, grief. Deepish kissing(aemond/reader. Doesn’t go further), miscarriage and birth( only by mention, two different sections by mention) , religion withdrawal. Blood. Written a bit rushed lol will probably go through it again

Summary: the guilt was eating at her faster then she thought, the guilt of being a horrible mother. One day she took it upon herselfto visit you. Once she entered your room she saw how tried you were with the newborn. Once helping you out for you to sleep she came to the realization of wanting to change, she needed to be there for you, to slowly make amends once and for all for you and her other children. But now another obstacle was made to block that from happening

“Dear what was that?” You sighed, closing your eyes to rub your temples, after collecting your breath you stared at him with a glare as I crossed your arms. You couldn’t believe aemond was acting such way

Aemond let out a weary sigh, his frustration palpable. “I’m tired of her meddling,” he said, his voice low and irritated. He leaned back against the wall, his eye fixed on you as he ran a hand through his hair.

He could sense the disapproval in your gaze, and he knew he was acting out of anger. But he couldn’t help it. Seeing Alicent with the baby, the baby she barely gave the time of the day, made his blood boil.

"She doesn't deserve to be around you, not after what she's done," he continued, his gaze hard as he pushed himself off the wall and took a step towards you.

"She's caused enough pain, I won't let her hurt you again," his tone softened a bit as he reached out to touch your arm, his touch gentle but firm.

You could see the anger and frustration etched across his face, but you could also sense the protectiveness in his words. His touch was gentle, but there was a possessive quality to it, as if he was afraid of losing you.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your own emotions. You knew Aemond was just trying to protect you , but you also knew that he had a tendency to be impulsive and unreasonable.

"Aemond," you said, your voice calm despite the tension in the air. "I understand your protectiveness, but Alicent is my mother. I can't just cut her off like that."

Aemond's grip on your arm tightened, his gaze hardening as he looked at me.

"You don't understand," he said through gritted teeth. "She's done nothing but hurt you. She doesn't deserve your compassion, your forgiveness."

You could see the pain and anger in his eye as he spoke, and you understood the hurt behind his words. Aemond had seen the way Alicent had neglected me growing up,how she neglected all of us. Which why now he was fiercely protective of you.

"I understand that she has hurt me," you said softly, placing my hand on his, trying to ease the tension in his grip. "But you can't just decide to cut her out of my life like that. It's not your decision to make." Aemond's grip on you loosened, but his expression remained stern.

"It's for your own good," he said, his tone hard and unyielding. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your patience in check. You could feel the love behind his words, but his stubbornness was infuriating. He then pulled you into a tight hug, his hand rubbing your back gently

"Aemond, you can't just make decisions for me," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "I am not some child that needs protecting. I can handle my own relationships."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he snapped. "You're too naive, too trusting. You let people hurt you over and over again."

"I'm not naive," you shot back, your voice rising in frustration. "I just have faith in people, and I don't want to live my life being suspicious of everyone."

"That's exactly the problem," he said, his tone harsh. "You trust too easily, you see the best in people when they don't deserve it."

You could feel the tension growing between us, the frustration and irritation mixing with his protectiveness. It was a common dynamic in our relationship - Aemond wanting to protect you and while you fighting back against his overprotectiveness.

"Not everyone is as cynical as you," you retorted, crossing your nails digging into his back as you cling to him. "I can't just assume that everyone has ill intentions." Aemond's expression hardened at your words, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

"You're too trusting," he said, his tone bordering on patronising. "You need to be more cautious, more careful. People will take advantage of your kindness, they'll hurt you when you least expect it."

"I know how to take care of myself," you said, your tone firm. "I don't need you to tell me who to trust and who not to- just..please understand I..I want her to be a grandmother even if she wasn’t a mother to us I need her to be in our sons life..." Aemond didn't trust my judgment, and it hurt.

"I'm not asking you to trust her," your own voice quieting down. "I'm just asking you to trust me. To let me make my own decisions." Aemond's gaze softened, his expression conflicted. You could tell he was torn between his protectiveness and his desire to respect your choice

"I want to trust you," he said, his tone a mix of concern and frustration. "But I can't just let you go back to her like nothing has happened. She hurt you, again and again. How can you just forgive her like that?"

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm in the face of his protectiveness. You could see the pain and worry in his eye, but you also knew that Aemond was blinded by his protectiveness.

"I'm not forgiving her," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "And I'm not forgetting her hurts. But I don't want to live my life holding onto anger and resentment. I want to give her a chance to be a grandmother to our son."

"You're too kind," he said, his tone stern. "You're willing to give her another chance, even after all the pain she's caused you. You're too soft, too trusting." You felt a surge of frustration at his words, but you tried to keep your emotions in check.

"You're too stubborn," your retorted, your voice rising in anger. "You're unwilling to see that people can change, that they can make amends for their mistakes."

"Change?" he said, his tone bitter. "You think she's capable of change? After everything she's put you through, you think she deserves a second chance?"

You could hear the pain in his voice, the skepticism in his words. He didn't believe Alicent had changed, and he didn't trust her not to hurt me once again.

"I don't know if she's capable of change," you said, your voice softening. "But I want to give her a chance. I want to believe that she can be better, that she can be the grandmother our son deserves."

“please it’s late..I don’t wish for us to go to bed upset..” you added in a pleading tone

You let out a sigh of relief, grateful that he was willing to set aside the argument for now. You knew we would need to continue the conversation at some point, but you was too tired to keep fighting.

"Thank you," you said, your voice quieting down. "We can talk more in the morning. For now, let's just be together."

Aemond nodded, he leaned down to press gentle kisses on top of your head He knew he was being stubborn, overly protective and slightly possessive, but he couldn't help it.

"I just want to keep you safe," he said quietly, his tone almost vulnerable. You took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of annoyance and affection at his words.

"I can handle myself," you said firmly, pulling back slightly so you could look at him. "I don't need you to babysit me all the time. I'm an adult, I can make my own decisions- by gods dear stop being stubborn and kiss me” you muttered as you rested your chin on his chest

Aemond's expression softened, his protectiveness giving way to desire as he looked at me. He couldn't resist the pleading in my voice, or the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes.

He cupped your chin in his hand, his thumb gently brushing across your lip. "You never play fair," he said, his tone low and amused. "But I could never deny you anything." With that, he leaned down and captured your lip, kissing you deeply and passionately.

You melted into the kiss, losing myself in the moment. Aemond's possessive grip on your chin sent sparks coursing through your body, and all your earlier frustrations disappeared as you surrendered to his touch.

His kisses were dominant and needy, as if he was staking his claim on you. But beneath the possessiveness, you could feel the love and desire in his every touch. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand moved down to your waist, pulling you even closer.

He wanted to forget about the argument, the worry, the protectiveness. He just wanted to lose himself in me, to feel my body against his.

I wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. You needed to feel him, to be close to him. His possessive touch was both frustrating and thrilling, and you found myself losing myself in the sensations of his kiss.

His hands roamed over your body, possessive and urgent, as if he was trying to claim you completely.

Aemond's body was hot against mine, his desire for you palpable in every touch and movement. He lifted you up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried your towards the bed.

He laid me down on the bed, his fingers trailing over the curve of your waist as he looked down at you, his expression a mix of desire and possessiveness.

You could feel the intensity of his gaze, the way his eye roamed over your body, almost as if he was seeing your for the first time. It was possessive, dominant, and it ignited a fire within you .

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down towards you. I wanted him, desperately, and he knew it.

“I love you”

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above mine, his breath hot against your skin. "I love you too," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "More than anything. I just...I just want to protect you."

Your heels echoed the quiet halls of the septon, the dress dragged slightly against the ground. Your hands rested on your side swaying against the dress though your nails brushed against the embroidery the feeling help ground yourself from your heart beating from your chest. This particular dress, left a bitter feeling, green. You hated wearing such color, only left a bitter feeling each of remainder went back to alicent, she is green she morphs into the color of what she choice that day. When she stopped being the mother to stand tall as queen.

You and aemond woke up early, doing our regular routine to get ready for the day though I care for our son morning and night i left him with a nursemaid for the day. It took a lot of convincing for aemond to let you see alicent today. After getting him annoyed he agreed to shut me up, only for the agreement he’ll look for me soon. He didn’t want you to be alone with her for so long. During this time alicent visits the sept for morning prayer. As you passed down the halls, passing maesters and septa’s bow their head as you passed by. You kept my head high with a slight smile towards them, you tried to keep a brave face though biting the skin on my lips says otherwise. Finally you saw alicent with her knights closely behind, sitting beside her you stayed quiet for a moment as you light the candle in front of you, taking a shaky breath

“Good morrow mother..”

Alicent had been quietly praying, her eyes closed and face set in concentration. She was startled by the sudden appearance, but her expression softened as she saw her daughter.

"Good morrow" she replied, her tone even. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Alicent took a moment to look over her daughter, taking in her appearance. She could see the tension in your face, the way she bit her lip. Alicent knew this wouldn't be an easy conversation.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say. You had been thinking about this meeting all night, but now that she was here, she felt tongue-tied and uncertain.

"I...I wanted to talk to you," you said, voice quieter than usual. "I wanted to talk about...about us."

Alicent nodded, her expression taking on a serious tone. She knew this conversation was coming, but it didn't make it any easier.

"I see," Alicent said, her tone cautious. "What exactly did you want to talk about?" You took another shaky breath, gathering your thoughts.

"I...I've been thinking a lot lately," you said, your voice still soft and a little bit shaky. "About us, about everything that's happened between us." You paused, looking down at your hands, which were trembling slightly. "I just...I just want to understand. I just want to know why."

Alicent's expression softened at her daughter's words. She knew what you was referring to, and it pained her to think about it. But she knew she had to answer her daughter's question, even if it was difficult.

"I'm sorry" she said, her voice quieter than usual, but sincere. "I know I was cold towards you. I know I wasn't the mother you needed me to be. I stood in your life as a stranger..to you and all your siblings..”

Your eyes widened at her mother's words. You had expected an explanation, or perhaps even an excuse, but you didn't expect a direct apology.

"I...I didn't expect you to say that," you said, your voice laced with a mixture of surprise and hope. "You...you're apologizing?"

Alicent took a deep breath, her expression turning almost pained. "Yes," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I am."

She looked up at you, her eyes meeting her daughter's gaze. "I've done terrible things, I know that. And I can't undo the pain I've caused you. But...but I want to try to make things right, if you'll let me.” She pulled your hands onto her lap “I’ll apologize every day if I have too”

Viserra felt a wave of mixed emotions wash over her. She had expected anger, denial, or even dismissal. But to hear her mother apologizing and wanting to make things right...it was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"I...I don't know what to say," you said, your voice catching in your throat. "I've...I've been so angry for so long, Mother. I don't know how to just forgive and forget. But I...I do want things to be different..when you held my son for me last night I..I was so grateful..it made me realize I..I want you to be in my son’s life..I wanted you to finally be…there..you missed so much of my life..so much of aegons..Helaena and aemond- seven hells even daeron! but..what I can’t forgive if..when I was giving birth..I needed you i screamed for you and you didn’t came..”

Alicent took a deep breath, almost as if she was unsure about what she was about to say. "When you gave birth.." she started. "You called for me, and..and I wasn't there." She said the last words with a pang of guilt, her expression almost pained.

"When the maesters...they said.." she swallowed hard, the memory almost too painful. "They said you were...screaming my name. And I am so very, very sorry. I wish I could go back and change that moment, to be there for you and support you in your time of need. But I can't. And I know that's not enough, but...but I want to make things right."

Alicent's eyes filled with tears, hearing the pain in her daughter's voice. She had let her down, had caused her pain and disappointment. Letting go of her hands she place her hand on her cheek her lips quivering as tears stream down her cheeks

“The seven blessed you with the gift of a healthy boy…and I wasn’t there to hold your hand..I wasn’t there during the rough time of those moons..I..I missed so many precious moments because I..I was a coward to seek your forgiveness for my absence in your life..I wasn’t the mother you needed me to be” 

Your eyes flashed with anger, the pain of her abandonment still fresh and raw. She had needed her mother, had called out for her in her time of pain and fear, and yet she had not come. But witnessing her sobs, her gentle touch, I wanted to show I was still upset to put my foot down with how I felt but deep down I felt like a little girl again wanted to lay on her lap and cling to her as you once did. For her to comb and braid your hair with Helaena.

"You were supposed to be there, Mother," you snapped. "You were supposed to be my safe haven, my comfort in my time of pain. But you weren't. You weren't there for me when I needed you the most, when I begged and screamed for you. You weren't there, Mother."

Alicent's heart ache further knowing that she had caused her daughter so much pain. She wanted to take back that moment, to go back in time and be there for you, no matter how scared she was.

"I'm sorry my sweet girl” she said, her voice shaky. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there for you, wish I could have held your hand and comforted you. But I wasn't, and I know that hurts you."

You took a deep breath, your anger slowly ebbing away as you heard your mother's sincere apologies. You knew that Alicent was truly sorry, that she regretted not being there for you. But the pain of abandonment still lingered, a gaping wound in her heart.

"It does," you said quietly. "It hurts me, Mother. But...but I want to forgive you. I want to try to move past this."

Alicent's heart skipped a beat at her daughter's words, hope flickering in her chest. She had expected you to hold on to your anger and resentment, not to offer forgiveness.

"You..you want to forgive me?" she said, her voice filled with surprise and tentative hope.

You nodded, a mixture of emotions swirling in her chest. "I do," you said, your voice firm yet soft. "I want to forgive you, Mother. I'm tired of holding onto this pain and anger. I want us to have a chance to have an our connection again ."

patience

Guilt

And sadness

Such condition is expected in motherhood, when shall one ever be ready for motherhood? When one had no guidance from a mother to teach you the ways of new responsibilities. Alicent had thought of such wisdom, wives tails as she roams the path of the gardens or the halls or her own private chambers.

It was a duty

Alicent had repeated as she tried to calm her wondering mine. A duty she, as queen and wife needed to do. Give the king children and heirs, each pregnancy has their own story. One that I shared alone with a room filled with maesters and midwife’s helping me give birth to those children. She wonders if viserys knows alicent begged for Rhaenyra to come to her aid, or how she felt relieved she had given viserys his heir she remembered the bright smile he had he held aegon in his arms. Aegon early moons viserys cared for aegon till it stopped, till everything stopped.

I was only there to warm his bed while I had no shoulder to lean on. Each pregnancy he showed little care for. The resentment and bitterness was ever so clear, oh how could I be so wrong? How could I let myself be blind that my children needed me, they needed a protector. Just like how I needed my mother perhaps if she never passed none of this would have happened, none of Otto’s whispering wouldn’t have happened. Maybe I could have still ate cake with my dear friend

But now as I stare down at my grandchildren, as I braid Jaehaeras hair and jaeherys telling me his stories while my sweet daughters watch from afar with a smile i havent seen in ages, I felt more content then I ever felt. All of my wrongs could be forgiven.

One by one I tended to patch my mistakes, Rhaenyra still hasn’t responded to my ravens. I wish to see her, I wish to see the my friend I wish to hold her close and tell her I’m sorry

Aegon has stop drinking less, he still wonders the street of silk yet Helaena tells me he comes back to their chambers more then he has before, even if they have a lose for words he tries to care for his twins. And days he drinks he comes to my chambers and rambling incoherently as he sobs into my lap. I could never make out about what he says, only one has I heard ‘why did you stop loving me’ all I could do was whispered sweet nothings as I ran my fingers through his messy hair.

Helaena, her resistance to my touch has worked better than before. As she sits on the floor with her children around her she rests her head on my shoulder as she whispered her tales while she embroidered. Half of the time I don’t understand but at least it’s something. There will be days she tells and shows me all about her collection, she rambled for hours on end all I could do with smile and nod. It didn’t take long for me to help continue on in her collection, shadow boxes hung the walls of her growing collection while I send her more bugs from around the seven kingdoms. The bugs make my skin crawl but anything to make her happy, anything to hear her speak to me more.

For daeron and aemond was difficult, daeron stop writing back years ago i wasn’t any better with writing back after his silence. With more insistence I began writing to him, almost every week a raven will be sent to old town hoping he’ll listen. I mentioned yours and aemond announcement of a second baby with Darron’s birthday soon she hoped he’ll come to kingslanding once and for all to celebrate his birthday and the news of the baby. It didn’t take long for him to respond back he’ll come back home. With aemond he didn’t respond to me making conversation, only muttering under his breath he isn’t a fool. He kept you and your son under your wing, always watching somewhere nothing couldn’t be help by it so I let him be for now. But I would watch him train with ser Cristion, under heavy precision I convinced aegon to join help him with new and better hobbies. I think aemond softened a bit as he sees I would stand there watching him the entire time, always clapped and enjoyed when he win.

and you, my precious darling. My sweetest darling. My darling, who help me out the dark tunnel to see the brightest light ahead. Who helped me see what was right in front of me, you. My children waiting patiently for me to reach to them once again. I’d never forget that night I came to your chamber, it was fate to seek you.

Fate to hold your son and to see how much time I let slip through my fingers, that my baby had a baby. The most perfect boy I’ve ever seen, the seven has truly blessed my daughters.

My precious darling how much I loved her, how much I see myself in her. Each day that passed I hope to make the air lighter for my children, that history won’t repeat itself that I will help make a new path for them, my daughters and sons will live happy lives no longer filled with darkness and anger

Darkness slipped through the crack and found its way to you, I prayed for this not to happen not when I’m trying to make things better

The night of daeron feast, the dinning hall only meant for us just something small and intimate for him. With his siblings and by surprising his half sister, uncle and cousins. I felt relief they joined us. One big family again, there was no fighting. Aegon and Helaena danced while aemond twirled you with your son in your arms

It was perfect, I shared a dance with rhaenyra.

Till suddenly you and your husband and son left, without saying a word. We all was stunned but viserys say nothing to worry about. But I felt a pit in my stomach, I left Rhaenyra standing alone as I rushed to get to them

Thin trail of blood trailed the hallways

Oh gods

Not my sweet girl

Everything happened to fast, seeing you cry, nursemaids taking your son away from the chambers, the maesters confirming the first. She lost the baby. All you did was scream and shout, I dropped to my knees beside you pulling you close to me like my life depended on it

“My sweet girl”

she repeated over and over again

Weeks has passed, you were nothing felt but a shell of how you were. Mute and refusing to leave the bed. Aemond and your son never leaving the room by his request no one was allowed in the room. Often times I would just press my ear behind the door hearing you and aemond sobbing. It continued for a few week till maids confirmed you were doing better slowly, eating more and taking better care of yourself

Each day, every hour I prayed and prayed. I needed the faith I needed you to be better, I needed you to heal your sorrows.

Today, after leaving the sept In early hours I made my way through the red keep towards your chambers, I was early up the stairs when the screeching sounds of maidens through the halls. My heart began to pound as I picked up the bottom of my dress running to the sound.

Please no

Please no

By the seven please

Time passed in slow motion as I watch guards pushed into your chambers. The maidens still screaming in horror.

Pushing my way inside I saw you on the bed, looking as peaceful you did that night as you slept. But now your son cradled in your arms sobbing his little arms reaching out.

“Darling!” She cried out as she rushed onto the bed, carefully picking up the boy she checked him quickly as I held him close to her chest, before turning back to you, shaking you frantically

She didn’t feel the maid pulling the boy off her, all she saw was her sweet girl cold and sickly pale. Her Tears dropped onto your face as she kept screaming till her throat gone dry. She begging the gods to not be true shaking your shoulders fiercely

“Don’t punish me please! Not my girl by gods please not my girl!

Once aemond rushed into the room hell broke lose, destroying the room, screaming his lungs out. He only left 10 minutes before the ladies in waiting came into the room to check on the boy, on their account they heard the boys crying with no end of it so they came inside to see your laying on the bed without a breath as you held your son.

“The world stopped the day you died

I felt it

In my bones

In my heart

In every fiber of my being

I felt it

The sun stopped being warm

The night stopped being cool

The brids no longer sang

When you died,

The world as I knew it did too

I did too. “

She couldn’t see many things the same the day the gods took you away, your favorite meal, your favorite color. The flowers in the garden she couldn’t see it without wanting to scream.

The gods were cruel taking my sweet girl away from her, she couldn’t bare to wear the pendent anymore she could pray to the same gods she pray for good health for you.

The maesters said the cause was due to a broken heart, a new wave of studies is happening due to many people facing the same issue throughout the kingdom. The stress of losing the second baby was to much.

Oh my sweet girl..

It should have been me

Tag💗: @minaxcarter

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 3 | bodyguard!Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You stepped into the church, and just as expected, all eyes turned to you. Whispers rippled through the mourners, but you ignored them, adjusting your sunglasses. If they were waiting for a display of grief, they’d be disappointed.

Beside you, Bucky muttered under his breath, low enough that only you could hear. “This is a waste of time.”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, “Didn’t you promise Mrs. Walls you’d be nice to me?”

Bucky flashed a peace sign. “I did. And for two hundred grand.”

Behind your shades, you rolled your eyes again. At least they hid your complete lack of sympathy. Dolly had been your manager for years, yet even now, as you stood at her funeral, she felt like nothing more than a former coworker.

The guests took their seats, and the murmurs continued around you.

“Poor Dolly. Such a tragedy.”

"Looks like she has forgiven Dolly, which is why she attended the funeral."

You didn’t feel the same. This felt like attending a distant relative’s funeral out of obligation. And the man sitting next to you wasn’t exactly helping. Ever since the money had hit his account, Bucky had toned down his usual sarcasm, making it easier to keep up the act of being a couple rather than explaining that he was just your bodyguard. You were relieved, too—it meant you didn’t have to sit beside Jack.

Jack. Your ex-fiancé.

You could feel his gaze burning into you from across the room. He was watching, observing, like he was trying to piece something together. Maybe he was just surprised to see you here with another man. A bitter laugh almost escaped you—he was such a good actor, no wonder he had won an Oscar. But behind the golden statue and the dazzling smile, he was nothing more than a gambling addict. You’d dodged a bullet.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was even here.

For the cameras, you answered yourself. The funeral had drawn some big names, and Jack never wasted an opportunity to get photographed.

Behind you, another hushed conversation caught your attention.

“You know, I saw a detective talking to some of the guests.”

“Wow. Not surprised. She owed money to the mafia.”

Your fingers clenched around the hem of your coat. So the rumors were true.

The funeral carried on, a few more speeches, some people crying—none of it stirred anything in you. When the service ended and the crowd began to disperse, you finally came face-to-face with Mr. Vert.

The CEO of your music label looked as sharp as ever. Slicked-back hair, tinted shades, a black trench coat. He had the presence of someone who was always ten steps ahead.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, his tone unreadable.

You gave him a tight smile. “When the boss calls, I answer.”

Mr. Vert smirked slightly, then shifted his gaze to Bucky. “So, this is him?”

“Yup. The one and only,” Bucky replied casually, hands in his pockets.

You weren’t sure why, but watching the two of them standing side by side gave you a strange feeling—like there was some kind of similarity between them. That was weird.

Mr. Vert adjusted his shades before turning to leave. “Guard her. Twenty-four seven.”

Bucky gave a small salute. “Of course.”

As soon as Mr. Vert walked away, you turned to Bucky, arms crossed. “Do you even know who that was?”

Bucky shrugged. “The guy who paid me?”

You exhaled sharply. “You’re seriously living under a rock.”

“Yup. My roommate is Patrick Star.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unbelievable.”

Before Bucky could come up with another sarcastic remark, you spotted someone familiar in the crowd—Selena, Dolly’s assistant.

Unlike you, Selena looked absolutely devastated. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched a crumpled tissue in her hands. She wasn’t just Dolly’s assistant—she had practically worshiped her, running after her every demand.

You walked up to her carefully. “Hey, Selena.”

She sniffled and glanced at you, her voice trembling. “I can’t believe she’s gone… I—I don’t even know what to do now.”

Selena, her shoulders slumped and eyes filled with worry, looked at you. "Since Dolly’s gone, can I work with you? Until I find a better job?"

You paused for a moment, then gave her a soft but firm nod, offering her a reassuring smile. "Of course. And don't worry, you can stay as long as you want."

Selena’s posture softened as a hint of relief washed over her. She bowed her head slightly, her voice quieter now. "Thank you."

Bucky, standing nearby, watched the exchange before leaning in and muttering, “Wow. You do have a heart.”

You shot him a glare, but Selena let out a small chuckle. It wasn’t much, but at least for a second, it seemed to lift some of the weight off her shoulders.

Selena raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Uhm, who is he?”

Bucky grinned and leaned back slightly, his arms crossed. “Her boyfriend.”

Selena’s eyes widened in surprise, her lips parting slightly. “Him?” she whispered, clearly not expecting that.

“Buck!” You snapped, giving him a look that could kill. You asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you never intended to blurt it out, especially not in the middle of a funeral.

You quickly grabbed Bucky by the arm, pulling him toward the door with a firm tug. He stumbled slightly, but you didn't care. “Let’s go,” you muttered under your breath.

As you reached the door, you turned to Selena, your tone softening. “Take care, Selena. And again, don’t worry. You’ll be fine here.”

Selena nodded, her expression grateful, though tinged with sadness. "Thank you... really."

📷📷📷📷

Back at your penthouse, you kicked off your heels and exhaled in relief. The weight of the funeral, the awkward stares, and the conversation with Mr. Vert were still fresh in your mind. You weren’t sure what exhausted you more—the event itself or dealing with Jack and Bucky in the same room.

Bucky let out a low whistle as he stepped inside, hands in his pockets as he glanced around. “Damn. Nice place.”

Then his eyes landed on the wall lined with awards. He walked over, scanning the gold plaques, framed records, and shimmering trophies. “Impressive.”

For some reason, hearing that made your face heat up. You turned away, pretending to straighten a book on the coffee table.

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang. You sighed, already having a bad feeling about who it could be. Reluctantly, you made your way to the door and opened it.

Jack.

You let out another sigh, but still stepped aside to let him in. He wasted no time, immediately reaching out to pull you into a hug. You pushed against his chest, trying to create distance, but he only held on tighter.

“Jack, stop—”

Before he could tighten his grip, a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back.

Bucky stepped between you, laughing. “Are you guys fighting over a toy?”

Jack looked furious, straightening his suit. He considered himself tall, but standing next to Bucky, he looked almost average. The shift in his posture made it clear—he hated losing.

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Who the hell are you? And why are you glued to her?”

Bucky smirked. “I’m her new boyfriend.”

Jack’s expression turned into one of pure disbelief. His eyes darted back to you. “Him?”

You didn’t answer. You just crossed your arms and watched.

Jack scoffed, stepping closer again. “You know I’d never hurt you, baby.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Those words used to make you melt. Now, they were the last thing you wanted to hear.

Jack sighed, softening his voice. “Can we pretend we’re okay? Please?”

You stayed silent.

“You painted yourself as a forgiving person at Dolly’s funeral,” he continued. “Can’t you do the same for me?”

“Why?” you asked, unimpressed.

Bucky, who had been casually scrolling through his phone, let out a short laugh. “He wants you to be his beard,” he said, not even looking up. “There’s a rumor he might be the next lead in that spy franchise.”

Jack’s lips pressed together before he finally admitted, “That’s right, man.”

Bucky scoffed. “If you get the role, I’m definitely not watching the movie.”

“Buck…” You shot him a warning glare.

Jack bristled. “You don’t think I could pull off playing a spy?”

Bucky shrugged. “You don’t exactly scream espionage material.”

Jack clenched his jaw. “What do you know about acting?”

Bucky tilted his head, as if deciding whether or not to answer. Then he smirked. “You’re right. I don’t.”

The truth was, he didn’t need to act like a spy—he was one, or at least something dangerously close. But he wasn’t about to explain that to Jack.

“For crying out loud!” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “Can you two stop?”

You huffed “Fine. I’ll let the paparazzi take our picture.”

“Thank you,” Jack said, relieved.

“But we’re just walking to grab coffee. Nothing more.”

Jack hesitated. “Can I at least give you a side hug? Or a quick peck?”

You shot him a sharp glare.

Jack sighed dramatically, holding up his hands. “Alright, alright. No touching.”

With that, he turned and left, leaving you alone with Bucky, who was still grinning.

You exhaled. “I need a drink.”

Bucky stretched his arms behind his head. “I need a raise.”

You rolled your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

You poured two glasses of whiskey, sliding one across the counter to Bucky. He caught it effortlessly, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip. You leaned against the kitchen island, staring at the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Bucky let out a low chuckle. “Him?”

You glanced at him. “What?”

“You have low standards if you went for a guy like that.”

You scoffed. “Go to hell, Bucky.”

He smirked, tilting his glass toward you in mock salute. “Seriously, why are you helping him?”

“It’s just a picture,” you said, taking a slow sip of your drink. “After that, nothing. This kind of thing is common. A little media stunt to push someone up the search rankings. He needs something to work the algorithm in his favor.”

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head. “So it’s all fake, huh? No wonder entertainment’s one of the biggest fronts for money laundering.”

You frowned. “What?”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms. “Entertainment is a money-laundering business,” he said casually, like he was talking about the weather. “And movie directors? Most of them are very late virgins who use their power as an excuse to throw orgies.” He wrinkled his nose. “Disgusting as fuck.”

Your stomach turned at the thought. “How the hell do you know that?”

Bucky took another sip, watching you over the rim of his glass. “I’ve seen things you don’t wanna know, girlfriend.”

There was something in his tone—something that made you uneasy. A dark knowing, like he had lived a hundred lives before this one.

Bucky took another sip of his drink and leaned back against the couch, watching you. “By the way, you still haven’t asked what I do for a living.”

You shrugged, twirling the glass in your hand. “To be honest, as a singer, private shows paid me more than being on TV. And through those gigs, I met all kinds of clients.” You exhaled slowly. “Some things are better left unknown.”

Bucky observed you, his sharp blue eyes narrowing slightly. He had seen enough people in this business who preferred to turn a blind eye to the world’s ugliness. You weren’t naive—you just chose not to dig too deep.

“You,” you added, glancing at him over your glass, “give me the feeling that ignorance is the best answer.”

Bucky smirked. “I’m impressed.”

🌅🌅🌅🌅

The piercing sound of your phone ringing jolted you awake. Groaning, you reached for it, squinting at the name flashing on the screen.

Mr. Vert.

You answered with a groggy, “Hello?”

“Put me on speaker,” he ordered.

Frowning, you sat up and did as he asked. Bucky, who had crashed on your couch, rubbed his face and stretched, watching you curiously.

Then, Mr. Vert’s voice came through, calm but firm. “Jack’s dead.”

Your breath hitched.

“He was thrown from the 12th floor. Landed on a car.”

For a moment, your mind went blank. Jack? The same Jack who had just been in your apartment last night? The same Jack who had begged you to help him?

Your fingers tightened around the phone.

“Therefore,” Mr. Vert continued, his voice unwavering, “I want your bodyguard with you at all times.”

You swallowed, your pulse hammering. This was no longer just a media game. Someone was dead. Someone you had spoken to only hours ago.

Bucky, on the other hand, leaned back against the couch, arms folded, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“This,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone, “is getting more interesting.”

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If you enjoy my stories, feel free to check out my masterlist. I’ve also written some original works that you might find interesting.

They are available on Kindle:

Arrogant Ex-Husband: A novella.

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Dad, I Can’t Let You Go: A short poetry collection.

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