#Having a single moment just leave him alone

[d-targaryenshoe]

In The End - Colin Bridgerton

Word Count: 2172

Summary: To be married to a stranger is not what every single lady of the Ton wants, is it not?

You and Eloise Bridgerton, childhood friends, sat under the spreading branches of an ancient oak tree, the leaves above you rustling in a gentle breeze.

The sunlight streaming through the leaves cast dappled shadows upon your faces, dancing like living things.

"You can't be serious, y/n," Eloise said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "An arranged marriage? You're far too young to be thinking of such things!"

You shrugged, your expression wistful. "I know it's not what I would have chosen for myself," you admitted, "but it is the path my mama has chosen for me."

Eloise reached out to take your hand, your eyes filled with concern. "But what if you don't like this Lord Somerset?" she asked. "What if you don't want to marry him, must that not change things?"

You sighed, looking away from your friend. "My mother says I must marry well, to secure the future of our family," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I fear my opinion does not matter in this matter."

Eloise frowned, her brow furrowing. "But y/n, you're not just a possession to be traded or bargained with! You have feelings, thoughts, desires! You should have a say in who you marry!"

You bit your lip, looking away again. "I know, El. I wish things were different," you sighed. "But my mama has made it clear that this is how it must be."

Eloise's heart ached for you, but she could tell that there was no changing your mind right now. "There must be something we can do?"

You looked up at her, hope flickering in Eloise's eyes before being extinguished. "I don't know, El. I don't want to disobey my mother. She's only trying to secure my future."

"The future you did not choose, must I remind you."

Eloise's tone was gentle, but firm. You looked up at her, surprise flitting across the Bridgerton her features before settling into a pensive frown.

"I know, El. I just... I feel as though I have no say in anything that happens to me."

"But you do, you always have a say."

Eloise's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt or hope.

"You could speak with your mother, and explain how you feel. You could try to convince her that you deserve a choice, that you deserve happiness."

You shook your head, your hair swaying gently. "She'd never understand, El. She's always put her desires first. I don't think she'd ever see things from my perspective."

Eloise bit her lip, thinking. "Then maybe it's time you showed her," she said, determination shining in her eyes. "Maybe it's time you stood up for yourself, for your future. You don't have to do this alone."

You looked up at your friend, hope flickering in your eyes. "You'd help me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eloise nodded, her determination growing. "Of course, I would. You know I'd do anything for you. Together, we can find a way to make sure you get the future you deserve."

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, each lost in your thoughts. Your hands were clasped tightly in your lap, your nails digging into your palms.

You looked away from Eloise, out towards the garden where the flowers swayed gently in the breeze.

Eloise watched you with a mixture of sympathy and determination. She could see the turmoil in your eyes, the conflict between your duty and your desires.

It was clear that this decision weighed heavily on you. As if sensing the tension in the air, a figure appeared at the edge of your vision.

Colin Bridgerton, Eloise's brother and your friend, approached you from behind, his stride purposeful.

His dark hair was tousled from the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Ah, there you are, you two. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Eloise turned to face him, her lips curling into a smile. "Hello, Colin. We were just having a... ladies' moment, if you will."

You looked up at Colin, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Hello, Colin. It's nice to see you."

Eloise watched as Colin's eyes flickered between the two of you, clearly sensing the weight of the conversation.

She wondered what he made of your sudden seriousness, but decided not to dwell on it. "Colin, why don't you join us?" Eloise invited, patting the bench beside her.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at you, before sitting down beside Eloise. "What were you saying about standing up for yourself, y/n?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I know you've always been good at doing what's expected of you, but sometimes I think it's important to follow your heart, too."

You looked at him gratefully. "It's just... my mother has always been so strict. I feel like I can never live up to her." you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "I want so much more for myself, but I don't know how to make her understand."

Colin nodded in understanding. "I can see that. It must be tough, feeling like you're always walking a tightrope." He glanced over at Eloise, who was watching the two of you intently.

"But you know, sometimes all it takes is someone on the sidelines to give you the courage to step out of line, to take a chance on yourself."

You looked at him, hope flickering in your eyes once more. "Do you think... do you think she'd ever understand?" you asked softly.

Eloise took your hand in hers, squeezing it gently. "I believe she can if you give her the chance. You just have to find the right way to explain how you feel, and why this means so much to you." She glanced over at Colin, who nodded in agreement. "But I- I have to join mama to the modiste."

You looked up at your friend, a mixture of gratitude and determination in your eyes. "Thank you, Eloise. I'll think about what you've said."

Eloise hesitated for a moment before standing up, her dress rustling softly against her legs before she turned around and walked away.

Colin studied your profile as you watched your friend disappear into the crowd, a quiet strength emanating from you. "You know," he began, "it's not always easy to stand up to our parents, but I believe you're brave enough to do it."

You turned to face him, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. "Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do," he replied with conviction. "You have so much to offer the world, and I think your mother just needs some time to see that."

You let out a small sigh, your shoulders slumping slightly. "It's not that easy, though. She's always been so focused on me marrying well, and living a comfortable life. She doesn't understand that I want more than that."

Colin nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I know it's difficult, but you have to believe that she can change her perspective. You just have to find a way to help her see things from your point of view." He reached out, taking your hand in his. "And I promise you, I'll be here for you every step of the way."

You looked into his eyes, the sincerity in his words giving you strength. You could feel the warmth of his hand on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about everything else.

"Thank you, Colin," you whispered. "You don't know what that means to me."

He smiled, and you noticed how his dimple dented his cheek. "I think I do, actually," he said softly.

At your surprised expression, he continued, "I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you in the garden that day. You're beautiful, intelligent, and brave. You're everything I could ever hope for in a woman."

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you listened to his words. You had never expected to hear anything like this from him.

"But... we're just friends," you stammered, your voice barely audible above the laughter and chatter of the people around you.

Colin smiled gently, his eyes never leaving yours. "We are friends, yes. But I think there's something more between us. Something deeper, more intense. And I want to explore that." He reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch.

"I want to get to know you better, y/n. Not just as a friend, but as a woman. As my woman."

Your heart raced as his words washed over you, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You knew you should pull away, but the look in his eyes held you captive.

"Colin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned forward, his lips mere inches from yours. "I know this is sudden, and perhaps I shouldn't have said anything tonight, but I couldn't help myself. I've felt this way for so long, and I needed you to know."

Your heart raced as his words sank in. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, and you could hardly breathe. You knew you should say something, but the words seemed to stick in your throat.

You could only stare into his eyes, lost in the moment.

Slowly, almost tenderly, Colin leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours.

At first, it was gentle, a mere flutter of sensation, but then he deepened the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You gasped, your hands finding their way up to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin.

You felt as if you were floating, your body alive with the heat of the moment.

The world around you seemed to fade away, and it was as if there was nothing but the two of you, your hearts racing, your breath mingling together.

You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, the hardness of his chest, the strength in his arms as he held you close.

When at last you broke apart, you found it difficult to focus on anything but the look in his eyes.

They were filled with desire and tenderness, and you knew that he meant every word he had said.

You could feel the blush creeping up your neck and into your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile shyly.

"I-I don't know what to say," you managed to stammer.

Colin smiled back, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. "You don't have to say anything right now. Just know that I meant every word I said and that I want to explore this with you." He paused for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation, before continuing.

"I want us to be together. I want to protect you and cherish you, and show you the love that you deserve."

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words. You had never imagined feeling this way about anyone, and the thought of being with Colin filled you with a warmth you hadn't known was possible.

You looked up into his eyes, your shining with tears of happiness, and nodded slowly. "I want that too," you whispered. "So much."

He smiled down at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek. "I know it's fast, and I don't want you to feel pressured, but...I want to start making plans with you. I want to take you away from here, show you the world. I want to build a life with you."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you should pull away, but the look in his eyes held you captive.

"Colin," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from yours once more. "I love you, y/n," he said, his voice firm and resolute. "And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Marry me?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared into his eyes. You could feel the truth of his words resonating deep within you. You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your life by his side, explore the world with him, and build a future together.

You knew that you could trust him and that he would always protect you.

With trembling hands, you reached up and cupped his face, tenderly brushing your thumbs across his cheeks.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Yes, I'll marry you."

The weight of your words settled between you, and you both paused for a moment, taking in the gravity of your decision.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving you alone in your little bubble, suspended in time and space.

Colin leaned in closer, his lips finding yours once more, his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth.

His kiss deepened, his hands exploring the contours of your body, and you melted into him, returning his affections with equal fervor.

[doumadono]

Hi baby!! Mwaaah! I have an emergency request if it’s okay? Can you have either Bakugou or Touya (maybe him as just Touya or maybe Dabi? You can decide) where the reader is having such bad flashbacks of their abusive relationship before them that they can’t get out of bed and every little thing set them off in a way they starts to get worse with them flashbacks?

Touya & Bakugo with gn!Reader who deals with flashbacks of past relationship

A/N: I hope you'll enjoy these two short stories 💋

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST - PART 2

Touya

Touya sat by the edge of the bed, his pale fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the sheets. His partner, Y/N, lay beside him, their body curled into a tight ball under the covers.

It had been a rough night. The nightmares that haunted them were growing worse, and Touya could do little more than hold them as they trembled and cried in their sleep. 

Now, as they lay still, Touya watched over them with a heavy heart. ”Y/N," he murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair away from their face. "It's morning. You should try to get up."

Their eyes fluttered open, but the vacant, haunted look in them made it clear they were still trapped in the grip of their past. 

Touya’s heart clenched at the sight. He had seen that look before – in his own reflection, back when his life was consumed by pure pain and hatred.

"I can't," they whispered, their voice barely audible. "Every time I close my eyes, I see him. I feel his hands on me... I can't escape it. I can’t believe I spent so much time in such an abusive relationship… I should have tried to escape but I felt weak."

Touya’s jaw tightened. He understood the feeling all too well, the relentless grip of trauma that refused to let go. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead. "You're not there anymore, Y/N. You're here, with me. And I won’t let anyone hurt you again."

They shook their head, tears welling up in their eyes. "It's not that simple. Everything reminds me of him. The sound of the door, the creak of the floorboards... even the way the light filters in reminds me of being trapped in his flat."

Touya’s eyes darkened with anger – not at them, but at the monster who had done this to them. "We’ll make new memories to replace the old ones. If you still feel trapped, maybe you should consider moving to another town, to leave the past behind?”

They looked up at him, hope flickering briefly in their eyes before being extinguished by fear. "What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m broken forever? And I distinctly remember you saying that “the past never dies”, Touya.”

Touya's breath caught at the mention of his own words, thrown back at him like a painful echo. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself against the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. When he opened them again, his gaze was steady, intense. "I did say that," he admitted, his voice a low, steady rumble. "The past never dies. It’s a part of us, a shadow that follows wherever we go. But that doesn’t mean it defines us." He leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against theirs. "I know you feel broken. Hell, I’ve felt that way for years. But look at me, Y/N. I'm still here. Still fighting. Because even though the past never dies, it doesn’t mean it wins. We get to decide who we become, every single day."

His fingers traced gentle patterns on their arm, a calming, grounding touch. "I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. It’s not. There will be days when it feels like the shadows are winning. But you’re not alone in this. We’ll face those shadows together." He paused, searching their eyes for any sign of understanding. "You’ve already survived so much, babe. You’re stronger than you think. And if the past tries to drag you down, I’ll be here to pull you back up. Every single fucking time."

Touya cupped their face in his hands, his touch gentle despite the callouses. "You’re not broken, Y/N. You’re healing. And healing takes time. Allow yourself to heal.”

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them filled with unspoken words of comfort and solidarity. Slowly, they began to uncurl, their breathing evening out as they leaned into Touya’s embrace. "Okay," they whispered finally. "I trust you. Thank you for being here for me, Touya.”

Touya smiled, a rare, genuine smile that was reserved only for them. "Always."

Bakugou

Katsuki Bakugou was not a man known for his patience. His explosive temper and brash demeanor were infamous, but when it came to Y/N, he was willing to wait. Wait for them to feel safe, to heal, to trust. 

Today, however, his patience was being tested to its limits.

He stood at the door of their bedroom, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Y/N lay in bed, their body trembling under the blankets. It had been a bad night, and the morning wasn't proving to be any better.

"Y/N," Bakugou called softly, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his frustration. "You need to get up. You haven't eaten anything for nearly two days."

They didn't respond, their eyes fixed on a spot on the wall as if it held the answers to their torment. 

Bakugou took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Losing his temper wouldn't help them at all.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside them. "Hey," he said more softly, reaching out to touch their shoulder. "Talk to me."

They flinched at his touch, a reaction that sent a pang of hurt through Bakugou’s chest. He pulled his hand back, clenching it into a fist to keep from lashing out. Not at them, of course, never at them – but at the memory of the person who had hurt them.

"It’s him," they whispered, their voice shaking, "I can’t get him out of my head. Every sound, every shadow… it’s like he’s still here, watching me."

Bakugou’s eyes flashed with anger, his mind filling with violent thoughts about the man who had done this to the person he loved the most. But he knew that wouldn’t help right now. What they needed was reassurance, not rage.

"He’s not here," Bakugou said firmly. "He’ll never hurt you again. I swear on my life, Y/N. You’re safe with me."

They turned their head to look at him, tears streaming down their face. "But I don’t feel safe! Can’t you understand that?! Everything reminds me of him. The way the door creaks, the shadows on the wall... I can’t escape it! I know I’m no longer in his hands, but goddammit, I feel like he still owns a part of my soul!”

Bakugou’s heart ached at their words. He wished he could take away their pain, fight off their demons like he did with villains. But this was a battle that couldn’t be won with fists and explosions. He took a deep breath. "Then we’ll change it," he said finally, determination in his voice. "We’ll get rid of the shadows, do whatever it takes to make you feel safe. We’ll make this place your little haven, does it sound okay?”

They looked at him with a mixture of hope and doubt. "What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m always scared?"

Bakugou leaned in, pressing his forehead against theirs while rubbing their shoulders. "Then I’ll be here, every step of the way. I won’t let you face this alone. We’ll fight it together.”

They took a shaky breath, their body slowly relaxing against his. "Okay," they whispered. "Together."

Bakugou nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Together."

[anthemofgvf]

Groupie Love: Jake Kiszka x Reader Fanfiction

"you're in the bar, playing guitar, i'm trying not to let the crowd next to me. it's so hard sometimes with a star, when you have to share him with everybody." description: being jake’s groupie was heaven on earth, yet sinful in every desirable way. while the world reveled in his public, entrancing persona, you reveled in the boundaries of reality and fantasy intertwining in secrecy.

word count: 6.9k

warnings after cut…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

warnings: good amount of plot, mentions of drinking, alcohol, smut (18+ minors dni), swearing, hardcore dom! jake, choking, spitting, praise/begging/degrading kink, rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (male and fem! receiving), bit of fluff, some aftercare

disclaimer: this does not follow the real events of the starcatcher tour for the sake of the plot. thanks!

a/n: would also like to mention that yes, this IS based off of the Lana Del Rey song with the same title. As soon as I heard it, I immediately thought of Jake and writing a fic based off of it. If you haven't listened to the song, now is the perfect time to do so! hope you all enjoy :) <3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

There was something so addictive about secrecy. To share such vulnerability with someone where no one's eyes could witness, but only you and another alone. To know each other by touch alone if every sense was stripped away, yet hiding the true reason why you could pick them apart in a crowd from that feeling. And while you two were friends with one another publicly, behind closed doors, you were both fucking like animals. There was no better way to describe your relationship with Jake. You were just one of his secrets, hidden in a closet, and you had accepted that.

You had met him after one of Greta Van Fleet's shows when their careers were just about to skyrocket and thank God you were able to catch him then. You hadn't really listened to their music before or even heard of them, but local concerts under 30 bucks as a fun night out with friends was always on the table. If it weren't for their small fanbase and lack of fame, you were positive you wouldn't have become Jake's personal groupie.

After hooking up with him in the venue's bathroom, twice, Jake simply couldn't have enough of you. And you, you were entranced by him and his sexual drive. You both also enjoyed each other's company in the short period of time you knew one another, so, you and he exchanged numbers and kept in contact. Whenever he was in town, you'd be next to him, and when he was gone, you were with someone else. More often than not, you two were spending time with one another purely for sex, but it was rare for you to leave immediately after. After all, Jake cared about you regardless of the label of your relationship with him, and you were enjoyable to be around.

There was no discussion of monogamy, so it was mutually decided that seeing other people was no issue. Sure, no one compared to the guitarist, but there was always someone to run down your time in the day when boredom struck, and you were unable to be at Jake's beckoning call. Even though Jake would always call you his, it was words that withheld no meaning. Only in moments where you and Jake were together alone did they obtain meaning, but you knew never to take him seriously.

Jealousy is a bitch, though, and it possessed you. It rotted you to your unchaste core. You could easily pretend it didn't bother you that other girls have had Jake the way you have or have even looked at him in that manner. Of course, you'd be lying to yourself if you said there wasn't a single sliver of selfishness towards him. How many girls Jake had been with next to you was a mysterious number, but you didn't choose to spend your time thinking about how many girls he's said the same things to as you. But, rather, feel empowered that there were fans in their crowds at shows that desperately wanted your place. Fans that screamed his name, made signs and t-shirts for him, dreamed of being more than just a fan in the crowd. That was something you had over them. That's what made you special. That's what gave you your title of a so-called 'groupie'.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

They had closed their most recent tour with a show in Nashville, and of course you were in attendance. Jake had even asked if you'd be there, knowing well enough that there was no way in hell you'd be skipping out on it, because you knew where the night would take you. Besides, you hadn't seen him in months. You hadn't been with him in months. You had grown a sense of longing for him after a short period of time away from the guitarist.

Before Greta Van Fleet had a larger fanbase, you were able to sit in the seats and get escorted backstage to Jake so you could watch as a fan. But, due to suspicious speculation amongst fans, and you and Jake wanting to continue the secrecy and keep the reputation of "just friends," you were granted a backstage pass and allowed to come into the arena or venue they'd be performing at before fans would arrive. Every place was different, so the execution of reaching him was always tweaked, but no matter what, you and him both knew you'd see one another after the show. You preferred to hang in the sound booth rather than backstage, anyways.

Rarely did you come early to be in attendance for soundcheck. Sure, there would be absolutely nothing wrong with it, but you always enjoyed watching him look for you amongst the fans, and his eyes light up in the slightest that had your heart stopping only for a second at the sign of recognition, feeling as though your breath had been taken from you and forcing your body to freeze. It never got old feeling his eyes latch onto you.

And you never got tired of watching him perform on stage. Now, with the new introduction of 'Mirador,' you got to watch him nearly twice as long. And, God, you never knew he could sing that well. That certainly was a turn on for you. Now your mind was wandering off to the thought of him singing in your ear.

You rarely tore your eyes from him while he was on stage, and he knew that he was hypnotic. He liked knowing that there were people who only cared to watch him and come to Greta Van Fleet's shows to be in his presence. Thrusting into his guitar as he spoke to himself and the crowd, hairs sticking to his cheeks with the accumulated sweat and still breathlessly giving his performance his all. You kept your eyes locked on his stomach and watched as the sweat beads dripped down his tender skin, and his hair whipping around and throwing his head back as he skillfully played on his instrument, exposing his Adam's apple to the fans that kept their eyes glued on his every move while he struck the next few chords of the song. You'd always convince yourself while swinging to the music that he was performing more theatrically for you, but you'd never been proven right nor wrong yet. He was entrancing to watch, and sometimes you found it unfathomable that you were a person in his life. A person who knew things that most didn't, a person who saw things most people didn't.

Your adrenaline always arose as soon as the four boys left the stage, and the lights illuminated the venue. Hearing different conversations from a multitude of fans that surrounded you, shuffling of feet and complaints of exhaustion. But there you were, hanging out in the sound booth waiting for security to come to your aid to escort you to backstage.

You wore a silver halter top that accentuated your chest, with a pair of velvet-blue flared leggings and converse. Thankfully, your shoes weren't shown due to the coverage of your pants, and it truly did not matter what clothes were on your body. They would be thrown on some floor in less than an hour, and that's all you cared about.

Eventually two men from Greta Van Fleet's team made their way to you once the venue was near empty from fans and began leading you backstage to the green room. You always loved that feeling in the pit of your stomach; it excitingly tumbled and twisted with each step closer you were to him. The awkward silence never faltered while the security guards guided you to backstage, but that gave you enough time to collect yourself before seeing Jake.

Your eyes were first met with Sam cracking open a beer, chatting with his girlfriend and keeping to themselves. When they saw you, they smiled without a word, and allowed you to keep moving. While you and Jake became "friends" the more you two saw each other, you had been brought around the band from time to time. More likely than not, it was for some sort of party, large gathering, or simply catching the boys after the show - uncommonly anything intimate. They knew what your purpose was, but they never questioned you. Either they simply didn't care, or they didn't want to ask questions they did not want answers to.

Danny was nowhere to be found, most likely in his dressing room, but the twins were walking into the green room, laughter erupting from Josh as he cracked his large, infamous smile that put his perfect teeth on display. His presence always soothed you when eyes seemed to be peering down your neck from your presence. Both were still in their stage attire, which was usual when you'd come so soon after the show had ended.

Josh had noticed you first, closing his mouth to a smirk that raised with the right corner of lips and pierced his cheek to reveal his dimple. Once Jake laid his eyes upon you, they were already following down your body, finally greeting you with a crack of a smile that told you his mind was already somewhere else.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you again," Josh greeted you with a tight hug, "nice seeing your face after so long." He patted your back and pulled away with a grin still plastered on his face.

"It has been long enough," you huffed a laugh. "Tour was good?" You flicked your eyes to Jake.

He gave you a slow, steady nod. "Was great. I'm sure you'd love to hear all about it, huh?"

"I wouldn't want anything else." You huffed a laugh, sticking your tongue in your cheek at his light sarcasm.

"I expect you'll be sticking around to celebrate the end of Starcatcher with us?" Josh said as he began to walk away. You followed his movements with your eyes as he walked over to a small fridge, turning to Jake who gave you a blank stare. Josh wasn't hinting at your intentions with Jake, but rather what would occur after-the-fact. He shrugged at you suggestively, but you couldn't depict what his choice was.

You chose to be safe. "We'll see, Josh," you directed your attention to him for a moment, "if I don't, I'll be sure to say goodbye to you before I head home."

He sauntered over to you with a beer in hand and patted your back with a soft smile. "Always a pleasure, y/n."

Leaving you and his twin alone, Jake ran his hand to your side and found the small of your back, pressing light enough to signal movement forward and follow him to his dressing room. You dared to look at him, to examine the light sheen of sweat that resided on his forehead that he forgot to wipe away once he exited the stage. And you knew he could feel your eyes lingering upon him, but he liked to be looked at. He liked the attention.

His dressing room door was already open, welcoming your entrance and waiting for your arrival. You eagerly stepped into the neatly decorated room and scanned the area for familiar artifacts of his scattered about: sunglasses, bracelets, necklaces, and his attire to be thrown on after his stage wear was stripped from his body.

He turned his back to you quickly and closed the door, locking it swiftly behind him. And once he turned around, he was wearing a softly cracked smile. It was always so intimidatingly perfect, how his eyes rested into a look that only told you that he was going to devour you.

"Barely said a word to me since I've arrived," you said innocently with your hands behind your back, "what's with the shyness, Jake?" You began to slip off your shoes as his eyes faltered from your own to do the same.

He took slow steps towards you to increase the intensity of your heartbeat in anticipation. He knew you craved the taste of his lips, the feeling of his hands on your figure. He always remembered what made your heart bang against your chest and your face flush into a pink hue.

His index finger cradled your jaw as he focused your eyes on him intently. "Was it so wrong of me to want a more private 'welcome home' from you?" His voice was coarse with the words slipping off his tongue smoothly like butter. Close to a whisper - the tone of intimacy.

You flicked your eyes to his coy smirk, then back to his dark brown eyes that peered at you so attentively. He was always so patient in these moments for an answer back.

"All this is, is private. Doesn't mean I don't enjoy the gesture, though." You wrapped your arms around his neck after motioning your pointer finger back and forth between the two of you, and in return, he pulled you into his chest and squeezed you against his body tightly.

And there he was, breathing softly down the side of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, and feeling the figure and warmth of your body in an embrace. You buried your face into the crook of his neck that you made room for with your arm to feel the skin that rested there to remember how it feels to be so close to Jake once again.

"You're a good singer, Jake," you said lowly into his ear, "better than I had expected."

You felt him chuckle against you, but his laughter came out in small breaths. He was amused by your playful banter and humbling words that he knew were harmless.

He unwrapped himself from you but kept the close proximity between the both of you. His tongue darted out and ran across the middle of his bottom lip, cracking a coy grin as he looked down at you with half-hooded eyes. He was effortlessly seductive.

"You're lucky I like you, y/n." His hand raised to the side of your face as he slowly began to caress it, watching the motions of his fingers as they began from your temple and journeyed to your jaw. "Because if I hadn't known better, I'd think you were disrespecting me." He gave you a playful, lazy glare.

You gave him a small smile, allowing your fingers to focus on toying with the silver jewelry that hung dangerously low on his exposed skin.

"Well, you and I both know that you love to play that game." You said softly to yourself. Loud enough for him to hear, but quiet enough to showcase your lack of desire for a response.

You took the opportunity to run your hands onto his chest, letting them reach to the waistband of his trousers, and looking to him innocently with a smile. And he smiled back at you softly, waiting patiently for you to be finished reveling in his presence and this moment.

You placed your hands onto his neck, thumbing at the skin and looking at him for direction, for initiation. So, he cupped your jaw and placed a gentle, longing kiss onto your lips. You practically melted into his mouth and encouraged his tongue to begin roaming around the inside of your mouth as you began to dance your own in his. The kiss grew deeper quickly, and you both remembered the addictive taste of each other. The swift routine of throwing each other clothes began, where you're tugging down Jake's pants to leave him in his boxers, and he's tossing off his cropped, black jacket to land onto the ground.

Your hands traveled into his damp hair and tugged him deeper into your lips as his fingers played at the waistband of your leggings. The muscles at your stomach began to tense up at the sensation of the pads of his fingers toying at the idea of diving down into your underwear and satisfying you.

His mouth pulled from yours for a moment to throw off your top, which you assisted him in doing, and allowed it to fall wherever it landed. As soon as he got the sight of your bare breasts, he encapsulated his mouth onto yours, and massaged one in his hand, while the other hand held its place at your waist.

You snaked your hands in between your glued bodies and cupped his hard cock with a light squeeze, eliciting a deep, rumbling groan from his throat and into your mouth.

"God, how I've missed you." He said into your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip. His lips began to travel to your neck, pressing rough, sloppy kisses onto the skin. You contemplated telling him how much you missed him, but you knew that he knew you did - you were like putty under his touch.

Your head titled back to allow Jake more access to your neck. One of his hands ditched your body and tugged at your hair to gain dominance, keeping your neck bent back as far as possible so he could taste your skin. His other hand traveled to the small of your back to keep you on your feet, and you swore you would've fallen to your knees if it weren't for Jake holding you up. With your eyes shut, you tuned into the feeling of his wet tongue trailing its way up your neck and to your jaw, then suckling down to your collarbone. His mouth always felt like a beautiful curse against your skin, while compelling, still so unbelievably relieving.

Your hands stuck onto his hair, tugging and pulling as his lips trapped your right nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled circles around it, with his index and thumb massaging the other with the movements. Soft moans escaped your mouth, but you were sure to monitor any sound out of you.

His eyes peered up at you as he removed his mouth from your body and grabbed your face with his hands clasped at your jaw.

"Pants off, now." He instructed lowly, and while you slipped off your underwear with your velvet flares, he was throwing off his boxers and revealing his throbbing cock. You could hardly focus on anything other than him inside of you at this moment, with your head dizzy at the thought of his length filling you up to the hilt.

He never got sick of the sight of you naked, running his hands down your waist and to your hips while a deep sigh escaped his mouth. You watched his eyes focus in on your clit, with his thumb dancing around the area and causing your knees to grow weaker and weaker. Your hips bucked forward, and your motion only caused a light snicker to come from his mouth.

"Get on your fucking knees." He demanded as he pushed you down by your shoulder, although you were quick to follow his instructions and obey.

His length rested onto your left check, and his hand reached down to lift your chin to look up to him. He loved how submissive you looked before him. The way your eyes lit up to the sight of him bare in front of you, along with his devilish grin that captivated you.

He held your eyes with his own. "Good to know you're still such a good girl for me." That sentence had sent a shiver down your spine, with how intimidatingly dominant Jake was. There was something about his small, cracked smile, and the light squint in his eyes that always had you feeling shy and overexposed. Yet, you were always so comfortable being vulnerable around him.

He tapped at your jaw, which signaled for your mouth to open, and you allowed his thumb to travel onto your tongue, sliding the finger out and dragging your bottom lip down with the motion. You slid your hands over his thighs, kissing the head of his cock and slicing your tongue onto it. He groaned at the sensation and landed his hand on the back of your head in preparation.

And you grabbed his length, wrapping your lips around it and beginning to bob your head up and down at a slow pace. You took all of him for a moment to elicit a harsh groan - a response you craved hearing from Jake and pulled off his cock to purse your lips and spit onto his tip with your hand aiding you in coating him.

You immediately resumed bobbing your head up and down, while your hand at the base of him began working slowly with a twist of your wrist. He deeply sighed, looking down at you to see his cock disappear into your mouth. You were irresistible to him with the way you took him into your mouth so effortlessly.

"Fuck, just like that, y/n." He winced lightly as your tongue swirled around his tip. His mouth was slightly hung open as he admired the view of you below him. Hearing your name had never sounded better coming from someone's mouth.

The unoccupied hand of his landed at the side of your face with his thumb caressing at your cheek. He was being gentler with you than usual, which could only mean he intended to be rougher with you later on. You didn't mind the lack of degrading, though. It was good to soothe into things after being away from him for so long.

His breathing was deep, and the muscles at his stomach were tensed up as you quickened the pace of your mouth and hand. Your other hand massaged his balls lightly, which evoked a deep sigh from him. Hushed slurs drew from his lips as you worked your way up and down him, spit dribbling down your chin. The back of your throat fought against taking his whole length, but as long as he felt good, you could care less about your own pleasure. You loved to feel as though you belonged to him and were the only one making him feel this good.

His head was thrown back, while the hand that tousled with your hair on the back of your head had a harsher grip. It was as if he was innocently guiding you, but really, it was to steady himself as he cautiously bucked his hips into your movements. Jake had his bottom lip tucked behind his teeth, fighting against his own release so quickly.

He grabbed your hair and held it back for you, tugging you off of his cock and raising you up to your knees by the pad of his index finger resting under your chin.

"Think you deserve something in return, huh?" He said as his hands relaxed from their places and found your waist. The rhetorical question had you pressing your thighs tightly together with a whine trapped behind your closed mouth.

He was slow with his hands, letting them fall down to your hips, then scooping you off of the ground whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you over to the long table that sat before a mirror, setting you down and immediately forcing your legs open for him. He was quick to step in between your legs and place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on your lips as his fingers traveled down your stomach and to your heat.

His right hand rested at the inner of your thigh, his thumb at your pubic bone and mere inches from your clit. He rested his forehead upon yours and listened intently to your unsteady, choked breaths, while he traced his index fingers and middle up and down your pussy agonizingly slow. Your back arched into him with a whine, closing your thighs together cautiously in hopes his fingers would caress you. But instead, he forced your thighs back open, and removed his forehead from yours with enough space to just barely see the entirety of your face.

"Don't. Fucking. Move. Be a good girl for me, yeah?" He glared at you, practically spitting in your face at your small movements in a silent plea to have him touch you. But you nodded vigorously. "If you want me to touch you, you're going to have to beg for it. Don't act like you have forgotten how this works."

The way he was looking at you was sending butterflies into the pit of your stomach, and it was nearly overwhelming to you how lust-filled his eyes were.

You threw your head back, sliding your right hand onto his bicep and sighing heavily with shut eyes. "Jake," you whined out, "please."

"Please what, y/n?" He urged you further. He loved playing this game.

You brought your head back up and looked at him in mere agony, desperately saying, "please touch me."

A devilish smirk twisted onto his lips as he flicked his eyes down to your pussy, leaning down and pursing his lips to allow spit to dribble from his mouth and onto your folds. As soon as the spit hit your pussy, he was gathering it onto middle and ring finger and locking his eyes onto yours. He captivated your attention just to mimic the way your mouth fell open as his fingers eased themselves into your entrance. He even repeated your deep exhales as his fingers curled inside of you and began to pump in and out of your entrance. You couldn't contain your moans and allowed them to fall out of your mouth while Jake admired your breathless state.

His calloused fingers added an extra layer of sensation to what you were feeling. He began kissing at your neck, humming onto the skin and trailing his mouth to your ear.

"Feel good, y/n?" He asked in a pitiful, mocking tone. He knew the answer, yet he wanted to hear you say it. Just another thing he did to control you and what you said.

"Yes, yes Jake." You moaned. "Please, don't stop."

He tugged at your earlobe and said, "so we do remember our manners, hm?" in a teasing tone.

Your hand reached for the back of his head as he continued to suck at your neck and travel down to your jugular. Your other hand was gripped tightly against the edge of the table to keep yourself upright while Jake meticulously drew every sound possible from you by his touch. His tongue flattened against the skin and slid its way up to your jaw. You never realized how deeply you missed Jake until you were finally with him.

You had your eyes shut with furrowed brows as you allowed your head to hang back. Every movement Jake made with his fingers, his mouth, his hand that found its way to your breast and massaged it - you were in euphoria. Only did he make you feel this good, and you made it known with your lack of words and preferred usage of pleasured sounds.

Then your eyes were shooting open and your fingers gripping harder at Jake's hair as you felt his tongue circle at your clit. You looked down at the sight, seeing him kneeled down before you as he devoured at your pussy. He hummed in satisfaction of the taste of you - sweet like honey, and your mouth hung open in an "O" shape, unable to utter a sound. Finally, an exaggerated groan rolled off of your tongue, and your head was able to be thrown back with your head fuzzy in ecstasy.

Your hand that rested at the back of his head landed back onto the table, clenching and unclenching, which Jake was quick to notice. His hand immediately found yours and folded his fingers into your own, giving you something to squeeze onto you. The small note of intimacy made you crack a small smile, but quickly allowing it to fade away as Jake grasped harshly onto your hip to keep you in place and reminding you where your focus should be.

He lapped at your folds as he kept a steady pace in and out of your pussy while your thighs squeezed tightly around his head. He switched between sucking at your clit and allowing his tongue to do all the work. You were grinding your hips to the motions of his tongue, and while normally you were ridiculed by him with a slap at your thigh, he allowed it after being away from one another so long.

You were clenching around his fingers, which elicited a pleased hum from him. He could tell you were close to your release, and that's exactly where he wanted you to be before stripping it away from you so suddenly. The tightened knot in the pit of your stomach completely dissolving, not unraveling, always had you whining in annoyance.

He flattened his tongue once more and dragged it up your pussy, then pushed himself up by slapping his hands on the tops of your thighs and levering himself that way.

You encapsulated your mouth onto his by bringing him with your hands harshly slapping against his face. He groaned into your lips with satisfaction, while you wrapped your hand around his length and began stroking it. At some points in moments like these, you felt like you just barely had some sort of dominance over Jake, and he was submitting to the pleasure you were granting him. He found it harder to kiss you back, resting his forehead against your own with eyes squeezed shut. As if anything you had asked him to do, he would without hesitation. And his face even showed how resistless he had become under your touch, contorting and softening with his eyebrows pulled in and mouth parted open.

You kept your eyes open to see the way his face shifted emotions, watching him grow restless with your position of being in charge. He wrapped his hand around your own and stopped your motions, looking down at his cock and focusing on lining himself up with your entrance. You quickly propped one of your legs up onto the table to allow easier access for him and impatiently waited. As spit dribbled down from his pursed lips and onto his cock, with a few more strokes, he was easing himself into you and resting his forehead onto your shoulder.

"Fuck, y/n," he drew out in a long breath as he was fully rested inside of you. He was slow pulling himself out, but quick to slam into you.

He raised his head off of your shoulder and met your eyes, seeing yours with the lids of them resting halfway, mouth opened in an 'O' shape with eyebrows softened. You made it known to him that you were all his - and always will be, but in this moment, you were whatever you needed him to be. Through your lust-filled brain you imprinted the memory of how perfect Jake feels inside of you, how he knows exactly where his fingers need to dance onto your skin, or where his hands should rest. He was wickedly talented at the art of pleasure, and he knew what made your body tick. He was in tune with your body, which he oh-so adored, and wasn't going to go anywhere until he felt satisfied enough.

You had one hand sprawled behind your back onto the table and the other on Jake's shoulder, throwing your head back as he slammed into you and rattled the items that lay astray on the tabletop. If anything were to fall, neither of you paid mind to it. What mattered was the sensations that ran throughout your entire being, your heartbeat increasing with every second, and your body accumulating a sweat that began at your hairline.

His breaths were heavy, daring to look at you while his pace increased. The corner of his lips curled into a malicious smirk, forcing your lips onto his by pushing your head towards him after landing the back of his hand in your damp hair. His other hand was placed beside your thigh to keep him up, but every once and a while, it would travel to the outer of your thigh and squeeze tightly.

Your kiss shared with him was a sloppy mess, with both of you breathing into each other's mouth and unable to contain your moans from sputtering out from your lips. His tongue danced alongst your own, toying with it before resting his back in his mouth and pulling from your lips to kiss your cheek. He reached your ear with his lips, tugging at your earlobe, and allowing you to hear his restless, guttural groans that tore at your core with pleasure.

"You're all mine, you know that?" He groaned to you. "Your pussy is for my pleasure only - no one else's. You understand?" He continued his fast-paced thrusts while borderline whispering these words to you.

You swallowed harshly, breathing out a small, "yes," as you were unable to utter anything else. It was already a battle enough to keep yourself quiet to minimize the noise anyone in the green room could hear, but yet, they all knew why you were with Jake. And frankly, Jake didn't care about the noise. In fact, he encouraged your cries of ecstasy. He demanded it from you.

He wrapped his hand around your neck tightly, forcing you to look at him as he withheld your breath.

"Say you understand, y/n. Say that you understand that no one else can have you but I." He breathed, lessening his tight grip around your neck to allow you to speak for him.

"I understand, Jake," you said as your eyes rolled back from the way Jake was thrusting into you, "I'm all yours."

You didn't have to refocus your eyes on him to know he was smirking - you could just hear his lips curl. Now he was quickly pulling himself out of you, and in a swift motion, lifting you off from the table and barely giving you time to land on your feet before turning you around and bending you over. You were face to face with yourself, seeing how your makeup had run, and your lips were swollen and darker tinted than normal.

But then you saw him, and how he looked from behind you. His eyes landed on your ass, and in a near second, you saw his hand raise and swat against the skin. You jumped with a light whimper trapping itself behind your lips as you bit down on your bottom lip. His eyes met yours, and there he was, giving you the smallest hint of a smile, and forcefully pushing himself all the way inside of you.

One of his hands rested at your hip with a harsh grip, and the other was at your shoulder while he watched the movement of your ass each time it hit against his stomach. He was entranced by the way your body moved, how good it felt to be inside of you, how perfect you looked fully exposed to him.

He whispered something near incoherent, but you were able to pick it up.

"Good, good fucking girl. That's it, baby." He said as he kept his eyes locked on your rear. You watched his lips drop open, his hair moving with his motions and his eyebrows softening and furrowing with each sensation that drove through his body. He grabbed at your ass once more, giving you another swat to make sure he would leave his mark on you as if the bruises caused by his mouth weren't already stained onto your body.

You moaned his name, begging him not to stop as he was hitting the spot you craved to be caressed the most. You dared to reach your fingers down to your clit to reach your orgasm, but as your hand began to make its way there, Jake immediately caught on, and grabbed ahold of your hair and tugged you far back enough to where your back arched away from his chest.

"Greedy now, are we?" His hand from your hair released itself to forcefully grasp your throat with his pointer finger and thumb harshly pressed at your jaw to look towards him. You didn't know what to respond with, other than to rest your hands onto the edge of the table and allowing your knuckles to turn white.

You dared to hold eye contact with him, and he squeezed your cheeks with the intent of forcing your mouth open and spitting onto your tongue. You swallowed the substance without thought, looking at him as you raised one hand to hold onto the side of his face. And the grip he had onto your face wasn't harsh enough, because you felt your head turn forward and lean back with a loud moan as your orgasm grew closer, and the pads of his fingers rubbed vigorous circles onto your clit.

"Greedy little whore." He whispered into your ear, looking at you through the mirror. He watched the way your breasts bounced, how your body twitched, how you were nearly unresponsive with the amount of pleasure you were receiving. You truly were all his.

"Jake, please," you begged quietly. There were more words you wanted to say, but they had fizzled and left your mind, and you could only focus on the way Jake was pumping in and out of you at a quickened pace.

Strands of his hair began to stick to his cheeks, and his silver necklaces that he had on left a cold sting onto your back as they would barely graze the skin. Every single sense in your body had become heightened and intensified, along with your entire body tensing up that had your entire body running hot. All you could do was chase your release, to tune into the intoxicating sensation of Jake delivering as much pleasure to you as possible.

"God, I'm gonna cum." He warned as his thrusts became inconsistent, yet perfectly paced to reach his high. "Gonna cum with me?"

There was only one answer to that question, and he knew that. But hearing you say it helped send him over the edge. It helped him feel more in control of your orgasm. Hell, you were surprised your release hadn't overtaken you yet.

"Yes, Jake, just please, don't stop." You moaned.

And as you felt the tight knot unravel in your stomach, you began to fall forward with your legs trembling, and Jake coming to your aid by bracing his arm across your chest as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“That’s it darling,” he soothed, “there you go.”

His head fell forward as he finished inside of you, draining himself fully and leaving himself with a heaving chest. His arm fell from your chest and landed his hand on top of yours on the edge of the table, with the other hand teasing at your sensitive clit once more just to feel you twitch a final time around him.

After you nearly grabbed his wrist to move it away from the overstimulation, he landed his hand onto your waist, and stayed inside of you for a moment. His eyes found yours in the mirror, and he pressed a soft, long kiss onto your cheek.

"You okay?" He said to you.

"Yes, yes I'm okay," you giggled, "more than okay."

He chuckled at your statement. "Just making sure." He said as he looked at you.

His lips traveled onto your neck with soft, relaxed kisses, reaching to the end of your shoulder and stopping there as he pulled himself from you. You tried to turn around to face him, but as he saw your legs nearly give out, he came to wrap his hands around your waist, and keep you on your feet. If it weren't for the warm liquid dripping down onto the insides of your thighs, you would have forgotten that Jake had finished inside of you.

After seeing that animalistic side of him, you had nearly forgotten how caring he was, and how important it was to him to tend to you after practically using your body. And while one hand stayed at the small at your back, the other raised to your cheek, and his thumb softly swiped against it in a back-and-forth motion.

You two allowed each other to catch your breaths, keeping your eyes locked onto his and smiling at him softly in your hazed state.

"Do you want to stay after for a bit before you head off?" He said to you, finally having his breathing under control.

"Don't want me to stay over for the night, or are you already sick of me?" You said to him with a knowing grin.

He chuckled at your response and placed a soft kiss onto your lips. "Go on and get dressed and we'll head back to mine when you're ready to, alright?"

You nodded at him and began to clean yourself up, which he helped with, then aiding him, and getting dressed to make yourself presentable to walk out of the dressing room and accept the stares from the rest of the band and any of their team members who witnessed the sounds that erupted from Jake's dressing room.

But they all knew why you were there. After all, you were Jake's personal groupie. And you enjoyed the lifestyle. You enjoyed Jake, and he enjoyed you.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

taglist:

@hollyco @songbirds-sweet @ageofhearingloss @sacredjake @mountain-in-springtime @ignite-my-fire @gvfsstardust @jakesguitarsolo @gold-mines-melting @digitalcalamity @demolitionndann @lipstickitty @bluee07 @lexii-nv-c @joopsworld @gvfgal @gvfpal @hellowgoodbye @writingcold @stardustcatcher @absolutely--mental @hippievanfleet @gretasfallingsky @dont-go-home-without-me @threadthatssacred @indigofallingsky @audgeppp @sinarainbows @brujamagik @bowievanfleet @laneygvf @idontlikelizards @josh-iamyour-mama @starshine-wagner @lyndz2names @jaketswine @jjwasneverhere @mulberrimouse @starcatcher-jake @lallisonl @jordie-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf

[freshoutcaladan]

- shadow

summary: feyd-rautha harkonnen - a psychotic, evil man who knew nothing but pain. his coming of age was the most anticipated event of giedi prime, but he did not expect to find his future bride while missing out on the festivities - a quiet bene gesserit witch, who had come to the na-baron’s birthday celebration, just to do her job. oh, how the tables have turned.

pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x afab!bene gesserit!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: violence, use of the voice, feyd being obsessed with reader from the moment he saw her <3

author’s note: english is not my first language! if there are any (and i mean ANY) errors, please lmk. fic is unedited!! this is also my first “dune” work so pls don’t go too rough on me ty xx

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer.”

You keep repeating that one single statement in your mind as you approach Giedi Prime. In all honesty, you were terrified. You knew, that it was wrong to be scared. You resided the plan given to you by the Reverend Mother. The objective was to seduce the young na-Baron, make him take the Gom Jabbar test and secure the bloodline. Sounds easy enough.

Then why were you shaking like a leaf?

“Nervous, sister?” Margot teased, breaking your trance. Lady Fenring was a beautiful Bene Gesserit, bewitching any man who came her way. Some called her mesmerizing, others - a manipulative she-devil. But that just proved, that she was a master at her work.

“No. Why do you ask?” You finally answered after staring at the wall in front of you for a tiny bit too long. Of course, you were nervous. You were surprised, that she wasn’t.

“You just seem.. worried, that is all,” she smirked after her comment, silently making fun of your nervous state.

You noticed your hands shaking. Shit. You took your gloves, that were laying next to you and slid them on. Perhaps, it was just cold.

“No need to worry about me, sister. It is just colder here than in Kaitan,” You give her a soft smile and continue looking out the window of the aircraft.

You were landing.

As you stood on Giedi Prime ground, you looked around and breathed. It was warmer than you had anticipated. But the people weren’t like the weather at all. Everyone was pale and cold as if they lived in an eternal winter. You couldn’t blame them, though.

You turned. Before you floated the Baron- a large and hideous man, being kept alive by a machine. You wished you could pull the plugs and watch him shake and squirm until he’d die. You couldn’t do that, of course. You’d die instantly if you even laid a finger on him.

To his left stood Glossu Rabban, the Baron’s oldest nephew. He was known as the “Beast”, to which you laughed at when you were alone. You wished you were alone right now. Ironically, Rabban was also a huge and hideous man. Like uncle, like nephew, you figured.

“And this is my youngest,” the Baron pointed to the tall man to his right, “Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. He is my proudest achievement.”

You looked up from the Baron to see this “proudest achievement”. The person you saw.. made your blood run cold, yet your face filled with heat.

Feyd-Rautha stood tall and proud, his muscles showing through the black armor he had on. His piercing blue eyes were already on you. In fact, they had not left you since the moment you stepped foot on Giedi Prime. To him, you were the most beautiful and pure thing to have ever lived. An angel, he thought.

You bowed, not letting your gaze leave his. He was beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

Just then, he started walking over to you. You felt as if everyone had disappeared. It was just you and him. Lady Fenring was standing mere steps away from you, watching intently as Feyd made his way over to you. He took your hand in his, brushing his lips over your knuckles.

“It is an honor to meet you, my Lady,” he uttered in a rough voice. You had heard all sorts of things about his voice - how it scared off even the strongest warriors, how it made people fall to their knees. To your surprise, it was almost comforting. Like music to your ears.

You nodded and bowed.

“I hope to see you this afternoon, my Lady,” he seemed to put an emphasis on addressing you as his.

“I will be there, my Lord na-Baron,” you continued looking into his cold eyes as you spoke.

Feyd smirked and gave your hand one last kiss, before stepping back to his uncle’s side. His eyes never left yours as the Baron continued blabbering nonsense. You tried focusing on his words, you really did.. but something about the man you had just spoken to kept your soft gaze glued to his.

You could not wait for the evening to come.

Everyone was preparing for the na-Baron’s birthday celebration. The celebration being a brutal fight between Feyd and drugged hostages. Everybody knew that, yet nobody seemed to care - as long as the future Baron won every battle he was in.

The dress you had slipped on was a white gown with millions of tiny pearls attached. It reminded you of home - of Kaitan. A long, white veil covered your face. You examined yourself in the mirror ahead of you, taking time in smoothing out your dress. You looked perfect.

“Let me take over the job,” a voice muttered behind you. You spun around to see Lady Fenring, wearing the same gown as you, just black.

“Why should I, sister?” You slowly turned around and treaded towards her. In mere moments, you stood face to face with Margot.

“Because you’re obviously not fit for it. You’re squeamish and a coward. The na-Baron scares you and you won’t be able to secure the bloodline,” she smirked and looked down at you. She was always like this - looking down on you. You were her shadow. But not anymore.

You quickly pulled out your blade, that was attached to your thigh, making her let out a gasp as she hit the wall behind her. You pressed the cold, sharp metal to her pale throat.

“Would you like to test me, dear sister? Though, I wouldn’t like getting your blood on my dress. I have a job to do later, remember?” you threatened her as she pleaded with you to let her go and spare her. You stared at her with wild eyes before letting the blade travel from her throat back to the strap around your thigh. You gestured for her to leave the guest room, that you were staying in. She quickly sprinted out the room, shivering. You felt proud of yourself for standing up to her. You should do this more often, you thought to yourself.

You entered the balcony of the triangle shaped arena and sat down on the right side. The black sun of Giedi Prime made everything black and white - from the pale faces of the cheering people, to the Baron sitting straight across from you. He was staring daggers into your eyes from the balcony on the other side. You lowered your spyglasses and breathed out.

The commentator announced Feyd’s name. You quickly scooted over to the edge of your seat, wanting to get a better look at him. He walked out the large gates of the arena, tall and mighty. He looked terrifying, yet absolutely beautiful. You wondered what he was thinking and how he was feeling. You took your spyglasses and brought them back to your face, just to see Feyd already looking at you. A shiver ran down your spine, seeing how he stared at you. The lust, that glistened in his eyes was undeniable. He was like a predator, about to devour its prey. Well, he was about to do the exact thing to drugged captives.

The fight started. Feyd went through the first two prisoners with ease, slashing their throats and making them fall, dead, laying in a pool of their own blood on the white looking sand. But the last hostage was.. different. He looked conscious, while the previous ones slurred their movements and were gone in seconds. You took your eyes away from the ongoing battle to look at the Baron. Oh, God.

He had a nasty smirk on his face. Vladimir was on the edge of his seat, staring down at his fighting and panting nephew. He had planned it. The Atreides slave wasn't drugged. It was all an elaborate plan.

You drawed your attention back to Feyd. It looked like he was winning so far. He was holding the captive by the back of his head, drool dripping from his mouth, his black teeth shining through his big grin. One last stab and Atreides was on his knees, heaving.

"You fought well, Atreides.." Feyd whispered, yet it could be heard throughout the whole arena.

Cheers errupted and Feyd's name was heard from every corner. Feyd slid his blade out the goner's corpse and lifted it up in the air, the cheers becoming louder. Fyed celebrated his victory by yelling and shouting words in the Harkonnen language, which you couldn't understand. The cheers and chants turned into whispers and people leaving the arena as Feyd made his way to the large gates.

"It was rigged," you spoke in a low voice, just for you to hear.

The celebrations were wild and loud as fireworks went off outside. Feyd walked through the dark corridors of the manor, processing the talk he had earlier with his uncle. Arrakis was destined to be his. All of it. A future Baron and the leader of the spice fields. Everything would be in the palm of his hand.

As he wandered the halls, he felt eyes piercing through the back of his head. Someone was strolling right behind him for God knows how long. He stopped in his tracks, and so did the person following him.

"I know you're there," he voiced in his stern and scratchy voice.

"Good," you spoke, lowly.

Your voice sent goosebumps down every crevace of his body. It was you - the woman he couldn't keep thinking about since the very moment he saw your face. Yes, it might have been veiled but he knew that it was as gorgeous as your voice and your body.

He turned around to face you, gazing down at your, now, unveiled and bare face. You were as stunning and as breath-taking, as he thought you'd be. He had a soft smile plastered on his face.

"You're just as beautiful as I imagined you to be," he whispered softly, caressing your cheek. It was unusual. You'd known this man for, what, eight hours? But you felt like you'd known him for years.

"You fought well."

Your voice ringed in his mind, yet your lips.. they weren't moving. Feyd realized. You were Bene Gesserit.

His eyes slightly widened and his pale lips parted in shock.

"You.. you're a witch," he mumbled, his hand leaving your face.

"You could say that," your soft voice continued traveling through his head like a song.

You stepped away from him, marching straight past him and into the guest wing. Feyd followed you with his eyes and then with his feet. He seemed to be, almost, hypnotized by the way you moved. He didn't even notice as you two strolled into your dimly-lit bedroom. You took your silk hood off, sitting down on the soft, cushioned bed. Feyd stared daggers into your eyes with his own - blue and cold. You gestured for him to come over to you. He, obviously, obeyed.

He slowly strided over to you, now standing right in front and looking down at you.

"Kneel," you stated in a distorted voice. Feyd quickly got on his knees, now looking up. He moved his face closer to yours, before feeling a certain coldness near his right hand. He looked down.

A small box with a gap sat neatly on a tiny wooden table.

He looked up at you to see a worried look on your face.

Then - a sharp needle next to his neck.

This was a night you and Feyd would never forget for the rest of your lives.

[bri-cheeses]

| May 30th | Prompt: Benefits | Word count: 689 | *slight* sexual content implied but it’s barely there I promise (it mentions being fwb and also the presence of a hickey) | @rosekillermicrofic |

-

Evan saw her before Barty did. The girl making her way across the room, eyes fixed on him, friends giggling in a pack behind her.

He marveled about how she didn’t get the hint that he wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship right now. Barty’s arm was wrapped around his waist. Evan’s legs were in Barty’s lap. Barty was leaning in and whispering something into his ear at this very moment, lips brushing against his skin.

But, he supposed he couldn’t fault her for making the mistake of thinking that him and Barty were just friends. After all, that was what Barty thought, too—even though the hickey Evan was currently sporting had been left there by him.

Oh, the wonders of being friends with benefits.

“Excuse me,” said the girl, having successfully made her way over to the couch where they were sitting, “are you single, by any chance?”

She flashed a pretty smile at Evan, who didn’t get a chance to respond before Barty was growling, “Can’t you see that we were in the middle of a conversation?”

His fingers dug into Evan waist as his grip tightened.

The girl blinked, looking over at Barty in surprise. “Sorry, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Barty interrupted. “He doesn’t want or need your advances.”

The girl’s face fell, and a flash of annoyance shot through Evan at Barty’s words.

Who was Barty to be making his decisions for him? Evan certainly didn’t get an opinion when Barty was the one getting approached by other people.

“Who says I don’t want her advances?” Evan asked before he could think better of it, and something flashed in Barty’s eyes.

Barty reached up and tapped a finger against the mark on Evan’s neck.

“This does,” he said.

“Oh really?” Evan asked incredulously. “Did it say anything when Charity Burbage flirted with you last week? Or when you kissed Hestia Jones after the quidditch match? Or all the other times I tried to come back to the dorm but couldn’t because you were with somebody else?”

Barty opened his mouth to say something, but Evan was done listening.

He turned toward the girl and gave her a smile, and if it was slightly fake, no one needed to know.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out a hand, “I’m Evan.”

She took his hand and gave it an uncertain shake. “I’m Violette.”

“And I’m Barty,” interjected Barty, despite his presence in the conversation being completely unnecessary. He gave Violette a grin, but it was more teeth than smile.

Violette didn’t take the hand he offered, instead looking between Barty and Evan with a strange look on her face. Something like understanding dawned in her eyes.

“I see what’s going on here,” she said. “I think I’ll just… leave you to it. Nice meeting you,” she shot over her shoulder at Evan as she left, giving him one last flirtatious look before disappearing into the crowd.

“What was that?” Evan demanded as soon as she was gone, rounding on Barty.

Barty scowled. “What was what?”

“You acted liked a deranged guard dog.”

The grip on Evan’s waist tightened further.

“I didn’t like the way she was looking at you.”

“What, with a smile?”

“I didn’t like it,” Barty repeated.

“You’re going to have to give me a better answer than that, or I’m leaving.”

Barty worked his jaw, avoiding eye contact with Evan. Evan waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

When it became clear that Barty wasn’t going to say anything, Evan shoved Barty’s hand off his waist and stood up.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wait a moment or two for Barty to speak, but Barty didn’t even look at him as he stood there, waiting in vain for some semblance of an answer.

“Fine,” Evan told him angrily. “If that’s how you want it to be.”

Then he left Barty behind, sitting alone on the couch and still glaring at the ground.

And all Evan could think as he made his way through the throngs of people was a bitter “Of course.”

Oh, the wonders of being friends with benefits.

-

[illuminoia]

12. secret moments

tw: mentions of ptsd of toxic ex, insecurities.

Exhaustion was a part of the job. Like with any other activity.

Though, today was just more than tiring, you find. In between the rush and the running around after taking the decision to ruin your rare moments of peace at home, regret was starting to seep through once the director finally decided it was time for a break.

Good Heavens. You'd thought, huffing as you scamper away whilst the others were busy double checking the images and promotions videos to see if they were up to par.

Your aching feet weave you through the also equally exhausted staff, until you eventually find a rather secluded place— unbothered and untouched by all the chaos from the venue.

Your phone buzzes, and you check your messages; Two from Himeko, a couple from March, and one from Dan Heng. but a pang of disappointment hits you when you find his name not in the list.

Speaking of, where is he?

You look around once more, scanning the venue for any signs of white hair. Seeing as there was none, you give up, and hide further into the secluded area. A few more minutes wouldn't hurt.

But the sight that is displayed in front of you makes you freeze in place. Despite each time you blink your eyes, you see the unavoidable truth that looms over you right now.

Jing Yuan, sleeping— alone. Quite comfortably, you notice, as a his head comfortably rested on the pillow that lay on arms. Not quite caring that it is poor posture to sleep like that, on a table.

He's wedged himself into the corner of this secluded area, not even afraid someone might have sneakily taken pictures of him— or a sensible staff probably asked the others to avoid the place, as to respect him and avoid disturbing him taking a nap in such a place.

Not that you could blame them if they decided to take a photo, though.

Peaceful was the best way to describe it— cathartic, almost. It's the best spot he's gotten, molten sunlight draping over him so gently, kissing his features as he sleeps. It's soft, like a picture coming to life.

It allures you, draws you in like a moth to the flame— a step closer to him as you eagerly bask the moment to your memory.

Relaxed. Not a single care in the world. Not unlike the very man who just pouted his way through to give you something you said you thought was nice.

("I think these are nice—"

"They aren't. You have terrible taste in fashion. It's a good thing you have me, right?"

"Oh.")

A stark contrast, really.

"It's not nice to stare, darling."

His voice rings low, laced with drowsiness and a hint of amusement as he slowly blinks his eyes open.

"Sorry," you murmur, feeling chastised. Embarrassed. "I didn't mean to."

A raspy chuckle falls from his lips. He has a smile on his face, tilting his to face.

"It's alright." He reaffirms, filled with a touch of fondness you can't quite capture when you think back on the time spent there. "I find it cute, actually."

I should say that to you, instead.

You were about to retort, until you notice the way his face weaves and forms into a frown as the concern etches into his expression: almost looking like it's tattooed to his face. But you don't even have time to utter anything before his hands are on you. Gentle hands curling over your hips, grasping your figure to secure his hold, and then—

His hands leave you the moment he makes you sit just beside him, perfectly cozying back to his position just before he woke.

What the fuck?

(His hands were warm. Like a gentle sun.)

"Stay, won't you?" He says, eyes glinting in keen curiosity at your reaction. "I think you could use the break."

"But we're currently—"

"Shh." He shakes his head. "I'm sure they'll be gone a few minutes without you."

And he's right. Watching him stay amazingly comfortable and drowsing in the middle of the set also starts to lull you, too. Your bones are weary— mind already starting to cave from the comfort he's providing.

(You haven't felt that in a long while.)

"A few minutes." You surrender, smiling at him, and copying his form, taking the extra pillow he's pulled out of nowhere.

"A few minutes." He repeats. The look on his face is definitely not going to uphold merely a few minutes.

All that you hear as you relax in his presence is just the erratic flutter of your heart, bragging senselessly in your chest. 

He smiles gently. "Get some rest, darling."

And like clockwork, when he says that, the lines between dreams and reality blur; slumber takes you in it's entirety.

previous | masterlist | next

a/n short chap ig??

also yes jing yuan loves to keep giving everything to reader lmao

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp. Your awesome. Your writing is awesome. Could be kinda awesome if you wrote some good ol' RainDrop in a bit of an enemies to lovers or a classic hate fuck situation? Only awesome if ur feeling it, obviously. If not that's cool. Just thought I'd ask to see if your awesome brain came up with anything 🤭

heheh thank you! i had some lore kinda thoughts and it turned into whatever this is. they're not fucking (yet) here, but the enemies to lover vibe is strong. I hope it's okay :3

(and look at my new divider by the amazing @ghuleh-recs!!!)

“What on earth are you doing with that bass?”

Rain jumps at the harsh voice of the other ghoul. He thought he was alone in the practice room—and maybe he was, but obviously not anymore.

“Playing,” he replies, trying his best to sound sure of himself and confident, but it comes out more as a question.

“Making an even bigger idiot out of yourself than you already are is what you’re doing,” Dewdrop scoffs. Rain tries to ignore that pang of hurt in his chest at his words, but it’s hard when every single day for the last weeks all that the fire ghoul’s been doing is showering him in hate. He thinks he may just about have had enough.

Still, he lacks the courage to do anything about it, anyway. When it comes to flight or fight, Rain chooses the former over and over again.

“I’m just gonna go if you need the room,” he says quietly and turns to put his bass away.

“Sure, go abuse that thing somewhere else.” The water ghoul has no idea what Dewdrop is on about. Maybe he is doing something wrong, but how would he know? He doesn’t have a mentor to teach him like all the other ghouls that were summoned to their pack with him.

Rain sighs, packs the bass and turns to leave with his head hung low.

Before he can actually leave, though, Dewdrop stops him. He stands in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring up at Rain as if he has expected him to do something else.

“Who told you to pick like that?” he asks. Rain’s eyes are dragged to a wrinkle between his eyebrows. It seems permanent, always there with his frown, but the water ghoul thinks he could actually be really pretty if he just…got rid of that everlasting anger etched in his features.

“No one,” Rain tells him the truth. “I’ve been trying to figure stuff out on my own.”

“Why?” Dewdrop asks, seeming completely oblivious. Rain gets a little confused now, too. He knows the fire ghoul’s history, he knows it should be him teaching him his instrument. Did Dewdrop himself forget?

Suddenly Rain gets bolder.

“Well, I don’t exactly have a teacher,” he says louder, straightening up. “I’m doing my best, unlike someone.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Dewdrop growls and takes a step forward. He’s small—way smaller than Rain—but the pure fire in his eyes can intimidate. Still, the water ghoul doesn’t move.

“You know what! You can’t call me an idiot for not being great at something I have zero idea about just because the person who was supposed to teach me decided to…I don’t know, hate me for no reason!”

Dewdrop’s eyebrows shoot up.

He looks like Rain’s words…got to him and the water ghoul doesn’t know how to feel about it. Is it just a calm moment before the storm, is he about to be burned to the ground with Dewdrop’s anger? His anxious brain manages to come up with a multitude of doomsday scenarios in those short moments.

But what happens is so very different from all of those scenarios.

Dewdrop looks down and scoffs as if he’s regretting what he’s about to do, before he swiftly reaches out and grabs Rain’s arms to keep him close when he stands on his tiptoes and presses his burning lips against the water ghoul’s cold ones.

Rain huffs into the kiss in surprise, but quickly finds it…nice. He relaxes and kisses back and it’s getting more and more heated with every second.

A few moments later it’s Rain who begins to peel the other’s clothes off piece by piece. Neither of them knows what happens, it’s like they black out and in the next moment they’re tumbling on the floor naked.

“Fuck me, Rain,” Dewdrop pants and the water ghoul likes the way his own name falls from his lips. His voice is pretty. “Fuck the hate out of me.”

Well, Rain can’t exactly waste a solution to fixing his own problem?

Can he?

[bbbuckaroo]

Whiny Buck WIP Wednesday

So my pouty, petulant Buck having a tantrum while Tommy and Eddie inadvertently leave him out anon prompt just wouldn’t leave me alone!

Not quite done yet but wanted to give a little preview. Hope to have it done by tonight so it doesn’t get lost amongst the finale’s complete and utter chaos 😬

“Man thank you again so much, hopefully that rattle goes away.”

Buck looked up to find both of them had emerged from under the Chevelle. The sight of his boyfriend, hair ruffled, cheeks and arms painted with black smudges gave Buck a sudden flashback to seeing Tommy, that beast, in the hospital lobby at Maddie and Chim’s wedding.

And now he was about ready to give Eddie a hasty goodbye, grab his man by his belt, drag him into that shower and wash all of it away. Making sure to get every single inch of …

“Hey! Let me buy you guys some pizza as a thanks. What’s that place you two like? The one you get all the time?”

Buck’s heart broke. His fantasy with a wet and steamy Tommy was ripped away from him. And pizza night wasn’t for another two days.

Of course Tommy had graciously accepted the offer, why wouldn’t he? It was Buck’s fault that he didn’t know what his surprise plans were.

Eddie stepped away for a moment to call the food in, walking down the driveway. Buck was so fascinated with a pebble under his shoe that he didn’t notice Tommy was in front of him. And god did he look even more stunning up close. Tommy was wiping off his hands, something that always had a glow of desire ignite in his stomach. He was smiling brightly.

“Think you can stand two days of pizza this week?” It was a joke but it didn’t feel like one to Buck.

“Yeah, I guess. Nice of Eddie to offer.”

He saw when Tommy’s eyes changed, brows furrowing, “you okay? I’m sure we could do Thai or something instead.”

Buck shook his head, “it’s fine. But hey, maybe if we don’t eat too much and we leave by …”

Eddie’s head popped around the corner, “little bit of a delay guys. Guess they had some huge order come in right before ours. You two okay with that?”

Tommy answered, “totally fine, I need a quick shower anyway. Babe,” he turned back to Buck with a smirk, “care to join? We can do a quick PG-13 version, I’m sure Eddie can entertain himself.”

Buck’s brows furrowed, shoulders hunched as he crossed his arms tight, “why don’t you just ask Eddie to join you instead?!”

Buck was stomping off into the house, leaving Tommy completely and utterly shocked. Eddie came back around after hanging up with the pizza place, catching the tail end of Buck’s tantrum, “what was that all about?”

[moodymisty]

It's longpost anon, here to drop another novel in your asks! (If this isn't welcome, just say so and I'll stop, no hard feelings!!)

All the Sanguinius content lately had me thinking about him having a daughter.

What spurred this on: I was grocery shopping this morning and there was a mom with her young daughter in front of me checking out. The kid would excitedly tell everyone "Nice to meet you!" when they walked past, and it was the most adorable thing ever. She was just so happy to see people and be out and about.

TMI but I'm at that point in my cycle where I was trying not to cry in public from the cuteness lol. (I've got baby fever, send help 😭) On the drive home, I started thinking about Sangy's daughter meeting all her uncles for the first time, and her trying to shake their giant hands with her tiny little ones and saying "Nice to meet you!" It would be so precious.

Then I started thinking about the mom being too kind for her own good, seeing Konrad lurking at the edge of the room alone and quietly asking him, "Do you want to meet your niece?"

It'd be like all the air got sucked out of the room. Sanguinius would just be tense as a board. Everyone is mentally screaming "Are you crazy?!" at her in their heads.

An aside: I've just read Konrad's primarch book, and while it shows why he is genuinely truly terrifying, there is also so many sad things.. Like how he doesn't hate any of his brothers (except Corax) despite them absolutely loathing him. Despite Fulgrim shattering his trust. Despite Sanguinius basically being the better alternate version of himself. I don't think the average person could be treated the way he was and not hate their family at least a little bit. I feel so badly for him.. I don't think he would hurt one of his brother's offspring pre-heresy. Maybe I'm just deluded though lol.

Anywho-

Everyone is just on edge, ready for Konrad to show even the most microscopic indication of aggression.. But he just kneels down, silently holds his hand out to the girl and she shakes his hand as best she can, giving him a cheery "Nice to meet you!" the same as she did for her other uncles. He just stands up, stares for a moment, and then silently leaves.. (He spends the next 72 hours trying to process the 12 different emotions he got blasted with in that moment.)

Also! Sangy's daughter being weirdly attached to one of the primarchs who is not particularly good at socializing with normies is really funny to picture. Like she gets SUPER hyped anytime she gets to see uncle Guilliman, and nobody knows why because he is honestly kinda boring to talk to. (It's because when she asks him a million questions about mundane things, he genuinely tries to answer every. single. one.)

Fulgrim trying to be the cool fun wine uncle but never being able to truly capture the kid's interest lmao. He's quietly seething like, why does she like paper-pushing Roboute?! (Fulgrim gets his time in the spotlight when she's a little older and gets super interested in art)

And the Blood Angels interacting with her would be so heartmeltingly sweet. Little mini Sanguinius asking for uppies from a captain because she wants to be Really Tall. He's just like, "It would be my honor." and hoists her onto his shoulder.

When the kid is still a toddler, the mom offhandedly asks her guard to hold her daughter for a second while she does something and just kinda shoves the squirmy toddler into his arms despite his protests. He's internally having a meltdown because he is so scared of hurting her accidentally and is still as a statue the entire time. The first time the mom refers to them as the girl's brothers, there would be no going back. Like, "Wave to your brothers!" as they're both watching the Blood Angels train. If it was even possible for them to adore their 'sister' any more, it would happen in that moment.

This is all super fucking cute. Especially the stuff with Konrad. And you are somewhat right; we have to remember that as fucked as Konrad is, he was largely under the impression that he was doing justice and only killing those deserving of it. I doubt he would think Sanguinius’ child was evil, at least at first. He has no reason to hate his child afterall, he never hated any of the Primarchs ‘cept Corvus.

Funny note I first read this while really tired and my brain skipped lines, and at first I thought it was Konrad asking people if they wanted to see their niece XD like he had a secret child. 💀 I’m dumb

[blissfullsvn]

zomnextdoor

boynextdoor x reader, 2.6k (0.4k–0.5k each), fluff/angst

warnings: zombies (surprising), violence (towards the zombies; one depiction of bashing a zombie in the head), implied major character death

a/n: in light of bnd's 1st anniv, the new what?door! ep coming soon, & the sudden influx of 좀넥도 content on k-onedoor twt, i hereby present my brainrot to you. enjoy!

p.s. some scenarios are untagged bcs they're not rly fluff... but also not angst...

masterlist

sungho

archer!sungho x reader, 0.4k

sungho is at archery practice when he hears it; the screams around the school, so incredibly raw that he knows they'll echo in his mind again and again, long after today.

he finds out the reason just a few moments later, far sooner than he can properly digest the disconcerting noises. seeing the glass doors crash and break into a million pieces is a sight, but the true sight comes a second later, when the cause of the destruction hurtles towards them.

and he freezes. it's just for a beat, but a beat too long. he sees the exact movements of the rotten fingers reaching for him, so unmistakable it's as if he's viewing it in slow-motion, then something in him finally clicks. he instantly ducks down, which happens the same time he feels something tug at his wrist, but his scream doesn't get to escape his throat when he hears yours.

“sungho sunbae!” you yell as you maneuver around the onslaught of rotting bodies. you're dragging him towards the staircase leading to the second level of your practice area, because archers will always have the upper hand from longer distances. “what the hell are you doing?”

it's an immediate reality check. he looks around, and it's chaos; there are zombies flowing in from every exit, screams and shouts being heard from within and outside the room, and the distinct sound of arrows being shot. he looks back to you, who's running in front of him and pulling him along to keep him safe. 

you're right. what is he doing? everyone knows that as an archer, agility is one of the essentials, but he had nearly lost himself from a moment of hesitance. he feels even more embarrassed that you, who has always claimed to be his super fan, is saving his ass literally single-handedly by using the back of your bow to shove the zombies away because your other hand is wrapped around his wrist.

at the realisation, he grips his own bow tighter in his hands and promptly turns around despite your protests.

“take care of my back. i’ll handle this,” he says as he walks backwards, aiming his bow at the herd.

riwoo

riwoo x reader, 0.4k, angst

warning: implied major character death

riwoo prides himself in staying calm, even in the most extreme situations. but somehow, it shocks even himself that this statement still rings true in a national crisis.

when he hears screams so loud they burst through the music blasting in their dance practice, he doesn't hide the raise of his eyebrows. however, he doesn't mention anything, considering none of his members seem affected.

when the noise doesn't cease, instead growing by the second, he raises a hand to signal a pause in their practice. one of the members runs to turn off the music, and the immediate juxtaposition that occurs is more than unsettling. with the room abruptly falling into pin-drop silence, the flood of screams rattling the walls is even more prominent. that's when the dancers start to grow wary.

despite this, riwoo is calm. he's confused, but not frantic. even when the doors of the practice room burst open and you stagger inside in terrified hurry, he's calm. even when he notices the red patch of fabric on your arm that you're clutching tightly, he's calm. even when you're trudging towards him with a weird gait, he’s calm. even when he's gesturing to the rest of the members to leave the room, knowing he'll be left alone with you, he's calm.

it's weird, he thinks as he watches all of his members run for their lives before his eyes fall back to yours, noting the way the recognition in them is flickering. it’s weird how, instead of following his team, he’s reaching out to thumb at your tears, which only prompts more to flow down.

he thinks so again as he wraps his arms around you, tightening his hold like it's the last time he'll ever get to do this. with you in his arms, he can clearly feel the unusual twitches from your body, and yet he's still calm.

when you cup riwoo’s face with shaky hands, scanning his face as if to engrave it in your memory, he only offers the warmest smile he can. he tries to do the same; to capture this moment to the fullest. so when he sees the exact moment your eyes turn unfamiliar, he lets go of himself as well.

jaehyun

football player!jaehyun x reader, 0.4k, fluff

if someone told jaehyun that within just a few minutes, he would receive a confession from his nine-month crush before his football match and immediately get thrown into a life or death situation, he'd laugh at them for saying nonsense.

but that's exactly what happened.

“wait, did i hear that correctly?” jaehyun is bewildered, eyes nearly popping out of his sockets. “you… like me?”

you twiddle with your fingers and nod slowly. like this, you look even cuter than usual, and jaehyun is practically melting; it takes everything in him to not squeeze your cheeks. looking at his round eyes that are even rounder from the shock, you ask timidly, “are you going to reject me?”

“reject?!” it comes off louder than intended, but it shows just how much he's in disbelief. “how could i ever reject you?” he lets out softly, directly reflecting the expression on his face.

the way you brighten up immediately is a sight to behold, one jaehyun would like to keep dear to himself forever. this moment is unfortunately cut short when he hears screams from the bleachers.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “what? have the others gone out already?” he peeks out of the locker rooms.

at first, he's confused. there's no one on the field, but the screams are increasing by the second. everyone in the audience is scurrying frantically, running and pushing past one another. despite his own apprehension, he senses your tenseness behind him and quickly cracks a joke to ease you first. “don’t tell me they’re this terrified of a mickey mouse?” he laughs, turning to look at you, but his face drops immediately.

you're horrified. you're watching the scene as if you're seeing something from your nightmares come to life, and the look on your face makes him think that maybe you are. he feels himself grow antsy at your drastic reaction, and he understands why when he turns back to the field again.

if there's one thing in the world he’s more terrified of than ghosts, it's the possibility of an infectious virus outbreak that threatens humanity in all aspects.

and he's witnessing it happen right now.

for a football player, his legs are utterly useless now as he wobbles from his own weight. before he can drop to the ground fully, you move next to him and hoist him up.

“jaehyun,” you call, and he's surprised at the firmness of your tone, a complete contrast from the meekness before. “hold onto me tightly, okay?” you interlock your fingers together and take a step forward, standing in front of him. “we're gonna have to run.”

taesan

taesan x reader, 0.5k, fluff

both you and taesan are aware of how terrible this could go.

you're in the music room, surrounded by instruments of all sorts. in normal circumstances, these instruments would be as welcoming as a warm hug, offering the solace you needed after a long day. now, seeing them only makes uneasiness zap through your veins.

you don't have time to ponder your decision again when you hear the inhuman noises you’ve unfortunately grown familiar with. after ensuring the doors are locked well, you stride to your makeshift stage by the windows, where taesan is standing by the keyboard. he nods at the window, where a rope's hanging from the highest floor down to the ground, and you mimic the gesture before slinging your bass over your shoulders.

your fingers immediately find their positions on the instrument from muscle memory, which puts a flash of a smile on your face. you look at taesan, who's already looking at you, and he nods reassuringly.

he smiles, “shall we play for our biggest audience yet?”

for the briefest of moments, you hear a pin-drop silence that you haven't been able to experience since the outbreak. you shut your eyes, taking it in. then, before you realise, the bass is echoing throughout the speakers.

you look at taesan as you play, both to help your nerves from the crowd that you know will be right outside anytime soon, and to live this moment to the fullest. after all, you're not sure whether you'll be able to ever do this again.

taesan shares the same sentiment, because he's soon opening his mouth to yell out the lyrics of your go-to song, the one that's been yours ever since you joined the band together.

you flicker your eyes over to the herd that has arrived outside the room, banging at the doors and windows as they try to enter. despite the situation, looking at taesan and the way he's relishing the music puts a smile on your face, so much that even when you see cracks start to form in the doors, you don't feel an overwhelming sense of despair.

when you notice that the doors are bending more under the weight, you and taesan share a nod; the cue for him to step away from the keyboard and climb onto the rope behind you. it's the final part of the song, the bass solo, which is also nearing the final part of your plan.

the second you hit the last note, you unceremoniously swing the bass towards the door and jump into taesan's arms, just in time for the doors to break down.

leehan

taekwondo athlete!leehan x reader, 0.4k

warning: one depiction of bashing a zombie in the head

the peace of leehan’s nap gets shattered when he hears the thud of the door, immediately followed by irritating growls and a poorly muffled scream. he's ready to ignore it until he hears the cart of balls being pulled away and crashing into something, presumably the zombie itself, which has not only pierced his eardrums but also unveiled his hiding place to sleep in the gym’s storage room.

he sighs. dropping the open book covering his face, he stands up and adjusts the lollipop in his mouth before placing his hands in his pockets. he walks towards the opposite corner of the room, where the source of the disturbance finally comes into view.

you're cowering behind a stack of mats. despite the top of your head clearly peeking out, you don't dare to look at anything beyond the faux shield. he merely spares one glance at you before he turns to the problem itself. then, he notes that it's either the zombie has strength that's off the charts, or you're incredibly bad at pushing and aiming, because the cart is nowhere near the zombie and is by the wall instead. 

he shrugs off the observation when he sees the zombie staggering towards him, and he slowly takes a few steps back. then, in an action as swift as the wind, he twists his body in a semicircular motion and delivers a kick right to the zombie's head, effectively bashing it onto the floor—all the while keeping his hands in his pockets and the lollipop dangling over his lips.

you've since looked up from your hiding spot, and there's a newfound expression on your face. however, when you look back at the twitching body on the floor, the fear returns at once. 

leehan looks over to you, and in the most nonchalant tone, as if he hadn't just casually roundhouse-kicked a zombie, he says, “don't lure them in here. they're so loud.”

you can only offer a shaky nod, and then he’s walking back to his original position. but when he sees you stand up and stumble towards the door, he halts in his steps and turns to face you completely.

“didn’t you hear what i said? you'll lure them in if you open the door. just stay here.”

woonhak

woonhak x reader, 0.5k

you've never had a proper interaction with woonhak, but from the bits of information you've unwillingly gathered due to his popularity, your impression of him isn't the best. he's loud, boisterous, and sometimes just rowdy; you can't help but note him as this immature kid in your head.

but your prejudice has been completely shattered today.

when the signs of a virus outbreak first appeared in your school, starting with your classmate who had entered the class with a ghostly pale complexion and nosebleed, all you knew was you had to run. and that's all you've been doing for the past hour, burning your muscles and lungs without stopping to narrowly avoid the grasp of death.

until you found yourself tripping over a stack of tables, and your legs got trapped under all the tables that had toppled over you.

when you tried to pull your legs out, all it did was cause the tables to fall even more, making it harder for you to move at all. the noise had also attracted the zombies roaming endlessly, so when you saw silhouettes dashing towards the room after your futile attempts to get yourself up, you had already resigned yourself to your fate—the mangled jaws right before your eyes, to which you shut your eyes and braced yourself for the inevitable.

then you heard the groans from the herd in front of you, followed by the weight on your legs lessening and the crash of something across the room, and you immediately opened your eyes.

there, standing in front of you, is kim woonhak. he has a table in his hands, the flat surface facing him and the legs outwards, using it to hold back the herd before you with a wince.

you don't know how, but he manages to hold the table in one hand and reach out with his other hand to grab onto another table over your legs, hurling it across the room. 

you watch him do this for a few moments, until it finally clicks that the noise is too loud. you search around the room frantically for something—anything—you could do to help, and your eyes soon land on a baseball bat a short distance away.

“woonhak,” you call.

“yeah?” he grimaces, struggling to use the table as a shield when the crowd seems to grow by the second.

“are you good with a baseball bat?” you ask, holding up the weapon.

he turns to you for a split second, seeing the bat before he faces the front again. he instantly catches what you're insinuating, and his decision is a no-brainer.

“pass it,” he reaches out his hand without looking.

you're surprised, but you don't waste another second before giving it to him. almost immediately, he drops his makeshift shield, and what you see next completely repaints your image of him. by the time you're able to get yourself out, he has already cleared half of them. it seems you're constantly getting surprised today.

before he can pass out, you quickly tap on his shoulder and grab the bat from him without asking. “thanks a lot, woonhak. take a breather; i’ll take care of the rest.”

a/n: half of this was easy to write, and half was hell. guess which one was which

fyi, i wrote this with them all being high school students in mind, but you don't have to imagine them like this! except for woonhak ofc

anw, don't ask me why i wrote riwoo's part like that bcs i hv no idea either. it just felt right. so enjoy... hopefully...

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[leggerefiore]

cw: loneliness, post ingo disappearance Emmet, comfort, Silver Fox Emmet

pairing: Emmet/Reader

Busy… Everyone felt so busy.

Busy schedules, no spare time, endless things to do…

You hated to complain. You hated to say a word. You bit your tongue. It was easier that way – Better than way. Everything always felt so fragile and ready to burst. Like the moment you vocalised your feels, a bubble would burst and leave you to true isolation. A social attack that would make someone finally officially drop you instead of slowly and subtly doing so.

Or, maybe, it was just you. A bitter form of jealousy that haunted your mind. Someone having what you did not. A friend with more friends and no time for you. It was childish. You swallowed your feelings. Bring an adult meant burying such thoughts and feelings to keep a status quo. A peaceful existence. Painful things would have to go ignored and unaddressed lest you unravel the whole fragile tie and undo everything. This was a foolish endeavour that lead you to feeling less like a person and more like an annoyance. A barrier of sorts. Maybe they all kept you around out of pity. You hated the self-doubt and loathing that would continue to plague you.

It was on a late-night train ride to head back to your apartment that you found someone like yourself. Another lonely soul who fought back the urge to ask for any attention. Someone who lurked within the obscurity of just being acknowledged yet scarcely sought out. An employee, you could tell, a senior one at that. He was definitely aged. A black hat sat heavy on his head, mismatched with the rest of his white uniform. Eyes has heavy bags under them and his lips were frozen in a neutral expression. His words were quick and impolite with most of those he spoke with. You did not know why you listened at first. Nothing about him would have otherwise piqued your interest. Something did, however.

When your gazes met, you felt strangely small. He basically ordered you to move the bag from the seat beside you, but almost phrased it like a question. His intention was clearly not to be rude, somehow. You nodded, but before he could go off, you called out to him. A quiet request to know who he was. The darkness of the subway tunnel shined with a monetary brightness. A Subway Boss… Emmet… It was unfamiliar, yet you clung onto it, repeating the name and title carefully. A small smile broke out across his face after you did so. You returned the expression back to him.

You did not think that you would ever see him again.

Yet, you did.

At a café, you spied the familiar man sitting alone with a black cup of coffee steaming across from him. An emptied plate of what may have previously been a dessert sat in front of him. You wondered if his conversation partner had slipped away for a few moments, but they never returned if they had. The coffee remained completely undisturbed. Why? You could only ponder the answer to that question. The man's gaze drifted to you as you sat nearby in your single seat table. He gave a polite smile again. A tip was left on the table as he got up to leave. The coffee left to cool down and be forgotten and not drunk.

The barista scoffed at the sight, but before she complained, an older employee shook her head to scoop up the drink. “… I know it seems a waste,” she explained, “But… But he said he's waiting on someone. They never show up. I doubt he likes wasting money on a drink like that. It seems awfully cruel to keep standing him up, doesn't it? You'd think he'd just give up.” The barista seemed less upset after hearing that, more empathetic. Your gaze stared out of the window into the busy Nimbasa streets.

Who was he waiting on? You agreed with the older woman's thoughts. Why did he keep trying?

You tried to pretend that you had not faced your own many similar situations. Desperation was the answer. Desperation for anyone.

The first time you properly spoke was when he encountered you. A friend had promised to meet you at the amusement park in Nimbasa yet they never showed. You sat on the bench, staring out in the crowd with empty eyes. Again. It happened again. They insisted they had tried to tell you earlier, but… You lowered your head. The laughs and happy conversations around you felt mocking. Was this some kind of cruel punishment for an action that you could not recall committing? Tears burned your eyes.

Yet, they did not have a chance to fall.

“Are you okay?” a voice called out. You assumed it was not to you. Then, someone sat beside you. You nearly jumped back. It was him, albeit in casual clothing. His eerie eyes stared into your own. “I am sorry,” he apologised, “I did not want to startle you.” The question was repeated. You felt lost. There was no way that you could dump that on a complete stranger. A hand came to rest on your shoulder. A genuine smile was on his face. “Ah! You rode the night train,” he realised, “I hope I did not come across as mean. My job is verrrry stressful, and I have to do it alone. My mood gets low towards the end of a shift.”

You nodded. He went silent. You wondered what this was.

Suddenly, you were not alone.

Not at all.

Emmet became an odd fixture in your life. He was a bad conversationalist, but he seemed to simply just enjoy being in your presence. Words were not needed – you both found peace in having consistent company. He was someone you easily scheduled things to do with whenever he was free. You felt that he was working hard to make even more time for you. It was nice. No more wishy-washy replies and schedules. There was someone you could rely on. Even if he was a bit older.

Your closeness with him slowly began to blossom into something more. Polite touches shifted into affectionate gestures until an outright declaration of feelings were made. A simple “we should date” from Emmet started a new page in your life. The desolate state that you had lingered in before was almost wholly gone. Moving in with him made everything even better. Sure, he might have sometimes had to work late, but he always tried to make it home if he could or send a message to let you know if he could not. You did not think that you had felt such contentment in a while.

You had even opened up about your situation, which had made Emmet huff. He chided you for not standing up for yourself and demanded that you spoke to your friends openly about the issue. Many felt mortified that they had done such a thing to you, apologising for how they had acted, but a few had behaved in a less than understanding manner. Needless to say, you did find who truly cared and who did not. Yet, you found yourself wondering about Emmet. Why had he been so lonely? He never seemed too eager to tall about his past. You barely knew much other than his hometown and that he had a brother.

It had not been until you encountered a certain model that you had been learnt more. Emmet was a twin… And that twin had suddenly gone missing. It all had been as messy affair. She claimed that she worried that Emmet may not ever recover from it, yet that he had seemed happier lately. Many thanks were lavished onto you for helping that. You had gently confronted Emmet about that later. He was mortified by your words. His bright smile fell into a fixed frown. There was a distance in his gaze. He shook his head and took off his black cap.

“My older brother was my other half,” he said simply, “We were two pieces of a whole. I am not whole without him. Yep.” The hat was clenched in his hands. You saw tears brimming in his eyes. Your arms came around him tightly as he began to cry. He shook pitifully, almost like a small child. You understood what Elesa had meant now. He almost did not seem like himself. His sobs were quiet, almost unnoticeable. “I miss him…” he mumbled, “I have done everything that I can to search for him! Oh, darling, what could have happened to him!?”

He hugged you tightly to himself, burying his face into your shoulder. You wished that you had an answer to his question. Your mind flashed back to how he and comforted you when you nearly began to cry. Your hand rubbed his back. His name left your lips a few times. Emmet only cried more. “... You are too nice,” his words startled you, “You should not waste your time on me. I am verrry old and gross.” You fought back the laugh that almost left you. Old and gross? You could not agree. Your thoughts were vocalised. He flinched.

“… Why?” he asked simply, “… Is it because I help get rid of your loneliness?” Was it? Maybe at first… But now, well, it was much more. His age was irrelevant, and so was his mental state. You pecked a kiss on his temple. Your love was proclaimed proudly. Emmet froze. “Oh, darling,” he mumbled again, “Darling… You could have anyone.” You wanted him. He closed his eyes. “… I… I love you, too,” he spoke truthfully as he stood up straight. His gaze met yours. He leaned down to nuzzle his nose against yours before giving you a kiss on your lips.

“Let's keep helping each other's loneliness,” a weak smile came across his lips, “… Ingo would have liked you. Yep, Ingo would be verrrry jealous that I have you all too myself.” He squeezed you tighter to himself.

Ingo… You hoped to meet him one day.

You were definitely going to scold him for leaving Emmet in such a state first, though.

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x OFC

Part 12

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x OFC

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Sinker, Comet, Boost, Warthog

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.7k

Author's Note: Phew! That was a whole lot of work, but everything has been converted from reader to oc, and every chapter has been updated to third-person past tense writing 😮‍💨 Nothing in the plot has changed, but I did update some wording and filled in a few gaps I found while I was going through the story. Y'all, the next chapter is the funeral. Enjoy this last bit of, uh... not as sad moment(?), then brace yourselves! As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

Part 1 || Prev | Next

Wolffe watched from his seat at the desk chair as Cara, Comet, Boost, and Warthog continued to unpack her things and arrange the room. He had Warthog stuff his armor in the wardrobe while she wasn't looking to try and keep the mood up. She was going to have enough to be sad about when they went to the funeral soon. Too soon. He didn't even know if he was ready for it, let alone Cara. He'd already had a conversation with the Wolfpack about it, and they'd be ready to step in when he needed them.

"Commander," Sinker called from the doorway. "Can I talk to you?"

Wolffe sighed and got up from the desk chair to join Sinker out in the hallway. He left the door open so Cara wouldn't fret about his absence, but he'd keep his voice hushed so she didn't overhear their conversation. If he was lucky, she wouldn't notice that he'd stepped out of the room. Sadly, with the look on Sinker's face, Wolffe knew that whatever happened in that briefing couldn't be good, at least not in terms of their remaining time left on Coruscant, and he braced for it.

"How was the briefing?" Wolffe asked.

"We're deploying," Sinker sighed. "I'm sorry, Wolffe."

Wolffe cursed under his breath.

"According to the intel," Sinker continued, "Captain Rex and General Kenobi were taken captive by Zygerrian slavers while trying to infiltrate their operation to free some imprisoned Togrutas."

"You're kidding," Wolffe said.

"Afraid not," Sinker said. "We're being sent to Kadavo as reinforcements for the liberation."

Wolffe pinched the bridge of his nose. "When are we leaving?"

"Two rotations," Sinker answered. "It would've been immediate, but General Skywalker and Commander Tano are already on the ground, so it bought us some time to regroup. As is, it's going to take twelve standard rotations just to get to the Kadavo system from Coruscant."

Wolffe breathed a small sigh of relief. It wasn't a lot of time, but it was enough for him to get his affairs in order. He looked over at Cara and watched as she played a game with Comet and Boost. She will be devastated when he has to put his armor back on and leave. With no mother, no father, and no Wolfpack, she was going to be completely alone. It'd take at least one standard month to get to the Kadavo system and back, and that didn't even take into consideration the length of the actual mission. Liberations could last for months.

"May I be excused?" Sinker asked after Wolffe didn't respond. "I promised the general that I'd help with the… preparations."

Wolffe paused. He knew what the implications of that word meant and while he was grateful that his second in command had his hands on his wife's funeral, it was still a stab to the heart.

"Yes, of course," Wolffe stammered. "Dismissed."

Sinker left and Wolffe walked back into the room, grabbed his comm, sat down at the desk, and typed a message to Fox. We need to talk. It's important.

It took a while, but Fox eventually answered back. I'll be at the funeral.

Wolffe quickly sent another message. No, not there. Tomorrow morning. The diner.

Fox replied back after a couple of minutes. Meet me there at 0600.

Wolffe put his comm back down and anxiously tapped his foot against the floor. It was a long shot, but he needed someone to look after Cara while he and the Wolfpack were gone. Even if Fox couldn't do it, he probably had a couple of trusted brothers in the Coruscant Guard who could. It was better than the alternative of some random Jedi caretaker brainwashing his child while he was off fighting the War. He wanted to be able to trust the Jedi, he did, but he always found a small seed of doubt when he tried.

"Cara," Wolffe called. She ran over to him. "I'm going out tomorrow morning."

"You're leaving?" Cara asked, her voice full of uncertainty.

"No, baby," Wolffe soothed. "I'm just gonna see Fox for a bit."

"Can I come?" she asked.

"No," Wolffe said.

"Please?" she pleaded.

"You don't even like Fox," Wolffe argued.

Cara pouted.

"Comet will be here to watch you," Wolffe said a little louder. He looked up at Comet and received a smile and a nod of acknowledgement. "You can explore the Temple together."

Cara continued to pout.

Wolffe decided to change his tactics. There was something in the Temple that could get her excited, even if only a little bit. "You know," he began. "I heard they have a tree somewhere."

Cara perked up. "A tree?"

"Mhm," Wolffe said. "A real one." It was something Wolffe and his wife planned on doing after the War; moving to a planet full of different flora and fauna for Cara to see. His wife kept images all around their apartment of different trees and plants from around the galaxy, since Cara had never been off-world yet.

Cara gasped with wide eyes. "Can I go see it?"

"Sure," Wolffe shrugged. "But only if you stay with Comet."

Cara thought about the proposal for a moment. "I'll stay with Comet."

"That's my good girl," Wolffe praised. "You can go play now."

Cara ran back to Comet and Boost, but then turned on her heels and ran back to Wolffe.

"Daddy," she said. "I have to go potty."

Wolffe blinked a few times in surprise. He was so used to Cara using the refresher by herself at home, that it didn't even dawn on him that she might need help here. He really wasn't made for parenting, but he was going to do his best to help her. The last thing he needed right now was for her to have an accident, and right before the funeral too. He glanced at the chronometer to make sure they still had time, then took her hand and guided her through the halls to find a refresher.

There should be a one somewhere on that floor, but he didn't remember seeing it on their way in. Then again, he did zone out for a bit near the end. After walking a little further, he saw a sign, but it was for a male species refresher. He looked around and saw another sign for a female species refresher, but he wasn't sure which one he should take her in. His wife would've just taken her into the female species refresher and took care of everything. Maker he wished she was here.

Since he was a male species, did he need to bring her into that one? If he did take her there, he risked her seeing things she shouldn't be seeing. However, if he took her into the female species refresher, was he going to get arrested? He noticed Cara starting to wiggle and he knew he needed to make a decision quickly. Ultimately, Wolffe took her into the female species refresher for her own comfort and protection. If he got arrested, Fox could always bail him out.

"Do you need help?" Wolffe awkwardly asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

"No!" Cara said adamantly and slammed the stall door behind her. "Mommy said I'm a big girl and big girls use the refresher alone."

Wolffe was shocked, but rolled with it. "Oh, okay. I'll, uh, I'll wait out here then."

Wolffe wasn't sure what to do with himself while he waited. He missed out on the potty training phase when Cara was two years old, and this was always his wife's territory, just like bath time. Which was something else that slipped his mind. He had no idea where the bath was, if the Temple even had a bath, or who was going to help her bathe in the morning. His wife was adamant that someone had to watch her in the bath. Maker strike him dead if she drowned when he wasn't around.

Within a few minutes, the stall door swung open and Cara came walking out. Wolffe opened his mouth to remind her about washing her hands, but before he got the chance, she was already at the sink washing her hands with soap. He didn't have to remind her; she did it all on her own. She even used the stool on her own. She didn't need his help at all. Wolffe felt a small twinge of pain in his heart. She was growing up so fast and he'd barely been around to see it. He'd missed so much, and he was going to miss even more.

"Ready to go back?" Wolffe asked after Cara finished drying her hands and hopped off of the stool.

Cara nodded and grabbed Wolffe's hand. He held it just a little tighter while they walked back to the room, because there might be a day when she no longer wanted to hold his hand, and when that day came, all he would have were the memories. It was expected of a clone to grow up fast, that was their purpose, but if he could ever find a way to stop aging, he'd give it to his daughter. It might be selfish, but he didn't want her to grow up. She was his baby girl and he wanted her to stay that way.

When rounded the corner of the hallway leading to the room, Wolffe could see Sinker standing outside of the door, dressed in his formal wear and holding what looked like Wolffe's officer uniform folded neatly in his hands. It must be that time, Wolffe guessed. He grabbed the uniform from Sinker and left Cara with him while he went into the room to change. When the door shut, Cara didn't say anything, but she did look a little confused. Sinker wasn't sure what to say to her, so instead of stumbling over his words, he said nothing.

Comet, Boost, and Warthog had already changed into their dress uniforms and went ahead, which left Sinker, Wolffe, and Cara to bring up the rear. It was fitting, in a way, for them to arrive at the funeral last. After a few moments, the door slid back open and Wolffe emerged in his officer's uniform. He fixed a couple of spots while Cara looked up at him with concern in her eyes, almost as if she knew what was going to happen, but still, no one had the heart to speak it out loud. Inevitably, it was time for them all to say goodbye.

Part 1 || Prev | Next

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@griffedeloup

Tip me a tea on Ko-fi HERE

[welcometogrouchland]

It's mostly the fault of poor editorial practices that B&R is so heavily misaligned continuity-wise w/ the main batman book. But walk with me for a minute:

You are Damian Wayne. You are 14 years old and have had one of the worst years of your life last year. Which is saying a lot.

Your brother, one of the people you were closest to, got shot in the head and forgot who you were. Your best friend went to space for a week and came back 3/4 years older than you, taking away your previously established dynamic and leaving you to have to bond all over again w/ a new one. You may or may not have gone wayyy too far with your new superhero team, who now all hate you, because you fucked up big time*

And worst of all, when you do try to do the right thing, you end up forced to watch Alfred, a father figure to you, the only one at your birthday that year, the person who has been so patient, loving and trusting with you, even when you probably didnt deserve it...die. you watch him die, and feel it's all your fault.

And your dad never corrects you on that last point. So you run away.

First to your mom who can tell something's up with you, she knows you don't give up that easy, you decide not to stay with her because you remembered how actually, neither of your parents are good at communicating with you despite their best efforts, so now you're 14 and flying solo.

And you do fly solo. For a while. Make new friends, new enemies. You think you're better off for it. You've got your best friend and your brother back. They're not around as much. It's fine.

And eventually your dad tells you that it's not your fault that Alfred died. Bit late but it's appreciated. Really. There's a bit of a hiccup where you get possessed by a demon and wage war against your father but after that, all in all, you two are...together again.

You start to think maybe you want to give him another chance, for the two of you to be father and son.

And in a change of pace, it works out! It's going good, mostly. He insists you go to highschool, you resist, feel like he wants you to be something that you're not (wants you to be normal), but eventually you acquiesce for your own reasons. He cheers you on at soccer and nosies around at your fundraising events with the other parents and gives you a stern talking to about your choice of girlfriend. Because he cares.

Except all the while this is going on, your dad is currently having his brain slowly taken over by an evil version of himself that he created and every time you look away he's slowly tearing your family apart (your brothers are just barely keeping it together. The ones who didn't get lobotmized that is Jesus Christ). You keep taking his side in these conflicts, for whatever reason. Maybe because he promised it would be different this time, and it isn't** and you're going to stick with him until he keeps his word for once.

But at the end of the day?

It's like your brother says. You're not the one who saves him. Broadly speaking, you've made things worse and needed others to come save you. And what else is Robin really for? You thought it was about redemption and teamwork but guess you're wrong. It's about saving your self destructive, apparently two-faced and erratic father. And you can't even do that right.

* TT (2016) by Adam Glass is a racist ooc mess, but unfortunately it's still canon so I'm referencing here, though like a lot of works authors clearly wish weren't canon but are, it's been subsequently glossed over. Win? Maybe? Or not?

** again Zdarky's characterization of Damian is so outdated as to be ooc, and considering the way he constantly and explicitly uses it to illustrate Tim's strengths as robin, I'd argue there's. Also implications there. But the batshit insanity of the main batbook compared to B&R rn is crucial for this post, so I'm attempting to justify it. This time..

[opikiquu]

aventurine pl. Plea s e . PLLEEEEEEASE

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about dream daddy again and god brian makes me so mad

[carmarriage]

red vs blue restoration blew such huge chunks im actually mad. like completely enraged. and i wouldnt have it any other way. rest in peace you son of a bitch