#understand what's going on inside my mind

[amxritt]

Stay

Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Summary: inspired by Stay by Gracie Abrams

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst (lots of it), brief mentions of addiction, uhh more probably idk

“You told me something when I left but I don’t remember. Maybe ‘cause all I could do then was stare at the floor”

The fight had been brewing for weeks. Rafe had been spiraling—late nights, glazed eyes, erratic moods. Y/n felt the weight of it all pressing down on her. She had known something was wrong, had seen the signs, but she had hoped he’d stop before things got this bad.

Now, they stood in his bedroom, the air thick with tension. Rafe paced back and forth like a caged animal, his voice rising with frustration. He shouted about how she didn’t understand, how this wasn’t her problem to fix. Y/n flinched at the sharpness in his tone, staying rooted to the edge of his bed, her gaze fixed firmly on the carpet beneath her feet.

She hated when he yelled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to shield herself from the storm brewing inside him.

“You don’t get it, Y/n,” Rafe spat, his voice breaking. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life.”

“And I care about it!” she shot back, finally looking up. Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn’t. “I care about you, Rafe. But I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He froze mid-step, his back to her. For a moment, she thought he might actually listen. But then he shook his head, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t quite catch.

Y/n exhaled shakily, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to scream at him, shake him until he understood how much this was breaking her. But all she could do was sit there, staring at the floor as the words she wanted to say died in her throat.

“I held myself ‘cause you wouldn’t, all wrapped in my sweatshirt Wonder if you even noticed that that one was yours”

The room was chilly despite the summer heat outside. The Camerons always kept the AC cranked up, and the breeze from the window only made it worse. Y/n pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them. She was wearing a hoodie—one of Rafe’s, though she doubted he’d noticed.

He had given it to her back when they were sophomores, one night after a bonfire when she’d forgotten to bring a jacket. She’d meant to return it, but somehow it had become hers. Rafe never seemed to mind; he used to say it looked better on her anyway.

Now, as she sat there clutching the fabric like a lifeline, she wondered if he even remembered that it was his. Probably not. Not with how high he was right now. His eyes were glassy, his movements erratic. He didn’t seem to notice much of anything anymore.

“And maybe I should’ve, but I never told you, ‘I’m sorry.’ Know that I tried, but my words always got in the way.”

That night was the breaking point. Y/n had stood in his doorway, tears streaming down her face as she told him she couldn’t do this anymore.

“I can’t watch you hurt yourself, Rafe,” she had said, her voice cracking. “I love you too much to stand by and do nothing. But I can’t save you. You have to want to save yourself.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. She waited for him to stop her, to say something—anything—that would make her stay. But he didn’t.

As she turned to leave, he muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it over the pounding in her ears.

Now, months later, she replayed that night over and over in her head. She wished she had stayed longer, had said something different. She wished she had told him she was sorry—for leaving, for not being enough to make him stop. But the words never came out right, no matter how many times she rehearsed them in her head.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started ”

Y/n’s day had been hell. Her parents had been on her case all morning, snapping at her for things that weren’t even her fault. By the time they told her to “go stay at a friend’s house” for the night, she felt like she was about to break.

Typically, when stuff like this happened, she just went to Rafe’s, but she hadn’t talked to him since that night a few months ago.

She ended up at the beach—their beach. It was a quiet, secluded spot they had discovered years ago. It had always been their escape, their sanctuary. Now it was just another place that reminded her of him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, she pulled out her phone and stared at his name in her contacts. She shouldn’t call him. She knew that. But the weight of the day was too much to carry alone.

She had called him a few times since that night, and each time he picked up right away and stayed on the line, even though she would never actually talk to him. She just needed to hear his breathing. She needed to know he hadn’t overdosed, that he was okay.

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she pressed call.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was rough, but there was a softness to it that made her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, struggling to find the words. Finally, she whispered, “Can I come over?”

“I don’t even have to stay”

Rafe didn’t say anything when she showed up at his door, just stepped aside to let her in.

They didn’t talk as she changed into one of his t-shirts and climbed into bed beside him. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over hers, before she turned to him and whispered, “Can you just hold me?”

He nodded, pulling her close. She felt the tension in his body slowly melt away as they lay there in the dark, their breathing syncing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay,” Y/n whispered, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay if you do,” Rafe whispered, but Y/n cut him off, “I won’t.”

For a little while, it felt like nothing had changed. Like they were still the kids who spent their summers on the beach, dreaming about a future that didn’t seem so far away.

But morning always came too soon.

When Rafe woke up, she was gone. Her side of the bed was cold, her clothes neatly folded at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t remember the last time I heard from your sister, Didn’t expect to, but I sorta thought that I would.”

Y/n had always been close to Wheezie, even when she and Rafe were arguing. They spent countless days together shopping, watching movies, having spa nights, and talking about everything and nothing. She was like the little sister Y/n always wanted.

Rafe would sometimes barge in, rolling his eyes at whatever ridiculous movie they were watching, but Y/n would catch the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Those nights felt safe. Whole.

After Y/n left, she half-expected Wheezie to text her, to ask if she was okay or if they could still hang out like they used to. But weeks turned into months, and the silence stretched out between them.

Y/n thought about reaching out herself, but every time she opened her phone, the weight of what had happened with Rafe stopped her. What would she even say? That she missed her? That she wasn’t sure if she could face Rafe’s family without falling apart?

Sometimes, she’d scroll through old photos of them together, her heart aching for the easy sister-like bond they had. Wheezie’s smile stared back at her from the screen—bright, carefree, and untouched by the storm that had torn everything apart.

“Wish I could tell you by now that i felt more indifferent”

Y/n sat with her knees to her chest on the beach, their beach—the one where they had spent countless evenings watching the sun melt into the ocean. The waves stretched out before her, their rhythmic crash and retreat, a cruel reminder of the ebb and flow of her relationship with Rafe.

She always knew walking away would be hard, but she thought she’d feel more indifferent by now, that the ache in her chest would dull over time. Instead, every day felt like a battle against memories that refused to stay buried.

She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply, trying to ground herself. But the moment she did, images of Rafe flooded her mind: his lopsided grin when he teased her, the way his hand lingered on hers, the quiet moments when his walls came down, and he let her see the man he could be.

“Why can’t I let you go?” she whispered, her voice trembling. The wind carried her words out to the sea, where they dissolved like everything else she’d tried to hold onto.

A seagull called overhead, snapping her back to the present. She ran her fingers through the sand, letting the grains slip through them. She wanted to feel indifferent. She needed to feel indifferent. But how do you stop caring about someone who was your whole world? She would give anything to have him back, but not until he quit the drugs.

“Catch myself thinking about you more than I should”

Y/n stood in line at the coffee shop, waiting for her order, when a man with Rafe’s build walked through the door. Her breath caught, her heart skipping a beat before logic kicked in. It wasn’t him.

But for those few seconds, her mind betrayed her, painting a picture of what it would be like if it were him. Would he smile at her? Would his eyes light up the way they used to when they saw her? Or would he look past her, as if the memories they shared were as distant to him as they were vivid to her?

Even in moments like this, she caught herself thinking about him. She wondered what he was doing now, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her too. It had been months since they’d spoken, and yet he was still there, lingering in the corners of her mind.

“And maybe I should’ve but I never told you I miss you I almost said it but don’t know if you feel the same.”

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store buzzed as Y/n walked down the produce aisle, her list in hand. She was focused on selecting the ripest lemons, reaching on her tiptoes to get them off the top shelf, when a familiar hand reached past hers and plucked one off the shelf.

She looked up, and her heart stopped. It was Rafe.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His presence was like a punch to the gut—familiar and painful all at once. He looked healthier, steadier, but his eyes still held that same quiet sadness she knew too well.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to say something, to bridge the gap between them. I miss you, she thought. The words sat on the tip of her tongue, heavy and unspoken.

Instead, she managed a weak smile. “Hey.”

They stood there, awkward and unsure. She wanted to ask how he’d been, if he was happy, if he ever thought about her. But the fear of what his answers might be kept her silent.

As he walked away, her heart ached with all the things she wished she had said. He was respecting the boundaries she had set, and she was grateful for that, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what she could’ve said. Maybe I should’ve told him. Maybe it would’ve changed something. Or maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all.

“Could you hold me without any talking? We could try to go back where we started I don't even have to stay”

Y/n sat cross-legged on her bed, absently scrolling through her phone when it buzzed. Rafe’s name lit up the screen.

She wasn’t expecting it, but her thumb hovered for only a moment before she answered. “Rafe?” she said softly.

The line was silent except for the sound of his uneven breathing. Her heart sank. “Rafe, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tight with worry.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained and shaky. “I…I need your help.”

Y/n sat up straight, her pulse quickening. “Where are you?”

A pause followed before he replied, “I’m at Topper’s.” His words were slurred, and she could tell he’d been drinking. “Listen, Y/n/n, you… you don’t have to do this.”

“Rafe, it’s fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Throwing on her shoes and grabbing her keys, she was out the door.

When she arrived, Rafe sat slouched on the front porch, his head in his hands. As she pulled up, he stood slowly and made his way to the car. Sliding into the passenger seat, he looked at her with tired, bloodshot eyes.

“Thank you… for coming,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Y/n said softly. “You called.”

Her voice was calm, steady—exactly what he needed. Rafe didn’t respond, but the corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

The drive back to Tannyhill was silent. When they arrived, Rafe hesitated before opening the car door.

“Can you… come in?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

Inside, as he opened his bedroom door, she noticed his hands—bruised, scratched, and swollen knuckles.

“Rafe!” she gasped, reaching for his hand. Her heart raced as they touched. She hadn’t felt his touch in so long. “What happened?”

He pulled his hand back, avoiding her gaze. “It’s nothing. Just… got into a little disagreement,” he mumbled, dropping his keys on the dresser.

“Rafe…” she began, her tone firm, but she stopped when she saw the exhaustion in his eyes. “Here, let me clean it up.”

In the bathroom, she sat him down on the closed toilet seat and retrieved the first aid kit. Quietly, she began tending to his cuts.

He didn’t flinch when she dabbed rubbing alcohol on the wounds, but she noticed the way his jaw tightened. Neither of them spoke as she worked, her touch gentle and precise.

When she finished, she stood and said, “Go get in bed. I’ll clean this up and be right there.”

By the time she returned to his room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders slouched. He glanced at her as she walked in, shifting to make space for her beside him.

Y/n slid into bed, and they lay there in the dark, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. Rafe wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was his anchor to the world. She held him just as tightly, resting her head against his chest.

No words were spoken. None were needed.

“If I woke up with you in the morning I’d forget all the ways that we’re broken I don’t care if you’ve changed, I don’t even have to stay”

Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting golden streaks across the room. Y/n woke slowly, her senses adjusting to the warmth of Rafe’s arms wrapped around her. For a moment, she forgot the heartbreak, the arguments, and the nights spent crying herself to sleep.

She stayed still, savoring the rare peace. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling against her back. It felt like old times, like they were still those carefree kids.

Quietly, she slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She brewed coffee, cooked eggs, and relished the grounding normalcy of it all.

When she returned with a tray of food and Advil, Rafe was awake, propped up on one elbow, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

She set the tray down and sat beside him. “I just wanted to make sure you had food and Advil,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He reached out and took her hand, his touch hesitant. “Look, Y/n, I-I know you said you wouldn’t…” His voice faltered, as if the words were too heavy. “Until I… Until I stopped. But do you ever think we could—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off gently, her voice steady. It hurt to see him like this, a shadow of the confident man she remembered. “Rafe… I meant what I said. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you. Even if you haven’t gotten better yet… I’ll still be here when you need me.”

Her voice trailed off, and he nodded, understanding despite the hurt. For now, they had this moment—fleeting, imperfect, but theirs.

She didn’t stay much longer, not wanting to overstep. As she walked to the door, Rafe stopped her. “Will you ever stop leaving?”

Turning to face him, she gave a sad, genuine smile. “I’ll stop leaving when you get better, Rafe. I promise.”

With that, she walked out of the Cameron house. Leaving him was never easy, but she knew it was the only way for him to heal.

Authors note: Long story for my first post, I hope you like it! I take requests but I'm not sure how to set that up yet so messages, comments, or whatever works if you want to send one in. I am tempted to make a part 2 to this, so if anyone is interested lmk!

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter twenty-two: Power not Pity

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

previous | 22 | next

Series Masterlist

In-ho’s POV

I left the quiet confines of my office and made my way down the hall, the weight of tonight’s task pressing heavily on my chest. The moment had come. The moment I’d been preparing for since the panther mask had dared to make his move. It was no longer about subtlety, about games or manipulation. This was about sending a message—a loud, resounding message.

The VIP room was as opulent as ever, but tonight, it felt like a cage. The usual tension that lingered in the air, thick with whispers of power and influence, seemed more suffocating than usual. I couldn’t afford to have this simmer for any longer.

When I arrived, the panther mask was in the corner, sitting comfortably in one of the plush chairs, looking out over the city through the tall windows. The mask glinted in the dim light, its polished surface reflecting the cold, calculated silence of the room. He hadn’t heard me approach.

I paused at the entrance, my mind already preparing for what was about to unfold. I could feel the growing rage inside me, the need to assert dominance, to remind him and everyone else who ran this world.

“Still hiding behind the mask?” I asked, my voice low but carrying through the room.

He turned his head slightly, the panther mask gleaming in the half-light, but his posture didn’t shift. He was playing it cool, still believing he could control the situation. Typical.

“I don’t hide,” the panther mask said, his voice smooth, almost too casual. “I’ve always been exactly who I’ve claimed to be. It’s you, In-ho, who likes to pretend. Pretend you can control everything. Pretend you hold all the cards.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face—thin, predatory. “You think you’re the one with the cards? Let me remind you who’s holding the deck.”

Before he could react, I was on him in an instant, closing the distance with a speed that caught him off guard. I grabbed him by the collar of his tailored suit, yanking him to his feet, slamming him into the cold marble of the wall with such force that the impact echoed through the empty room.

His eyes, hidden behind the gold mask, widened briefly with shock. For a split second, I saw the uncertainty flicker in them. Good. He should feel it. Fear was the first step to understanding who truly ruled here.

“You should have stayed in your place,” I hissed, tightening my grip on his collar, my voice low and dangerous. “You crossed a line, and now you’re going to pay for it.”

The panther mask struggled briefly, but I didn’t loosen my grip. I could feel the faint tremor in his body, the subtle crack in his bravado. He was trying to regain control, trying to figure out how to twist this into his favor. It was too late for that.

“You think I’ll just sit back while you try to take what’s mine?” I growled, my face inches from his. “You’ve made a dangerous mistake. And I’m here to correct it.”

I saw him swallow, his confidence draining, his breathing growing shallow. The mask was his armor, but underneath it, he was nothing more than a man. And now, he was finally realizing that I wasn’t some shadow in the background. I was the frontman. And when the frontman speaks, people listen.

“You think this is some game, don’t you?” I continued, pressing my body closer, feeling the heat of his fear seeping through the cold mask. “Well, let me make it clear to you, panther. This isn’t a game. This is my world. And you’re just another player—one I can erase in an instant if I so choose.”

His lips parted, perhaps to protest, perhaps to challenge me, but before he could utter a word, I shoved him back. He staggered, but managed to keep his footing, his hands instinctively moving to adjust the mask, trying to regain composure.

“I don’t need to hear your excuses,” I said, my voice like ice. “You’ll stay out of my way, or I’ll make sure you regret ever thinking you could challenge me.”

The panther mask stood there for a moment, still reeling, but then—surprisingly—he straightened up. His pride, his arrogance, it was all coming back to him. He took a step forward, chin raised. He thought he could salvage this.

“You’ve shown your hand, Frontman,” he said, his voice steady, though I could sense the strain beneath it. “But don’t forget—I’m not the only one who holds power here. There are others who will be watching. Others who may not be as… loyal as you think.”

I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head at his arrogance. “You think I’m afraid of threats? I’ve built an empire, panther. I’ve torn down those who thought they could bring me down. Do you really think you’re any different?”

Before he could respond, I moved again, grabbing his arm with such force that it cracked against the marble once more. I leaned in, my lips almost touching his ear, and whispered, “You’ll learn your place. And I’ll make sure everyone else learns it too.”

I could feel his body stiffen, the fear now radiating off him in waves. He was beginning to understand—he wasn’t untouchable. No one was.

With one last shove, I threw him back into the chair where he had once sat so confidently. He sat there for a moment, dazed, the mask slipping further down his face. He was broken. His facade had shattered, and he knew it.

“This is your warning,” I said, my voice cold, final. “Don’t ever cross me again.” He wasn’t going to like what would happen to him if he did.

I turned on my heel, the silence in the room deafening in my wake. The panther mask didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mask wasn’t the only thing cracked now.

As I walked away, I felt a grim satisfaction settle in my chest. This was more than just a lesson for him. This was a reminder to every single VIP in this building. Every single person who thought they could challenge me.

The frontman wasn’t a position to be questioned. And anyone who forgot that would be dealt with swiftly.

I stepped out of the VIP room, letting the door close behind me with a soft click. The message had been delivered, loud and clear. The panther mask would think twice before daring to make a move again.

As I made my way back to my office, my mind shifted to the next task. There was still work to be done. But for now, the lesson had been set. A reminder that no one—not even the panther—was above the frontman.

———————

Chapter twenty-two!! Whoa we are getting up there in numbers! Lemme know what you think! Thank you! :)

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[rafeysdeer]

imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

[gotham-daydreams]

Writhing

Day 4 {Challenge Masterlist}

A day away. The end is near, but they get closer. Too close.

[Yandere Batfam x Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of suicide (only mentioned in dialog), cult, occult like activities, rituals, implied human sacrifice (in dialog), sort of implied gore?, body horror, violence, blood (minor), bodily fluids (minor), flesh, general mild gore, gross description (?).] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)

Oops! A little late on this one, my bad! Body horror elements come in at the end of the chapter, when Selina says something to Bruce. It's over when Jason says "Thank god, he finally shut up-"

If there is such things as 'partial'/'soft' dead dove, that's how I would describe the end of this day.

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

The day is hotter than it’s ever been for fall in Gotham, and nearly everyone could feel it. Yet, strangely enough, a noticeable amount of people seem perfectly fine with it – even if some are practically sweating in their clothes, they still go about their lives almost scarily unbothered.

Most would think that Duke would be complaining, or at the very least breaking a sweat with how long he’s been in his suit, but strangely enough, he feels comfortable like this. Almost content, but he couldn’t be – not while being so far away from you. A window was the only thing truly separating you from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it and slip in. Almost like something deep inside of him was telling him you wouldn’t like it if he did, and Duke couldn’t understand why. You’ve been so nice to him up until this point, so welcoming – so you wouldn’t mind if he popped in extra early, would you? Sure you wouldn’t, Duke couldn’t imagine if you did, but he’s sure you’d understand anyway. If only he could explain it to you. Explain how he’s been feeling and that he had to be inside. Then you’d understand, forgive him, and everything would be okay.

Yet, something was still keeping him out, and it was honestly getting on his last nerve.

How Duke managed to slip out of the Batcave didn’t matter – not like he remembered, anyway. What mattered was figuring what was keeping him out so he could get in-

The young vigilante watches as you slowly, almost painstakingly begin to rise from your bed to sit up. For a moment, he holds his breath, hoping and nearly pleading with all his heart that you’re awake – only to see that your eyes are still closed, and it’s still hours away from when you’d usually be up. The only difference being is that your body moved in accordance to the sun, and you rose as it did. Almost as if you two were in sync somehow, and Duke couldn’t help but find that endlessly interesting instead of strange.

Even so, he had hoped you would have actually been awake – but he could be polite, so he waited. It wasn’t very comfortable being perched on the fire escape like this, but for something like this? Duke didn’t mind, especially not when he got to spend so much time with you. When it was just the two of you, alone, together.

Duke couldn’t even feel himself sweating in his suit, but even if he could – he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not with you in his sights.

Time passed by like sand slipping through his hands, with only the smallest bits remaining under Duke’s nails and in the lines of his palm. Since he could feel it pass, albeit faintly, and could acknowledge its passing as well, but the actual length was lost on him – as if only minutes or seconds had flown by in the place of the few hours that escaped his memory.

Not that it mattered, as once Duke saw you begin to stir and wake up, he couldn’t help but feel all giddy as he practically jumped to your window sill, and tapped on the window despite the nagging feeling that tried to stop him. He watches as you rub your eyes before glancing over to him.

Another feeling washes over Duke, one of denial – and he finds himself panicking. You had to let him in. You would, right? You wouldn’t turn him away, would you? You couldn’t leave him out in the heat like this, you had come here for you. You can’t turn him away. No. No Duke can’t accept this – who are you? Where did you go? Did someone replace you? Was this a fake? Just what was going on-

The young vigilante’s thoughts are cut off as you open the window. “What’re you doing here, kid? I don’t remember making a call… unless there’s some trouble nearby?” Duke almost forgot he was in the suit, and he almost wanted to rip it off now, but he managed to keep it on… even if he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe despite how his own cowl was designed. Thank god, you were fine. Normal.

“I was just on patrol and, uh, decided to swing by? See how things are going, especially with all the activity around in the city as of late–” Duke is quick to reply, clearing his throat before admitting. “And I just wanted to see how you’re doing, y’know? Can’t imagine that things have been exactly easy these past few nights.”

You raise a brow, but just sigh and shake your head at his words. “Well, I appreciate the thought, but I got to get on with my morning, Signal.”

“I- I know! I just wanted to… do a search.”

“A… search?”

“Yeah, like- do you have any plants or anything around here?”

“Well, yes-”

“Perfect! Gotta check them and make sure they’re all good and healthy. It shouldn’t take long, and I won’t get in the way of anything, I promise!”

You can only raise a brow, but eventually relent and give a tired but amused, “Fine, do what you have to, then.”

So, you go on with your morning. Just getting ready, and keeping an eye on Duke – especially as he tries to make conversation. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but considering where you’re supposed to be standing, it is odd. Though, it only made you feel better as you decided to entertain him a little. Answering his questions, holding the position you’ve managed to maintain for the past few days, and keeping up appearances. It was easier during the day for countless reasons, a good night’s rest being one of them. Staying up was really taking a toll, and you needed your energy for what’s to come.

Nevertheless, it quickly comes to a point where Duke is obviously trying to stay, and you can’t figure out why. You feel like you’ve dropped enough hints at this rate, and so you try to confront him about it gently… only for him to stumble over his words and struggle to speak for whatever reason. It’s honestly a little frustrating, but you can work with this. You’ve dealt with worse than a clingy kid in a costume.

So, putting on a more natural smile as you remember to compose yourself, you make the same offer that’s always worked for you time and time again.

“Say, why don’t we have a bit of breakfast?”

— — — – — – — — — — — —

Barbara was beginning to regret taking Dick’s advice on getting some air, especially now that she was a few ways away from the only useful computer they could use at the moment. She appreciated the effort, but given the countdown and the list of questions they still have to answer – well, they didn’t exactly have a lot of time for a break.

Still, it was nice getting out of the clock tower for a bit. That much Barbara could agree with, even if it was strangely hot for fall… it couldn’t be the work of another villain, could it? They had their hands full enough as it is, and this cult wasn’t helping with that – not to mention the fact they didn’t know if it was just that.

“Ugh, why’s it so warm? I don’t remember fall being this hot.. did the news even mention something like this?”

Dick hums for a moment, and gives a shrug as they continue down the street, “Hm, I don’t think so! Just said something about today being nice?” He snickers slightly, “A little ironic, huh? It’s almost like they’re trying to downplay it! But who knows? Maybe they don’t even notice!”

Barbara can only huff in response, “How can they not? It’s almost like spring out here, or even summer, honestly-”

[“Oracle, focus.” Bruce’s voice so rudely pierces through the moment.]

“I would be if someone hadn’t taken me out.”

“Hey! It’s not a crime to get some fresh air every once in a while! Especially when on a tough, grueling case like this… you know that if we keep going at it with no breaks, we’ll all drop before that countdown even finishes.” Dick tries to defend himself, and Bruce at least acknowledges his point by staying silent – the only sign of him still being on the line being a gruff exhale he lets out.

Barbara just shakes her head and rolls her eyes, not bothering with a response as she waves off Dick’s words and usual antics. Though, it was a nice change of pace compared to how the last few nights have been – even if they somehow managed to avoid any more deaths last night. Tragedy was to be expected in their line of work, and Gotham’s reputation only made that more apparent, but this was… something else. It didn’t feel like they were any closer to figuring out the answers to questions they had even at the start of all this, or only had half of a possible answer. Like how they knew the other groups Clark was able to track are heading towards major cities, but they still didn’t know why aside from the Red Dawn you had mentioned.

At this point, it almost felt like a goose chase! And if they didn’t get anything concrete fast, who knows what could happen-?

“... Hey, what’s with all the people in front of that book store?” Barbara points out as she taps Dick’s shoulder, grabbing the officer’s attention.

Humming, he looks over to where Barbara was gesturing towards, and shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe there’s a sale or something? Some famous person released a new volume?” The very idea nearly makes her laugh, and as much as Barbara wants to – she’s getting a weird feeling about it. Like something important was going on over there, and that she had to check it out now.

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to check it out, right?” She suggests, only for Dick to remain where he was, which only now she realizes that they’ve stopped moving all together. Huh, when did that happen?

Nevertheless, Dick gives the shop a once over, his eyes narrowing slightly at the crowd that’s formed in front of it, and is continuing to grow as the seconds pass. Some still walk past, and seem to mind their own business – but for some reason, others seem drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and there could be only one explanation for it.

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine right here.” He says, sounding almost a little too sure of himself.

Barbara raises a brow and looks over to Dick, curious but also a bit annoyed for reasons even she can’t place. “Why do you think that-?”

Before she can even finish, you come strolling out from the alley just a few inches ahead of them, and Barbara blinks in slight surprise. What were you doing awake-?

“Hey, [Last Name]!” Dick greets without missing a beat, an odd sort of smile making its way across his face. “Where were you last night?”

You look over to him, blinking as well before straightening yourself out. “Oh! Officer Grayson, what a surprise… and Ms. Gordon? What are you both doing out?”

Barbara’s brows furrow, but before she could speak up, Dick spoke up again. “I asked you first, [Last Name]. Where have you been? I can’t imagine you’d take the night off in the middle of a serious situation.”

“I’m… sorry, but something had come up- and I apologize, but I don’t remember anyone mentioning you looking for me?”

“So you were on duty last night-?”

Barbara nudges Dick’s arm, “I’m sorry for my friend here, you’re one of the officers that came in from Metropolis, right?" She interrupts, surprising you a little more. Though, you take the opportunity and give a nod, offering a hand - one that Dick eyes before looking back at you.

Not once does he even attempt to glance at his supposed ally.

"Yes! Officer [Last Name] at your service, ma'am. It's been an honor working with your father."

Barbara nods, taking your hand... which gives her an oddly tingly feeling. One that makes the hairs on her arm stand, but she hardly notices. "Really? Well, I wouldn't get too used to that - wouldn't want to stay in Gotham for longer then you'd have to, right?" She laughs lightly, "I hope the city hasn't been too much of a handful, Officer."

"Oh, there's no need for that, Gordon! Everything's gone... well, as good as it can. We're doing all we can to resolve things as quickly as possible- I assure you." You try to reassure, and while Barbara appreciates the effort - she was still getting the funniest feeling that you were down playing the situation too much. To say you were calm felt like an understatement, you're more laid-back then anything, and for a case like this? That didn't feel like a good thing.

Still, she plays along as well. "Is that so? Then is there anything you know about the case?"

"Well, I don't think we know more then the commissioner's friend per say, but the detective's coming in later and-"

"Wait, the detective-?"

It's only then that you notice something, and already try to take your leave.

"I really wish we had more time to discuss! But I must be going now, please forgive me, Gordon- ah, and of course you, Grayson."

"[Last Name]-!"

Dick's plea is swallowed by the sizable crowd that passes them, and almost seems to go in the direction you were headed in. Yet, when trying to catch a glimpse of you - you're nowhere to be found.

Folding his hands into fists, Dick's nails dig into his palms - something he doesn't even seem to notice or feel. "Damn it." He curses under his breath. So much for that, now he'll have to-

"What was that about?" Barbara can't help but ask out loud, looking at the crowd that was already disappearing before glancing up at Dick. The expression he wore making her worried, and she reached out a hand. "Hey, you okay?"

He shakes it off, and just gives a nod, smile strained. "Just peachy, Babs."

Again, before Barbara could another word out - her phone buzzes, and it's only then that she realizes her commlink was disconnected for... whatever reason? Nevertheless, she picks it up, and tries to gesture to Dick that they should go, which... takes a while. Almost too long, considering how they've got less then twenty-four hours left on that countdown.

Selina's on the line, and she and Barbara try to figure out what they can - and Barbara can't exactly place it, but it feels like only her and Selina are even somewhat level headed. It makes no sense, and she doesn't have time to dwell on it, so Barbara just pushes it to the side for now.

Somehow, they're still having trouble getting the Batcomputer up and running, so Tim and the samples are going to be at the clock tower for the time being so they can continue to work despite the 'hiccup'. Until nightfall comes, Bruce is looking into what he can while trying to get the Batcomputer even semi-functional, and is talking with everyone he can, sharing all the information they have at the moment - trying to see if anyone else knows something they don't.

Meanwhile the other's seem to be doing... something. What exactly? No one's totally sure, but considering the time they've got left? Well, they can only assume it's something useful.

Which... made Barbara remember something just as the call ended. Sighing, she just sits back as her wheelchair continues down the sidewalk. "Where even is Duke, anyway? I can't believe he managed to slip past everyone before his patrol... and before we could come up with a plan too." She can't help but grumble, but really only hoped the kid was okay.

Dick, who had been quiet even since they turned back around - let his silence linger for a moment longer, as if thinking before responding. "Something tells me he's on patrol."

Barbara glances at Dick once more, "Oh yeah? And how can you figure that out when he left without his phone and commlink somehow?" 

Dick only gives a smile, one that Barbara had never seen before that gives her... mixed emotions at best. His eyes closed, and though the rays of sun only made him look better, Barbara couldn't deny the way his heart paused at the sight. What kind of smile even is that-?

"I've just got a really good feeling. So let's go back to the tower, m'kay?"

For once, the chirp in Dick's tone did little to ease Barbara's sudden feeling of dread. One that all too quickly turned into something similar to comfort, and she couldn't even fathom why.

— — — — — — — — — —

Before the moon even has the chance to fully rise, a certain mishmash family of vigilantes is still hard at work. Whatever a few of the others were working on in the batcave, Duke joined them the moment he got home - but after his suit was put aside, and practically put on quarantine with how much of the red stuff it had on it. It was like sand and had gotten into every small crevasse it could - and not just in the suit.

When asked about it, Duke just didn't know. Claiming he didn't remember even losing the suit, but knew he had it on this morning because - well, why wouldn't he? The questioning seemed to confuse him as much as everyone else, and Dick eventually put a stop to it... strangely enough.

Nevertheless, Tim was able to find a bit more information, and when asked he simply said, "Well, I don't think it'll help us right now but... these guys- the group, at least- has been around for a while now. Not like Ancient Egyptians or anything, but they've definitely been around longer than just a few months. It's hard to pinpoint when they were exactly formed or founded, but I'll give it a few years. Maybe even decades."

Chipping in, Barbara adds, "They've got their hands in just about anything you can imagine. It's hard to tie them to politics, but they've got banks, industries, and so on that have supported various churches that are around some of the areas Clark marked before... well, the black out last night. Thank god a backup was sent to the Clock Tower's database."

Tim hums in agreement, "Exactly. And, to add on to that- but even some businesses have given to a few of these churches or groups, but most seem to have their own way of spreading... whatever this is. Though, if only certain banks from these companies support the 'cause', or the company itself supports it is harder to figure out."

"Again, not super helpful, but definitely gives a better idea of who these guys are. Wouldn't be surprised if for most, this is a legitimate religion disguised as another."

Well, Tim was right - it didn't help them immediately, but it gave a bit of insight. These guys have been around for a while, but now the question is why they're popping up now, and if it's because of this 'Red Dawn', then they absolutely have to find out what that means before time is up. However, amongst the investigation, another question eventually pops up, and one that almost feels foolish to skip over.

Where are the bodies from the people who were involved with this cult, but ended up killing themselves when caught-?

Then, Bruce's phone rings just as he's about to contact Gordon. It's not a number he recognizes, but something, for some reason not even he can explain, compels him to pick it up.

Before Bruce himself can even try to resist, the button is already pressed.

[The person on the other end clears their throat before speaking. “Hello? This is Detective Greenwood, and to my understanding, this is Batman’s number?”]

Of course, naturally, Bruce doesn’t say anything. More or less just… confused. Was this even real? How could anyone expect him to believe that the detective that’s been absent for nearly four days, maybe even longer, is only now trying to show up? Talk about convenience. Not to mention priorities and dedication.

[The man on the other end sighs. “Well, if this is the right number or not, I’ll find out soon enough. I’ve heard you're not exactly a patient man, so I’ll keep this short- just for you. Meet me at the diner on fifth. It’s getting late, I know. Place is about to close, but I’ll be here until it does. If it’s closed when you decide to come by? I’ll be at the station, cleaning up the mess.” A beat of silence passes, and a small clinking sound could be heard before he adds, “I’m sure you’re aware we don’t have much time, but hey. The choice is yours.”]

With that, the call ends, and Bruce is momentarily left in silence. Everyone else is doing their own thing and trying to figure out a plan of action they all agree upon but this… this could change things – but that all depends on what this detective knows. The timing itself is a little more than suspicious, and while you had apparently mentioned the detective’s arrival earlier, being gone for so long, and during a time like this no less… almost nothing could make Bruce any less trusting of this. While he trusted your credibility somewhat – and that’s mostly due to Clark being able to back up the information you’ve been able to provide thus far – there’s no telling if this detective had any new information they haven’t figured out already.

… Yet with the time they have, and their lack of knowledge of what it even means, they didn’t exactly have the time to be nitpicky – and though it was highly unlikely, having someone explain or give a clue as to what this ‘Red Dawn’ even is would also be useful.

A rough sigh escapes Bruce, and from that alone, the room goes quiet. Glancing at the timer on the holographic screen of the Batcomputer, he takes a second or so before getting to work. “Dick, you’re coming with me to see this… detective. Selina, go with Damian to see where the bodies are. Jason and Cassandra? …Don’t follow too close behind.” They didn’t exactly have time to argue, and with Duke, Stephanie, and Tim doing something else? This’ll have to do.

Regardless, even if some disagreements and such are made, they all set out, and into the unforgiving city once again.

Knowing the area like the back of your hand certainly had its perks, and finding the diner itself isn’t very hard. Though before they can even think about stepping inside, the sheer emptiness inside the establishment is… not one any of them are familiar with. Not during a time like this, and especially not when there’s a bar inside the establishment. To say they’d stand out would be putting it nicely, but the invitation is already given once the single patron in the diner notices the only two visible figures outside and for them to come in.

Playing along never feels good, but what choice do they have? Besides, as if knowing something, Dick is the one that takes the first step forward. Bruce slides into the booth last.

Conversation sparks up, and it goes about as well as one would expect. The obvious questions are asked, but nothing notable or of any real importance is given. Greenwood only apologizes for his absence, gives little reasoning for it aside from ‘being caught up with something’ – as that’s something noteworthy, and yet not even Bruce has been informed of it. So, things are off to a great start.

Almost seemingly out of habit, Greenwood offers anything he can, only to be declined – something he just shrugs off before taking a stip of his coffee, or what looks to be something like it, as despite the hint of color Bruce swears he can see in the mug, it’s too dark to be much else. Still, all too aware of the time limit they’re working on, Bruce gets straight to the point, and Greenwood follows right along. As if to ease things, he even offers for the pair to call him John. Hm. That’s the first name he’s gotten out of the new batch without looking through records.

Strangely enough, Greenwood takes the time to even reassure them, saying of the waiter – the only employee visible at the moment, is blind. So they won’t have to worry about anyone spreading any rumors about seeing the Big Bat and Nightwing themselves in a diner late at night. When Dick remarks about passerbys, Greenwood only says, “A friend of mine’s got that handled.”

When Bruce understandably asks, “And who is this ‘friend’ of yours.”

Greenwood strangely responds with, “Well, I can’t say much for a list of reasons. But they’ve got a way with people, and even got me your number. That’s all you’ve got to know.” Pushing up the shades he wore all the while. There was no need for him, but the detective never made a move to take them off. Like they were a part of him.

To say the conversation got any more useful from there would be a lie. Greenwood treats it too casually, almost infuriatingly so considering the situation they’re in, but Bruce is able to remain patient despite it all, and Dick looks like he’s biting his tongue. Though, as if catching wind of this, the detective decides to finally move things in a meaningful direction, and offers for them to head to the station – which is conveniently when the diner was about a minute or so away from closing. Which, Bruce takes notice of how Greenwood pays as they move to stand. A Rose Bank card, huh? That’s… new.

Even as both vigilantes readily take the opportunity to meet the detective at the station, and in his office, the quietness at the city gnaws at Bruce.

Of course it bothers him more than he’ll ever let on, but it gets to him all the same. It doesn’t help that Bruce can’t explain it, but the silence itself feels like a taunt of sorts. Like a jab at him specifically – a show of how in all his years of being Batman and trying to look after this city for as long as he has, it’s only now, under mysterious circumstances and in the midst of this disaster of a situation, is the city finally quiet. Even if it’s not in the way Bruce wants it to be. Especially since it’s not the way Bruce would have wanted it to be.

Whoever’s behind this has got a real funny sense of humor, Bruce will give them that.

… Eventually, Greenwood reappears and greets the pair – seemingly unfazed by the fact that they’re already in his office, even if he does make a show of acting a little shocked. Hm.

“I assume you’ve gone through the files I’ve had out already?” It’s a promising start, at least. Especially when compared to being offered coffee just moments before.

Still, Bruce just narrows his eyes, and Dick remains… oddly quiet – something that’s starting to make Bruce question if he made the right choice with bringing him along. Though, there’s no time for regrets now, is there? “Among other things. Your investigation has been…”

“Confusing? Nonsensical? Well… I can’t really blame you there. Everything dealing with them seems odd at best. Alien, perhaps, at worst.”

Bruce raises a brow under the cowl, only for them to furrow a second after. “Alien?”

Greenwood nods, “Put simply, yes. Some of the rituals performed by this group in the past have made little to no sense, and can vary in… well, intensity, so to speak. I’m sure you’ve heard about what happened the other day? It’s unfortunate and upsetting, yes- but it does tie into a theme this group seems to exhibit with everything they do.” Opening a file, he lays it out on the table, and the pictures shown are not for the faint of heart. To even say they were grotesque is putting it lightly. “Sacrifice.”

“... The human sacrifice kind?” Dick asks, but for a strange reason, Bruce already gets the feeling his son knows the answer – something that only makes him more unsure of all this, even if, strangely enough, a part of him is starting to almost accept it?

Regardless, Greenwood shakes his head. “Not quite, even if I don’t blame you for jumping to that straight away. Their version of sacrifice seems more… personal, or at least to differ greatly depending on the ritual. It’s hard to say what people are making these sacrifices for- but if you’ve talked with anyone who may be in this group, their reasons tend to differ. Like they were all promised something that caters to them specifically, and thus whatever it is, through these rituals- they are making the necessary sacrifice for it. Such as their eyes, legs, arms, heart, soul-”

“Life.” Bruce finishes, and Greenwood nods. Though, with all of this, only one question seems obvious. “How does the head of the group even know what someone would be willing to make such big sacrifices for? Especially if they’re all personalized.”

“That’s where the weird part comes in, since… well, in all my time as a detective working on this case- I haven’t been able to figure that out. At a certain point, they seem to just know.”

Bruce’s brows further knit together, and his eyes narrow further, “That doesn’t make any sense-”

[“Hey~ Bats? Yeah… you know those bodies you had me and the kid snoop around for-? Which, you owe me big time for this, just fyi.” Selina’s voice rings through the commlink.]

Bruce pauses, left staring at Greenwood while Dick glances at him. The detective raises a brow.

[“Well, we’ve only got a couple of empty caskets from the couple of thugs that were from Gotham, just a bunch of that weird powder you’ve been obsessing over.” There’s a brief pause before she adds, “Kid thinks this is how they make the stuff. If so, with all the followers they have, and assuming they’re just as ‘devoted’ as the one’s we’re looking for? I think we’re way in over our heads here, B.”]

The vigilante didn’t even get a chance to respond, as an odd smirk grew on Greenwood’s face. “That’s the signal, huh? Damn, and here I thought I’d get a few more minutes in. Such a shame, you folk are really on top of things. Reminds me a bit of myself in my earlier days, honestly.” A sickening pop sounds, followed by the sickening echo of cracks and grinding bones as John’s arm extends unnaturally long.

His fingers become as thin as pencil tips, only to get filled as some sort of mass builds from the inside, and grows so large it strains the skin until it pops. Strings of nerves try to reconnect where they shouldn’t, muscle moves to almost reconstruct a stronger, larger arm - with bits of left over skin and flesh moving with it. Nothing ever stops moving, like it can’t ever settle in one spot, and the sheer mass of it all can be seen moving and writhing under John’s skin. Trying to spread itself over parts of his body with its gift.

Finally, he removes his shades, and reveals irises with a pale star pattern that shouldn’t be possible. Something that flickers and moves, with the sclera pulsating with prominent, red veins that only seem to be itching their way closer to the iris with each growth of flesh his body manages to create and sustain. Like a parasite itching to feed, and having been left to starve, it latches onto the side of his face, and practically devours his eye lid - revealing the muscle underneath, and using the mass of the skin to add to the muscular arm – which can hardly hold itself at the end, and comes undone in a pile of fleshy, squelching tendrils that wiggle and inch towards the heroes.

“Well, it’s as they say.” John chuckles, voice already breaking apart, and already beginning to sound wrong in every way. “It’s parents who make the ultimate sacrifice for their children.”

With that, the amalgamation of flesh in human form vaults over the desk, and grins as it launches itself forward, ”IT'S TIME FOR ME TO SEE MY LITTLE GIRL! You surely understand, don’t you, Man of BATS?!” A giggle in too high of a pitch escapes it, and more teeth could be seen peeking out from its gums.

Bruce and Dick are quick to dodge out of the way, and Cassandra is quick to use her cloak to cut all the lights in the station, but the office itself is left in a darkness only the blackness of space could replicate. Jason quickly jumps in, and the four get to work to subdue the creature.

The fight itself is a gross sight for numerous reasons. Acid is spit from the bellows of the organism's stomach, and yet sticks to any surface like a thick layer of pus. The flesh that makes up its arm travels along the body it now puppets, and tries to grab and become a part of all who come into contact with it. Even as shots and countless blows are done to it, all it does is laugh as it continuously launches itself forward haphazardly – as if chasing some sort of high. The fat of the torso is taken for tendrils that shoot out of its back and more flesh to enhance its own combat ability. The muscle and bone of the legs is consumed to enlarge the ribs and spine - making a whole other mouth that’s all bone and made vertically come out of it, and where the organs have moved to? Who’s to say.

Even as it’s thrown through the glass of the office, and the scratches make the thing bleed, it moves to stand and continue the fight – as if it can’t feel anything else, or, rather, it’s so focused on chasing that it’s able to ignore the pain? It’s hard to say, but laughs begin to mix with shrieking screams that ripped its throat and ruptured the stomach.

It was all messy, sloppy, and at some point, most were rushing to find a means to light it on fire – and when the opportunity came in the boiler room, and the most unlikely of them flicked the match as he tried to catch his breath? The nightmare refused to go down without the last say, despite never being given such a luxury.

“IT’S TOO LATE! THE NEW DAWN IS BOUND TO RISE, AND ONCE IT DOES WE WILL ALL BE REWARDED!! THE SUN, DRESSED IN RED SEES ALL, AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT! ALL PREPARATIONS HAVE ALREADY BEEN MADE! THE WATERS ARE BOILING! THOSE NOT AWAKENED WILL SEE! THE CHILDREN WILL SING ONCE AGAIN! AHAHA! THE EARTH COULD STOP ON ITS AXIS AND IT WOULDN’T STOP THE RE-”

Only for its violating, cries of praise to its lord and religion to swiftly be cut off by nothing but a bullet to its melting head that's flesh was tearing away at the skull of the human that once remained underneath.

“Thank god, he finally shut up-” Jason scoffed, only to cough as the smoke began to rise and he rushed out – following the others.

Outside of the station, they all tried to catch their breath. Beaten one way or another, but alive, and untouched. Still human, in spite of everything, and breathing through their own healthy lungs that weren’t nearly pulsating out of their chests.

The quiet streets remain, leaving only them. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother them now. They almost don’t notice it, and despite no words being spoken, they all come to a collective understanding.

When the commlink crackles to life, Bruce hardly reacts, and when he hears his youngest son’s voice – he feels like he knows everything just before he speaks.

[“Father?”]

“Yes… we understand now, too.” So, with this new information, and more being fed to them, they all head back home together. Now knowing what must be done, even without all the pieces put together. Almost as if, in a way, they just know now. Like something is telling them, and the more it gives. The more they need it.

The waters of the Earth begin to boil as it prepares to cry, one last time.

[szaryherbatnik]

Oh i missed drawing in a sketchbook hello new sketchbook hello farryn

Just some random birds and shep because he blessed my sketchbook

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 4)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: surprisingly enough, another creation from my own mind.

word count: 1,253k

summary: a trip out for dinner reminds you of just how much support you have.

genre: comfort/fluff warnings: grief, struggling, feeling of hopelessness? possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here chapter 2: here chapter 3: here

The next few days felt like they were moving in slow motion. Each morning you woke up, the weight of everything that had happened seemed to settle deeper in your bones, but you still put on a brave face. For Alexia. For the team. For yourself, even though that felt like a losing battle at times.

You spent most of your time either on the pitch or in your apartment, the latter mostly spent avoiding your thoughts and feeling your grief settle into your body like an anchor that refused to let go. Alexia had made it clear that she was there for you, but there was something inside you that still couldn’t let her in completely. Not yet. Not when it still felt too raw.

On the surface, things seemed to be going back to normal. You went to training, you smiled when required, and you participated when you had to, but it was all like you were moving through a fog, distant and disconnected from everything around you. You could hear the chatter, the banter from the team, but it felt muffled, like you were underwater.

The media wasn’t helping, either. Every interview, every appearance, always came with that dreaded question about your parents. It was like they could sense the vulnerability in your eyes, the cracks that were barely visible but enough to leave you shaking after each public moment. You wanted to shout, to tell them to leave you alone, but you knew it wasn’t just about you anymore. You had to live with the spotlight, even if it made your heart ache.

That’s when the texts from your aunt began.

Each message felt like a small jab to your already bruised soul. She wanted to meet again. She said it was time to “discuss the future” and how you’d handle everything that was left behind. The mere thought of it made your skin crawl.

You hadn’t responded to her at all. You knew exactly what she wanted, what she was after - anything she could claim as her own. You weren’t going to let her take what little you had left.

The day after another brutal press conference, you found yourself sitting in the locker room with Alexia. Everyone else had left to grab food, but you stayed behind, sitting on the bench with your head in your hands, the exhaustion from holding everything together for the past few days finally catching up to you.

Alexia walked in quietly, and without saying a word, she sat beside you, her presence a steady force next to you. You didn’t look up at first, but you felt her eyes on you, the concern in them almost tangible.

“Chica,” she said softly, her voice laced with warmth and something else. Worry? Fear? You couldn’t be sure.

You finally looked at her, meeting her gaze with a half-hearted smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine, really.”

Alexia didn’t buy it, of course. She leaned in slightly, her face closer now, close enough for you to feel the soft warmth of her breath. “You don’t look fine, amor.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, trying to wipe away the frustration, the ache. “It’s just… everything. It feels like it's all crashing down on me, and I can’t get away from it. Not even for a second.”

Alexia nodded in understanding, her expression softening, her hand brushing lightly against your arm. “I know. I know it’s hard. But you’re not alone in this, Y/N. You don’t have to go through it by yourself.”

You met her gaze again, and for the first time in a while, you felt something like relief - like you could finally admit to yourself that you needed help. But then, just as quickly, the weight of your aunt’s messages flooded your mind, and you felt the tension return.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t know if I can face her again. I don’t know how to make it all stop.”

Alexia’s hand found yours, her fingers wrapping around yours tightly, grounding you in the moment. “You don’t have to do it alone, I told you that. And we’ll face her together. You have your team, and you have me. Don’t forget that, okay?”

You blinked back the tears threatening to fall, fighting to keep the storm inside at bay. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Alexia - it was that you couldn’t bring yourself to fully let anyone in. Not yet. Not when everything still felt so fragile.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” you muttered, feeling the weight of those words more than you wanted to.

Alexia’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it was as if the whole world outside of the locker room had faded away. All that mattered was the two of you, sitting there in silence, the bond between you unspoken but clear.

“You are stronger than you think,” she said gently, squeezing your hand. “And when you feel like you’re not, I’ll be here. And the team will be here. We’ve got you, Y/N.”

You nodded, a lump in your throat as you squeezed her hand back. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to do this alone. Maybe, this time, you could lean on someone who truly cared.

A couple of days later, Alexia insisted that you accompany her to dinner with a few of the others. You had been avoiding social situations, sticking mostly to your apartment or training, but Alexia was determined, and you couldn’t say no. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face the world again, but for her, you would try.

The restaurant was quiet, and as soon as you walked in, a few of the team members - Mapi, Lucy, Keira, and Ingrid - waved at you from their corner booth. You forced a smile and made your way over, the familiar faces a welcome distraction from the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for days.

“¿Cómo estás?” Mapi asked, her tone gentle but probing. You could see the concern in her eyes, the way she was waiting for the truth.

You sighed, shifting in your seat as you avoided eye contact for a moment. “I’m managing. Just… trying to keep going.”

Keira smiled softly. “It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know. We get it. And we’ll be here, no matter what.”

Lucy chimed in, her accent thick as always. “Yeah, and if you ever need to talk - or if you want us to come smash a few things together - just say the word.”

That earned a small laugh from you, something that felt foreign and strange after all this time. But it felt good. Real. Like you didn’t have to carry the weight of your grief alone.

“Thanks, chicas,” you whispered, feeling the tears start to sting again. “I… I don’t know what I’d do without you all.”

Alexia reached over and squeezed your hand under the table, offering a soft smile. “You’ll never have to find out, cariño. You’ve got us. Always.”

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to believe her.

The world outside was still chaotic. Your aunt still lingered like a shadow, waiting to make her move. But you didn’t have to face it all right now. Right now, you had the people who loved you by your side. And for now, that was enough.

[caelisblade]

༉‧₊˚. favorite crime - fushiguro toji

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: one moment, you were doing something as basic as taking out the trash (like, literally), the next moment you were getting fucked by a wanted felon who pretty much broke into your place in hopes you‘d harbor him for a few minutes until the coast was clear. who knew the thrill of crime was so exhilarating you needed a quick one-night-stand to come back to your senses? or did you lose your mind entirely and just didn‘t notice in the process of being fucked into tomorrow?

༉‧₊˚. warnings: you literally f/uck murderer!toji lol, unprotected s/ex, c/unnilingus, f/ingering, he calls you princess (like, a lot of times), toji talks A LOT like dude shut up lmao

༉‧₊˚. this was entirely inspired by a scene in the rookie where lucy made up a cover story for how juicy and dim met, it's basically that but with toji. this is a repost from my jujutsu kaisen blog @/tojisblade. i am currently in the process of combining both of my blogs into one.

he was in so much fucking trouble. 

never did he even think the cops were onto him, god, the fucking cops in plain clothes, they were in the same club he was as he was adding poison into his target’s drink. they literally saw him poison the drink. now they were running after him, trying to catch him. 

toji quickly ran into a massive apartment complex as he tried to flee the scene, the cops nearby behind him. looking around to see if there was anyone or any place he could hide, as he still ran. 

it was like fate when you opened the door, purely by coincidence. you were getting out to take out your trash as you saw him running frantically. “hey, are you oka–“, you started out asking, but got interrupted. 

“listen to me. the cops are after me and i need a hideout. can i stay in for a moment until they leave?”, he said, frantically. 

“w-what?”, you stuttered, completely caught off-guard. 

“fuck, just shut up”, he groaned before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside of your apartment. 

“hey! what do you think you’re doing?!”, you exclaimed, still not completely getting what was going on. you had dropped the bag in shock as he pulled you in. 

“shut. up!”, he hissed, looking out of the window, just to see the two cops who were after him walking around the apartment complex with their guns drawn and flashlights turned on as they cleared every corner. “shit.”

he looked around, trying to figure out what he could possibly do with his situation before he finally faced you. “okay, listen. my name is fushiguro toji, and i am being chased by the cops out there. i know, i’m just a stranger, but trust me, i am not going to hurt you, despite how this all seems like, considering the cops are after me.”

“uh… yeah, duh”, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“roll those eyes at me again and i’ll reconsider”, he immediately continued, tone turning threatening almost immediately. “do not fucking interrupt me, princess.”

“fine, talk. you just broke into my apartment, so i do deserve some explanation. start talking, or i’ll kick you out for the cops to find you.”

“and I apologize for the break-in. i swear i don’t plan on hurting you because that is just unnecessary evil, even for me. i just need a couple of minutes here to hide, so that i can run in peace. is that okay?”, toji asked. you were so convinced you had lost your damn mind when you nodded and agreed that he could stay over for a couple of minutes. 

“if the cops knock, i am not here”, toji emphasized again, making sure you got it. you held yourself back from rolling your eyes again. you might’ve needed a moment to understand what was going on, but you were not dumb. 

as if on cue, there was a loud knock, startling you. you stayed quiet as you pointed at the bathroom for toji to hide. your heart was beating so fast, as you went to the door and asked; “who is there?”

“police department. we want to ask you a few questions”, the officer yelled back. 

“can you please identify yourself?”, you stalled as you checked if toji had hidden. you looked through the peephole as the cops held up their detective badges before you smiled softly and opened the door for the cops. 

“what seems to be the problem, detectives?”, you asked gently. 

“we are in search of a murderer going by the name, fushiguro toji. black haired, very tall and muscular. last seen wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. he is classified as extremely dangerous. we last saw him entering this apartment complex. have you seen him, by any chance?”, the officer asked. 

you pretended to think a little before you shook your head. “nope. i was actually on my way out to take out my trash so, i was inside the whole time.”

“alright, ma’am, please give us a call if you see or remember anything. would you want us to accompany you when you go outside, in case you don’t feel safe?” one of the two detectives handed you a card with his contact details as he spoke and offered his company. 

you nodded at the offer, tagging along as you took out your trash and thanked the officers for the help. “could you possibly tell me a little about that person you’re looking for? perhaps that will help me with my memory or something i can watch out for in the future?”

“i cannot disclose any details yet as it is an ongoing investigation, however, the current m.o of the suspect is that he uses poison in his victim’s drinks. so, perhaps just watch out for your drink the next time you’re out partying.”

“thank you, officers. i can return to my apartment alone, thank you for the company. i’ll uh… let you know if I see something”, you said goodbye to the officers before turning around. 

“goodbye, ma’am, have a good night”, they said in unison. 

you quickly headed back, your entire body was literally on fire after that short conversation and the fact that you were literally harboring a felon – a literal murderer – in your apartment had you shaking to your core. once you locked your apartment and made sure the cops were gone, you were suddenly pushed to the wall next to the door. “good girl. you did great”, Toji had you cornered, smirking at you as you looked at him with big eyes, shocked by his sudden action. 

“thank you”, you whispered back, not trusting your own voice. the little nickname caused you to subconsciously clench your legs together. his arm was over your head on the wall, cornering you between his huge body and the wall. “you’re not so bad yourself. out on several murder charges, huh?”

“so, you asked about me, didn’t you?”, toji chuckled, biting his lip. “yeah… what about it? you scared?”

“i should be, shouldn’t i? but god, it makes you oddly attractive and interesting. so, tell me, what is that all about?”, you ask then, a little smile sneaking onto your lips. “a murder suspect in my apartment, who insists on promising me that he won’t hurt me, hm?”

“attractive and interesting?”, Toji chuckled. “i may or may not have added some extra ingredient to some dickhead’s drink.” He casually shrugged, eyeing you up and down. 

“so, that was why they said to be careful of my drinks next time i’m out partying, huh?”, you replied. 

“i would never add some additional ingredient to your drink, princess”, toji taunted before he suddenly leaned in and kissed you. you couldn’t help but immediately melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck, as his one hand wrapped around your thigh and lifted it up around his hip. 

everything felt so surreal. one moment you were literally taking out your trash, the next you were not only harboring a murderer in your apartment, but also about to fuck him.

the kiss was so full of fire, so much passion and there was nothing but carnal desire and need – it was like the fact that he was a murderer, a wanted felon, flew right over your head. you simply couldn’t care less about it because, fuck, the entire situation was so incredibly hot, the fact that the cops were still around searching the premises was making you feel so tingly. 

“mhm, princess, you taste so sweet. i wonder if your pussy tastes just as sweet, hm?”, he whispered against your lips, smirking. “will you let me have a taste?”

“maybe… but maybe i won’t. you’ve got to earn it, mister.”

“what a tease, princess. but you know what, you shouldn’t tease me, because believe me, i can do better than that”, he continued, before he leaned back in to kiss you once more as you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, your eyes going up and down over his very toned and muscular body. 

and you felt so insanely lucky to think about the fact that his body would be on top of you or underneath you in just a couple of minutes. 

“so, you wanna move this over to the bedroom or are you not that much of a gentleman and just fuck your women against a cold ass wall?”, you giggled.

“oh, I sure as hell do not keep my women cold and standing, mh? wouldn’t be so fair if i fuck you into oblivion and don’t give you a comfortable place to come down from the highs i give you, hm?”

“someone’s cocky. but alas, unfortunately, there has been nothing but talk so far, honey”, you reply, giggling before you squealed in shock as he lifted you up over his shoulder. 

“where’s the bedroom, princess?”, he asked, voice rough. “need to teach you how to properly speak to me before i reward you with pleasure you have never felt in your life before.”

when you pointed to the room, he immediately went in and dropped you onto your bed, quickly climbing onto you, practically ripping apart your clothes. “god, princess, you’re so hot, so gorgeous underneath me”, he groaned, lips wandering down to your tits before he wrapped them around your one nipple, sucking and licking over the sensitive nub. your body arched into him as you let out a whine and toji smirked, enjoying the way you responded to his touch. 

“reacting so fucking perfectly for me, princess. can’t wait to get a taste of your pretty pussy”, he teased. “did i earn it yet, princess?”

you nodded frantically. “fuck, just get to it”, you whined. 

“so bossy, princess. such a good little slut for the murderer you harbored in your home and protected without knowing what dangers could possibly await you”, he snickered, “does it excite you? knowing you lied to cops for me, for someone you don’t even know? for the murderer you’re about to fuck?” toji’s lips wandered down your body, slowly reaching your pussy and he pulled your panties aside to lick over your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds as he spread your legs apart with his hands. 

“fuck don’t stop!”, you cried out, back arching again into his grip around your waist. 

he looked up at you, smirking as some saliva was running down his chin, and he was watching your every reaction. toji had grown obsessed with how well you reacted to his touch, his tongue over your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit. “reacting so prettily for me, princess. want more? want me to fuck you? i’ll bring literal heaven to you, princess. if you let me.”

you were nodding once again, fingers buried in his hair as he lowered his head back again to your pussy and you felt two of his fingers against your entrance, slowly slipping in and fingering you slowly. your eyes widened in surprise, you let out a choked sob as his fingers hit your sweet spot – you cried out as he continued with the constant stimulation. 

“please, toji, fuck me, please?”, you whined, attempting to pull him closer back on top of you. however, he was obviously way stronger than you and could stay where he was with no trouble at all. 

“it’s rude to interrupt a man while he’s eating, princess”, he grunted, “let me make you cum first on my mouth, princess, then i’ll fuck you.”

you whined as he increased his finger’s pace, continuing the sweet torture on your pussy with his lips as well and your hips were jolting up as you got closer to your release. a cry left your lips as you begged him not to stop and felt him smirk against your clit, promising not to stop until you came for him. 

it didn’t take too long for him to fulfil that promise. the way everything practically shattered around you had you thinking about the last time you had felt this much pleasure at once. “holy shit”, you choked up. “that was… intense.”

“told you, princess, i’ll bring literal heaven to you”, he smirked, slowly climbing on top of you and watching you come down from your high. “did i keep my promise, princess?”

“you sure as hell did. but…”, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer for a kiss, “if you don’t put that damn cock of yours inside me anytime soon, i bet the cops will be very interested in knowing where you’re hiding.”

“you little minx… don’t worry, princess. i gave you a promise and i intend to keep it. you’re about to have the most intense night of your life.”

as he pulled down his jeans, your eyes widened as you saw his cock’s girth and length. you had already assumed that he was big, considering his big ass ego, but you didn’t expect this. he noticed your hesitation and laughed lightly. “don’t worry, princess, i won’t hurt you.”

“you’re a wanted criminal, do you think I trust your word?”

“i promised i wouldn’t hurt you and i kept that promise. i told you i would bring you to heaven and i did keep that promise, too, didn’t i?”

you considered his arguments and shrugged. he had a good point with that. 

“so, do you believe me when i tell you i won’t hurt you?”

You nodded. 

he smiled softly at you before he aligned his tip with your entrance, pulling your panties aside once more and finally, pushed his cock inside slowly, inch by inch, slowly getting you used to his size. your back arched when he was buried inside of you fully, a tear rolling down your cheek as your body was basically on fire. 

“you’re so tight, princess, feels so good”, he groaned, waiting for a moment to let you adjust to the stretch. “can’t wait to fuck this tight and perfect pussy of yours.”

“please, fuck me”, you whimpered, nails raking over his back as he slowly started a tender, gentle pace and before you knew it, he was starting to build a merciless, brutal rhythm, making your tits bounce with the frantic way he was thrusting into you.

the sound of his hips snapping against yours had your eyes rolls back, your legs were wrapped around his waist as you held onto him and you were pleading him not to stop, practically crying and he fucked you so good like you never had been before. 

“goddamn it, princess, you’re so fucking hot when you get fucked like this. do you like how i fuck you, hm?”, he rasped, lips wandering over your neck. His hips stuttered as pleasure like he never felt before coursed through his body, getting closer and closer to the edge. “i’m going to cum, princess, where do you want me to cum, hm? on your pretty tits? in your mouth, so you’ll have to swallow every single drop? or maybe inside of your tight, perfect pussy, hm? give you a good old load of me and make you feel it drip down your thighs when i pick you up and fuck you against the wall over there?”

his words had your eyes roll back at the visual. “please, inside”, you whined, sobbing as you clenched around him and finally reached your peak, coming around him again, sputtering in pleasure. “fuck, toji”, you practically wailed. 

“am i keeping my promise, princess?”

“yes, fuck, you are, stop asking me that and cum in me”, you groaned in annoyance. 

“still so bossy, princess”, he laughed before he continued his rough pace and shortly after let out a choked breath, hips stilling as he came inside of you. toji wasn’t moving at all, trying to come down from his high while he relaxed his body. “fuck, princess, you feel so incredible.”

“oh, fuck, this was better than anything i have ever felt before.”

“i’m glad i got to prove to you how good i can fuck you”, he chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and laying down next to you. 

“hey, i thought you were going to fuck me against the wall and have your cum drip down my thighs?!”

“you wanna go again?”

“hell fucking yes”, you snorted and squealed when he got up on his feet and pulled you up before pushing you against the wall, lifting your legs around his waist as he kept you up against the wall and quickly slid his cock back inside of you, fucking you again and bringing you to yet another earth-shattering orgasm and another one. 

and the most exhilarating part of this was that you could hear the detectives through the thin walls, discussing their next move to finally find the guy who currently had his cock buried deep inside of you. 

the one who you had lied to the cops to, making you an accessory to the murder he had committed.

but you couldn’t care less about it, because goddamn, this was the best fuck you had gotten in your entire life. 

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 15/?)

Series Masterlist

115 ac

Your Pov

Sit next to Aegon as Ali gets dressed for his second nameday celebration. She's wearing a pretty red dress, but I think she looks better in blue. 

I look down at my dress, it's a pretty red with gold embroidery of dragons on my chest. But I wanted to wear my pink and silver dress but Papa said that would be impractical and we needed to show our house colors. 

I look down at Aegon when he says my name, well at least something close. 

“What Aegon?” I ask as he holds up his wooden dragon.

“Oh well thank you.” I say as he hands it to me before going to grab his other one. I look down at the dragon, these used to be mine before I gave them to Aegon. I remember Kepus and I playing with these together. But they're no longer mine so I must accept the bite marks along the tails and the chips on the spines.

“Roar!” Aegon yells shoving his wooden dragon in my face. It startles me to the point I gasp and fall back on my hands.

“Aegon darling, nice play remember?” Ali says from her seat in front of her vanity as her maids do her hair.

Aegon pouts before looking back at me. “Sowy.” He says moving forward to hug me. 

“It’s alright, you just spooked me.” I say hugging him back before kissing his brow and letting him play again.

I stand before turning to Ali. She looks so beautiful, I hope I look as beautiful as her when I'm married. But I also notice how tired she is. How she seems like she hasn't rested in days, mayhaps moons. And I know why, it's the babe she winces each time it kicks or moves. 

Just like Mama did with baby Baelon. I think before shaking the thoughts from my mind. There is no use for them, they only bring sadness to a happy day. 

“Look at you, my darling girl.” Ali says from her plush brown armchair, her feet propped up by a small stool with feather pillows atop it. “You look lovely, though I know you wished to wear another dress and for that I am sorry.” 

I shake my head as I walk over to her and rest my hand upon her round belly. I feel each movement, each kick, it seems almost like magic itself is inside Ali but I know it is the gods gift to women not magic.

“It isn't your fault, besides Papa has his reasons.” I respond with a tight smile. 

Ever since Aegon was born Papa has been…irritable. At times I wonder if he is even cruel. He says such awful things at times, specifically to Ali. I don't understand why, nor do I want to. For if he can be that cruel outwardly what is his mind like?

I feel Ali rest her hand over mine tapping each of my fingers to get my attention once more.

“You have been lost in thought lately. Is your studies too difficult? Tiring perhaps? Your Father has put much stress upon you, I don't blame you for being tired.” 

I feel my heart squeeze at her words. No one has noticed my tiredness, my lack of excitement. I know I need these lessons, that I need to learn how to rule. But at times I wonder if Papa remembers the girl who loved to fly, who loved to dance at feasts, who wanted to play and laugh. I at times find the answer to be he doesn't. Or more likely he doesn't care. 

But instead of laying all my worries upon Ali I only shake my head with a joyful smile. “I'm fine, I need to learn how to rule so I can be a great Queen.” 

It's there for only a second before she gives it. Pity. She knows I'm lying, knows I panic at times to the point I can hardly breathe. But she lets me have this, let's me have my fib, if only for now.

“Good.” She says before looking at Aegon and then the clock.

“I think it's time to go. Wouldn't want your twos Father wondering where we are.” 

The walk down to the council room is long, but also feels like a blur. I feel the eyes of court on me, feel them assessing my posture which I know is straight after my new Septa, Septa Joy, made me stand and walk back and forth for hours each day until she deemed it perfect. The name Joy does not match that woman at all. 

I know not why Papa made me switch Septas, why he separated me from Laena and Nymeria. Only that he deemed I needed a stricter woman to guide me than the sweet Septa Martha. 

I know my dress has no wrinkles as I had to learn how to sit properly so as not to ruin a dress. I know my hair is perfectly braided around my head because Ali did it. I know I look the perfect Lady, the perfect Princess, the perfect heir. 

But just as I know how I look I know how different I feel. I don't feel like me at times, I feel like a character in my books. Like I'm playing a part in a play like those fools and jesters Papa brings to feasts. 

I don't feel like me anymore. Unless I'm with Laena and Nymeria or Ali. They know me, they care for me, they don't care if I seem proper, they want me to play and have fun. But Papa? No, he sees the perfect Heir who will rule after him, and though it hurts he now talks to me, listens to my words, nothing like before where we only spoke at dinner and even then it was sparse. 

As we enter I hear them chant for Aegon, I can't help but smile. He is such a sweet boy and he deserves all this praise. 

“Ah there's my boy!” Papa says before taking Aegon from Alis arms. 

This Papa is so different to the one at dinner. He is joyful, laughing, but at dinner he is quiet, cold even. It's a bit jarring to see but I know better than to ask why he has changed his attitude. 

“Ah! And my heir and Queen as well. What a lovely surprise.” Papa says almost jokingly but I see the look he gives us. 

You should've been here sooner.

“Yes, terribly sorry for our untimeliness, I'm afraid the babe was lively this morrow.” Ali responds for us with a tight lipped smile. 

“No need to apologize, you both look lovely by the way.” Papa says as he tries and makes Aegon laugh with silly faces.

I sigh looking down at my dress once more. It truly is pretty, just not beautiful like my pink one.

“May I say the young Prince looks just like you, Your Grace?” Some Lord says from beside Papa. I take this as my leave to find Laena and Nymeria.

I push past Lords and Ladies who grumble as I had taken their attention away from Aegon. But I don't care, this week I have the chance to finally play and be myself, not the perfect Princess with the kind smile even when a Lord or Lady is being rude. 

I find Laena and Nymeria quite quickly, for they are both giggling next to a platter of cold meats and cheeses. 

When I walk over Laena exclaimes my name before hugging me tightly. “I'm so excited! I heard there is a white heart in the forest.” 

I think about the story of the white heart, how if a man killed it he was destined to be King. Of how it is a symbol of power but also of peace. And for some reason I hope it is not killed, for it is often called the King of the forest and if man needs rulers then so do animals. 

“I wonder if it will get caught, perhaps I should have Daisy fly out and scout for it.” Nymeria says, taking a sip of her lemon water. 

I frown at the thought of Nymeria's Ill tempered hawk. The bird only listens to her and claws and pecks at anyone else who walks past. 

I would much rather Daisy stay here but if she truly wishes for the bird to come I will not deny her. I think before reaching for a piece of cold honeyed ham. 

“Perhaps not, she is a beautiful bird but I think she needs to be trained on how to be nicer.” Laena says and I can't help but giggle at Nymeria's shocked face.

“Daisy is an amazing bird!” She demands but then frowns when she notices Laenas wrist where Daisy clawed at her for no reason besides walking by.

“She is an amazing bird, though just not as amazing with others.” I say with a shrug before taking a bite of a raspberry and honey cake. 

Laena nods her head in agreement before we are interrupted by Nymeria's sister Myrielle.

“Sorry to interrupt but I need my sister for a moment.” She says before gliding by Nymeria groaning behind her.

Laena and I watch as they leave before looking at one another again and giggling at the fact Nymeria will probably be told her brown dress isn't suited for the festivities. 

“I heard Myrielle is betrothed to the Queen's brother Lorenet.” Laena says with a smirk before pointing to the man in question. 

I take him in, he looks like Ali. From the auburn hair to the pale freckled cheeks. Though his hair seems straight compared to her curls. 

“He's handsome.” I say before turning to look back at Laena again.

Laena only hums before taking a sip of her lemon water assessing the Lord as if it were life or death. “But why him? She could be with someone with more power so why him?” 

I frown at the question, for she's right, why him? He has no lands besides what his uncle gives him, no wealth of note. So why him and not another of more influence?

“Maybe she loves him? That's always a good reason to marry.” I say which seems to satisfy Laena’s curiosity for now. 

We continue to gossip back and forth on what we've heard throughout the Keep. “And I heard that Lady Sofia Swann was caught indisposed with a stable boy.” Laena says just as Papa walks over to us. 

I notice his look of distress mixed with anger and already know who has caused it. “Have you seen your sister? She was to be here almost an hour ago.” 

I only shake my head watching as he moves about asking lords and ladies if they have seen my sister.

“Why would he ask you? Why would you know, she never was kind to you.” Laena says with a scowl towards Papa.

I shrug with a sigh. “Probably because he doesn't want to admit me and Rhaenyra’s distance. Or should I say a relationship that never even formed.” I say with an annoyed sigh. 

I know Papa doesn't want to admit me and Rhaenyra don't get along, I've tried, I know I have. But no matter how hard I try she pushes me away, hurts me with cruel words or hands. At some point I just…stopped. I stopped caring if she loved me, I stopped caring if she looked my way, I just stopped caring. 

“Seven hells, when is this hunt gonna begin!” Laena groans out as she watches as men guzzle wine and ladies sip tea. I can't help but giggle at her obvious disappointment in the activities of this small feast. There is only so much gossip girls can do before they've said it all. 

“Let us hope it will be soon.” I say watching as Ali walks out of the council room for some reason. 

I look to see who has Aegon to find Papa does. I frown at this, Papa doesn't spend much time with Aegon and yet he is telling stories left and right about him. It is odd that Papa has so many, or Papa is fibbing which is much more likely. 

“He looks so much like the Queen don't you think?” Nymeria asks out of the blue. We both turn to find her in a new dress, this one a pretty pink with yellow lace along the hem. I have to fight the jealousy that rises in me at the sight. 

“I think so, but Papa and the rest of the court says he looks like him. I think he had Papa's hair, and his Violet eyes are similar to Papa’s. But other than that he looks like Ali.” I say to which Laena and Nymeria nod in agreement.

“So what do you think the Quee–” Laena starts before Papa announces  it is time to depart to the Kings woods. 

“Well I hope you all have a wonderful ride up there. Let us pray my carriage won't be too tension-filled.” I say before a giggle erupts from me as Nymeria and Laena pretend to pray as they walk towards their carriages. 

I turn to mine to find little Aegon on his nursemaids lap, Papa smiling at him, Ali avoiding Rhaenyra’s stare, and Rhaenyra glaring daggers at Alis belly. 

Seems Laena and Nymeria's prayers didn't work. I think before climbing into the carriage for a long ride.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy @fallenxjas

[quinloki]

Quin's Terrible Two's

Here we are at the back half of the Tumblrversary event \o/ Some polls are closed, Some Are Still Going (go vote!)

The votes have been counted, the results have been assessed! Now it's time for What Happens Because of All of That <3

So without further ado -- /hands the results of the poll off to Thatch, who already seems to have things well in hand./

Izou's Domination

CW: One dom/two subs, shibari, bondage, orgasm denial, tickling, power play, mentions of established polycule, mentions of deep throating, mdni

Izou crushes the results delicately between his fingers, turning the paper into a crumpled ball before looking down at you.

“Open.” He commands, and you open your mouth.

Your arms are tied behind your back, and a delicate network of ropes hug your skin in floral patterns. Izou has already spent hours with you, tying you into the decorative shibari. He caught wind of you and Thatch’s plans to “prank” him and ended up several steps ahead of the both of you.

Slick from between your thighs has already stained the ropes down your legs, and your ass was already red because of it. Izou had said that a little brat like you had no place enjoying being tied up, and since you obviously were enjoying it, he needed to correct that. But the spanking only made you mewl more whorishly, so then he purposefully edged you while finishing the rest of the tie.

Your face was puffy and swollen, stained from tears after begging to be allowed to cum, but Izou was not one who bent to others.

“Drop it and I’ll ask Marco to edge you for the next five days.” He explains, his fingers keeping your mouth open. “And if you close your lips, it’ll be worse, my darling little flower. Do you understand?”

You nod your head. Izou walks you over to the large, heavy, dining table in the mess hall that Thatch is currently tied down to. The large man is covered in splatters of dried wax, soft red welts on the insides of his thighs from Izou’s hand - earned because he came without permission while Izou had held your head down onto his pubes, forcing you to deep throat him.

The prank you had in mind wasn’t even that bad, and was truly harmless, but Izou said it didn’t matter. The fact was you’d both agreed to prank him at all, and as your dom he wasn’t going to stand for it. This was a lesson he wanted to be sure you learned exceptionally well.

All six hours before the results of the poll were even handed to him.

Izou helps you up onto the table, steadying you as you straddle Thatch. The big cook whimpers when your wet pussy settles against his cock.

“Once you get all of him inside you,” Izou says, still helping you as you coat Thatch’s cock in your slick. “Stay still.”

“’Ock warh-ing?” You question awkwardly, trying to neither crush the paper ball in your mouth, nor drop it.

“Sure, cock warming, we’ll go with that.” Izou agrees, and Thatch groans.

It barely takes a minute for Thatch to be fully erect beneath you, and just a moment after that for you to work yourself down onto his length. As Izou’s beautiful little flowers, you and Thatch were used to being tangled up in one another in all sorts of ways, but it didn’t make Thatch’s impressive girth any smaller. The sweet stretch almost makes you moan, but you beat the pleasurable sound down.

Izou moves around you easily once you’re in place. He ties your ankles to Thatch’s thighs so that there’s almost no way for you to get off the cook’s cock on your own. After that he puts clamps on your nipples, and Thatchs’, connecting the clips with thin ropes. The tension forces you to lean forward a little, pressing your throbbing and needy clit into Thatch’s rough patch.

The incessant twinge of pain from the clamps is making you even more aware of Thatch’s cock twitching inside your stuff cunt.

“Perfect.” He hums, the ropes and table creaking a little when Thatch shifts a bit to relieve some of the tension building in his muscles. Izou himself was careful not to push either of you too far, and he was skilled at getting you out of predicaments very quickly.

But there was also nothing on the ship that could easily hold Thatch, either, so he was effectively a second layer of safety in the group. Not that anyone wanted to break the bench style table, but if it was a matter of it or your safety, Thatch wouldn’t hesitate.

Izou moves until he’s knelt behind you, settled between Thatch’s spread legs.

“The rules are simple. Whoever cums first will spend the rest of the week being edged and denied.” He explains simply. “I’ll press the whole ship into service if I need to, so accept your fate.” He adds icily, and you and Thatch don’t doubt his words.

“The one who holds out will be treated sweetly for the rest of the week, no matter what they do to the loser, so keep that in mind too.” He hums, walking his fingers lightly up Thatch’s legs until he reaches the soles of your feet.

You tense at the light touch, trying not to jerk. If you buck too much you’ll tug at you and Thatch’s nipples. Thatch can’t hurt you accidentally, he’s too well secured to the table. You’re only well secured to Thatch.

The crumpled paper against your tongue reminds you not to close your mouth as Izou’s fingers dance against your feet. The soft tingle builds and turns more and more into a ticklish sensation - a sensation that makes your body tense, and causes your pussy to clench against Thatch’s cock.

Thatch groans, understanding sinking in as you start to twitch and shiver.

“Ari,” you squeak, trying to apologize to Thatch without being able to speak properly. “Ari!” You gasp the odd apology, as Izou really begins to tickle your feet, making you clench and jerk. You can’t even babble the broken ‘sorry’ from your lips as the laughter bubbles up in your chest.

If you laugh you might drop the paper, or close your mouth, so instead you end up whimpering and gasping. Squeaky pleas for mercy replace the broken sorries falling from your tongue. The first time Izou grabs your waist you jerk and pull on the clamps, making Thatch buck. His hips push him deeper inside of you, grinding against your clit.

You can’t scream, or laugh, you’ll drop the paper, but your body can’t contain the ticklish touch of Izou’s deft fingers, and so your body jerks, wiggles and and rides Thatch’s cock. Every pleasure bites into both of you, but you’re the only one getting tickled.

Thatch is ticklish, you know he is, you’ve seen Marco lock him down while Izou tickles him to tears, but if Izou tickles Thatch he could accidentally break the table. It starts to drive you so crazy you lean forward and start grinding into Thatch.

You aren’t trying to get him off, but if you cum it’ll end the tickling from Izou. Your face is a mess, desperate and dripping tears and drool, and the sounds coming from you are a mix of whimpers from the tickling, and moans from the building pleasure.

You’re a mess on Thatch’s cock, desperate and horny, and he can’t take it. He starts matching your erratic movements as best as he can, bucking his hips up into you as you come down on him, grinding into your clit and bracing against the table to ground himself a little.

“Maybe if you lose, sweet flower,” Izou purrs, not too worried about whether or not you can hear him, but knowing Thatch won’t miss his words. “I’ll put you in a nice rope dress to keep you honest. You’d enjoy it, showing it off to the others, wouldn’t you? Letting Thatch inspect the knots during lulls in the kitchen.”

Izou’s gaze catches Thatch’s just before he puts a bruising kiss on your shoulder, making you cry out in surprise, shivering against Thatch’s cock from the sudden shift in sensations. He goes back to tickling you before you can recover, fingers dancing easily over your skin and the network of ropes.

“I’d love to put you on display on the main mast,” Izou purrs, taking a moment as you screech from the renewed tickling, whimpering as you nearly drop the paper ball. “Letting everyone look at you.”

Thatch’s face goes an impressive shade of red as his head falls back and he starts thrusting up into you so much that you’re forced to ride his cock from the action. Izou stops tickling you, keeping you steady inside as Thatch fucks you from his limited position.

You’ve got the paper ball caught delicately between your teeth, panting heavily around it, catching your breath from all the laughing. Izou’s impressed. He wants to mess you up, crush the ball between your teeth and make you cum until you’re sobbing from repeated orgasms, and he might just do that to you tomorrow.

Since Thatch is currently cumming inside you with the deepest rumbled growl of relief Izou’s heard from him in a long time. His entire body goes slack against the table as the afterglow sinks into his muscles. He’s going to have a rough few days ahead of him, but Izou will show Thatch mercy if his orgasm ban starts to affect his duties as division commander.

Bedroom delights are meant to stay in the bedroom, after all.

And maybe, occasionally, on one of the mess hall tables.

“Good job, beautiful flower.” Izou hums, unclamping your nipples and letting you lean back against him as he begins to tease your clit with one hand, making you milk Thatch’s cock with his other hand. “Thatch isn’t going to be able to cum for quite a few days, so you should do your best and wring him dry.”

[lizziesloopy]

NSFW ALPHABET W DARYL DIXON

A - Aftercare: I don’t care what anyone else says, Daryl is the master of aftercare. He’s always worried about you, so he always insists u rest and take a minute after u two do anything, and gets a warm washcloth or tissue to clean you up, and or water. If you’re the type to get tired after sex, he sleeps with you, lets u sleep on his chest while playing with your hair.

B - Body Part: He likes all of you equally, but he’s a sucker for your breasts and hips. I will DIE on this hill. Daryl has a thing for hips, holding them while he’s fucking you, keeping them down while he’s eating you out, brushing his thumb along them while kissing you.

C - Cum: Daryl has a breeding kink. He’s already generally protective of the people he cares about, especially you, and that doesn’t change in the bedroom. The idea of filling you up, cumming inside you, thats what does it for him.

D - Dirty Secret: Daryl is a pretty reserved guy, so I don’t think he’d ever admit to any kind of dirty secret unless you asked first. But, he secretly really likes the idea of you riding his face, and really likes the scent of you.

E - Expirience: The only expirience Daryl has is from before the apocalypse, and even then it was never all that good. He was usually intoxicated when he had the occasional one night stand, most of his sexual knowledge coming from Merle. But once he’s with you, he’s very eager to please you, whether he knows what he’s doing, he WILL make it his mission to learn.

F - Favorite Position: Contrary to popular belief, I think Daryl is a pretty vanilla guy. He mostly enjoys missionary, he likes to be able to see your face, and hold you close. He also likes spooning, it feels much more intimate, and it’s usually a go to for sleepy sex. He also never complains when you want to ride him because god does he love it. But I don’t think he’d like to bend you over something or do doggy style, he feels it’s too degrading or disrespectful.

G - Goofy: Things stay pretty passionate and serious between you too when being intamite. But, when something is akward and happens to be funny, a little laugh here and there isn’t unusual, especially in the beginning.

H - Hair: I mean, it’s an apocalypse, I don’t think people are all too focused on how well groomed thier bits are. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get crazy, keeps it tame, very clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of being unkempt down there, it’s uncomfortable. As for you, who could give two shits bush or bald, as long as he can get in there, he’s a happy man. And if he’s being honest, he’s likes when you have a little more hair because he likes the scent of you.

I - Intimacy: Daryl is extremely intimate nobody is changing my mind. I don’t understand how yall think this man would fuck you like an animal against a tree, absolutely not. He’s very private about your sex life and plans to keep it that way. He’s quiet overall, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely ravishing you. He likes being as humanly close to you as possible, whether that be spooning you, reverse cowgirl, pulling you impossibly close to him in missionary, anything.

J - Jack Off: Daryl isn’t much of a masturbater. Never has been. He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, and when he does, he has you. He’d rather have you than his hand, always.

K - Kink: Like I said, he’s pretty vanilla, but not to say he doesn’t enjoy a thing or two. He 100% has an oral fixation, going down on you or you going down on him, obsessed with it. He also likes pulling your hair every now and then, but never too hard.

L - Location: Only the bed. Yall are crazy for sayin ‘over a table’ ‘in the middle of the woods’ like what the FUCK are you on 😭. He’s a very private man, who prioritizes your comfort over anything else, therefore, the bed.

M - Motivation: I mentioned how he wouldn’t have a very high sex drive, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get turned on by you. If you’re in the mood, that’s his motivation. But also, seeing you all sweaty or working hard, or when he’s teaching you how to use his crossbow, seeing you use it, that turns him on hella.

N - NO: There’s a lot of no’s for Daryl when it comes to intimacy for you. He would never hurt you in any way shape or form, that consists of spanking, slapping, hitting, restraining, choking, etc. IF you asked him to choke you he’d be ok with doing it very lightly, but still worried. He’s not ok with risky/public sex, degrading you, and certain kinks like mommy/daddy. I hate when ppl say he’d have that, he’d hate it.

O - Oral: ORAL FIXATIONNNNNNNNNNN!!! This man is a certified MUNCH. Bro feasts like it’s his last meal alive. He love love loves that he can make you feel that good, because he’s exceptionally good with using his tongue, and has learned all the ways you like it. He likes watching the way you loose control of yourself, your face and your body. He also loooves when you go down on him, but he never says that. He actually has an extremely hard time containing himself when you suck him off. He usually doesn’t last long. Seeing you on your knees, looking at him through your eyelashes with his cock in your mouth, it’s his wet dream.

P - Pace: Depends. Depends on the mood, how you wanted, how you both are feeling, if he’s stressed, if he’s relaxed. I mentioned earlier he likes being intimate, therefore I’d say most of the time he’s not too fast or hard, maybe when he’s getting close or knows you’re getting close though. But times when he’s stressed, or he can tell you are, he’s a bit more fast paced with it.

Q - Quickie: Nope. 100% absolutely not. He despises the idea of rushing sex. He needs to feel comfortable in a safe environment where he knows he has time and there is no danger.

R - Risk: No risks. He doesn’t take risks with places, kinkiness, or new stuff. Unless you specifically say you want to try something and he’s ok with it, or he thinks it something, than nah. The only thing I could think of is he loves cumming in you, so there would be the risk of pregnancy if you are fertile.

S - Stamina: Depends again. He can go for long if you can, but when he’s tired, one round is enough to put him on his ass. But, just solely pleasuring you alone, he could do that all day.

T - Toy: He is definetly not opposed to anything that makes you feel good. If he were to ever stumble upon something on a run, or some other way, he’d definetly grab it. Using something like a vibrator or a dildo on you is definitely something he’s very open too, but when it comes to him, he’d rather not use anything.

U - Unfair: There is lots of teasing in your relationship in general, but when it comes to sexual teasing yes, but very subtle, never things other people would notice. But when it comes down to actual sex, neither of you like to be kept waiting.

V - Volume: He’s mostly quiet like usual. Grunts mostly, especially when he’s cumming, he usually burries his face in your shoulder to muffle himself. He loves to hear how vocal you are though. I think he could be a bit of a whimperer when you give him head too.

W - Wild Card: He doesn’t mind when you’re on your period, he’s just extra cautious with the mess. Puts a towel down or does it in the shower.

X - X Ray: He’s pretty big, not too big, but above average. It’s mostly the girth, cuz damn. Your first time with him had to be slow and steady because YOWCH.

Y - Yearning: Well, I already said this before but he had a medium sex drive, not awfully high. But if you do, especially if you’re younger than him, he’s more than happy to get you off. Eating you out, fingering you, letting you ride his thigh, whatever you want.

Z - zzzz: He gets pretty eepy 😴 He doesn’t like quickies because he likes to have his time with you, specifically time to cuddle you and sleep afterwards. Which is why he mostly prefer sex before bed/at night.

Hope you guys liked it!! My first time writing something like this, lmk how you like it and if I should do a SFW one.

[thomamaru]

Drench in Apologies (Chapter 3)

Synopsis: Just one little text from him was enough to crumble down any healing progress you made. Now, there he was, standing in the rain. You still stood your ground and didn’t let yourself get swayed by his attempts to apologize.

Tags: Rin Itoshi x gn!reader, angst, fighting but not too intense, fluff at the end

previous chapter

The sound of relentless rain echoed through the streets as Rin stood in front of your apartment building, soaked to the bone.

His breathing was labored, each breath heavy with the weight of regret that had been gnawing at him since he saw you at the restaurant—with Sae.

That image hadn’t stopped replaying in his mind, each loop sharper than the last.

His fists trembled at his sides as his teal eyes fixed on your door. This wasn’t how he imagined things between you would ever end up. But he wasn’t about to let it end like this.

Not when every step of his journey, every ounce of his determination, had you at the heart of it.

When you opened the door, you were startled to see Rin standing there, drenched. For a moment, the sight of him rendered you silent, your chest tightening at his disheveled appearance.

But then the reminder of the months of emotional turmoil he had put you through came crashing down, hardening your expression.

“What are you doing here?” you asked coldly, the chill in your tone matching the weather outside.

“I need to talk to you,” Rin said, his voice low but urgent. “Please.”

The word please carried more weight than you thought it would. Rin wasn’t the type to plead. But the bruises on your heart were still raw, and even now, you weren’t ready to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I don’t have anything to say to you, Rin. Go home.”

“I can’t,” he replied almost instantly, stepping closer but not enough to breach your space. “I… I can’t leave things like this.”

The storm inside you matched the one outside as you fought to stay resolute. “Now you can’t? After months of ignoring me, brushing me aside like I didn’t exist? You don’t get to decide when we talk, Rin. It doesn’t work like that.”

Rin flinched, your words hitting harder than he had anticipated. He nodded stiffly, water dripping from his bangs. “You’re right. I… I don’t deserve to be here. But I need you to understand—”

“No,” you interrupted sharply, stepping back as he tried to step forward again. “You don’t get to walk back into my life and think a simple explanation will fix everything.”

Rin stayed rooted to the spot, guilt weighing him down. “I know I hurt you,” he said softly, his usually composed voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to. I thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted to focus on training, to be stronger for you—”

“For me?” you cut him off, bitterness rising in your throat. “Don’t put this on me, Rin. If it was for me, you would’ve let me in instead of shutting me out. You didn’t even care about how I felt. Did you even think about how I spent weeks wondering why you suddenly stopped trying? Why you started to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

Rin’s fists clenched tightly, his nails biting into his palms. “I did care. I cared so much that it drove me insane. I felt like I wasn’t good enough—that I wasn’t giving you what you deserved. And the only way I knew how to fix that was to focus on being better at everything. I thought I’d lose you if I didn’t.”

“Rin,” you said quietly, your voice thick with unshed tears. “You lost me anyway.”

The words hung between you like a lead weight, crushing whatever fragile hope Rin had carried with him to your doorstep. He opened his mouth to respond but found himself speechless, every word dying before it could leave his lips.

You turned away, arms wrapping around yourself like a shield against the cold. “Do you know how hard it was for me to see you at that match? To call out your name and hope you’d finally look at me the way you used to? I’ve spent months convincing myself that maybe I was the one who failed. Maybe I didn’t support you enough or didn’t try hard enough.”

Rin’s hands reached out but dropped back to his sides, his voice thick with regret. “You never failed me. I failed you.”

You shook your head, bitterness creeping into your tone. “What’s worse is that after everything, the only reason you’re here now is because you saw me with your brother. What was it, Rin? Jealousy? Possessiveness? Or did Sae finally show me the kind of attention you should’ve been giving all along?”

Rin’s face twisted, a mixture of guilt and anger flashing in his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” you challenged, meeting his gaze head-on. “It’s true, isn’t it? You didn’t care until someone else looked at me.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Rin said firmly, his voice cracking under the strain. “I’m here because I can’t stand the thought of losing you completely. Because I—” He broke off, exhaling shakily. “Because I still love you.”

Your heart clenched at his confession, but the sting of the past months didn’t let you soften just yet. “If you really loved me, Rin, you wouldn’t have treated me like an afterthought.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the tension between you reached its peak. The rain had seeped into your entryway, water pooling around Rin’s feet, but neither of you cared.

Rin ran a hand through his damp hair, frustrated beyond measure. “I know I messed up. I was so focused on beating Sae and Isagi that I didn’t realize I was losing the most important person in my life. I… I got caught up in my own selfishness, and I’m sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

His words broke something inside of you—months of built-up anger and sadness dissolving into bittersweet pain.

Before you could reply, Rin suddenly stepped closer and cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Please,” he whispered. “Just let me prove to you that I can do better. That I will do better.”

You opened your mouth to speak but froze when Rin leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss.

It wasn’t like the soft kisses from your earlier days together. It was raw and urgent, filled with the emotions he couldn’t put into words.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, the warmth of his lips reminding you of everything you had once loved about him.

When Rin pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes filled with unspoken promises. “I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again. And I’ll wait however long it takes. But please, just give me the chance.”

You exhaled shakily, your heart torn between the ache of betrayal and the hope of rekindling what you’d lost. “It’s not going to be easy, Rin.”

“I don’t want easy,” he said softly. “I just want you.”

The road ahead wouldn’t be simple, but as Rin pulled you into a tight embrace, you felt a small flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, the pieces of your shattered relationship could be mended. And even if it took time, you were willing to try.

---

Rin wasn't known for surprises, which was why you did a double-take when you opened your front door to see him standing there with flowers in his hands.

"Hey," he greeted casually, but the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks betrayed his usual composed demeanor. He held out the bouquet—your favorite flowers, no less—looking everywhere but at you as he handed them over.

"Rin..." Your voice trailed off, surprise evident in your tone as you accepted the bouquet. They were fresh, vibrant, and so thoughtful it almost didn’t seem real.

"They’re for you," he clarified needlessly, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

A small laugh bubbled up from your chest as you brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their scent. "Thank you. I wasn’t expecting this at all."

He shrugged as if brushing it off, but you caught the slight upward twitch of his lips. "I thought you deserved it. Can I come in?"

You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter. Rin walked in, taking his usual spot on your couch, his body language relaxed yet hesitant, as if unsure of what to say or do next. You quickly placed the flowers in a vase, letting the water fill as you sneaked occasional glances at him.

When you returned, he was looking out the window, the soft glow of the room's light illuminating his sharp profile. He seemed far away for a moment before he turned to you, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been doing okay, right?” he asked suddenly.

The question caught you off guard. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He exhaled through his nose and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just... I know the last few months weren’t great. I wasn’t great.”

You sat next to him, setting the vase of flowers on the table. The distance between you was minimal, the warmth of his presence a familiar comfort.

“Rin,” you began softly, “we’ve been over this. You don’t have to keep apologizing for the past. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little sharper than intended. His jaw tightened, but he softened quickly, his head dipping. “But I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for how I made you feel.”

You tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. “Then don’t make the same mistakes again. That’s all I want.”

For a moment, the room was filled with the sound of the rain tapping against the window. Rin straightened slightly, his fingers brushing the edge of his knee nervously. He finally met your eyes, the intensity in them making your breath catch.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice quieter now but filled with conviction. “I’ll do better. For you.”

There was something so sincere in the way he said it that your chest ached—not from sadness, but from how much you cared for him.

“Good.” You smiled softly. “Because I’m not giving you an out next time.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rare. “Duly noted.”

You settled back against the couch, your shoulder brushing against his. For the first time in a long while, it felt like the air between you two wasn’t heavy with words unsaid or hurt feelings lingering in the background.

As the rain outside slowed to a drizzle, Rin’s hand slipped across the space between you, brushing against yours before interlocking your fingers. The action was so simple yet felt so significant.

“You know,” he murmured, leaning back against the couch and looking toward the ceiling, “picking those flowers wasn’t easy.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? Did you agonize over it for hours?”

His lips quirked in a faint smirk, the usual Rin humor breaking through. “Let’s just say I asked someone for help, and it was a mistake.”

You laughed at his exasperated expression. “Well, they’re perfect. And honestly? I’m impressed you even thought to bring flowers.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he replied, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward in a smile. “Special occasion.”

“And what’s the occasion?” you teased, leaning into his side slightly.

He turned his head to you, his gaze softer now. “You.”

The single word hung in the air, your heart skipping a beat as warmth flushed through your chest. You felt his fingers squeeze yours, grounding you in the moment.

“I’m really glad we’re okay again,” you whispered.

“Me too,” Rin admitted, his voice quiet yet steady. His head tilted to the side as he looked at you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

And as he sat beside you, fingers intertwined with yours and the soft rhythm of the rain outside, you felt it too—peace, understanding, and the comfort of knowing he wasn’t going anywhere. Rin Itoshi was here, now, with you. And this time, he wasn’t letting go.

Notes: last parttt, thank you so much for the support i'm crying btw I'm accepting any request, any character will <33

Taglist: @hotdogkongmalaki @mitsurimoshi @rroxii @x-vivi-v @ash1 @kimura-uzuri

[sanyu-thewitch05]

What if F! Yuu’s Dad got transported to Twst with her: The Black AF Remix

Getting into a car crash in your city known for terrible drivers was to be expected

Waking up in a common with an uber cute cat was not to be expected.

🦀: Where are we?….

All your father needed to see was the numerous white kids in hoods to let him know to run to safety with you.

🦀: Yuu, run! We’ve been captured by the Klan!

You burst out the coffin holding Grim and run out the ceremony much to the confusion of everyone.

🐦‍⬛: Umm, excuse me. Do you two need some help? We don’t know who these Klan people are that you’re running from, but I can assure you we are very honorable people.

Your father looks at Kalim, Jamil, Jack, and Leona and relaxes a bit.

🦀: Ok, do you know where we are?

🐦‍⬛: You’re in Twisted Wonderland and in the prestigious school of Night Raven Academy-

🦀: And how do we get away from here and back home to X-city?

🐦‍⬛: We can find a way to bring you two home, but it will take time. In the meantime, you can stay at one of our dorms.

🦐: Ooh, Dad, I bet it’s better than a room at the four seasons.

You were wrong. Significantly wrong.

🦀: Stop the cap! Where is that unseasoned bird?!

🦐: He’s gone.

You two are forced to walk into Ramshackle and upon seeing the ghosts, your father immediately walks out and closes the door.

🦀: I’m not dealing with three murderous white ghosts today. Come on, we’re heading down to the town.

Unfortunately, with no way of knowing where town is, you’re forced to fight the ghosts with your father. You win and look at Ramshackle in disgust.

🦐: I guess we’ll stay upstairs…

Your father, Grim, and you go upstairs and find the lousy rooms with just the basic of furniture and a proper bed.

🦀: I hope this place has a washing machine. Come on, let’s strip the bed.

After hand washing the bed sheets, you relax on your bed, and notice a pale boy with horns in the garden. You sneak out and talk to him.

🦀: So, Grimmy, where did you come from?

🐈‍⬛: Yuu’s with some boy outside.

🦀: WHO THE DEVIL IS THAT AND WHY IS HE IS TALKING TO YOU DURING THE WEE HOURS OF THE MORNING?!

Your father leaps out of bed and breaks up the conversation you’re having with Malleus.

🐉: So that cap on your is a bonnet and it protects your head-

🦀: Who the hell are you and why are you talking to my daughter?!

🦐: Dad, this is Tsunotaro.

🦀: That is the most dumbest thing I’ve heard. What’s your actual name?

🐉: I can’t give you that. But luckily, your daughter has decided to name me, Tsunotaro. It’s a lovely name, don’t you think?

🦀: Boy, do I look like Boo Boo the Fool to you?

🐉: I don’t understand the question. Who is this Boo Boo the Fool? Is he a clown or jester of some sorts?

Your father rolls his eyes and leads you back inside. He locks your windows, and closes the curtains.

🦀: Yuu, why were you talking to him?

🦐: He seemed interesting and looked like he knew his way around here. I figured he might be able to help.

🦀: I…you know what…just go to sleep. Grim, you keep an eye on her.

You do as your father says and begin your first day at NRC.

Your father absolutely hated it once he found out how weird the staff was. He actually liked Sam.

That’s when the trouble with Heartslabyul begins.

Your father disliked Ace and Deuce as friends mainly because they were too pugnacious for his liking.

Then Ace’s troubles with Riddle began and it set your father off.

♥️: Hi, Yuu, you don’t mind if I stay in your dorm until my issue with Riddle is resolved?

🦐: Don’t worry, you’re welcome to stay.

♥️: So, you don’t mind if I sleep in the same bed as you, do you? I promise I won’t take up much space-

🦀: Get out, white boy!

♥️: But-

🦀: Out! Now! Honkey begone!

And so, Ace ended sleeping on the front steps of Heartslabyul.

@queen-shiba

[xogiulianna]

CLOSER TO GOD

being forced to attend church leads you to chris, an altar boy who may not be as pure as you anticipated.

contains : subject of religion / church / the bible, oral (fem receiving), edging (?)

PLEASE READ : i apologize to those who are very religious - my intention is not to disrespect or offend anyone. i also understand that all churches are vastly different in their practices, but i based the events of this fictional church after ones that i have personally visited

word count : approx 4k ( sorry! )

your hands smooth over your jean skirt. the hem doesn’t even reach your mid thighs, yet it was the most modest-looking skirt you owned. tugging awkwardly at the sleeves of your white cardigan, you glance around the church as attendees file out of their pews for communion.

your parents finally had enough - after catching you sneaking around with boys, drinking, smoking, and receiving countless detentions at school - they realized that their efforts to stop your rebellious tendencies weren’t enough.

their last resort? church.

your mother and father attended every sunday, but they never felt the need to force you to come with them. they were very lenient about your personal feelings on religion, they always told you that you were allowed to make your own decisions about your identity.

however, once you started consistently acting out, that freedom was stripped away as a consequence.

now, forcing you to attend mass, they hoped and prayed for a miracle. they held a sliver of hope that the word of God would completely change your mindset.

so, here you were; in church on a sunday morning, currently being ushered into the queue of people waiting to receive bread and wine.

as you shuffle forward, you hold your hands out, palms facing upwards, just like your mother showed you. she says that they have to be pointing towards heaven. you bow your head while you wait as well, it was supposedly an act of adoration.

you had to admit, going to church for the first time was somewhat nerve wracking. it seemed as if all the people around you were judging you, like they could tell you weren’t the innocent church girl type.

you begin to assume that the usual crowd wasn’t aware your parents even had a daughter, and now they were wondering why you hadn’t ever attended mass before.

were they guessing that your parents are ashamed of you? were they judging your outfit? were they wondering what you did to be forced to come to church? were they -

“the body of Christ.”

a male voice rips you from your racing mind, bringing you back to reality. you tear your eyes away from your hands, lifting your head up and meeting the eyes of a boy, who appears to be your age.

he’s wearing a long, white garment and a gold cross necklace - an altar boy. glancing to the side, there appears to be another boy your age right next to him, distributing the wine.

you definitely would have noticed him earlier on, had you been paying attention to the mass.

your eyes are wide as they flit over his features, taking in his smooth skin and the soft appearance of his hair as it lays in a neat yet disheveled manner.

and his eyes - you admire the perfectly clear blue color of them when they meet yours, and it makes a certain feeling swirl inside of your stomach.

you finally register the fact that he’s holding out a small piece of sacramental of bread for you, the body of Christ, as he said. you momentarily panic, running through the instructions your father gave you on receiving communion.

bow your head, say amen - they’ll place it on your tongue, right or.. in your hands?

in a moment of panic and confusion, you utter a small “amen,” and part your lips, sticking out your tongue to receive the bread.

your eyes are fixated on the boy, and you notice him swallow, his jaw suddenly clenched. he holds piercing eye contact with you as he holds up the bread, placing it directly on your tongue.

accepting it, you close your mouth and feel the thin wafer dissolve on your tastebuds. it’s stale and bland. as you swallow, the boy’s eyes dart down to your lips, then your chest, then your legs, and back upwards again.

it was so subtle that you would’ve missed it if you blinked - but no, you definitely saw him check you out, and it made your imagination run wild.

you hear your mother’s voice faintly from behind you, telling you to hurry up in a harsh whisper.

you did take much longer than needed - but you just couldn’t stop staring at this guy. you were extremely intrigued.

you give him one last lingering glance over your shoulder as you turn away to move on and receive the blood of Christ.

friday night arrives after what seems like an eternity.

your parents were bewildered - you had managed to behave yourself all week. they whispered to each other behind your back, conspiring about the church and wondering if God really did perform some kind of miracle on your family to rid you of your rebellious mindset.

unfortunately, your sudden change of heart had no correlation to the religion itself. no, you were performing for something else. someone else. playing the part of a nice, sweet, goody-two-shoes in order to practice for the boy who’s been infiltrating your mind since sunday.

assuming that he was a virtuous, honorable, exemplary person, you wanted to make a good impression on him if you were to cross paths again.

your mother and father were overjoyed when you agreed to come to the annual festival your church held each summer. you’ve heard rumors about this event, and it truly just seemed like a excuse for adults to get drunk and let their kids run around aimlessly, not to mention the teenagers that sneak away into the woods and hook up - all in the name of God.

you wore jean shorts and a white silk tank top with a lace trim, tying your hair up in a ponytail to combat the summer evening’s warm air.

wandering around the area outside the church, you look around at all of the various booths set up, hosting games and other activities to collect money to fund the church.

your parents were long gone, they left you to meet up with their own friends, quickly disappearing into the scattered crowds. as your eyes scan the premises, you catch a glimpse of a boy entering the church doors.

it can’t be him, can it? there’s no way it would be this easy to get him alone, to simply find him in the church that was surely void of other guests right now - prayer was definitely not on any of these people’s minds while they mill around the festival.

strolling up to the church entrance, you glance behind you to make sure no one was looking before tugging the door open, slipping inside the building.

you make your way through the lobby, glancing down a hallway and seeing several doors leading to what appears to be various multipurpose rooms and offices.

at the very end of the hall, you spot a door that was left ajar.

you catch a glimpse of a large stained glass window and pews on the inside. hesitantly, you walk down the hallway, keeping your footsteps soft and quiet.

reaching the doorframe, you slightly push the door open further - resulting in a loud creak.

the noise makes you wince, and you stick your head inside the room. your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes land on a boy - not just any boy, but the altar boy - currently staring at you from his kneeling position at the pew.

it was odd to see him dressed in casual clothes, because the image that’s been infiltrating your mind all week was of him in his formal church attire.

the bright white of his long sleeve shirt makes him appear with an almost angelic glow. his bare knees are pressed into the kneeler attached to the pew in front of him, his light gray shorts hanging low on his hips. his blue eyes peek out from underneath the strands of hair that lay across his forehead while he gazes at you.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to barge in..” you apologize, somewhat anticipating him to berate you for coming into the room and interrupting him. it appears to be a separate chapel, designated for smaller, more intimate prayer and worship.

“s’all good,” the boy casually says, pushing himself up from his kneeling position and sitting down in the pew, scooting over and leaving an open spot next to him. “you’re allowed to be here, y’know.” he assures you.

“oh, okay. i didn’t know.” you breathe out, somewhat relieved. you slowly walk over to him, running your fingers along the side of the wooden pew before sitting down. his eyes trail you, watching your every movement. “why aren’t you out at the festival?” you ask, locking eyes with him.

“i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, his lips tugging into a smirk.

you look him up and down, giving him a grin. “none of this,” you gesture vaguely around the room, “is really my ideal situation.”

he nods, letting out a low hum.

“how about you, altar boy? why are you hiding?” you question.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “i don’t have anything to hide from.” he shrugs, glancing around the small chapel, gazing momentarily at the stained glass window that depicts some sort of biblical event.

you stare at him while you ponder his rather cryptic answer, admiring the way the sunset filters through the tinted glass and hits his skin, casting bright hues of several colors onto his face.

“and my name is chris, by the way.” he adds, turning back to face you. “y’know, i’ve never seen you at church before, not till last sunday.” he continues, looking at you curiously.

you nod, letting out a huff. “yeah, my parents made me go.” you mutter.

“oh yeah? how come?” he cocks his head to the side.

“they think i’m some sort of evil rebellious kid - which, i don’t really agree with, but they thought that going to church would be a good solution.” you explain, sounding slightly annoyed as you recall the whole situation.

“mm,” he hums. “are they gonna make you confess?”

“confess?” you raise your brows. “why would i need to confess?”

the ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “well, obviously you’ve committed some type of sin for your parents to have to force you to go to church.” he says smugly.

you scoff. “i don’t need to confess anything.”

“c’monn,” he says, dragging out the word. “why don’t you practice it with me? i’m sure they’re gonna want you to do it at some point. i’m not as qualified as a priest, but i might be able to help you.”

you stare at his hopeful expression for a long moment. you sense that there’s an ulterior motive to his proposal; but you decide to play along with it for now.

“fine,” you grumble, hesitantly agreeing. “how does it work? all the things i’ve done just magically go away?”

“confession helps you get closer to God when you receive the prayer of forgiveness.” he says lowly. his eyes scan your frame, lingering on your legs and chest just like they did during the communion. “first, you make the sign of the cross.”

he demonstrates, and you mimic his actions with a small sigh.

“good,” he says. you don’t know if it was just your tainted mind, but his voice sounded almost sultry, making the atmosphere shift from innocent to corrupt. “now, repeat after me, okay?” he instructs.

you give him a small nod, allowing him to proceed.

“bless me, for i have sinned. this is my first confession. these are my sins.”

after you echo his words, he gestures vaguely for you to continue speaking.

“what?” your face twists in confusion. “i just.. say bad things that i’ve done?”

“anything you need to get off your chest,” he replies, shamelessly eyeing you at this point, making you really question this whole situation. “i promise it’ll help.”

“okay,” you sigh, shooting him an unamused look. “uh.. i guess - disobeying my parents, mainly. and drinking, too. that’s probably not good.” you murmur, in disbelief that you were confessing your sins to the boy that you’ve been having thoughts of, thoughts that were nowhere close to being holy.

“yeah?” he taunts. “anything else?”

“i can’t think,” you shrug. “i don’t know what’s a sin and what isn’t.”

“how about.. lust?” he says, slumping back against the pew and crossing his arms over his chest. you glance at his arms, seeing the way they slightly flex underneath the soft white material of his sleeves. he spreads his legs out, drawing your eyes down to his lap for a split second.

your eyes are wide - you weren’t expecting him to be so blunt. chris serves this church, after all. you didn’t exactly anticipate him to be asking you about lust, of all things.

you assumed he was all pure, like a stereotypical church boy.

“what about it?” you ask quietly.

“it’s common.” he says with a grin, shifting his hips around slightly. “y’know.. premarital sex, self-gratification,”

“self gratification?” you cut him off, repeating his words. “you mean, like..”

“masturbation,” he says, confirming your silent assumption with a curt nod.

you snag your lip between your teeth, staring down at your lap and toying with the hem of your denim shorts as a million thoughts race through your head all at once, your heartbeat picking up speed.

“well?” he presses. “do you give into that sort of temptation?”

you look up, peering at him through your lashes. you remember how well you’d behaved all week, so you try to keep up the facade.

“no, i don’t.” you lie through your teeth. “i only have thoughts.”

butterflies swirl in your stomach when you see his smirk grow wider at your reply.

“hmm,” he hums, something about his countenance coveys the idea that he can tell you’re being dishonest. “can you tell me more about these thoughts?”

why does he seem so eager? there’s no way he’s actually into this - but you won’t know for sure unless you test the waters a little bit.

“well,” you drop your voice to a more sensual tone. “they haven’t left my mind all week.”

“oh?” he leans closer, extending his arm and draping it across the top of the pew, his fingers nearly touching your shoulder. “go on, confess everything, angel.”

that name - oh, God. the things you were imagining right now were probably sinful enough to warrant the devil himself dragging you down into hell.

“they started after i went to my first mass,” you slowly continue, eyeing him carefully. “i saw a person that made me think about doing some really bad things with them.”

his eyes darken, a sense of hunger now adorning his features.

“and did you touch yourself when you were envisioning these things?” he rasps, his fingers finding their way up to your ponytail, grabbing your hair tightly in his fist and making you gasp when he gives it a small tug.

“no,” you breathe out, your head tipping backwards. “because he’s truly a man of God. i couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

a laugh rumbles in his chest. “good girl,” he mutters. “why don’t you tell me exactly what you’ve been imagining?”

instead heat floods your stomach and pools between your legs. fuck, you definitely got the wrong impression of him.

he lets go of your hair, his fingers now traveling across your upper back and beginning to toy with the strap of your tank top. goosebumps erupt over your skin, and you feel a chill down your spine despite the room being warmed by the rays of the setting sun.

your lips open and close several times as you try to find the right way to voice your imagination, but the words end up crumbling in your mouth every time.

chris’s voice pierces through your mind once again. “having trouble?” he snickers. “why don’t i help you out?” he offers, his words carrying a very obvious underlying message.

he laughs again at your lack of reply when you just continue to stare at him. “just come with me. wanna show you something.”

he simply stands up, and you follow suit. he places his hand on your lower back, guiding you out of the chapel and into another room in the same hallway.

“what is this?” you ask, glancing around the new room. it contains a desk, numerous bookshelves and a leather couch.

his lips brush the shell of your ear as he replies. “the priest’s office.”

you hear the soft click of the door as chris shuts it behind the two of you, followed by the noise of a lock turning.

you let out a shaky exhale. everything about this seems blasphemous. yet, then again, since when were you ever worried about breaking norms? it just shocked you that an altar boy was the one initiating something like this.

“chris? are you sure this is-”

“shhh,” he hushes you, guiding you towards the couch. “i’m gonna help you, angel.”

the back of your legs meets the leather surface and you collapse down onto the cushions. chris grins in satisfaction. he bends down, leaning over you and carding through a row of books behind your head.

your eyes fixate on the glint of his golden cross necklace dangling in front of your face. you imagine how it would look swinging above you as he slams his cock inside your walls.

you wonder if chris has ever had sex, or if he’s saving himself for marriage like he was supposed to. you wonder if he can tell that you’re not a virgin.

“here.” chris says, dropping a brown book into your lap. the title reads HOLY BIBLE. there’s a red bookmark sticking out of it, but you don’t want to open the text yet, you’re not even sure why chris is giving it to you.

you trace your finger over the slightly worn cover. chris looks down at you from his standing position as he towers over you, his expression salacious.

the image of your wide eyes staring up at him is, in itself, tempting him to no end - he’ll repent later.

without a word, he begins to sink down onto his knees. it nearly makes your heart stop - the image of him like this, it’s an exact replication of the scenarios you’ve been conjuring up in your mind.

how did he know that this is what you wanted?

“what are you doing, chris..?” you breathe out, clutching the bible tightly.

“m’gonna pray for you down here,” he teases. “get you close.. closer to God, just like i promised.”

he doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before he’s asking you another question in that tone that sends electric shocks coursing through your body.

“can i take these off?”

slowly, you nudge your thighs apart for him. “yeah,” you breathe out, nodding. a sinful look takes over his features.

“wrong answer.” he mutters darkly.

you furrow your brows in confusion, now watching his hands skillfully undo your button and zipper. it makes your stomach churn when he says cryptic shit like that.

your jaw drops when he roughly tugs your shorts and panties down in a single motion. he shoves your underwear in his pocket, before carelessly tossing your shorts to the side.

he glances up, snickering at your shocked expression. it was amusing to him; revealing this side of his personality that no would ever expect.

“angel, why don’t you read that page for me?” he coos, eyeing the bookmark peeking out from the bible.

every time he calls you ‘angel’ it only reminds you of the fact that you’re behaving in a way that would have the clergy calling you very different types of names.

you crack open the bible, immediately unable to focus on the words as chris hooks your legs over his shoulders, dipping his head further between your thighs.

“where.. um, where do i start?” you ask, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“first Corinthians six eighteen,” he says, his breath fanning across your skin as he speaks. he begins to press soft kisses up the inside of your thigh, his fingers sinking deeper into your flesh as he holds you in place.

“oh, shit.” you whisper, wildly glancing between the wall of text and chris’s lips that are steadily inching closer to your soaking folds. “please, chris..” you whine, getting needier by the second.

he chuckles again, his blunt nails digging into your skin. “m’not gonna do anything ‘till you start reading.”

you let out an impatient whimper. “fuck- fine!”

you focus your attention to the page, fixing your lips to read the verse. you hear chris hum in approval.

“flee from sexual immorality,” you begin to recite the religious text, your voice coming out as merely a squeak. “‘every other sin a- mmph!”

you can’t bite back the moan that escapes you when chris suddenly licks a long stripe up your aching pussy, all the way from your hole to your clit. you toss your head back, your knuckles white from gripping the book so hard.

“well, don’t stop now,” he growls. “fuckin’ jezebel, aren’t you? reading the bible while havin’ me right between your legs.”

“oh, my god..” you whisper mindlessly, peering at him over the book. you were going insane just from a single kitten lick.

“am i your god?” he says mockingly, a smug smile plastered across his face.

“chris.. please, keep going.” you plead, squirming beneath his rough hold.

“you know what to do.”

with a desperate whimper in the back of your throat, you force yourself to keep reading. the very moment you open your mouth to speak, chris’s mouth is back on your pussy, moving softly and slowly, tasting every bit of your arousal.

“every other sin a person commits - oh, fuck - is.. is outside the b-body..” you struggle to force out the verse as chris’s tongue slides up and down your folds, his nose bumping against your clit as he buries his head impossibly closer to your core, the soft strands of his hair tickling your thighs.

“fuckin’ finish it, slut. tell me how wrong it is, what we’re doin’ right now.” he says, nipping at the soft flesh of your legs and making your body twitch at the slightly painful feeling of his teeth pinching you.

“but.. but the sexually immoral p-person sins against his o-own body.” you finish reciting the words with an animalistic groan as chris circles his warm tongue around your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves. your eyes squeeze shut in pure ecstasy.

“that’s you, isn’t it?” he sneers, his lips brushing your sensitive spot as he speaks. “the sexually immoral?”

a whine is torn from your throat as he lets go of one of your legs, the pad of his thumb finding your clit. the bible slips from your limp hands, landing on the couch beside you and slamming shut. “chris.. mmh..” his name tumbles from your lips like a prayer.

“fuckin’ answer me,” he orders bitterly before blowing cold air from his lips onto your pussy, the cool sensation making you suddenly whimper and writhe.

“yeah, i’m- oh, god. i’m immoral,” you reply pathetically, your hips desperately inching toward his mouth while he rubs your bundle of nerves.

suddenly, the contact halts. there’s no stimulation on your clit, and your legs are being dropped back down against the couch, chris’s hands no longer on you at all.

“wha- no,” you whine, opening your eyes. you see chris picking himself up off his knees, the newly formed bulge in his shorts aligning with your gaze as he stands upright.

“sorry.” he utters the word coldly, looking complacent. “i told you i’d get you closer, not all the way there.”

your face drops, a sense of dread washing over you. “what the fuck? are you serious?” you ask in disbelief.

“don’t be mad,” he purrs, reaching out to roughly grab your chin, tipping your head upwards. “being aware you’re a sinner is the first step to being forgiven - and you just admitted it to me, like a good girl.”

all you can do is stare up at him, your jaw clenched in anger.

he chuckles at your wordless vexation. “i’ll see you on sunday, angel.” he murmurs, shoving your head to the side with a careless push of his fingers when he lets go of your chin and turns to exit the room, slamming the door behind him.

it infuriates you that he automatically assumes you’ll come back to attend church once more - and it enrages you even more that you know you will.

collapsing back against the priest’s couch, you wipe away beads of sweat that collected on your forehead.

you’re left wondering if chris was an angel sent down to give you a taste of heaven - because that’s exactly what his mouth felt like - or if he was the devil’s advocate, worming his way into your life so he can delve your mind deeper into sin.

a/n: this took me forever.

xo giulia

[zepskies]

Oooh here we go, diving right back into Angst City with some manic Cowboy Sheriff. 😅

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away. “You okay?” Jenny checked carefully. “I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

*snorts* Oh, he's not handling this well, is he? Can't really blame him, considering a serial killer has the love of his life captured somewhere. 🥲

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy. How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

Oh Goddd, it really is awful. It's like nowhere in his life is private or safe anymore for him. How could you ever feel comfortable in your own office again?

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

loll I could definitely see that. 😅

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

THANK YOU. At least one of them is taking this situation more seriously than their rivalry. But I honestly understand and sympathize with Randy too -- he's grasping at straws even though he knows he's losing his (former) wife emotionally already, even if he does manage to find the key to saving her before Beau does.

“‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk,

Ok, just shoot this bitch out back and bury her under the sheriff's office. Honestly. 😤 (But the monkeys line did make me snort lol)

“About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

Dammmmn how the hell is she getting this information?? But now I'm looking at Randy sideways even harder. 😒

I was on pins and needles throughout all of the reader's almost escape -- that bear trap actually made me physically grimace/wince!! Omg poor thing. But I loved how remembering Beau's advice helped her get out of the trap -- or at least the bear trap, if not Hal's "Benders"-themed game of hunt and chase. 😰

Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest. They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

Such a great moment between Beau and Randy here, and such great storytelling, especially as they actually start to work together to solve the mystery of what happened to the reader next. 👏🏽💜 I think one of the things I love most about your writing is you have such a great sense of story beats, creating tension and when to relieve it, and how to build character arcs that provide amazing twists, while also making exact sense when it all comes together, piece by piece.

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

Oh these two were made for her -- she was actually listening to his ramblings. 🥰💜

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Remember earlier when I was talking about your amazing twists that make things click into place even more perfectly? Well THIS IS IT. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽 It makes things with her and Beau make even more sense now that we know she was likely leaving Randy anyway, no matter how much she loved him.

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

YES, Beau!! I get it, Randy's been dealt a shitty hand, but Beau's POV in this situation and conversation is so valid. 👌🏽 (Especially since she was likely leaving Randy anyway.)

Regardless, it seems like they had the honest man-to-man talk they needed to have about everything. But Wayne!!! That cliffhanger is...

Polaris – Chapter 12

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, a heavy dose of angst, kidnapping, violence, injuries, serial killers, death, an awful cliffhanger

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Happy New Year, everyone! 🥳 We jump straight into 2025 with an angsty banger 👀

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 12: Through

On one of the sunniest mornings Helena had seen in recent days, the peaceful quiet of the early risers in the Sheriff’s Department was disturbed by one restless sheriff.

Beau was taking his office apart – bit by bit, nail by nail, panel by panel, brick by brick.

The search for you had gone on all night and yielded zero results. You were nowhere to be found. For all Beau knew, you could be dead by now and buried in the vast woods of Montana.

A computer mouse flung against the wall and only missed Jenny’s head by an inch as the blonde peeked inside his office. The rest of the station had selected her to talk to the big boss, his outbursts even being heard from miles away.

“You okay?” Jenny checked carefully.

“I’m tryna find that stupid camera!”

“Thought you already found that hours ago,” Jenny noted with a raised brow.

“Can’t be too careful…” the sheriff murmured, his focus landing on the pile of pens on his desk. The silver one – had that always been there? He picked it up. “Does this look normal to you?”

Jenny only offered a shrug.

“Never mind,” Beau muttered and reduced the pen down to its individual parts. Nothing. Just a plain, old pen.

“Did you get some sleep?”

“What d’you think?”

At five in the morning, Beau had promised Jenny he’d snooze for half an hour on the couch in his office. He did lie down, stared at the suspended ceiling tiles for about a minute, and then remembered the damn camera.

It wasn’t just about what he had done in there but also about he’d said. No wonder Diane had gotten so easily under his skin. She probably had heard every insecurity he had ever uttered. To you. And to imaginary Randy.

How was he supposed to sleep in a place where he felt exploited, exposed, and unsafe?

“Well, uh, I just wanted to tell you that Randy went into Interrogation Room 2 with Diane…”

“WHAT?!”

“Yeah…” Jenny exhaled a deep sigh and leaned against the door frame. “He said you’d deputized him and authorized it, but I had a feeling that wasn’t true.”

Beau ran a hand across his face, rubbing his beard.

Rule #3: She’s my wife. I get to decide how we proceed.

Rule #4: You’re not the boss of me.

“Well, I did deputize him,” Beau admitted. He had given his former partner a long leash, not expecting he’d bolt through the backyard.

“Beau…” Jenny clearly didn’t approve.

“He left me no choice, alright?!”

Well, no choice his guilt could deal with.

The sheriff then left his destroyed office and thundered into Interrogation Room 2 down the hall. Randy wouldn’t get to do this alone. Beau knew there was an ulterior motive – if only Randy saved you, he could also miraculously save his marriage. Randy was a persistent motherfucker. He wouldn’t give up.

And if the roles were reversed, Beau wouldn’t either. He’d probably be even more annoyingly persistent than Randy.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Beau charged in with steam coming out of his ears. For a moment, his anger was so focused on his friend, he didn’t even notice the rising smile on Diane’s lips.

“Good morning, Sheriff Arlen.” Even if Diane’s voice sounded melodious, to Beau it was still chalk on board. “Remodeling the office, are we?”

“You mind?” Randy prompted stand-offishly, glancing up at the sheriff. “Kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Outside. Now,” was all Beau said.

Defiantly and miffed by the authoritative tone, Randy followed him to the hall.

“Play nice, boys!” Diane’s voice echoed through before the door fell into its lock.

“What d’you think you’re doing? You can’t just talk to our prime suspect without my presence!” Beau roared.

Randy rolled his eyes back. “Didn’t know I needed a babysitter…”

“This isn’t a game, Randy! We need to find Y/N before it’s too late,” Beau argued furiously. They didn’t have time for petty competitions.

“Yeah, which is why I’m talking to the only lead we have! That bitch knows where she is,” Randy countered with an equal amount of fury.

“She’s not gonna tell you!”

Randy only shrugged – cocky in nature and completely unlike him. And Beau then realized something that had changed: His friend wouldn’t back down anymore and bend. Those days were over, and it was probably Beau’s own fault.

“We’ll see,” Randy said stubbornly, his hand wandering back to the door handle. “You comin’?”

Beau inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before nodding – and back into the lion’s den they went.

Diane welcomed them with a sneer. “All made up?”

“Tell us where Turner took her,” Randy demanded with a stern expression and firm voice.

If Randy wanted to play bad cop, the role of good cop fell to Beau by default. And although they had never ever played it that way before, Beau figured Randy carried more anger than even him right now. He might as well let him make good use of it.

“Can’t.” Diane twitched her shoulders. “Hal doesn’t tell me.”

“Oh, and we’re just supposed to believe that?” Beau lifted a brow in mock. “C’mon, Diane…”

“It’s true,” she said, smiling. “Call it an insurance policy in case one of you Neanderthals decides to go rogue on me – looking at you specifically, Sheriff Arlen. If you leave your own partner to die in a filthy warehouse, I don’t wanna know what you do to your enemies.” She then looked at Randy, whispering behind her palm, “You know, I think he did it on purpose.”

Beau clicked his tongue and snorted humorlessly. “Alright, Diane, you’ve had your fun. You’ve wreaked havoc… You’ve won, okay? Fair and square. Just give up your partner, tell us where Y/N is, and end this once and for all. Might even get a better deal if you do. Think about it. Murdering an FBI agent doesn’t look good in front of a judge and jury. We have iron-clad proof you killed at least five people in Texas. Capital murder, death penalty… See where I’m going with this?”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, Sheriff. And I’ve told you: I don’t know where she is now,” Diane reiterated with the same infuriating smile. Her gray eyes then wandered to a wall clock behind the men. “At least not yet.”

Randy and Beau both followed her gaze and stared at that same clock. Their eyes widened.

“Then when?” Randy prompted.

“Don’t worry. You’ll see her soon.” Diane smirked. “If she makes it out alive, she can tell you in person she’s choosing the rugged sheriff here over you, Detective Nichols.”

Randy’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching and unclenching under the metal table.

“I gave her a fighting chance.”

“Oh, you mean like the others?” Beau had known from the start that it would be useless talking to her.

“They all could’ve gotten out,” said Diane as if she blamed the victims for not being smarter and more durable. “‘Sides, why would I give up my favorite part? I’ve waited a while for this one. Killing her? While you two idiots watch helplessly and throw feces at each other like monkeys in a zoo? Gotta say, it’s better than killing twenty-four people combined. Ever since I met Deputy Popcorn, I’ve been actually craving a snack.” Upon Beau’s facial twitch, Diane leaned closer and whispered with a smirk, “Yeah, I know about the cute little nicknames for your deputies too, Sheriff. I wonder how many bugs you’ve found yet in your office. Sure it can’t be all of them. Maybe I’ve bugged the whole station. Who’s to say? Have you checked your trailer yet? The lovely agent’s motel room? No?”

Beau couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling that clutched his heart and twisted it like a boa constrictor. Pain, fear, anger, sadness – a deadly cocktail for anyone. Was this throbbing sting in his chest what a heart attack felt like? Only recently, he’d read an article in the paper about a guy his age who just dropped dead. Was this it for him?

Would it mean he'd get to see you again, though?

“Enough of that!”

Randy’s voice rang in his ears, but Beau couldn’t refocus. He needed fresh air to breathe, his lungs dried up and clinging to every molecule like he’d been deprived of oxygen for days. The small room felt suddenly suffocating as the monster across from him sneered joyfully.

“Look, I don’t know if you’re saying all that horseshit ‘cause you wanna hurt him or me,” Randy said, his voice laced with a darkness Beau had never seen before.

“Little bit of both,” Diane teased with a shrug.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care either way,” Randy huffed, the deep creases in his brow casting threatening shadows on his face. “Do your worst to me or him. Hell, burn us at the stake if it makes you feel any better, sweetheart, but all I wanna know is where that bunker is. Where is she? Your beef’s clearly with us. Men, right? You know she doesn’t deserve this. Just let her go.”

Diane seemed unamused by the suggestion, leaning back in the metal chair. “You’re right. She doesn’t deserve this. I actually like her. She reminds me of me. But you two did this to her. It’s out of my hands at this point. You don’t deserve her, sheriff,” she said and looked at Beau before her cold eyes shifted to Randy. “Neither do you, detective. I know a lot of things – and not just about the sheriff here. I know what you did to her, too.”

Randy forced a tight smile. “You’re bluffing. I didn’t do anything.”

“Am I?” Diane quirked a brow and then sent him an innocent smile. “About four years ago, she wrote a rather lengthy email to her sister Sophia in Seattle. She seemed very upset. Said there was a little something you wouldn’t give her. Ring any bells?”

With a thick swallow and a glare swimming in his hazel eyes, Randy nodded. “We’re done here.”

Diane let out a long, suspenseful sigh, not bothering to engage further. Her icy heart wouldn’t melt. Her eyes flickered around the bleak, depressing room. “I miss windows. Haven’t seen the outside for days.”

“Yeah, and you ain’t gonna,” Beau huffed. He had quietly listened, his heart rate slowing down as his head started spinning with questions. You had never told him anything. He had never asked. It had been an unspoken rule to not talk about your marriage. Beau always figured knowing too much would only make it worse.

“Too bad. I always liked the autumn sunsets. When it gets dark sooner…” Diane then stretched out her neck. “Anyways, nice chatting with you boys, but it’s time for my beauty nap now. Which one of you two cowboys is gonna accompany me back to my cell, hm?”

The men shared a look and then wordlessly rose, leaving the room. In the safety of the hallway, Beau ran a hand over his face and took his first deep breath.

Air. Lungs. Brain. Without toxicity, he could finally think straight again.

“Well, this was pointless and a waste of our time. Happy now?” Beau huffed with his newfound lung capacity.

But Randy’s brow was furrowed. He was thinking. “Actually, yeah… Didn’t you hear what she said?”

“Yeah, bunch of narcissistic bullshit. She’s not gonna tell us where Y/N is,” Beau muttered bitterly. If possible, he wished to never converse with that psychotic witch again. There was only so much he could handle before snapping her neck.

“She said that she doesn’t know where Y/N is now,” Randy pointed out. “Maybe she wasn’t lying. Maybe Y/N’s not in the bunker yet. Turner might keep her somewhere else and wait till he can move her.”

“At sundown,” Beau mused, Diane’s words haunting his mind. “He’ll move her when it’s dark.”

“Which means we still have a couple hours to find her,” Randy finished the thought.

“Popcorn!” Beau yelled down the hallway. The sheriff found himself in better spirits. He hadn’t used a silly name for his most loyal deputy in days, although it ached a tiny bit to say it now. “Any properties in Newton’s name?”

“Yes, sir, several,” Mo replied.

“I need a list of all in the area. Get a team together and search ‘em. One by one,” Beau ordered. “Warehouses, cabins… Take it all apart. I don’t care.”

“And also see if any properties are in Hal Turner’s name and add them to the list,” Randy suggested.

Poppernak shot Beau a look, and only when the latter gave his agreement, did the deputy nod. “Yes, Sheriff Arlen.”

The obnoxiously loud sound of birds woke you from a deep slumber. Groggily, you pried your eyes open and found the first few beams of sunlight warming your face. For a peaceful moment of dazed bliss, you had no clue where you were or how you got here.

There was a thumping, searing pain in your skull, hammering away at your sanity like the ticks of a clock. Your neck and shoulders hurt from tension till you realized you were bound to an old wooden chair, a harsh and creaking surface underneath you. Your behind felt both sore and numb.

Glancing around the room, you noticed you were in the living quarters of a small cabin. A fireplace sat to your right. Above it, a cuckoo clock that showed shortly past noon, and you realized that must’ve produced the bird noise that woke you. The stinging sunlight reached your eyes and filled you with hope.

Hal Turner hadn’t locked you into a bunker yet.

“You’re awake. Good.” Turner entered the room with a bottle of water and a sandwich, throwing the items unceremoniously onto your lap. “You need to eat. We’ll leave soon.”

“Where are we going?”

“Where they all went,” he said and came up behind you. Turner wasn’t a man of tall stature. Small, middle-aged, nervous. Non-threatening.

Diane’s little ant.

He cut your ties, and you could tell his hands were shaking. They didn’t treat the others like that. Entertaining a victim had never been his job before.

Sedated, dumped, marooned.

That had been the pattern, and you hoped this little off-course adventure would pay off with your freedom. Your gaze drifted down to a lonely brown belt buckle.

Unarmed.

With free hands and Turner still vulnerably behind you, your arms shot up and wrapped around his neck. Fortunately, he wasn’t as heavy as Beau in training when you jolted him forward, jumped up, and rammed his face straight into your knee.

Unconscious for the moment, Turner tumbled to the ground, and you sprinted through the front door. You hoped it would give you enough time to find an exit.

But all you found was a vast sea of trees – towering pines that reached heavenward with no neighboring houses or roads in sight.

There was a shed to your left. Tools. You needed weapons.

And, most of all, you needed more goddamn time to think your way out of this one.

It wasn’t long till you heard the front door of the cabin slam open, heavy and angry footsteps aimlessly searching before they slowly circled closer to the shed.

Fortunately, your little hide-out had proved itself useful – and fully stocked. Turner had arranged his tools in a neatly organized manner. Nothing seemed to be out of place, screwdrivers hanging on the wall from small to big, pliers, drills, hacksaws… Your weapons of choice, however, fell on a hammer and the heaviest, biggest wrench.

Lurking behind the small barn door, you lay in wait till the old door creaked open and Hal Turner walked through. He only blinked at you wide-eyed before your first hit with the wrench landed across his right cheek. It was hard enough for blood to spew out of his mouth, and as he tumbled forward, you delivered your second blow – the hammer, this time, slamming against the back of his head.

Dropping the tools, you decided to take your chances and make a run through the woods for it. You still had a few fleeting hours till dark. If you just kept going, maybe you’d make it to a road or a town somewhere before you froze to death.

What a great outlook…

However, you didn’t even get farther than a few yards from the house before a sharp pain seared from your ankle throughout your entire body. Falling harshly and bracing yourself on the cold, wet leaves, you screamed out and looked down at the culprit – a bear trap.

Well, points for Hufflepuff!

Apparently, you had underestimated Turner. Ahead of you, you also spied some tripwire. Great. This place was a giant death trap – and you had already hated the woods before all of this.

Getting back onto your feet was not only hindered by the giant claws in your flesh but also the iron chain attached to the trap that tethered you to the ground. So, with your freezing hands, you dug out the metal stake that served as your anchor.

Then, the fucking bear trap – you knew this one would hurt like a son of a bitch. Carefully, you inspected the oozing wound, the razor sharp edges deeply clutching your skin at your lower calf and ankle. For a moment, you even swore you could feel the tips of their pointed teeth drilling into your bone. You tried to pry them apart with your hands but gave up on that idea rather quickly once the jaws cut your fingers.

Glancing at the shed, you saw the door was still ajar. It was quiet in there. Either Hal Turner was gone, solely unconscious, or currently bleeding to death. The shed was your Schrödinger’s cat. As long as you didn’t know which one it was, you still had time.

Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes and remembered the trip you took with Beau when you were back in Houston. The two of you drove camping in Piney Woods. For a few days, you were gone and unknown to everyone around you. You could just be you and him. No one had to hide anything. No one had to feel guilty. In those short days, you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Did you know bear traps are actually pretty easy to get out of?” Beau babbles a random fact in his usual manner when neither of you has said anything in a minute. He glances at you, a happy smile on his face as he intertwines his fingers with yours during a stroll through the green and lush forest.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, all you gotta do is not panic, get up on your feet, and press your weight down on the springs at the bottom. Just pops open and you can pull your leg out,” he explains with a popping sound, turning the little lesson into a show-and-tell.

“Don’t panic…” you mumbled to yourself and sat up. “Get up…” With a strained groan and your palms supportively on the ground, you heaved yourself to your feet. You winced as you put pressure on your injured leg and, therefore, tried to shift your weight to your good one. The main problem was the next step: “Press down.”

Mentally, you braced yourself before you slowly started to put pressure on the leg again. The jaws moved and wiggled in your flesh, but the pain was too much too bear. You bit down on your tongue as tears strangled your eyes.

Alright, next try.

If slow was too painful, then maybe the bandaid method was the way to go. Quick and painless, as they say. You inhaled and exhaled through your nose as you raised your foot a few inches above ground, making sure the springs would hit the uneven surface properly. Then, you kicked down.

The trap sprung open, you pulled your foot out, and released a primal scream that echoed through the quiet woods, surely disturbing whatever lived there.

And then, suddenly, Hal Turner stood in front of you with a shovel.

Diane’s listed properties came up empty. There was still no sign of you. Turner, on the other hand, had only booked a motel room in his name but hadn’t been seen there in weeks. So, Beau figured he had to be staying somewhere if he wasn’t sleeping in his room.

At four o’clock, the sheriff was close to a breakdown when all leads petered out and the daylight was almost gone. But then Cassie and Denise stormed the station, both out of breath, and brought forth a document that showed a property north of Helena in the name of a Diane Turner. It was a remote cabin in the middle of the woods, which also happened to be close to the location where the ambulance had picked up Randy.

Ding, ding, ding!

Beau gathered the whole cavalry and raced there as fast as he could. By the time he was ten minutes out, the sky had grown dark, the woods pitch-black around him. Switching on the Jeep’s headlights only added to the uneasiness in his stomach. His passenger was quiet next to him, but Beau could tell how worried Randy was by the way his left leg anxiously drummed against the floor mat.

Both of them thought it was too late to save you.

An access road, all dirt, led up behind the cabin, only making it a short hike. Turner’s vehicle had been parked at the fork where it reached pavement. They seemed to be on the right track. After all, if Turner was here, then hopefully so were you.

Beau and Randy were the first to arrive, the cabin inside dark without a single light on, not even a candle burning in the smudged windows. Carefully, the men stepped on the porch, the property around them quiet and undisturbed, but the front door was an inch ajar. Pulling out their weapons, the two shared a look without speaking a word before entering the house, a feeling of familiarity rising in Beau’s chest.

They were still partners, somewhere deep down.

The floorboards creaked under Beau’s boots as he treaded down the hallway. The cabin was small, only consisting of one bedroom, a living area, a kitchen and bath. While the men checked each room, Beau already knew you weren’t here anymore – if you’d ever been here to begin with. Maybe Diane had sent them on a wild goose-chase, another sick game created by the mind of psychopath, while you had been locked in a bunker all along, waiting for him to find you.

How much air did you still have left? Would he get to you in time?

“Beau!”

His partner’s voice drew him from the bedroom to the living space, his mind still rattling with the unspoken fear of losing you. His green eyes then focused on the beam of Randy’s flashlight as it shone on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, a set of cut plastic ties on the floor next to it. There was also an uneaten sandwich and an unopened bottle of water scattered on the ground.

And then, there were the trails, the little drops, and the sheer pools of blood everywhere that made his gut churn. Was it all yours?

“We need to get forensics here,” Beau said with a thick swallow, already pulling out his phone to call Jenny.

“That’s a lot of blood,” Randy said with a lump in his throat, his eyes transfixed on the little red pond by the tips of his feet. And although it was dark, Beau could see the color drain from his partner’s face.

“I know.” Beau bobbed his head quietly, gently clasping his friend’s shoulder as he held his phone to his ear.

The sheriff then informed Jenny of their findings, telling her to hurry any lab results along. The sooner they knew whose blood it was, the better. As he hung up, he noticed Randy following a trail of blood to the door, leading further outside. He shone his flashlight through the dense foliage before it landed on a little working shed to the right.

As Randy creaked the door of the shed open, with Beau behind him, both thought there was a high probability they’d stumble upon a body in there – if not two.

Instead, the shed was disappointingly empty.

Beau whistled lowly as the light hit the neatly arranged wall of tools. “Well, that’s some freak level organization.”

But Randy’s brow furrowed as his light landed on the ground behind the door. “There’s a hammer and wrench on the ground.” He knelt down to inspect it closer. “Got blood on it. Lot of it.”

Beau chuckled lightly and ran a palm over his face to keep the stinging tears of hope inside, which only confused Randy.

“What’s so funny? Y/N might be dead,” Randy said sourly.

“That’s not Turner’s doing,” Beau argued and gestured at the tools on the ground, his heart flooding with a tiny bit of relief. “Look at the wall. Why would he kill her with tools? It’s way too bloody. Guy like this can’t handle the mess. He had a perfectly fine gun. Would’ve been way cleaner if he wanted to.”

“So, you think this was Y/N?” Randy thought for a moment before nodding. “The ties inside were cut. The food and water on the floor… Maybe he cut her loose and she took advantage of it? I mean, it does sound like her.”

“Yeah…” Beau’s eyes then musingly drifted back to the wall. “Is there a screwdriver on the ground somewhere? There’s one missing here.”

“Nope, nothing on the ground,” Randy replied once his flashlight search was complete. “You think she took it with her?”

“Let’s hope so…”

“But if Y/N managed to overpower Turner, why isn’t she here? And where’s Turner? And if it happened out here, why is there so much blood inside?”

Beau licked his chapped lips, his brow returning to their initially creased position. “Maybe she didn’t take him out for good.”

“You thinkin’ she knocked him out and escaped?”

“Yeah, and then Turner woke up, went back into the house before taking off after her through those woods,” Beau shared his theory. It would explain the vast amounts of blood inside.

“So, your theory is she’s lost and being hunted?” Randy cocked a brow.

Beau only offered him a shrug. “Best possible scenario.”

“Great.” Randy scoffed. “What’s the worst possible scenario then?”

Beau’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I think we both know.” Licking his lips, he patted Randy’s shoulder. “But let’s not think about the worst right now. I’ll get a team going to search these woods. We’ll find her. You’re not losing her again, alright?”

Randy could only nod and hope, but a little tug on his heart told him something different as he glanced at his former friend.

“It’s been three hours,” Randy huffed frustratedly as they passed the same street sign to Helena down the mountain once more, driving up and down the roads around the cabin in an endless loop, hoping and praying a miracle would happen. “Don’t you think we would’ve found her by now? If she’s hurt and inside those woods, we should be in there looking for her.”

Beau passed another sigh between his lips. There had been three hours of that, too. Patience was a not only an eight-letter word but a bitch as well.

“Neither of us is any help there. We don’t know those woods. You don’t even a phone, Randy,” Beau said with a bit more firmness in his voice, causing his partner’s frown to deepen. Saved by the bell, Beau’s phone chimed in his pocket with Jenny’s angelic name popping up on the screen. He pulled over on the side of the road before picking up.

“What you got? Uh-huh… You sure? What did they say about the cabin? Okay… Both of ‘em? How far? Which direction? Alright… We’re close. Driving back up there now.”

Randy held his breath till Beau hung up, trying to guess the content of the phone call by the various facial expressions of the sheriff. Then, he asked, “Good news or bad news?”

“Hard to say,” Beau replied, his eyes fixed on his hands gripping the steering wheel. He swallowed the lump in his throat, gave himself an encouraging nod, and started the engine, trying to sink every bad theory that surfaced in his mind. “Forensics came back. Our theory was partially correct. The blood inside the cabin was mostly Turner’s.”

Randy raised a brow, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears. “Mostly?”

“Evidence points to her not escaping. Turner might have gotten to her before she could even leave the property. They found a bear trap with her blood on it,” Beau explained slowly, his grip on the wheel tightening. “Dogs picked up a trail, leading into the woods. Forensics confirmed both of their blood on that trail.”

“Doesn’t mean anything. He could’ve followed her. She still could’ve escaped,” Randy replied and knew full well it was only sugarcoating the truth swimming in the lower pits of his belly.

“Could’ve…” Beau nodded and swallowed heavily. “But then again, if she did manage to escape, how did her blood end up inside the cabin?”

Defeated, Randy licked his lips, expelling a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, guess my hopes are little too high. I mean, how the hell would you get out of a bear trap?”

Beau knew the question was mostly rhetorical, but true to himself, he still answered, “It’s actually pretty easy. Just press down on the springs, and the thing opens right up.” A smile formed on his lips as a memory popped back into his mind. “I told Y/N that once when we took a camping trip back in Houston. She probably didn’t remember it. I mean, honestly, I doubt she was even listening. I was kinda ramblin’, you know?”

“Uh-huh. I remember. I’ve spent a lot of time with you…” Randy smacked his lips, fingers tapping his thigh. “You guys went on a trip together?”

Beau’s mouth opened on reflex, but he stopped himself from replying, shooting a scrutinizing look at his partner. “Yeah, uh, just the one, really. Shoulda been more…”

Regrets seeped to the surface. If Beau had known he had only a finite amount of time with you, he would’ve enjoyed and appreciated every last second of it. He should’ve spent less time in his head. He should’ve taken you out on more dates. He should’ve been the best he could be. Instead, he wasted so much time and couldn’t even remember why in retrospect.

“What makes you say that?” Randy’s question rang both with curiosity and pain. His brown eyes stared stubbornly ahead and focused on the dark road.

Beau blew a long sigh. “Well, I wasn’t always the best–,” he hesitated a moment before saying the word, “–boyfriend, I guess.”

If Randy was upset by the term, he didn’t let it show. Maybe he was sticking to Rule #2. He quirked a brow and glanced at Beau in the driver’s seat. “So, on top of stealing my wife, you’re telling me you didn’t even treat her right?”

“Guess so,” Beau admitted quietly, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and ignoring the subtle jab. “And I didn’t treat her badly, by the way. Just could’ve tried harder. Felt guilty because she was your-, well, you know… And the divorce got kinda messy, too. I just wanted to stay clear of complications.”

Exasperated, Randy scoffed, shaking his head. “This is not really making me want to give you my blessing…”

Beau huffed a chuckle. “Didn’t know that was an option.”

“Well, it’s not. You don’t deserve her.” Randy clicked his tongue, pensively bobbing his head. He then finally admitted, the words sounding almost sour, “Neither do I. You might be as big of an idiot as me.”

Beau’s eyes widened in surprise, his focus briefly swaying from the road. “What d’you mean? You guys were perfect together. Is this about what Newton said?”

Randy’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “Y/N never told you?”

“Told me what?”

Randy chewed on his lower lip before pushing out the words that had plagued him for three years. “She wanted to leave me.”

Beau shook his head. “Nah, I don’t buy it. She loved you. You should’ve seen her after she thought you’d died.”

Randy inhaled sharply, his head spinning with regret and heart filling with hope. For the past years, he had wondered if he’d ever get another chance to fix things with you.

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” he said, his gaze cast downward as if he were confessing his sins to a priest. “She wanted kids, and I told her I didn’t. Neither of us was backing down. The night the cartel kidnapped me, we were supposed to have dinner and talk about it when I got home. Part of me already knew where it was headed.”

Beau listened and nodded. He remembered the set dinner table, the lovingly prepared food, the candles – it didn’t seem like something one would do if they planned on leaving.

“No, I don’t think she would’ve left you,” Beau noted, although his heart stung when he said it out loud.

“I overheard her asking Carla for a divorce lawyer. Pretty sure she was,” Randy retorted. “Seems silly now. She was already out of my league. I should’ve just given her what she wanted. I don’t even know why I didn’t. I should’ve just shut up and been grateful.”

“That’s what I would’ve told you to do,” Beau muttered, his brain trying to keep track and process everything. Why had you never told him any of this? And more importantly: “Why have you never told me?”

“Guess I was embarrassed.” Randy shrugged. “And I already knew what you would’ve said.”

Secretly amused, Beau cocked a brow. “What? That you’re an idiot?”

“Exactly.”

“And Carla knew?”

“I guess.” Randy gave another shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, they talked all the time. Well, mostly it was Carla complaining about you, but still…”

Beau’s brow furrowed into deep lines. He should’ve been more surprised than he was. The only thing that really baffled him was the fact you had still agreed to date him after hearing all of that. What else didn’t he know?

“I thought they met once a week for book club?”

Randy shot him a pitying look. “Dude, there was no book club. Only three bottles of wine.” He then exhaled a long sigh, stretching back into his seat. “Maybe it’s good she didn’t pick anyone. She deserves someone who can give her what she wants.”

“What makes you think I can’t?” A little offended, Beau raised his brow. “You know, when she came back a few weeks ago, I swore I’d make things right. I wouldn’t let her go this time.”

But Beau broke that promise. He pushed you away to stay clear of complications. His heart twinged.

“And you think she wanted to live in a trailer in the woods of Montana?”

“Doesn’t matter. I would’ve given her anything she wanted. No questions asked,” Beau stated simply. “I was happy when I was with her. Didn’t matter where we were or what we were doing.”

“So, what? You planned on marrying her? Kids?”

Beau twitched his shoulders, his eyes not drifting from the street. If he glanced at Randy only for a beat, he couldn’t ignore his friend’s reactions any longer and still remain honest. “We never talked about it, but... If that’s what she wants, then yeah. Don’t even have to think about it. You really were an idiot, you know?”

“I know that. Thank you,” Randy huffed sarcastically and rolled his eyes. “Still not getting my blessing, though.”

“Good thing you’re not her father,” Beau snapped. He could only muster so much patience. “You don’t really have a say in who she’s datin’.”

“You’re one to talk.” Randy scoffed mockingly. “I met your friend Denise at the station. We had a long chat. She almost talks as much as you. Sounded like you tried to have a say in who Carla should marry. Little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“That’s different,” Beau retorted defensively. “We have a kid together. Whoever Carla’s seeing is also gonna be in Emily’s life.”

“So, you don’t even care a little about Carla’s well-being? ‘Cause Denise said you killed her new husband,” Randy countered cleverly.

“Of course I care,” Beau admitted frustratedly. What did Randy want to hear? That he was right about everything? Well, except one thing: “And I didn’t kill Avery, by the way. Might have been slightly responsible for his death, sure, but I didn’t kill the idiot.”

“Seems to be a pattern for you. Maybe Diane was right,” Randy muttered wryly.

Beau licked his lips and sighed. “Listen, I know that devil woman is good at getting into someone’s head, but you gotta believe me, man. I did not leave you to die. If I had known–”

“Whoa, I know,” Randy interrupted him with an amused chuckle and two placating hands. “I was just joking. I knew you didn’t hand me over to the cartel on purpose in some evil ploy to get with my wife. That would be insane.”

Beau gave a nod, accepting his answer with relief. “Well, good.”

“Look, I’m not delusional, contrary to what everyone’s thinking. I know things happened while I was away,” Randy admitted. “I figured she had moved on. For three years, I actually hoped she did. I wanted her to be happy. Just didn’t think it be you, I guess. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised, though. I kinda knew you always liked her. Just didn’t think any more of it, you know?”

“And there wasn’t more, alright? I promise,” Beau assured him, his cheeks reddening from embarrassment. He never thought Randy would’ve suspected anything – not that there really ever was anything. But had his tiny crush really been that obvious? “One of those things, you know? Just ‘cause I find Michelle Rodriguez attractive doesn’t mean I seriously expect to date her. I didn’t know it was more than that till I spent some time with her.”

“Good to know,” was all Randy said, crossing his arms with an uncomfortable clear of his throat. “Definitely surprised Y/N likes you, though. She always had a pretty low opinion of you. Said you were doing shitty police work and I should be more careful. Guess she was right..." Beau shot him a darkened look but refrained from taking the bait. Randy pursed his lips. "Look, I know I’m a pain in your ass right now. You’d probably love to get rid of me.”

“Well, hey, that’s not–”

“What, true?” Knowingly, Randy lifted a brow. “I would if I were you.”

Beau only nodded, not admitting out loud the thought had certainly crossed his mind. “So, what are you thinking now?”

“Still want her to be happy,” Randy said quietly.

All of a sudden, Beau then slammed on the brakes, both men jolting forward into their seatbelts. A loud thud echoed through the car as something heavy hit the Jeep’s hood. For a moment, the sheriff thought he’d run into a deer before blinking his eyes at the bloodied and muddied image of Hal Turner.

“What the hell?!”

Turner was in rough shape, pantingly and deliriously stumbling around the car and onto the road, shielding his eyes from the blinding headlights with his palm. Blood dripped from various places from his head and body before Beau’s eyes narrowed on the metal tool stuck inside his neck.

“Guess we found our missing screwdriver,” Randy noted as the two men jumped out of the car, guns drawn.

“Where is she, Turner?” Beau prompted sternly, his finger itching to pull the trigger for everything he’d done to you. But knowing where you were was more important than a vendetta. Turner could only speak while he was alive.

And the man seemed to know it, too. Before the sheriff could call for back-up and an ambulance, Turner sneered and raised a hand, gripping the screwdriver tightly.

“No, don’t!”

Beau’s plea came too late. Hal Turner pulled the makeshift weapon out of his throat and collapsed to the ground, bleeding out within seconds.

Randy’s fingers landed on the man’s pulse point. He glanced up at his partner with a shake of his head. “He’s gone.”

Throwing his gun angrily into the rustling brushes, Beau gripped his temples and screamed into the void of the dark woods. Desperation clawed on his mind and heart. The fear of losing you for good took him prisoner. With labored breaths, he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and rubbed his tired eyes. Turner had been his last lead. He knew more wouldn’t be coming.

What now?

A sanctimonious beep of his phone drew his attention. A small part of him prayed it was Jenny, informing him you’d emerged a few miles up the road – bloody like Turner, but otherwise fine. Alive.

But his green eyes only found an email and darkened at the sender’s name. “Diane just sent me a link.”

Randy, caught in his own spiral, suddenly glanced up. “To what?”

“Livestream.”

Chapter 13: Sure And Certain

Another cliffhanger, and it looks like Diane's still having the last laugh 🙈

What did you think of this part? Were you surprised by Randy's revelation? He might've changed his mind on a few things 😉

See ya next week for the freaking finale 🤍

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[ionobjectshow]

Hello granddad!! Really enjoyed the new episode by the way :D I just wanted to ask something, I dont know if you already answered this so I'm sorry for bothering you if you have D:

Do you have a particular interest in nuclear physics? I'm wondering because when I watch ION it seems to me like you must be very passionate about it as well, either that or your just very good at researching (or making stuff up this sounds legit to people who dont know anything about physics, like me! /j), but it sounds like you know a considerable amount! Maybe it just seems like that to me because I don't understand physics at all :P

I really love cracklin!! So much!!! I've felt like I was too naive and childish for most of my life, I felt weak, pathetic, i cried nearly every day and my feelings of self hatred were only solidified by the people around me. And even though I act MUCH differently now and am in fact quite crude (I am much like a bird squawking outside your window that refuses to shut up!!!) and say uncomfortable things, I'm still regarded as naive and dumb sometimes! The thing Sylvia and cracklin have going on feels very similar to MANY friendships I've had with girls my age. I liked school very much and liked to work, so it made them angry that I managed to be "so stupid and so smart at the same time" (quoted directly from something a girl said to me when I was in middle school). I feel very seen.

I also want to ask if you have a particular interest in object shows, or if you just happened to choose to make your show an object show by coincidence? Object shows are my special interest and I LOVE how your show goes against (almost) everything standard for an object show. Your show is absolutely unique and there's nothing like it out there! I'm sure you will inspire many young creators to make their object shows more serious and complex, deviating from just the typical competition show. In my eyes something is qualified as an object show when there are objects (or non human characters) and the creator considers it an object show, so I love how versatile the title can be! Your designs communicate a lot about the characters and that's SO uncommon!!!! I love it!!!!! You inspire ME!!!! The art is also BEAUTIFUL, really abnormal to see in object shows, most of the time very little detail is put into it, but your backgrounds feel so ALIVE

Have a good day! :]

☢️ As soon as I saw this secret message, the words flashed through my mind: “this letter is very autistic, perhaps it was created by an autistic person.” ☢️ I love long opinions with lots of details and sincere emotions, thank you for this text, I was very happy reading it!

☢️ Yes, you guessed it - nuclear physics (especially everything related to the operation of Nuclear Power Plants) has been my special autistic interest for about 5 years now. I love everything about it. In fact, I am absolutely bad at the exact sciences, but the dance of nuclear energies fascinates me and takes my breath away! I order manuals on nuclear reactors for myself and read them with great pleasure, waving my hands. I often go to a coffee shop to read there by the window with a cup of coffee ^^

☢️ I created ION during the most terrible period of my life, and this project was the only thing that held me while anxious depression was rapidly developing and consuming me into some bottomless black abyss. So I put my whole soul, all of myself and what I love into ION, I made this project my mirror. ☢️ It is very important for me to see how this story touches the hearts of other people, I scream with delight if some neurodivergent people recognize themselves in Cracklin! This is extremely important to me.

☢️ Object shows are not my special interest, but I was very surprised and intrigued by this genre of web animation. At first, I did not like the concept of an object show and I could not understand why people were watching it … and then something switched inside me and I really wanted to create my own experimental Object show. To create it entirely myself. To make an author's project that will become a part of me. I didn't even hope that ION would be liked by anyone else, I posted 1 episode with the thought that I was doing it only for myself. And now I am happy as a rainbow in the sky, reading so many kind comments and support! Thank you very much

[its-a-me-mango]

For mango

Miss kamilyvision: Hey doctor can you see my head if I don't need to throw it away or not, do you know? Sometimes it starts to bleed and I thought you know what, I'm going to go to the doctor

Mango: lady there's nothing wrong with your head

Miss kamilyvision: oh I'm talking my head from inside my TV head Here let me show you so you understand

Mango: wait what do you mean?-

IM GOING CRAZY OVER THISSSS I LOVE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND BUT AAAAAAA thank you I'm so sorry for taking forever to get around to respond but!!!! I have a response to something else in mind so LALALAL