#what happened between the time i fell asleep and the time i woke up

[jessiso]

"No Safe Distance"

A Criminal Minds one-shot | Post Prison Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader.

Assigned as her bodyguard after a stalker threatens her life, a guarded post-prison Spencer Reid fights his growing feelings for her—until danger forces them both to confront what’s been building between them.

cw: angst, past trauma, emotional tension, inner conflict, mentions of death, stalking, potential harm, implied sex

w/c 1,145

...

It had been twenty-six days since Spencer Reid moved into your house.

Twenty-six days since the FBI classified the threats against your life as credible.

Since the messages escalated from cryptic letters to photographs of your every move.

Since they realized the man stalking you wasn’t just obsessed—he was planning something.

And twenty-six days since Spencer had taken the corner bedroom downstairs and barely spoken more than a sentence or two at a time.

You weren’t sure what you expected when they told you an agent would be assigned full-time to keep you safe.

Maybe a well-meaning rookie. Maybe someone fatherly and gentle.

But you got Spencer Reid.

He was quiet. Guarded. So smart it was a little terrifying. And intense in ways you couldn’t quite describe, even now.

His brown eyes missed nothing—every twitch of your hands, every tremor in your voice, every flicker of fear. He noticed. He always noticed.

But he never let you see anything in him.

Not softness. Not kindness. And definitely not affection.

At least, not directly.

The first time you fell asleep on the couch, you woke up tucked in with a blanket.

He denied it.

When you forgot to lock the bathroom door and he nearly kicked it in thinking something had happened—you’d seen something flash in his expression.

Panic. Fury. Relief.

Then it was gone, just like always.

Tonight, the house was too quiet.

The news had reported another woman missing—another woman with long dark hair, just like yours.

You were curled up on the window seat, legs drawn to your chest, trying not to tremble.

The silence felt wrong. Too sharp, too still.

Spencer sat in the living room chair, a book on his lap but his eyes unmoving.

You could feel the tension in the air like electricity, humming between you.

You finally broke. "He’s not going to stop, is he?"

His voice was low and flat. “No.”

That honesty was brutal. No comfort. No false hope.

You stared at him, his frame tense, the muscles in his jaw tight, a vein throbbing in his neck.

You spoke again before you could stop yourself. “Do you think he’s watching me? Right now?”

Spencer’s head snapped up, his gaze sharp as a blade. “Don’t say that.”

“But—”

“He is watching you.” Spencer stood now, walking toward you with a tightly coiled energy that made your heart pound. “He’s studying you. Hunting you. And every time you say things like that, you minimize the danger you’re in.”

You blinked, startled by his intensity. “I’m not minimizing—”

“Yes, you are.” His voice was quieter now but no less fierce. “You think I’m here because I want to be? You think I like sleeping with a gun under my pillow every night and checking every lock twice and keeping my hand on my weapon when you walk past a window?”

There it was. The heat. The buried emotion leaking out in controlled bursts.

Your throat tightened. “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

Something dark flickered in his expression, and before you could take it back, he crossed the room in three steps.

“You think I’d leave you now?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You think I haven’t already memorized every exit, every deadbolt, every creaking floorboard in this house just in case I need to kill someone for you?”

You swallowed, air thin in your lungs.

Spencer’s hands gripped the edge of the window seat on either side of your thighs. Not touching, but so close.

“You’re not just a case anymore,” he murmured, eyes boring into yours. “That’s the problem.”

Your pulse raced. “Then what am I?”

His jaw flexed. “A mistake.”

The words hit you like ice water. You pulled back, the breath caught in your throat, but he didn’t move away.

“I can’t feel things for you,” Spencer said. “Not now. Not like this.”

“But you do,” you whispered.

He flinched. Just barely. But it was there.

He looked away like the truth burned him.

“I can’t be what you want,” he said. “Not when I wake up every night thinking about solitary confinement. Not when I still jump at the sound of cell doors slamming in my dreams. I’m not whole.”

You reached out before you could second-guess yourself, your hand finding his wrist, fingers curling there. His pulse jumped beneath your touch.

“I don’t need you to be whole,” you said softly. “I just need you to be real with me.”

His eyes closed. A breath escaped him. Then, suddenly, Spencer surged forward, lips crashing against yours in a kiss that felt like breaking glass.

You gasped, shocked at the ferocity of it—at the way his hands found your waist like he was trying to memorize the feel of you.

Dominant. Desperate. Unforgiving.

It was raw and consuming, and he didn’t hold back—didn’t pretend.

You’d kissed men before. But you’d never been claimed.

He pulled away just enough to speak, his voice like thunder. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not gentle. Not with this. Not with you.”

You whispered, “I don’t want gentle.”

Spencer’s hands curled tighter on your hips, eyes dark with something close to agony. “If I let myself have you, even a little, I won’t be able to stop.”

“Then don’t stop.”

Something inside him cracked. You heard it—felt it.

He kissed you again, this time slower but no less intense, and you were pulled down into him like gravity.

His hands slid beneath your thighs and lifted you effortlessly into his lap, pressing you flush against him.

You broke the kiss long enough to whisper against his mouth, “Tell me you want me.”

He groaned, forehead falling to your shoulder.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he whispered. “To care about someone and not be able to save them. I’ve lost people. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But I trust you.”

That stilled him. Entirely. Like those words were sacred. Dangerous.

He leaned back just enough to look into your eyes. “You shouldn’t.”

But he kissed you again anyway.

The night passed in a haze of stolen touches and soft moans.

You never made it to your bed—Spencer carried you to the couch, his hands reverent and possessive all at once.

When he touched you, it was like he was rewriting all the pieces of himself he thought were broken.

He whispered your name like a prayer, like he couldn’t believe it was real.

And when it was over—when your breaths were slowing and your body was molded against his—you felt the shift.

Not just lust.

Not just protection.

Something else. Something scarier.

Spencer’s fingers traced shapes on your back, his voice barely audible.

“I’m going to find him,” he said. “And when I do…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to.

You knew.

[tifosofia]

Midnight rain - CL16

TW- trauma talk, scars, hurt/comfort, bad grammar, google translate French.

Living in Monaco ment that you didn’t see rain as often, but when you did see rain, you didn’t waste a single second to run out with music on and go dance in the rain. Charles wasn’t home but you knew the rain would not make him as happy as you for various reasons. A few minutes later you heard the loud roar of the engine of Charles’ Pista as he rolled into the driveway. He sat in the car for a few minutes as he prepared himself for this day «If only the track hadn’t been so slippery» he though to himself as Jules’ crash floated up in his mind yet another time. Hs thoughts were interrupted by you opening his door "Charles, come dance with me" you spoke softly with a pure smile that played on your lips. "Mon ange, let’s go inside, You will catch a cold" he said, partially making up an excuse to go inside. "Please amore, come with me" you pouted giving him those puppy eyes he couldn’t resist "Okay, let's go" he reluctantly nodded before walking to dance with you as "lover" by Taylor Swift played. in the background. You hummed softly to the lyrics as you danced together under the soft rain and a small smile crept on Charles’ lips. You danced for what felt like an eternity as he tried to hide the way his shoulders tensed. After a while he went into the house to take shower, leaving you alone lying on the grass. Instead of showering he just broke down in tears as the emotions he bottled up exploded in his chest as the knot in his throat grew bigger. He sobbed quietly for a few minutes before his cheeks dried and he moved to make it seem like he actually showered. He then walked back outside with changed clothes and damp hair just to see you laying on the grass with your eyes closed. He was tempted to say something, but instead he just laid down next to you without saying a word. You turned to him and noticed his glazy, reddened eyes staring un into the sky and the tearstains on his cheeks “Charles…?” You broke the silence “Hm?” He didn’t turn to face you “Are you okay, amore mio?” You spoke softly, reaching for his hand. he stayed silent for a moment before answering “It’s my fault” His voice broke “I should’ve told him not to go, I should’ve-..” He rambled as more tears soaked his cheeks. “Hey, hey..It’s okay, it’s not your fault amore. You couldn’t stop the rain, and most certainly, you couldn’t change what was going to happen” you embraced him in your arms “Let it all out, amore mio, don’t be afraid” you caressed his back in circular motions as he sobbed helplessly in your chest as the rain fell softly.

Later that night he woke up to a loud thunder in the middle of the night, taking a few seconds to adjust to the darkness of your shared bedroom. He turned around expecting to see you asleep next to him, but to his surprise, your side of the bed was empty. His eyes scanned the room just to see you sitting near the window wearing your favourite sports bra and sweatpants, holding a mug of what smelled like tea. The only light in the room came from the lightning outside, when they shined against your skin Charles swore he saw a scar just like the survivors of a lightning strike. He decided to stay silent and kept watching you before remembering that he never saw a scar like that in you, he decided to get up and sit next to you. “You should be asleep” you said quietly taking a sip out of your tea “Same goes for you, chérie” he spoke as his hand moved to gently caress the scars on your left shoulder. For half a second your eyes widened and your whole body stiffened before you relaxed under his soft touch “May I ask where you got this scar..?” He traced its path as he hesitantly asked. “Years ago I, I was trying to save my friend from killing herself under a rainstorm and as I approached her a lightning struck just in between us and a small fraction of it hit my shoulder.” You explained taking a sip of your tea, your eyes never leaving the window “Luckily I managed to save her, but I was left with this scar. I always hid it with make up or faux skin as I thought someone would judge me.” you pressed your lips in a fine line “je suis désolée, mon amour” he said in French intertwining his finger with yours and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “It’s okay, é una storia vecchia” you smiled as he dragged you back under the duvet snuggling up to you as you enjoyed the background noise of rain with a deeper bond between your relationship.

[ragingtwilight]

BRUH

EVERYTIME I feel like im starting to feel better my body just turns around and flips me off

mf sends me off w a shove down the stairs, nausea, sweating/tremors, headache, confusion, dizziness, it pantsed me, it stole my lunch money, it gave me a swirlie, i cant fuckin win

[xhyjin]

fights with toji! weren’t a common occurrence in your relationship with him, but when they did happen, you often found yourself shutting down—completely avoiding and ignoring his presence. you’ll admit it was a childish and selfish thing to do. “you should talk to him about your feelings” is what you tell yourself all the time, but you keep doing it, and it isn’t your fault! this is how you cope, and you can’t change it.

at first, he doesn’t really notice that you’re ignoring him. it had been a day since you two argued about a petty incident—him leaving the toilet seat up, causing you to fall into it late at night when you were too half-asleep to notice. he called it a “dumb thing to be mad about” and said there was “no need to argue,” but this had been your last nerve. you didn’t want to argue in the middle of the night, but you also didn’t want pajamas that were wet from toilet water, so you just walked off and changed into a different pair while he went back to bed, thinking everything was fine.

it was not.

he woke up, noticing you weren’t in bed. it wasn’t unusual, but it was definitely rare, you’re not a morning person and only wake up early when you have plans for the day. he shrugged it off and continued with his day, walking into the kitchen to see you making breakfast “good morning, princess,” he greeted, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you. you didn’t answer, and he still didn’t notice, instead resting his full weight on you and inhaling your scent before letting go and heading to the couch to scroll on his phone.

you were mad at him, yes, but you still made him breakfast. he should probably hope you didn’t mix toilet water with his coffee, but you weren’t that petty. still, he didn’t notice. instead of talking about your plans for the day like usual, the two of you ate in silence. the more he didn’t notice, the more upset you got. he didn’t even notice the evident pout on your face! or the shift in the air between you two—a thick tension that, somehow, only you could feel.

it wasn’t until the middle of the day that, while you two were watching a movie, or at least he was, that you found yourself teetering on the edge of the couch, about to fall off as you sulked. you weren’t even mad about the whole toilet seat situation, but rather the fact that he hadn’t noticed you were ignoring him! you had enough and stood up, intending to go to your shared bedroom to sulk, but as you walked by him, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down on top of him.

"you done being upset, baby?" he asks. so he did know, you think to yourself. he doesn't even let you answer before connecting his lips to yours in a passionate, yet playful kiss. he bites your bottom lip, causing you to squeal and pull away, and when you do, you see a smirk on his handsome face that makes you want to smack it off. "i'm sorry, baby. i promise not to leave the seat up again, and i'm sorry that because of my inconsideration, you fell into the toilet."

you sigh, looking away from his gaze as you sit on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist so you can’t escape even if you wanted to. “come on, baby, please?” he pleads, reaching for your face and turning your chin toward him. his eyebrows are furrowed with a needy look as he asks, “do you want me to sit on the toilet with the seat up? would that make us even?” almost desperate, he suggests. at that moment, you finally smile and nod, half joking and half agreeing. “oh, my princess is back,” he sighs in relief once you stop ignoring him, making you giggle. you lay your head on his chest as he kisses your head all over.

[ladysharmaa]

Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gif is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

[darkmatilda]

𝐰𝐢𝐭���� 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: basically just two bookworms arguing about books and having a s3x right after

𝐚/𝐧: please read the note! so it's only a very short part of my upcoming fanfiction that has...25k words...i'm aware no one is going to read it all soo i'm publishing one of my favorite parts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.1k

Maybe it was that one drink you had, but your legs seemed to take you in a certain direction.

You weren’t sure if Spencer was even home. But if you had nothing else to do, why not check? A short walk. You were a little desperate, after all, you didn’t have anywhere else to go. That’s how you justified it. You were going to him because you had no other option.

He opened the door, dressed in a wrinkled shirt, trousers, and a tie loosely hanging around his neck. His hair was in disarray, and you felt an urge to run your fingers through it and style it the way you wanted, but it would’ve been awkward.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?"

Surprised, Spencer shook his head.

"No... Actually, I was asleep."

"In those clothes?"

"I fell asleep while reading..." he explained, trailing off when he noticed your appearance. To put it modestly, you looked incredibly hot. For a long moment, his gaze lingered on your dress, visible beneath the open jacket and ending high on your thigh. "Very... nice dress. Is it... is it your mom's too?"

You chuckled.

"Can you imagine my mom, a school psychologist, in a dress covering half her ass?"

Embarrassed, Spencer raised his hands in apology and also chuckled softly.

"Sorry, I'm still half-asleep. Anyway... is there something wrong that you're here?"

"My mentally unstable ex-boyfriend of my roommate is lurking under our apartment.” You confessed bluntly “I'm a little scared to go back, and... I didn't know where else I could go."

It seemed like he was suddenly waking up quickly. He swung the door wide open, letting you in.

"Of course, come in. Is he dangerous?"

"He shows up every now and then and then disappears. It's like a lottery. Jude doesn't want to ever see him again, so we just pretend we're not here when it happens."

The inside looked just as you remembered. The lights were off everywhere except the bedroom, where he was probably reading. You allowed yourself to take off your uncomfortable shoes and set them by the door.

"Why don't you report it to the police?" His forehead furrowed with concern.

"Jude doesn't want to. And I don't want to do anything against her will. But I swear, if this happens again, I'll convince her. Or I'll do it myself."

"You should," he said, and suddenly a silence fell between you.

You weren't sure how to act. You'd barged in on him in the middle of the night, pulling him from his sleep. Not to mention, you hadn't seen each other since that conversation at the bar.

"Let me take your jacket," he said after a moment, as if remembering how to behave when hosting a guest.

You slowly took it off, revealing the full dress. Spencer momentarily let his gaze linger on it, but then he caught himself and turned away to hang your jacket. The glance didn't embarrass you in the slightest; if anything, you expected to catch him looking.

"Sorry if I woke you," you said, realizing you should probably apologize. It was only then that you began to feel a little awkward about the situation.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault. And I'm glad I can help," he said, and once again, silence settled between you. Spencer placed his hand on his forehead as he realized you were still standing in the hallway. "Sorry, it's been a long time since anyone's visited, and I don't even know how to act... Do you want something to drink, or need anything?"

"I’m fine," you assured him, walking behind him into the living room. "I don't want you to act like I'm some important guest, Spencer. Or like you need to serve me."

"But you are an important guest," he replied.

A warm, gentle smile appeared on your lips.

"What were you reading?" you asked, leaning your lower back against the kitchen island, the two rooms connected as one. You glanced around the cozy interior, in soft, almost warm hues, where the darkness of the night blended with the orange light of the lamp. "Let me guess, some spine-chilling thriller?"

"I have spine-chilling thrillers every day at work," he snorted. "I was reading... Emma. Jane Austen."

Your eyebrows shot up.

"You fell asleep reading classic literature on a Friday night? Spencer Reid, what kind of man are you?"

"In a good way or a bad way?"

He stood across from you, his arms loosely crossed over his chest. Your eyes lingered on the first few undone buttons of his shirt.

"Of course, in a good way. Why would I judge someone for reading?"

"I don’t know," he shrugged. "Some people think it’s boring. And weird, especially on a Friday night. And what about you? What were you doing before your roommate’s ex showed up?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes as he nodded meaningfully toward your outfit. "Were you reading too?"

You lifted your chin high.

"Exactly. I was reading my favorite Shakespearean drama in my favorite dress. And those incredibly comfortable shoes I left by your door."

"That goes without saying."

"I definitely wasn’t at any club."

"I wouldn’t even suspect you of that."

"I was doing what any God-fearing virgin would do," you said, bursting into laughter at the absurdity. "Alright, alright. I’m getting carried away. Now I actually feel like reading something. But nothing too classic—I don’t have the brainpower for it. Do you happen to have any romance novels?"

I'm afraid not."

"Really? You have more books in your home than the library in my hometown, and not a single romance? I’m not talking about dark erotica or anything—just something subtle. Friends to lovers, polite sex..."

Spencer choked on a laugh.

"Sorry, but are you drunk?"

You were just horny. 

"Not a drop of alcohol has touched my lips. I'm just hyperactive. That’s what the night does to me."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"So? Aren't you hiding any sinful books in there?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly amused rather than annoyed by your persistence.

"You're welcome to look," he offered, gesturing toward one of the shelves. "But I’m not promising you’ll find anything like that."

"But if I do, you owe me a drink."

“And if it turns out I’m right, then what?”

You bit your lip, pondering. 

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You know, I won’t enter a bet unless I know what I get in return.”

“And what do you want?”

“A dinner together,” he replied without hesitation. “Or breakfast, if you prefer.”

“Deal,” you answered just as quickly. You weren’t worried about regretting it—your blood was buzzing too much for that.

He extended his hand for you to shake on it, sealing the deal. Instead of letting go, you held onto his fingers firmly and tugged him toward the bookshelf. He stood so close as you examined the books one by one, taking some out to inspect their covers to see if they suggested any hint of romance. When they didn’t, he let out a short laugh, his breath brushing against your neck and sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t let it show.

“Spencer…” you started after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “It counts if the book has a romantic subplot, right?”

“No, it doesn’t count! We agreed on a romance. A full-fledged, contemporary one.”

“We didn’t say contemporary.”

“I assumed it was implied since I mentioned owning Jane Austen books. Pride and Prejudice is a romance, among other things…”

“Ha! So you do have one. I won!” You raised your hands high in victory.

“…But it’s also a social and domestic novel. Doesn’t count.”

You poked him in the chest with your finger.

“You don’t know how to lose.”

He glanced at the spot where you touched him, clearly trying not to smile.

“Maybe I just care a lot about that dinner,” he admitted boldly.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to look at him confidently, but it was hard to think and maintain eye contact with him at the same time.

“Or breakfast,” you murmured.

“Or breakfast,” he agreed. Realizing how close he was standing, he instinctively stepped back half a pace. “So, are you ready to admit my victory?”

You shot him a defiant look.

“Not a chance. I haven’t even checked all the books yet. I’m only about three-quarters through. Who knows what kind of BDSM might be lurking in the last quarter?”

“Seriously?” he asked with a sigh. “Okay, just look at me. Do I seem like the kind of guy who reads stuff like that?”

“Honestly, you look like the kind of guy who reads encyclopedias. But the one thing I know about people is that appearances can be deceiving. Still waters run deep.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re as stubborn as they come.”

“Maybe I just really want that drink,” you teased.

“I can make you one,” he offered unexpectedly.

“Seriously?” The suggestion caught you off guard.

Spencer shrugged casually.

“I don’t drink much, but some friends gave me a few bottles for my birthday.”

You hesitated, considering.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you admitted. You felt good, even without alcohol. “But I do have another request… Do you happen to have something I could change into? I won’t lie, this isn’t the most comfortable dress… though it’s absolutely stunning.”

He smiled softly.

"You’re right. And yes, I’ll find something for you to change into. Just… it’ll be something of mine."

Following him into the bedroom, you let out a small chuckle.

"You know, I didn’t expect you to have a closet full of women’s clothes. Plus, in my size. Although, who knows what girls leave behind at your place. It’s a tactic, you know? You leave a sock at a guy’s place to have an excuse to come back. Unless you didn’t like it, then you have to accept losing the sock."

He didn’t say anything, opening the wardrobe to find something appropriate for you. You’d been in his bedroom before and didn’t feel the need to look around; nothing had changed inside.

"Do you do this often?" he asked, inspecting a t-shirt. "Use the sock strategy?"

"No," you replied, shrugging. "I’m too straightforward for that. If I like it, I just go back and say 'Let’s do it again' Or I don’t leave at all. I’m a bit of a parasite too."

He chuckled at the comparison and finally handed you some clothes. You didn’t really look at them; you just needed something looser, something you hadn’t danced in for hours at the club.

"You know where the bathroom is, right?"

You confirmed and were about to head in that direction when you stopped.

"Wait," you said, turning back toward him. But then, you turned again, facing him with your back. "The zipper on the dress," you explained, pulling your hair to the front. "I could manage it myself, but I don’t want to risk breaking it. Could you…?"

"Y-yeah," he agreed after a moment, stepping closer.

He stood just behind you, reaching for the top of your back. Before he pulled the zipper down, there was a moment where he simply paused, unmoving. Your knees suddenly trembled, almost impatiently. Then, he tugged at the zipper, unfastening the dress, and the coolness and freedom teased your skin.

You could have said thank you and headed to the bathroom, but you didn’t. Something kept your body rooted in place, right there next to him, feeling the pads of his fingers on the lower part of your dress.

Even his breath, louder and irregular.

When you began to, slightly disappointed, assume that he wouldn’t do anything more, his lips found a spot on your neck, kissing it slowly. You inhaled deeply, your head instinctively tilting back, giving him more access, as if you had been waiting for just that.  He stopped for a longer time in this specific place, pressing on it harder, as you barely hold a groan. 

Your breath was given a free rollercoaster ride.

You reached your hand back, wrapping it around his head and pulling him closer to you. You felt him sigh directly into your skin, leaving another two hungry kisses on an exposed skin on your shoulder. God, why were you still wearing that dress?

You abruptly stopped, turning around and almost hitting the top of your head against his jaw. You didn't care about it, and the thought of apologizing never crossed your mind, just simply pushed him, planting a strong kiss right on his lips.

The clothes he gave you slipped from your hand and fell to the floor, but neither of you were concerned about it, as you were both too absorbed to care. You pushed him again, this time onto the bed, on which he sat, surprised by your suddenness. You saw red marks creeping onto the parts of the neck exposed by the undone shirt. 

"Spencer, Spencer, Spencer," you said, shaking your head in a mock reprimand. He tilted his head to the side, unsure of where you were going with this, his fingers impatiently brushing your waist on both sides. "You lied to me."

Your hands grabbed his face, positioning just under his jaw and lifting it upward so you could find his lips right against yours. 

“I lied to you?”

"“That's right. You said you don't read romances. But tell me, how does someone who doesn't do that know such practices?”

“Practices?” he repeated again, surprised."

His gaze was focused solely on your lips to which he tried to get closer, but you hadn't allowed him to yet. 

"This whole unbuttoning of the dress. And then, the neck”

With your index finger, you traced along the skin on his neck

“Did you like it?” he asked, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. He removed one hand from your waist and took your hand, the one you had been playing with.

“Did I like it?” you scoffed with a genuine laugh.“I’m like half naked now. Answer that for yourself”

Undressing was the element you hated the most. You became impatient and couldn't understand why your clothes couldn't just disappear from you, instead of threatening to burn your already overheated skin. Spencer didn't help, so slow in his movements. You had a feeling he was doing it on purpose. He probably enjoyed watching you struggle to untangle yourself from the dress. He waited a minute before helping you, effortlessly pulling it over your head.

Maybe slow wasn't the most accurate description.The way he touched his body wasn’t slow. It was like rationing a treat, breaking it into small pieces and savoring them one by one. Meanwhile, it gazed straight into your mouth, shouting, eat me!

It required incredible self-control and composure, but it resulted in something more than just pleasure. When he found himself right between your legs, his lips touching gently every single inch of your thigh and refusing to go further despite your pleas, you compared him to the previous guys you slept with. With them, on the other hand, you had to tell them to slow down, to do everything more carefully, and not to focus solely on their own needs.

“Does it feel right?” He asked, briefly lifting his gaze, his hands gripping your thighs.

Your back arched, probably enough of an answer, but you confirmed it with a soft moan.

"I'd rather you said it out loud. Does it feel right?"

"That's edging on sadism, do you realize that?" you whimpered, trying to release the tension by pulling at his hair.

He stopped again.

"Please, do it again."

It wasn't something he had to beg for.

The rest went similarly. You liked how his confidence and courage grew, but you also went wild when, at certain moments, the same gentle and sometimes awkward Spencer returned. It was a perfectly balanced mix.

"Can you talk to me more?" he asked over time, once he was already inside you. "I want to know how you feel about all of this." After those words, your forehead twitched slightly as you felt the onset of pain. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you whispered, accompanied by a faintly tired exhale.”A little. But it's normal I just didn't have sex for a while”

"No, it shouldn't hurt you. Do you want to stop?"

"Just... give me a moment."

He slowed down, almost stopping. You took a breath,pressing your forehead to his. You stayed like that for a moment, neither of you in a hurry. After all, where to? Outside, the night still reigned, long and patient, winter’s grip holding steady. You liked having his face so close to yours, joining them together and not speaking. For the first time, you could truly say that you enjoyed the silence.

You had always considered silence overwhelming, incapable of calming the chaos that arose in your mind. You preferred moments of wildness, loud sounds, and fast pace, but it was in that silence, which fell then, that you found a peace filled with intimacy.

You wrapped your arms tighter around his neck.

"It's okay, I'm ready."

After everything, you simply lay facing each other, tangled in one another. Actually, you didn’t like that expression "after everything." After everything—after what exactly? Sex wasn’t just about the physical act; it also included the long moment before and the even more significant one after. It was precisely that moment after which revealed the true you both. How much you cared for each other and how much you meant to each other beyond the bed. That was often missing in one-night stands; the perspective of quickly disappearing from each other's lives and being forgotten somehow intensified selfishness in people.

Lying there, you played with the hair on his forehead.

"You know, they say this is the moment when people are the most honest with each other."

"Do you want to squeeze a few secrets out of me?" he asked.

"Just one," you said mysteriously, turning onto your back. Before that, you noticed his eyebrows furrow.

He propped himself up on his elbow to look at you again.

"Which one?"

You pretended to hesitate before answering. You tried with all your might to keep the smile from appearing on your face, betraying you.

"I'm afraid that even now, you won't be honest with me."

"I'm starting to get worried."

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise to tell the truth. Give me your pinky."

"What?"

"A pinky promise, you fool."

“O-okay” 

Clearly surprised, he did what you asked.

"Now tell me the truth. You got any romance books at your place you're too embarrassed to admit to?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll find them," you teased. "I’ll get up right now and find them."

You pretended to get up, but he pulled you closer, preventing you from moving.

"You're not going anywhere."

i know some of you were curious about this fanfiction, so I'm tagging it.

@nightfullofparadox @bloodredrubyrose @lillaberry @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx

[fear-is-truth]

hello! i’ve been reading your work for a while and i just adore it. this is a bit of an odd request, but i was wondering if you could do some head cannons of funny/embarrassing stuff that happened while reader and jason were doing the deed? i think that would be hilarious

content warning : p in v. backshots. oral (f!receiving). very smutty in general

a/n : a couple of these were based on a comment section on instagram reels

that one time . . . jason lost all respect for you when you made motorcycle noises while he was hitting it from the back. you were both fully in the zone—until you suddenly went, “vroom vrrrmmm,” right as he bottomed out. jason froze. you, however, were losing it, body trembling with laughter. “are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he groaned, dropping his chin against your shoulder. you doubled down with “brrrrm brrrrm.” he immediately pulled out, lightly smacked your ass. “heyyy! what was that for, jay?”

that one time . . . he fell asleep while eating you out. five minutes in, right as you were tugging his hair and moaning his name, the rhythmic laps of his tongue started slowing, before stopping altogether. and… was that a snore? when you look down blearily to find that he was fast asleep between your legs, cheek smushed against your inner thigh like a pillow. you poke at his cheek, trying to wake him, and he just groaned and nuzzled deeper, his big arms are still locked tightly around you. “jay… what the hell?” his response was an unintelligible mumble, followed by a soft snore.

that one time . . . he tried to rip your panties off in one go, but the fabric held strong, and he just ended up yoinking you toward him instead. you yelped as you nearly face-planted onto his chest, and he just sat there, looking betrayed by physics. “goddamnit,” he muttered. “that was supposed to be hot.” he eventually just took them off like a normal person, but he was so bitter about it the entire time.

that one time . . . you’d completely forgotten to lock your pet kitten out before jason bent you over the kitchen counter. mid thrust, he stiffened behind you, his whole body going rigid as your kitten, whiskers twitching with curiosity, trotted up right beside him. a soft meow. then she started to climb up his jeans. he carefully scoped up the tiny intruder with both hands—his cock still pulsating inside you—and passed her to you with the gravitas of someone disarming a bomb. “hold her. she doesn’t need to see this,” he grunted before getting right back to business.

that one time . . . jason got too into it that the bedframe collapsed beneath you both like the wrath of god. awkward silence. a beat. then finally, “i meant to do that.”

that one time . . . his life and death briefly flashed before his eyes when you passed out post-orgasm. he had worked you over thoroughly, and as a result, you came harder than ever. apparently, a little too hard. the moment you came, your body seized up, you let out a tiny gasp, and then—completely limp. jason panicked. he shook you gently, pressed a hand to your forehead, checked your pulse. when he was sure you were alive, he weighed the pros and cons of reviving you with cold water. luckily, you woke up thirty seconds later to him hovering over you like a concerned mother hen.

that one time . . . he accidentally sent an audio file to the family group chat. the two of you were still basking in the afterglow when jason’s phone suddenly exploded with notifications. you watched a myriad of emotions cross his face—annoyance, confusion, and horror. a solid four seconds of pure filth play before he pauses the audio and you both realise what he’s done. he goes pale. you’re staring back at him in horror.

──────────────────────────

Tim: this put an itch on the roof of my mouth that only a shotgun could scratch

Damian: I am blocking you two degenerates.

Dick: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

Babs: I’m pretty sure it’s y/n 🤷‍♀️

Alfred: Master Jason, please kindly remove me from this conversation

Bruce left the group

──────────────────────────

that one time . . . he got a note from alfred that said : “master jason, if you two must defile the furniture, i request that you at least clean it afterward.” jason still hasn’t recovered from that one.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[sluttapes]

⌞ 𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ⌝

christoper owen & matthew bernard sturniolo

𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹ㆍ𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 (𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺.)ㆍ𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬ㆍ𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴ㆍ𝘤𝘶𝘮 𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨ㆍ𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘦ㆍ

you didn’t speak about it when the car pulled into the triplets’ driveway.

no one said a word.

not about what happened. not about how far it had gone. not about how far it almost went. the three of you just got out of the car like nothing happened, the silence tight between you, humming with something unfinished. and maybe it was easier that way—pretending the heat from the drive hadn’t followed you home. pretending you weren’t still pulsing with it.

inside, everything was familiar. matt’s room was still messy from the day you guys left—hoodies on the chair, a half-empty water bottle tipped on his nightstand, rumpled blankets he didn’t even bother to fix before collapsing into them. it was unusual for him, but leaving for the weekend was a rush, so neither of you really bothered with cleaning anything. not you at your place, not them two at theirs. matt just dropped onto the bed like gravity hit him harder than usual, face buried in the pillow. you hovered for a second in the doorway, unsure if you should crawl in too.

but he reached back blindly, fingers curling around your wrist and tugging you in without a word. like it was normal. like nothing had changed. so you napped there, the quiet warmth of his room settling over you both, thick and heavy like the rain had been earlier. matt fell asleep fast, his arm slung across your waist. your heart beat a little too fast for your own comfort, but the exhaustion won eventually.

chris had gone to his room. nick wasn’t home, which made the silence in the house even louder. and when you finally woke up, your body still half sore from the car ride and the weird adrenaline of the day, everything felt… suspended.

like the moment wasn’t over. just paused.

the three of you eventually found yourselves in the living room, sprawled out across the couch and floor. pillows. phones. silence. the tv was on but muted, some random tv show playing reruns you weren’t watching. no one was talking. no one knew what to say. your phone screen glowed in your hand, thumb scrolling with no real attention. but you could feel it.

matt kept glancing at you.

you could feel chris looking too—casual and sideways, eyes flicking up between long blinks. and then… they locked eyes. just for a second. like they’d been circling the same thought all afternoon and finally crashed into it at the same time. their expressions didn’t change much. but you felt it. the shift.

your spine straightened slightly. lips parting like your body knew something before your mind did. matt raised an eyebrow, just barely. the kind of expression that said you thinking what i’m thinking?

chris’s lips curved. not a smile. more like an agreement.

you looked between them slowly. and suddenly your phone felt heavy in your hand. because the air was different now. something was coming. and they both knew it.

you didn’t speak. none of you did. but the look that passed between matt and chris—it said everything.

and the way their eyes kept coming back to you? it said the rest.

your stomach flipped, heat curling under your skin again like it never really left. it had just been waiting for a spark. and now it was everywhere. thick in the room. dense in your lungs. matt leaned back first, arms stretched over the back of the couch, his eyes dropping down your frame with casual ease. his fingers tapped along the fabric behind you, like he was weighing something. deciding.

then chris sat forward slightly on the floor, elbows on his knees, phone long forgotten in his lap as he looked up at you. and you could tell by his face—he knew. he knew you were thinking about it. about both of them. about what it meant. what it could become.

matt’s voice cut into the silence, low and calm. “so… we gonna talk about it?”

your heart kicked up.

you glanced between them, pulse hammering in your throat. “talk about… what?”

his mouth pulled into the faintest grin. “you know.”

chris didn’t let you look away for long. “you liked it. don’t pretend you didn’t.”

you swallowed. your voice barely came out. “you don’t even know what i’m thinking.”

“no?” chris asked, eyes dragging slowly down your body, then back up. “i think i do.”

matt’s arm shifted—closer now, the side of his hand brushing your shoulder like an invitation. “you weren’t stopping either of us.”

you sat there, motionless, frozen between them. between choices. between the way matt looked at you like he already had you, and the way chris looked like he wanted to prove you 'belonged' to neither of them. or maybe both. the tension was unbearable now. and yet… you didn’t move. you didn’t want to move.

chris tilted his head, voice quieter. “you ever thought about it before, sweetheart?”

your lips parted. “about what?”

“both of us,” matt said. “at the same time?”

your heart stuttered. there it was. said out loud. no more circling around it. no more careful silence. you could barely breathe.

“you don’t have to say anything,” matt added, voice low, rough with something that sounded almost like restraint. “we can just stop. or—”

“or we don’t,” chris cut in, leaning forward. “and we keep going.”

you looked between them, pulse thudding like a drum. you’d never felt so seen. so stretched between two halves of the same thought—matt’s calm, steady heat, and chris’s sharp, hungry edge.

and the worst part?

you didn’t want to choose.

the silence after matt’s earlier question wasn’t silence at all. it was a roar. static in your veins, the hum of the muted tv, the ragged cadence of three breaths holding, then releasing. your skin prickled under their gazes—matt’s patient, smoldering; chris’s sharp, unyielding. the air clung to your throat, thick with the scent of rain still lingering on their clothes, the faint musk of sweat from the drive, the citrus of chris’s cologne cutting through it all like a blade.

you didn’t speak. you didn’t need to.

matt moved first. always the initiator, the one who bridged gaps with a smirk and a steady hand. his fingers grazed your jaw, tilting your face toward him, and his kiss was deliberate. slow. a question phrased as a statement. his lips were warm, familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

“you don't need to do anything you're not comfortable with” he murmured against your mouth, the words a low rumble you felt in your ribs. his thumb brushed your bottom lip, pressing just enough to part them.

“would never make you do anything you don't want.”

you let him keep going. because as weird, and as new as this feeling, this whole thing was, you wanted it. more than you cared to admit.

chris wasn’t one to watch. you felt him shift behind you, his knees bracketing your hips as he settled on the couch, hands sliding around your waist to pull you back against him. his laugh was a dark puff against your neck.

“you always gotta be first, matt?” his teeth nipped the tendon there, not quite gentle. “already had your fun of being first last night..”

you gasped, arching into the sting, and matt’s grip tightened on your chin.

“eyes here,” he said, softer now, almost apologetic.

his other hand slid into your hair, guiding your mouth back to his. this time, the kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping against yours, deliberate and claiming. you whimpered, torn between the heat of his mouth and the press of chris’s hardening length against your lower back.

“fuck,” chris muttered, palms skimming up your sides, pushing your shirt higher.

his touch was rougher, impatient, the softness of his hands catching on your skin as he found the curve of your breast.

“you’ve been thinking about this, huh? both of us?” he squeezed your tit, and your moan was swallowed by matt’s kiss. “knew it. always knew you'd get turned on by some shit like that.”

matt pulled back a little, his thumb on your lip, pressing in. “can you open up for me, pretty?” you obeyed, your tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin.

his eyes were fixated on the movement, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watched you do as he said. “such pretty lips.. you're so beautiful, sweetheart.”

you hadn’t realized he’d undone his jeans until he got up from where he was sat next to you, looking down at you with an unspoken question behind his gaze, making sure you were comfortable with this during every single second of it. his cock brushed your lips, thick and heavy in your hand now. you hesitated—too much, too fast—but chris’s fingers dug into your hips, anchoring you.

“don’t choke,” he taunted, joking because he knew how nervous you were about this whole situation. though his voice wavered when matt’s tip nudged your tongue. “bet she will, though. bet she’s dying to.”

matt’s hand tightened in your hair. “ignore him,” he said, but his hips jerked forward, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you gagged, tears springing to your eyes at the sudden fullness in your mouth, and he froze.

“shit—” he rasped, thumb stroking your cheek. “just breathe through it. you’re okay. tell me to stop if you need to”

chris was already working your shorts down your thighs, his palm slapping your ass lightly.

“c’mon, baby. y'know you can take it.” his fingers slid between your legs, and you jolted at the contact, already soaked.

“jesus,” he hissed, dragging two fingers through your slickness before pushing them into his mouth. “can't believe you got to taste that pretty pussy before i did..” chris scoffed at matt.

but matt ignored him, fully focused on the warmth of your mouth around him. his cock pulsed against your tongue, precum bitter as he rocked deeper.

“look at me, beautiful” he demanded, and you forced your eyes open, blurry with tears.

his expression was torn—hunger and something almost tender.

“attagirl. taking me so well.” he brushed your hair back, tucking it behind your ear like this was something soft, something sacred. but his hips didn’t stop, each thrust measured, relentless.

chris’s hands returned, spreading you open, fingers now plunging in and out of your wet, needy pussy. you moaned around matt’s length, back arching, but chris held you firm, fingers curling.

“so sensitive,” he mocked, the vibration of his laugh against your neck making you shudder.

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t think. the room narrowed to the stretch of matt in your throat, the bruising grip of chris’s hand on your thighs, the coil in your belly tightening with every tight circle of chris’s thumb on your clit. matt’s praise blurred with chris’s taunts, until you were a sobbing, moaning mess. drool and tears streaking your face.

you barely processed the shift, and matt pulling back, and out of your mouth before chris was grabbing you, pulling you on top of him fully. your back hitting his chest. his fingers gripping your hips tightly. you cried out when his cock nudged your entrance.

“look at him,” chris growled, “look at matt. show him how much better i make you feel.”

matt stood in front of you, one hand fisting his cock, the other tilting your chin up. his eyes were black, fevered.

“you're doing so, so good, sweetheart.” he praised.

your lips part as chris sheathed himself inside you in one not so gentle thrust. the pain was white-hot, exquisite. you moaned, loud. nails digging into chris’s thighs, but matt’s thumb swept over your bottom lip.

“it's okay. y' got it,” he coaxed, though his own breath hitched when chris began to move, your tits bouncing, eyes staring up into matt's. “you’re okay. so good for us.”

chris’s laugh was a snarl. “she’s not okay,” he said, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “she’s fucking desperate for this. always has been.”

his pace was punishing, each snap of his hips driving you onto matt’s cock when he pushed back into your mouth. “yeahhh, taht's it. suck him,” chris ordered, hands fisting your hair to hold you still.

“so fuckin' dirty. lettin' your best friend fuck your mouth like that”

the stretch of matt down your throat, the brutal fullness of chris beneath you, his dirty words, the way their groans harmonized as they used you—it shattered you. you came with a muffled scream, body clamping around chris as he cursed, his rhythm faltering.

“fuck, squeezing me so good—” chris’s hips stuttered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “gonna make me—ah, shit—”

matt’s hand tightened in your hair, his thrusts picking up the pace. “such a good girl, y' got it, oohhh—fuck— y' got it, baby.” he choked out, your throat working around him as he came, bitter and thick.

chris followed with a growl, spilling into you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder to muffle his groans.

────୨ৎ────

the living room was quiet again. but it wasn’t the same kind of silence as before. this one was… heavier. not uncomfortable, just thick. like the air itself was holding onto what had just happened.

the couch creaked slightly as you adjusted, still catching your breath, your skin cooling under the weight of the aftermath. pillows askew. one of the blankets halfway on the floor. someone’s shirt draped across the back of the couch—maybe matt’s. maybe chris’s. you couldn’t tell anymore. your body ached in places that hadn’t been touched like that before. not by them, not by both of them. not with that kind of shared want. you sat there, wrapped in the warmth of it, still caught in the glow of what the three of you had done.

what the hell did we just do? you thought, but not in a way that felt like regret.

beside you, matt let out a quiet sigh. it was soft. steady. the kind of sound he made when he didn’t know what to say but didn’t mind the silence, either. you turned your head just slightly, and there he was—arm tossed over his eyes, his other hand resting near your leg, close but not quite touching.

chris was stretched on the other side, head tilted back against the couch cushion, lips parted like he was still catching his breath. one hand on his stomach, the other loosely hanging off the edge of the cushion.

no one was speaking. not yet.

but their breathing—your breathing—still filled the space. like a memory that hadn’t fully settled. you reached for the blanket, tugging it back over your chest as you shifted to sit up a little. your body was still buzzing, raw and real in the aftermath. your heart had finally slowed, but your thoughts hadn’t. you weren’t sure if you should say something. if you should joke about it. laugh. break the weird tension before it had time to stretch too far. but then matt moved. his hand brushed your knee gently, grounding you.

“you okay?” he murmured, voice rough, sleep-heavy.

you nodded. “yeah. just… yeah.”

chris’s voice chimed in next, a little smug, a little curious. “you regretting it already?”

your head turned toward him, and for a second, you thought he was being serious. but the way his mouth curved told you he wasn’t. not really.

“no,” you said, honest. “just… thinking.”

matt shifted to sit up, running a hand through his hair. “we probably should talk about it. we don't have to now, but like... you know..”

no one answered right away. you weren’t sure what there was to say. not yet, anyway. but you knew one thing for sure. things would never go back to the way they were before.

and maybe… you didn’t want them to.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

@tits4matt @loser41ifee @sweetshuga @nickysturnss @courta13 @sophsturns @starsforu @h3arts4nat @emely9274 @chestersturn @watercolorskyy @httpssturns @cherryystemm @adoremattsturns

[fizz-pop-thwip]

I struggle thinking about non consensual human experimentation as a whole, but what happened to Bucky really it does just make me sick.

To start, think of how his stomach dropped when he fell from the train, the fucking fear knowing you're dead. You have 2 seconds and then your dead, this is it.

Then you wake up to 1) being alive, horrifically unaware of the 70 years of hell ahead of you and 2) your arm being not only surgically removed but replaced with a metal arm, a foreign body, a parasite. You fight because what else are you ment to do? But you fall unconscious again.

You wake up to days and days of torment and torture and slowly loose hope that it will ever end, that you'll ever be saved. He didn't know that Steve was dead, how long did he yearn for Steve to find him? How mad did he get? Did he punch the wall, did he scream? Did they have to sedate him because of just how psychotic that made him? How fucking manic he would go?

How long till he lost all feeling, all emotion and hope?

When they started putting him in the chair, did he scream and cry? Did he beg for anything else? Any thing, anything, fucking anything. Did he beg for death? Did he feel himself slowly lose all of his memory, did he sob when he first couldn't picture Steve's face, or when he could remember the most important person in the world, but not a name or a background or a face, not a crumb.

The first time he's put in cryo freeze, does he remember his reflection? Seconds before he fell unconscious, never knowing how long it would be before he woke up again. Did he wake up, begging to just be put back in, the closest fate to death he could ever achieve? The closest thing to mercy? Does he catch himself falling asleep at night and wake up in tears, not even sure if it's been 20 minutes of 20 years.

Did his crys for help fall on the shiney leather shoes of scientists who showed no emotion, did he question if he was even human to begin with? Surely a human would be treated with even a fraction of care. No one treated like this was born from a mother, no one treated like this was ever looked at with maternal love.

He stopped feeling like a person, he didn't even remember he was a person. When things seeped though it just hurt, they hurt him, it made it worse. So he stopped it, he wouldn't let himself. It was impossible to live. He had no coping mechanisms, no outlet, he would show any signs of struggle and be hurt for showing humanity. He had to be what they wanted.

Even after he was broken in, no crying anymore. No begging for mercy. Did he spend his nights awake, just TRYING to remember what he forgot, FEELING the missing spots in his mind? Did he hold that metal arm close because he can't even remember how he got it anymore, all he knows is it makes his shoulders ache.

He was completely and utterly trapped, the more he suppressed, even the minor shards he remembered, the more mania he would experience.

Even once he's free, how do you come back from that, even if it was just a mental thing, the physical, real DAMAGE to his brain was enough to make him never heal again. Bucky is a walking fucking miracle and maybe THE survivor.

He is going to have memory problems, severly. He is going to have intense PTSD flashbacks, total hallucination level, breakdowns. Seriously, this level of trauma is NEVER leaving him, not fully. Phantom pains, endless nightmares, coping mechanisms that don't make sense but comfort him none the less.

He's going to have periods of times where he can't even stand being touched, not Steve, not anyone. Weeks where he can't shower or move out of a space his brain has deemed safe for fear of being hurt. Scratches at the seam between his flesh and the metal of arm, wanting it off, wanting it away from him. Again does it necessarily make sense logically? NO!! but does he feel it 100%? Yes!!

He gets better, his bad periods get less intense, more far in between but they never fully go away. As fuckimg depressing as it is, hydra made a permanent mark on his psyche. It's FUCKED.

Gods strongest soldier is Bucky Barnes.

[bellfilmz]

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Rafe Cameron x Female Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After surviving a plane crash with a mysterious stranger she met mid-flight, she now has to find a way to survive, completely unaware she’s stuck with Rafe Cameron.

⸻

The flight wasn’t full, which was rare. You were tucked into the window seat with a book in hand, earbuds in, and no real expectation of conversation.

Until he sat down beside you.

Tall, tan, expensive cologne—definitely someone used to being looked at. His jaw was sharp, his hair pushed back in a messy, intentional way. And his legs? Long. Obnoxiously so. They stretched too far into your space.

You waited a minute.

Then tugged one earbud out. “Hey, sorry, can you um, move your leg a little? I need to get out.”

He blinked, then looked down like he’d only just realized his knee was blocking your way. “Oh. Yeah—sorry.”

He shifted, and you slid past him into the aisle, heading for the bathroom. When you came back, he was half-asleep, head leaning against the window this time. You had to squeeze by.

The moment you ducked into your row, the plane shook.

Violently.

You lost your balance and fell directly into his lap with a startled gasp.

His arms immediately came around you to steady you. “Whoa—hey, I got you.”

The plane jolted again.

You stayed frozen in his lap, heart hammering.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, strained, “please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts immediately. We are experiencing some turbulence. Follow all safety protocols.”

You scrambled into your seat, fumbling for your belt. Your hands were shaking too much to clip it in. Panic rose like bile in your throat.

The guy beside you noticed. “Hey—hey, breathe.”

You looked at him, wide eyed.

He leaned closer. “It’s alright. Just copy me, okay? Deep breath in.” He inhaled slowly, holding his hand in front of you like a guide. “And out.”

You tried to match him. It helped. Barely.

“Good,” he said gently. “You’re okay. I promise.”

Then the lights flickered. A scream echoed from the back.

Your stomach dropped. The engine whined.

The last thing you felt was his hand gripping yours.

And then— Black.

⸻

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏.

The sun was blistering when you woke up.

Your lips were cracked. Your hair was full of sand. And you were somehow alive.

You sat up slowly, wincing. Your entire body ached.

And then you saw him kneeling a few feet away, digging through what looked like luggage debris.

You blinked. “You…?”

His head snapped toward you. Relief flooded his face. “Shit—you’re awake.”

You coughed. “What… what happened?”

He stood, walking over. “Plane went down. We’re on an island. No clue where.”

You looked around, finally registering the dense trees and sparkling ocean. Panic rose again.

“I checked the shoreline,” he continued. “Didn’t find anyone else. Just us.”

You stared at him. “How long have we been here?”

“Couple hours, maybe. You hit your head.”

Your fingers went to your temple, brushing a tender bump.

He crouched beside you. “We should move you out of the sun.”

You nodded numbly. “What’s your name?”

“Rafe,” he said simply. “And you?”

You told him.

He stood and offered you a hand. You hesitated, then took it. His grip was strong but careful.

“I think I found a freshwater stream inland,” he said. “And some luggage washed up. We’ve got basics. Not much.”

You followed him slowly, still dazed.

“You’re handling this pretty well,” he added as you reached the edge of the trees.

You gave a humorless laugh. “I’m still in shock.”

Rafe glanced over his shoulder. “Stay in it. It’s better than full panic.”

⸻

The waterfall was like something out of a movie tropical, tucked between palms, flowing into a shallow pool.

You stared, overwhelmed. “This doesn’t feel real.”

“Yeah,” Rafe muttered. “It’s too pretty to be a nightmare.”

He knelt, splashing his face. You followed, letting the cold water hit your skin. It woke you up in a different way.

You sat by the edge, legs pulled to your chest. “I can’t believe we survived.”

Rafe sat beside you. “Me neither.”

The silence settled again.

He looked over at you. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

You blinked. “Should I?”

He smiled faintly. “Guess not. Most people do.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you famous or something?”

He shrugged. “Kind of. Back home. OBX.”

“That where you’re from?”

He nodded.

You watched him for a second. “You helped me on the plane.”

“You fell on me,” he teased, that smirk returning. “Figured I had to make sure you lived. After that level of intimacy.”

You rolled your eyes. “I was falling to my death.”

“Into my lap,” he clarified, grinning now.

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. And it was the first time you felt like yourself since the crash.

⸻

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

He got a fire going somehow. You didn’t ask how you were too busy realizing night on the island was darker than anything you’d known. The stars were brilliant, but the shadows felt alive.

Rafe sat beside you, watching the flames. His arms were scraped. He looked tired, worn, human.

“Why were you flying?” you asked quietly.

“Business,” he replied. “My dad sent me. Something about responsibility.”

You nodded slowly. “I was just trying to get away for a while.”

“Well… mission accomplished.”

You cracked a smile. “Guess so.”

There was a beat of silence.

Rafe leaned back on his hands. “We’ll be alright. Someone will find us.”

You weren’t sure if he believed that or if he just needed you to.

Either way, you let the lie settle between you like a safety net.

The fire crackled.

And for the first time since the crash—you stopped shaking.

⸻

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐?

Tag list info

[cribabey]

perv!m.g x bsf!r

a/n - my own dirty filthy thoughts about pervert mark grayson who's just recently gotten his powers, and his sense of smell is insane....

MDNI- thigh fucking, pervy mark, he can smell you (?) porn w/o plot somnophilia

mark's powers came in gradually. first was his increased sense of smell, then his hearing, and then the rest of his powers.

his sense of smell, well....it came in at a rather bad time. he'd just come over for another movie night between the two of you, and he could suddenly smell everything clearer.

the smell of the flowers on your dining table was crisp in his nose, despite being in your room, a floor above the dining room. the smell of your perfume on your skin, and the smell of you.

mark has always had some kind of feelings for you, that he had realised suddenly. he started getting hot every time you brushed up against him, and his eyes began always dropping lower than they should be, at a respectable level. his pants were too tight around you, and seemingly innocent things would get him all bothered.

but it wasn't like he just wanted to fuck you, he actually had feelings for you. he wanted to take you on dates, wanted to be able to love you in the open, not just internally while hiding it from everyone else.

the problem? he was your best friend, and it wasn't like he could just come out with his emotions, in the fear of losing you.

so mark was content to wait, until he gets the go-ahead from you, he'll just wait, however desperate for you he was.

but the other problem? you did like him. but he didn't know that.

suddenly, mark had become this insanely attractive guy to you overnight. initially you just started noticing the small things, like the flex of his forearms when he was doing something as small as writing, and the strain of the muscle in his back and arms when he threw you around in circles. i mean, you'd always known mark was attractive, but it all just suddenly hit you. he was sweet, smart and considerate, always being so tuned into you. he'd know when you were cold, and would drop his sweater around your shoulders without you even having to ask.

so in all, you were down bad, both romantically and physically.

which brings us to the present.

mark had come over for your typical movie marathon friday night.

you'd both sat on your bed together, your leg thrown over his as you'd watched your tv on your bed. an idea that always had him popping a chub, as dirty thoughts raced through his head. you, taking his cock so pliantly as he drilled you into your frilly blue bedsheets, him, in between your legs, discovering what heaven might actually taste like. you, choking on his cock as you looked up at him with those eyes of yours.

safe to say, he was definitely sprouting a boner.

it was a miracle you never noticed, with how often it happened. once, you had gotten dangerously close, your cheek smushed right above his groin when you were lying on top of him. he had to think of his poor dead grandmother's dentures in a cup of water to get it to go down. per usual, you'd been lying together on your bed, and when you both fell asleep, he woke up first.

at some point during your sleep, you'd both moved, so that you were pressed to his front with your back to him. your ass pressed against his dick, which was getting harder with every second.

he needed to move away, to scoot away or else he'd lose all semblance of control, so he tried to scoot away just a little. it gave him a temporary measure to get a break, but the next thing he knew, you were following, ass pressing to his groin again. he groaned out loud, quietly, and he just stopped moving, afraid to wake you to the feel of his hard on your ass. you started moving just a little bit in your sleep, and the friction that mark felt was insane.

his voice caught in his throat, and he tried his best not to moan immediately. this was bad, this was really bad. you were basically grinding on him in his sleep!

while this may have been one of his fantasies literally come to life, he could only think about how you might wake up to it and never want to speak to him again.

but he couldn't move, not at all.

but something switched in mark when he smelt it. saccharine sweet and light at the same time, and so unbelievably you.

it took mark a little to realise what it was.

you were wet.

from him.

because of him.

and you wanted this just as badly as he did, because even in your sleep you were grinding on him.

mark let out a guttural growl, needing more of that smell. he can't hold back anymore.

the next thing he knows, he's pulled his sweatpants down. the waistband is around his thighs, and he's pushed his boxers down with them.

he pulls his dick out, pumping it a couple times next to your sleeping form, pressing his nose to your pulse point as he inhales.

oh god, you smell so good. he thinks to himself. he feels the precum beading at his tip, and uses it as a lube for his dick as he fists his cock, pretending it's your hand as you smile up at him.

if it was you, he thinks of how your hand would struggle to wrap around his girth, and you'd drool at the thought of him slamming into you, making you cum over and over again.

using his thumb, he plays with his slit. he screws his eyes shut, his breathing heavy as he imagines your tongue playing with his slit, gobbling up his precum as if it was something valuable.

he'd get you so cock-drunk, you'd never be able to look at any other guys ever again, and you'd only ever want his dick inside you, always. he'd bend you over every surface in your house and his, and fuck you till you're screaming his name and unable to walk.

mark starts rutting against your body, before he gently manhandles you as to not wake you up, lifting one of your legs so he can slot his dick in between your soft thighs.

you're warm, and it makes him groan. this is literally so hot to him, your body compliant and responsive to his, and he can feel the tightening of his stomach muscles, knowing he's close to his climax.

he briefly acknowledges the obscene, wet sounds that come hims precum dribbling from his leaky tip, the slap, slap noise of his hip bones hitting the back of your thighs as he chases his high.

his climax hits him hard, and he groans into your ear, licking a stripe up the column of your neck as he chases the end of his high. his cum splurts all over your thighs and your frilly bedsheets, and he can only think of how good you smell, with the saccharine sweet of your arousal mixing up with his cum.

once he's finished from his ejaculation, he tucks himself back into his boxers and sweatpants, leaving the mess for you to find later. he knows this won't be the last time he uses you when you're sleeping.

you wake up to a sticky substance coating your thighs, and your own panties dripping wet. you don't know what's happened as you've always been a deep sleeper, but you have a feeling that mark's got something to do with it.

you can still feel boner pressing against your ass still, so you have a guess as to what it is.

doesn't matter though, because you're happy to help this one go down as well.

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

a/n omg this is my first smutt.....mark has had an absolute chokehold on me lately....... anyway! let me know what you think!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aegon has been in love with reader for years but she got betrothed to Aemond. She finds Aegon drunk at her door and she takes him in. He tells her he loves her and make smut happen please

I've been on a roll with these request this week! Only three days until the start of Season 2 *screaming*

Question: Should I add Cregan Stark to my character list? If yes, please send requests for him <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, drunk!Aegon, unprotected p + v, cheating (on Aemond)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When the news dropped, Aegon was devastated. He had always known his feelings for you ran deep, but hearing that you were to be betrothed to his own brother made him regret not asking for your hand sooner. The thought of losing you to Aemond gnawed at his heart.

In a fit of fury, Aegon stormed into Aemond's chambers, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘’You knew of my feelings for her, how can you do this to me?’’ he spat, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. 

Aemond looked up from his book, his expression calm and composed. ‘’Father wanted to unite our families. I’m only doing my duty,’’ he replied, his tone measured and devoid of emotion.

Aegon’s frustration boiled over. He slammed his fist on the table, making the goblets and plates clatter. ‘’Fuck duty!’’ he shouted. His voice broke as he continued, ‘’I just…I just want her.’’

Aemond sighed, placing his book aside. ‘’I was asked to marry her, not you. You already have the throne.’’

The throne was given to him because he was the first son. Aegon never asked for it, never cared for ruling or showed interest in politics. He would rather spend his life with you and Sunfyre than sit on the Iron Throne. 

‘’I would exchange my birthright for her in a heartbeat,’’ he confessed, his voice unwavering.  

Later at dinner, Aegon didn’t come down to eat. He couldn't beat the idea of seeing you sitting beside Aemond during a meal. So, he stayed in his chamber, drowning himself with wine. His goblet wasn’t even empty that he would fill it up again. 

He drank until the sun went down and his pitcher was almost empty, and fell asleep on his couch with his goblet in hand. It wasn’t surprising considering how much he had drunk. 

When Aegon woke a few hours later, the castle was sleeping under the cover of darkness. He stood and found himself stumbling through the corridors. His feet carried him to your door in the guest wing, having been many many times. You always took the same chamber when you visited King’s Landing. Aegon raised his fist to knock, but before he could, the door creaked open.

You expected to find a servant with your tea, but instead found your uncle Aegon. A frown of surprise and concern creased between your eyebrows. ‘’Aegon? What are you doing here?’’

He swayed slightly, leaning heavily against the doorframe with his undershirt untucked from his breeches. His eyes were red, his expression a mixture of anger and sorrow. ‘’You can’t marry him. Please, don’t marry him,’’ he mumbled, his words slurred from the wine.

You should have walked him back to his chamber or alert the Queen of her son’s state, but instead you stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. 

Aegon stumbled through the doorway, and you came to his side, helping him sit onto the bed bench. He leaned forwards as you let go of him, resting his forearms on his thighs and his spinning head in his hands. 

You watched him with a heavy heart, guilt knotting your stomach. ‘’I’m sorry for the betrothal. I wanted to tell you myself, but our parents sent the ravens before I could.’’ 

‘’Don’t marry Aemond.’’ Aegon grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him. ‘’Don’t do this to me.’’ He looked up at you, his eyes pleading. 

You stayed silent, looking down at him. There were a hundred reasons you should put a stop to this right now. Aegon was drunk. He wasn’t in his right mind. And yet, seeing him like this, vulnerability written all over him, made your heart ache for him. 

‘’You’re drunk. This wasn’t a good idea. Let’s get you back to your chamber.’’ You reached for his arm to help him up, but grabbed your wrist. ‘’Aegon…’’ you sighed.

He pulled you closer to him, but you remained standing. Aegon’s voice was barely a whisper, his words more a plea than a demand. ‘’It’s me you should marry, not my brother.’’ 

You pulled on your wrist, but his grip only tightened. ‘’Aegon, let go. You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.’’ 

He shook his head, his eyes fixated on yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. ‘’I know exactly what I’m saying. I…I love you. I always have. And I can’t bear the thought of you marrying him.’’ 

Your heart was racing in your chest. 

Despite the feud between your mothers, you and Aegon had always been close. He was there when you claimed your dragon, took the blame when you got caught stealing lemon cakes in the kitchen, and always invited you to dance at gatherings, even though he hated dancing. He even exchanged letters with you when you moved to Dragonstone, secretly writing back despite his terrible handwriting and his mother's interdiction. You were his favorite person, the only one he felt truly cared for him.

And now, he was sitting in your chamber, confessing his feelings to you out of pain and desperation.

You wanted to scream. 

At yourself for not recognizing his underlying feelings. At him for not saying those words sooner. At your mother and grandsire for arranging a betrothal with Aemond. He was closer to you in age, mayhaps it was the reason for their decision? And most of all, at the cruel twist of fate that had kept you blind to what was right in front of you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Thoughts swirled chaotically in your mind, overwhelming you. You needed time to think, time to process everything. 

But time wasn’t in your hands, it was ticking and passing fast, so you crashed your lips on Aegon’s. He brought you down to his lap, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed across your hips and thighs and everything he could get his hands on in a desperate attempt to bring you closer. You could taste the wine on his lips, the bitter alcohol still lingering in his mouth. Your hands tangled in his hair as a moan left his throat, igniting the fire between two dragons.

Impatient, Aegon pulled at the laces of your nightgown while you discarded him of his undershirt and threw it on the floor. Your nightgown found the same fate, goosebumps rising across your skin from the cool air or the room. 

His hands skimmed along your sides, coming to rest on your hips as he rocked against you, his body betraying his need. The rough fabric of his breeches brushed against your bare cunt, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. 

Your lips moved from his lips to his jaw, trailing a path of kisses along his jawline and down to his neck. His breath caught in his throat as your lips and teeth found the sensitive spot between his collarbone and throat. Aegon let out a soft moan, his hands gripping your thighs tighter. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving small imprints that would surely turn into bruises come morning.

His hands continued to roam, exploring every inch of your body that he could reach. He moved his lips down to your chest, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your breasts. You arched your back in response, the feeling of his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched.

What you were doing was wrong and breaking many rules, but you couldn’t stop. It felt too good. 

Aegon pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours as he found your lips again. His hands fumbled with the ties of his breeches, desperately trying to undo them while keeping the kiss going. A soft groan escaped him as he managed to push them down, freeing himself from the constricting material. 

The feeling of his bare skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine. His body was hot and demanding as he pressed himself closer to you. A gasp left your lips when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, surprised by how warm it felt. 

You gripped his shoulder as Aegon pushed himself inside, your walls closing around him in a snug grip. Aegon’s breath hitched from how tight you felt, his eyes closing briefly as he sank deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as your body adjusted to him. 

When he started to move, you felt like he was splitting you in half…but in a good way. You clawed at his back, soft little sighs spilling from your lips as Aegon thrusted into you. 

Unfortunately, the pleasure didn’t last long. You were so wet and squeezing him too good that after only a few thrusts, Aegon spilled inside you. 

In his defense, he was drunk and not entirely in control of his cock. 

The sunlight coming through the large window woke you up. You turned away from the window and buried your face into your pillow, trying to fall back asleep, but your arm came into contact with something — someone. 

You opened your eyes, the late events of the night surfacing, and saw Aegon lying beside you. He was still fast asleep, his white hair tousled and messy. His face was relaxed, a stark contrast from his drunkenness. For a moment, you just watched him. He looked so peaceful and calm when he slept.

The light streamed over his face, illuminating the sharp planes and angles of his features. You reached out, gently brushing away a strand of hair from his forehead. 

He stirred at your touch, but didn’t open his eyes. ‘’What is it, Mother?’’ 

You chuckled softly, watching as Aegon stirred in his sleep. 

He mumbled again, shifting under the covers. His eyes still closed, he reached out blindly and brushed his fingers against your waist. The contact startled him, not expecting to find another body in his bed, and he opened his eyes. 

A mixture of embarrassment and confusion flickered across his face, remembering his drunk stumble into your chamber. 

‘’I’m sorry for last night,’’ Aegon apologized, his voice strained and hoarse because of how dry his mouth felt. ‘’I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?’’ 

You decided against mentioning his short sexual performance. ‘’More than usual? No.’’ 

He laughed, then groaned as his head pounded. 

‘’Aegon?’’ you said quietly. He hummed. ‘’Why didn’t you say you have feelings for me?’’ 

‘’Because I enjoy self-sabotaging my life.’’ 

You swatted his arm. 

‘’I need to speak to my mother,’’ you declared after a moment of silence. 

The hour was early, but she should be awake. 

You climbed out of bed, your naked body exposed in the bright light of day as you moved around your chamber. There was an ache between your legs, reminiscent of Aegon’s passage inside your intimate part. 

‘’I do not wish to go through the same suffering she endured in her first marriage.’’ You grabbed a dress from the wardrobe and dressed yourself. It was more difficult without the help of a handmaid. ‘’And I know exactly how to convince her to call off the betrothal. I broke my vows to Aemond, I let you take my maidenhood. They will have no choice but to let us wed.’’

—

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[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

“You have a council meeting” you sighed as your monster husband was still lazily thrusting into you, “You’re going to be late”.

You laid on your side, your back against his chest, and him still inside you from how you fell asleep last night. A few times a year he went through a rut that lasted a week or so. Though it varied a bit each time.

The first time it happened the two of you barely knew each other, your arranged marriage only began a few weeks prior. Overnight he went from polite but standoffish to glued to your side and discreetly trying to nuzzle you.

You immediately called him out for it and he embarrassedly explained what a rut was but promised all he wanted was to cuddle and nuzzle.

The second time you woke up with him pulling your hips back against himself and grinding on you. Through his soft whimpers you managed to piece together that it was his rut again, though now after being married for a few months he was much less shy about it.

He never got aggressive or forceful, just needy. Refusing to be apart from more than strictly necessary, constantly having to have as much contact with you as possible, and nearly begging you to cockwarm him. For an 8.5 ft tall monster with an impressive set of tusks he had a wonderful sad, wet cat expression when he begged that made it impossible to say no to him.

“It is fine, they can go on without me” he protested, still slowing thrusting and showing no intent on stopping.

“Being horny isn’t a good reason to skip your duties” you countered.

“They know this is a thing. It would be culturally insensitive to expect me to go to meetings this week”.

You rolled your eyes, you knew for a fact before you were married he never skipped meetings during his rut. Hell, even during the first one together you would spend all morning cuddling and then he would leave for the day just fine.

“What happened to the workaholic I married?” you teased.

“He found a reason to want to be home” he said and nuzzled his chin against the top of your head.

You felt him sink his entire length into you and you let out a soft moan, no matter how often you did anything you would never fully get used to his size. His hand reached over your hips and between your thighs to play with you, just slowly teasing, he was rarely in a hurry.

“Fine, I supposed that’s a good enough reason to skip your meeting today” you managed to get out between your own soft sighs. In the end could you really complain? Spending the next few days shut in with your husband in bed really was not the worst.

[owuwi]

SEVIKA.ᐟ

➤ sevika x pregnant!reader

.ᐣ after a bad day, sevika says things she quickly regrets.

⤷ cw: angst, sevika not knowing how to handle her feelings, crying.

requested

──────────────────────

Sevika wouldn't be Sevika without that big mouth of hers.

If such things came from someone else's mouth, they wouldn't last a day in the undercity—but Sevika was different. Truth be told, it was one of the reasons why you fell in love with her: the way she could do and say whatever she wanted and get no consequences due to how terrified everyone was of her.

Though now, with the baby on its way, she swore she was going to tone her attitude down.

She didn't want the baby's first word to be some type of profanity, she wanted everything to go perfectly, so she started being perfect. Despite everything that happened between Zaun and Piltover, what happened with Jinx and Isha, she was still trying to be a better version of herself—especially with her new job as a councilor—. So far, she had been doing great, expect for tonight.

Tonight, she came back home with the most terrible headache ever—her ears lightly buzzing, her body trembling, her jaw clenched—and it was all thanks to them. Those fucking Pilties didn't listen to her, not a single of her suggestions had been considered, and she couldn't take it anymore. She didn't hesitate to pour herself a glass of whisky the moment she stepped home and she gulped it down quickly—not bothering to properly taste it.

Since the older woman was never quiet when she was angry, it didn't take long before you woke up and left the comfort of your warm room to go check on her.

But oh, a small part of you wish you didn't.

Sure, there were times when the two of you would have arguments but all couples had them, and the fact that neither of you could stay mad at each other was the reason why the silent treatment never lasted long.

Yet tonight was different.

Sevika was pissed and you were very emotional thanks to the hormones, which definitely didn’t help her mood. When tears started rolling down your soft cheeks thanks to her behavior, she snapped.

"Why the fuck are you crying?" She quickly asked you, her voice sharper than she meant it to be, her tone being one she would use with others and not with you—though that didn't stop her from continuing. "Acting like a damn child.." She then added, letting out a low chuckle before pouring herself more of the strong liquor, bringing her glass up to her lips and taking a long sip from it.

If you didn't know her, you'd just blame it on the alcohol, but Sevika's tolerance had always been admirable.

"Oh i wonder why t-that might be." You replied in a slightly sarcastic tone of voice as one of your hands slowly caressed the bump of your pregnant stomach, your words shaky and hesitant when they fell from your lips. On another moment, your girlfriend would've found this action—you delicately touching where her baby was growing—absolutely adorable, but right now she couldn't think properly.

"Yeah well, you wouldn't be in such a fucking mood if things had stayed normal!" She yelled, looking at you with a glossy yet roughened gaze. She then slammed her glass on the table—the contained liquid spilling a bit—and ran her hand through her short hair.

Hearing the woman you loved saying something like that, regretting the child the two of you were going to raise together, it broke something in you—primarily your heart—.

Sevika had been so happy lately; had been the one rubbing your back when the morning sickness hit you so hard you couldn’t even stand, the one who had built the crib herself—muttering under her breath about how those shitty instructions made no damn sense—, the one who pressed her lips against your stomach at night when she thought you were asleep—murmuring something too quiet for you to hear.

But now, with the way she was standing there, glaring at you like this was all your fault, like the life growing inside you was a mistake, you couldn't help but ask yourself if it had all been a lie.

"Sev—..." You started yet got interrupted by your own sobs, both of your hands coming up to desperately wipe the tears away from your face. "T-Talk to me... what is going on? Why are you—... why are you acting like this?" You begged her in between cries, begged her to explain why the sudden change of heart.

And seeing you like this was something the muscular woman had never been able to handle. Despite how awful her day had been, how her mind was filled with nothing but rage, she finally acknowledged the fact that she shouldn't have treated you like this—shouldn't have acted like she hated what she's built with you—.

Suddenly, your knees felt too weak. Your world was crumbling down and so were you, so you quickly rushed to the couch and sat down. Your eyes were burning and your throat felt way too tight for your liking, your body shaking and shivering like crazy. Your hands quickly found your face and covered it.

The feeling of a warm, sweaty palm on your leg caused you to slightly jolt. When you lifted your head from the shield created by your hands, you were greeted with the sight of your girlfriend crying. Sevika had learned how to be more open with you over the last few years, but you've never seen her cry.

"Fuck i—... i'm so fucking sorry.." She apologized, her voice now sounding way softer than before and actually regretful. Hesitantly, she brought her hand up to your face and wiped your tears away—her rough thumb being a sensation you've missed. "I didn't mean to snap..." She added while continuing holding you.

"You're my whole life, you're the reason why i wanna be better. You and—... our baby are why i keep fighting.." She admitted some seconds later, her bottom lip trembling as she fought back more tears. "You're not acting like a child, you're pregnant with our baby and i should've never raised my voice at you.."

Subconsciously, you wrapped your hand around her wrist and gripped it—as if you were keeping her close to you. This was the Sevika you knew, your Sevika, and this was the Sevika you wanted to raise your child with. You didn't want the scary lady the whole undercity feared, you didn't want Silco's number two, you wanted this.

"T-Then why did you say that?" You questioned, feeling yourself starting to calm down slowly. If you meant so much to her, why say such things? "Because i—... fuck, i'm scared of screwing up, okay?" She revealed, leaning in and lightly resting her head on your lap.

"I've always been fighting; for myself, for my people. And now i got a family to protect and i'm fucking scared. I can't lose you, and i don't know how to handle everything i'm feeling.." She then mumbled so quietly you thought it was just a fiction of your imagination.

"You're never going to lose me, but you hurt me whenever you say things like that.." You replied, slowly placing her palm over your bump. "You hurt us..."

"I know... i'm so sorry.." She immediately said, nuzzling her teary cheek against your lap and allowing her body to relax. "Please.. i promise you i'll never say that again, especially because i didn't mean it." She whispered, and you could tell how sorry she truly was.

Sevika had always been a difficult woman but you loved her, and she made sure to make it easier for you since she loved you too. So with a softened voice, you accepted her apology and knew her words were nothing but the truth.

And Sevika was more than relieved to receive your reassurance. With her strong arms, she lifted you up the couch and carried you back to bed.

Carefully, she lifted your sleeping shirt up and immediately placed a tender kiss on your belly. "I'm sorry to you too, yeah?" She murmured, leaning in again to press her—slightly dry—lips against your skin.

Your girlfriend's strong personality could be an issue at times but that didn't make her less perfect.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 3

I'm on a roll- don't expect it to last :)) but as of right now, Chapter 4 is done, Chapter 5 will be started, and I feel like each one will be longer and longer than the last- hope ch4 was just a one in a trillion thing

First || previous<< Chapter 3 >>next

Sleeping that night seemed to be a struggle on its own, nightmares plaguing your mind left and right. You’d fall asleep for 30 minutes and wake up, fall asleep for another 30 minutes and wake up again, and again, and again, giving up once you woke up at 03:33 am. No use in trying to sleep if you’re just going to wake up crying and gasping for air, heart pumping so hard you could hear the blood running through your veins.

You needed air, wanted something less stuffing than the four walls that seemed to close in around your shaking form. With bare feet, you made your way across the manor towards the garden. May as well try and do something productive.

The garden was loved and taken care of, once upon a time. The plants were dead, the trees dried beyond help, and the dirt may need to be changed as well if the roots have gone putrid and rotten, just to be sure. It’ll take years to bring the space to its glory, to how it looked in the painting, but you could feel it in your bones that it will be worth it.

Diverting your attention from the nightmares to the garden helped ease the shaking, the fear. The more you thought about the nightmares, the more you didn’t know which one scared you the most. Between relieving your mom’s death, accepting she was dead, that you’ll never see her again, that you didn’t even know where they buried her- and seeing Bruce as the one holding the gun, firing it at your mom, at you, and then laughing with glee, saying something you didn’t quite remember…  You couldn’t decide which one you hated the most.

Your eyes trailed the walls of the manor, up to the roof, and back down. You wanted to call him dad, hug him, have him come to your recitals and activities, and have him love you like Officer Gordon said he would. And yet, no matter how close he seemed to you, he was farther away than the moon. You hoped it was just your awkward self, that maybe your anxieties were putting ideas where there shouldn’t be any. Today’s breakfast only seemed to fortify said anxieties.

“When will I go back to school?” The question fell from your lips so quietly, and the silence it created made you sink into yourself. Bruce’s eyes had been glancing at you non-stop, but now they were fixated on you, non-blinking. He hummed, low and thoughtful. “You’ll be moved to online schooling. After what happened to your mom, I feel it will be safer for you to stay inside the manor for a while”

“For forever.” The shadows hissed in his ear, but Bruce simply cleared his throat, checked his watch, and left, Richard following soon after at the man’s nudging. Bruce will drive Dick to school. Your eyes remained on your plate as they left, remaining quiet for a while.

“Mama said I should make friends.” Your teary eyes met Alfred’s again as your lip trembled. “How will I make friends if I can’t go outside?” The older man’s hands were rubbing together behind his back. He felt as inexperienced as when Bruce was a toddler, as unsure of what to do as when he was with his father. That was a rare feeling for the man.

With a soft sigh and a shaky hand placed on the young kid’s shoulder, Alfred did what he did best. “I am sure you will have many opportunities to make friends, young miss.” He lied. You knew he was, and yet you held onto the hope. Bruce said it’ll only be for a while- so maybe, just maybe, in high school, you’ll have tons of friends.

You finished your plate, eyes still wet, but at least you didn’t cry. Your insistence to help Alfred was only met with a soft smile and a shake of his head, the man insisting on you enjoying the free time you have, telling you that perhaps you should go and buy some clothes, some decorations for your room.

Again, you mentioned the insanity of leaving a kid to buy whatever they wanted, but Alfred only laughed. “Can- is there a laptop I can use? Mama always let me on hers when we ordered something online. It’ll be easier for me…” You asked so softly, almost going into rambling as anxiety of sounding like a brat, like you were ungrateful for the phone, settled in.

Alfred didn’t even blink, no muscle on his face twitched as he only nodded, saying he’ll bring one to your room straight away. That was easier than expected. You were so used to your mom saying no, or bargaining with her for new shoes, and you understood- you didn’t have that much money, could barely scrap by… But the way the Waynes threw money around felt irresponsible. Does Bruce truly make that much money that he doesn’t have to worry about losing his home? What if he loses it all one day? Does he have a savings account? Your tummy didn’t feel good worrying about all that, mama always said that only adults should worry about money.

You don’t think your mom would like Bruce very much. That thought filtered through your brain for quite a while as you looked up how to take care of a garden and specific plants you wanted to see bloom. He was so cold, distant, creepy, and secretive. Your mother always dreamed of a loving man, strong but gentle. You never understood why she put up with the men she hung out with considering they were exactly like Bruce.

Alfred interrupted your musing as he knocked, opening the door only when he heard your voice. He left the laptop and its charger on the desk, and his only words were to inform you of the timetable for eating.  “But, of course, if you get hungry before then, you’re more than welcome to the kitchen, young miss.” And he left just as fast as he came, barely having the time to ask where your mother would be buried. You doubted Bruce would hold a funeral for her. Alfred just said he’ll look into it.

With a small huff, you went and plugged the charger into the wall and laptop before opening it. Bruce gave you the card to use, and if he can’t be bothered to go with you to stores, you can surely get whatever you want. He’s so rich, you can bleed him dry a bit.

In the end, you didn’t. You felt too guilty about buying clothes and things for the garden, so your desires for those shiny metallic watercolors and 360 markers were exchanged for a few sketchbooks and graphite pens. Your mother is rolling in her grave at how much you spent, you were sure, so you rationalized the guilt to simply wanting to perfect your skills before buying those fancy things.

You got the clothes a size or two bigger, just like mami did, so they’ll fit you for longer. Simple things, pajamas, socks, underwear, and a few pairs of jeans and T-shirts, things she’d buy for you since you were unsure of what you were supposed to get.

You hoped Bruce wouldn’t be too angry, he was a scary man now, and you dreaded to see him angry. On the garden side of things, you may have overindulged. From all the tools you got, to the kind of soil, to the types of flowers, to making sure you got beds for the plants. The soil outside truly looked beyond saving. But if he was okay with Richard’s desire for more gymnastics equipment, surely he'd be fine with this.

At lunch, you were informed by Alfred that Bruce and Dick won’t attend dinner. It didn’t surprise you, however, it still felt like they were avoiding you, and it still hurt. Perhaps this will be the new normal, the everyday occurrence. Maybe this was normal for them, you were sure high school and work kept them both busy… Will they ever have time for you?

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