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bingbongsupremacy · 2 months ago

Text

The Soldier's Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized fem!reader

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, mentions of sexual assault (Not graphic just mentioned a few times) & the word rape (No one raped reader, there was just confusion on what happened), fatphobia, trauma, abuse, insecurities.

Summary: Y/N, a former HYDRA captive, taken at 18, escapes with her young daughter-born not by choice but through HYDRA's experimentation using The Winter Soldier's genetic material. Traumatized and wary, Y/N is brought to the Avengers compound for safety and recovery. It's there she discovers that the father of her child, a man she had only seen in passing, was alive and nearby. Bucky, who has no memory of what HYDRA did to him and has never met Y/N, is blindsided when he learns he has a daughter. Will the two be able to work past this difficult situation to become the parents their little girl deserves? Will they find love along the way?

After Captain America TWS, Not cannon to movies just some things from the movies mentioned.

*Not Proof Read*

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 AU

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The metal of the chair was cold against your skin, the sterile lab lights buzzing faintly overhead. You try not to shiver, though you are in nothing but a thin gown, one size too small, clinging to you uncomfortably in all the places they like to mock.

"Subject Nine," a voice crackles from above. "Remain still. This will be quick."

You don't move. Not because you are obeying, but because your limbs are too heavy. Too tired. Too defeated. The restraints around your wrists dig into your flesh, but you barely notice anymore.

Dr. Johns, the lead scientist, enters the room with his usual haughty gait and bitter aftershave that made your stomach churn. He doesn't look at you. He rarely does. You aren't a person to them. Just a project.

"You should be honored," he says, flipping through a clipboard. "You've been chosen for something… special."

You don't speak.

He looks up then, eyes sharp and smiling in a way that feels wrong. "We're calling it Project Genesis. Has a nice ring, don't you think?"

Still, you say nothing. You'd learned silence was the only control you had left. But you can't stop your stomach from sinking, can't stop the coil of dread tightening in your chest. What are they going to do to me?

"We've selected the optimal pairing. Your mind-remarkably resilient to manipulation and incredible intelligence, and his… well. You'll see."

You frown. "His?"

He finally smiles. "Yes. We're combining your DNA with one of our finest specimens. You'll be carrying a child."

Your heart stops.

"What?" you croak. It was the first time you've spoken in weeks.

"A hybrid. The perfect balance of power and adaptability," he says matter-of-factly. "Your body will serve as the host. We'll be implanting within the next week."

"No," you whisper, eyes wide. "You can't-please. I don't want-"

Dr. Johns leans in closer. "Want?" he echoes. "You don't get to want. This isn't about you."

Here, nothing is ever about what I want. It's about what they can take and use.

The following week was hell.

You screamed. You cried. You begged. But the drugs were stronger than your resistance, and they didn't even look at you while they did it. Just hands and needles and cold words behind masks.

Then it was over.

And you were left in a cell, aching and furious.

For days, you lay curled on the thin cot, hands cradling your soft belly protectively, as if the new life inside you could already hear your sobbing. You didn't want this. Not like this. Not here.

But slowly, something inside you shifts.

The first time you feel the flutter, you are on your knees, scrubbing the concrete with shaking hands after they'd ordered you to "make yourself useful." Your palm pauses mid-swipe. A soft thump, deep in your stomach.

Your breath catches.

Was that…?

It comes again. A whisper from within. Not pain. Not control.

Just… life.

Tears fill your eyes as you drop the rag. You wrap your arms around yourself, hands shaking.

"Hi," you whisper to the silence. "I'm your mom."

This is not the life you want for your child. All you can do was love it and hope there was a way out.

Every time it kicks, your love for it grows stronger. The little baby underneath your heart. She is the only thing you have for yourself. The only thing that would love you back.

They try to stop you from talking to her. They say affection would ruin the experiment. But you don't care anymore.

You name it in secret-just a name between you and it. A name you never speak out loud, but repeat every night in your thoughts. My baby. My child. My everything.

Sometimes you envision a different life with your baby. A life where it would be born into a safe, loving home-not a facility. A life where you can give it everything it could ever want or need.

They still taunt you.

"You're barely holding together," a guard snortes. "Fat girl and a freak baby. What a combo. It's incredible they chose you as the surrogate. Clearly, there are better options."

You stare straight ahead, your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach. Say what you want about me, you think. But don't you dare touch my baby.

Time passes slowly. Days bleed into weeks. Your belly grows, and with it, a fragile hope.

You don't know who the father is -not truly. They never say anything, and you know not to ask. You wonder if the father knows he's going to be a dad. If he is a victim like you, someone they forced into the same predicament.

That was likely the case.

Would your baby ever get to meet its father? Would it be safe for the baby to know him? All these questions yet no answers.

What kind of life will it have?

You try to escape numerous times. You try to get yourself and your baby out of the place you know as hell. It never works. They know you are too smart for digital locks. You can crack them within minutes. They settle for old-fashioned chain lock and cuffs. The more restricted you are, the less likely you would be able to find a way to get out of the situation.

-------

They make you give birth on a table. No warmth. No hand to hold. Just cold hands and barking orders.

You remember screaming. You remember crying. You remember the sharp pains wracking your body due to the lack of drugs to soothe them.

You remember the silence after her first wail.

"Let me see her!" you cry, body shaking. "Please-let me hold her-just once-please-!"

But they are already gone. The door slams. The silence returns.

And you bleed alone on the table, heartbroken. You knew this would happen. There was no way they'd let you keep her. You just wish that small sliver of hope buried deep in your chest had been correct.

You don't move for days.

They threaten you. Drug you. Torture you mentally. But you stay silent, numb.

Then, one day, they come with a new offer.

"You'll get to see her," Dr. Johns says smoothly, "once a week. But only if you behave."

You want to spit in his face. But the thought of your baby—of her eyes, her breath, her smile—shatters your resolve.

"…Okay," you say. At least you can check if she was okay.

-----

She is beautiful. Everything you imagine and more. With beautiful brown eyes and tuffs of brown hair. There are a few features you recognize in yourself. Your pout, your lashes. And there are features you don't recognize, like birthmarks or the shape of her nose. Those must be from her father-whoever he is.

Even through the glass, even under guard supervision, she is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

And one day, you find the file.

It's stupid. Someone left it open. Maybe a test. Maybe a trap.

But you can't help it. You have to know.

Subject: Project Genesis Maternal Donor: Subject Nine Paternal Donor: WS-13 (Winter Soldier)

You nearly drop it.

Him.

That man. The one with the metal arm. The one who never speaks.

Your heart breaks-not for yourself, but for him. He doesn't know. There is no way he does. I've seen them wipe his mind hundreds of times. If he knew, they would immediately wipe him. That's the kind of people they were. He doesn't know she exists.

You close the file, tuck it back carefully, and say nothing.

You don't tell anyone. You don't tell him, even though you sometimes see him in the halls on his way to the next mission. His stoic eyes and rough demeanor scare you. He isn't here to mess around. He has a mission, and that is his only focus.

Who knows what he would do if he found out he had a child? A man like him, so badly tortured. He's a killing machine. There's no telling if he was even capable of caring for anyone. He could become a risk to her. He could cause her harm. He could hurt me, too.

Sometimes your mind would wander. What if he does know? What if he knows he has a child and but doesn't care? On the other hand, what if he found out and he did care? Would he try to protect the baby?

The what-ifs plague your mind. In the end, you decide it is too much of a risk. You have no idea how he will react, and that scares you. It's better safe than sorry.

Because if you die -there will be no one left to protect her. You are her only shot.

----

The guards give you one hour. That was the rule.

One hour, once a week. Under supervision. In a sterile white room with a single metal chair and your baby sitting behind reinforced glass, until they allow you to hold her.

They never say her name—never call her anything but the subject or the specimen. But you say her name in your head a thousand times a day. It is the only thing that feels like yours.

When they first let you hold her, she is so small. Lighter than you imagined. Warm, wiggling in your arms like she knows you.

You sit down and don't move the entire hour, too scared they'll take her early if you do anything wrong.

"I missed you," you whisper, brushing your nose against her tiny head. "Did they treat you okay? Did they… Did you eat enough?"

She cooes softly, hand brushing against the thin hospital gown you are wearing. Your heart breaks into a thousand glass pieces.

"You're safe with me," you promise, even though it is a lie. You really can't do much to protect her. You have no leverage to use against them. You also aren't a trained supersoldier, like her father. They are more focused on your mental abilities than your physical strength, so they never bother to train you. "Just for now. You're safe."

The guard coughs behind you, clearly bored.

You glare down at your arms. "Don't listen to them, sweetheart. Mommy's here."

------

Weeks pass.

Your arms grow stronger from carrying her. Your body, tired and aching, moves faster in the cell training they force on you. You do everything they ask. Not because you want to-but because it keeps her safe.

She starts recognizing you.

She babbles when she sees you. Wriggle excitedly when you come into the room. One visit, she reaches her chubby arms out and gives the smallest, gummiest smile.

You cry so hard you can barely breathe.

When she falls asleep against your chest, her tiny hand wrapped around your finger -you pray time will freeze.

"Sleep, baby," you whisper. "Please… dream of trees, and blue skies, and things I can't give you."

Most days are like that. Peaceful between the two of you. However, there are times when things get difficult.

There is one day, she is quiet.

Too quiet.

You feel the panic rising in your throat the moment you step into the room. She isn't smiling. She isn't moving.

"Is she sick?" you ask the guards, voice rising. "What did you do?!"

"No questions," says the same monotone response. "One hour. No more."

You clutch her tightly, holding her against your chest, rocking her gently.

Her little head lifts. She lets out a tired breath. Her eyes-a beautiful shimmering brown-blink up at you.

Relief hits like a tidal wave. You cradle her even tighter.

"You scared Mommy," you whisper into her soft curls. "Don't ever do that again, okay?"

Your voice cracks.

"I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

You have no idea what they are doing to your child. It kills you to think they are hurting her. You have no control. All you can do is try to bring some comfort in the short time you have with her.

-----

Life stays like that for two years. You spend the time you can with her. You teach her how to talk and walk. Even though the situation is difficult, she is a resilient baby. She is smart. She learns quickly. She definitely develops skills faster than other babies do. That makes you proud.

Then the visits stop.

No explanation. No announcement. Just… silence.

Days pass. Then weeks.

You scream and you fight. You are drugged.

And when you come to-bleary, arms strapped down in your cot, you know something is wrong.

The halls are quieter. Fewer footsteps. Fewer voices. Then none.

The next time someone opens your door, it isn't a guard.

It was no one.

A soft creak. A hiss of released air.

You wait.

No commands. No threats.

You pull the restraints free with little effort, too easily. The power has been cut. The systems are breaking down.

You stumble into the hallway, barefoot and filled with panic.

Lights flicker.

No soldiers.

No scientists.

Just the dead hum of a forgotten place.

And then-

A sound.

A baby crying.

Your baby crying.

Her.

You run harder than you ever have in your life.

Your legs burn, your body still weak from weeks of starvation and isolation, punishments for your lack of cooperation, but you run.

The lab is a maze. But your instincts, your love-cut through the fog.

You find her in a room filled with overturned equipment. She is crying, face red, fists curled. She is still in her tiny containment crib. But no one is watching her anymore.

You throw open the gate and collapse to your knees, cradling her against your chest.

"I'm here," you sob, rocking her. "I'm here. I got you. I got you."

She stops crying instantly, face pressed into your neck.

You clutch her so tight, your arms ache.

And then you find a room with a door that locks from the inside. It used to be a cell. Now, it's your only sanctuary.

You ration food. You keep her warm. You sing songs in a hoarse voice, trying to drown out your own fear.

You don't know how long you can last. But as long as she is breathing, you'd try.

You know, at some point, you will have to leave the building. You will need more food and water.

The thought terrifies you. You haven't been outside in years. You haven't seen the sun or the outside in so long. The world is different. It has to be. While you were stuck in a building that never seemed to change, you know the outside is different. There is no one for you to trust outside. You will be so exposed and vulnerable out there.

At least you know what you are working with in the confines of the building. You can keep her safe here for now. You will figure out the rest later.

You scavenge the building for as many resources as you can find. It is enough to keep you both okay for a few months. Definitely not enough to last longer than 8 months.

---

Three months passed. Winter was coming. You know you need to leave soon. You will both freeze to death if you stay here much longer.

You are thinner. Paler. You know your body is getting weaker, but you do your best to be there for your baby and plan your next steps.

Then one day-it all shattered.

You hear footsteps.

Not like before. Heavier and measured.

English voices.

You scoop her up. Her body is heavier now, growing. You run down the halls, bare feet slapping against concrete. The lights died long ago, and all you have is your memory of the maze.

She starts crying.

Too loud.

You hush her frantically. "Please, baby, shh-don't cry, don't cry, they'll hear you-"

Too late.

Footsteps speed up.

Voices bark orders.

Then you turn a corner-and freeze.

A woman stands at the end of the hall.

Red hair and black suit. Eyes wide.

She doesn't raise a weapon.

"Hey," she says, holding up both hands. "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you."

You back away, toddler clutched tight. "No! Don't touch her! Don't take her!"

Others come. Bigger and scarier. You see a glowing chest light in the dark-hear a metal suit hiss.

You turn. You run.

But another figure appears behind you, this one carrying arrows.

You are surrounded.

The baby is sobbing now, screaming into your neck. She can sense your fear and desperation.

"Don't kill her!" you cry, collapsing to your knees. "Please-I'll do anything, just don't hurt her-please-!"

The redhead approaches slowly. "We're not here to hurt her," she says gently. "Or you."

You shake your head, body trembling. "Liar. You're all liars-she's just a project to you. She's all I have. Don't take her."

"We're the Avengers, we just want to help you. We are not a part of HYDRA," she says. "You're safe now."

You cling tighter to your baby.

"Please," you whisper, chest heaving. You don't believe their words. "Just let me keep her."

The redhead crouches beside you.

"You will."

------

The Quinjet is too loud.

You sit stiffly in a corner seat, clutching your daughter like she might vanish if you blink. She's curled up against your chest, worn out from crying and the chaos, her tiny hands fists in your torn clothes.

Your arms are shaking.

Everything feels like too much.

Too bright. Too fast. Too real.

You stare at the dark floor panels, heart pounding like a war drum. The whirring of the engines, the humming of voices you don't trust-none of it felt safe. You don't feel safe.

No one tries to take her from you. Not yet. That was the only reason you haven't fought.

She shifts in your arms, pressing her flushed cheek to your collarbone. Your hand automatically rubs gentle circles into her back, your mother's instincts stronger than the trauma clawing at your brain.

"She won't let go," Natasha murmurs to Bruce, standing just far enough not to crowd you. "Even when she's asleep."

"She shouldn't have to," Bruce says softly. "Not after what she's been through."

They don't think you can hear them.

But you did.

You heard everything.

They bring you to a room with soft lighting and gentle walls. It smells clean-but not like chemicals. Not like HYDRA.

Bruce Banner stands in the corner, hands folded, speaking in a voice like wind brushing over still water.

"I'm just going to take a look at you," he says gently. "Both of you. I promise I won't touch her unless you say it's okay."

You don't move.

Your baby is wide awake again, sitting in your lap, staring with wide eyes at the stranger in the white coat.

You pull her tighter against you.

"She's mine," you say. Your voice cracks. "No one touches her."

Bruce gives a small nod. "Of course. I just want to help."

You don't believe that.

But he doesn't push. Instead, he pulls out a scanner and crouches-to your eye level.

"May I scan you from here?"

You hesitate… then give a tiny nod.

The scan was quiet. No poking. No restraint.

"She's malnourished but stable," Bruce says, looking at your daughter. "You've been feeding her from rations?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He nods again, with genuine warmth. "You did an incredible job."

Your throat closes up. You tried.

You look down at your baby, who's pressing her forehead into your chest. She's calmer here. Calmer with you.

You've done something right.

"You've been through serious mental trauma," Bruce continues. "I think your system's still fighting the effects of long-term neurological exposure. We'll give you space, but if you ever want help-therapy, or medication, or even just rest-we'll be here."

You don't answer.

You are still waiting for the moment they take her away.

But no one moves.

They are waiting for you.

Later, they bring you to a different hospital room that was too nice to be real. Real bed. Blankets. A large mirror on the other side of the room. A window with sunlight. You can see the world. It was very different than what you remembered.

When you were taken, you were freshly 18. A time that was supposed to be exciting and full of new adventures was quickly robbed from you. All your dreams of finally getting to go to Harvard were crushed. You were from a smaller town, one that didn't have these massive buildings that surrounded you. You were used to fields and animals. Nothing like that was outside. It was a shock.

You don't know how to sleep in a bed anymore. But your baby is finally dozing in the crook of your arm.

You sit, awake, staring at the door.

And then it knocks.

"Hey. It's me. Natasha," comes the voice from the other side. "Can I come in?"

You don't say anything.

The door opens gently.

She enters slowly, hands empty. She sits across from you, not too close.

"I just want to ask you a few questions," she says quietly. "Is that okay?"

You look at her for a long moment… then give the smallest nod.

"What's your name?"

You lick your dry lips. "Y/N."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-six."

Her expression softens. "And how long were you in that facility?"

You look down at your baby. "Since I turned 18."

A beat of silence.

Natasha's jaw tightens-just a bit. "That's a long time."

You don't respond.

She nods to your baby, who is sound asleep now.

"What's her name?"

You hesitate-but just for a moment. You are too proud to stay silent.

"Daisy."

You always loved Daisies. Naming her that reminded you of the beautiful world outside of the building. A world you hoped you would get to show her.

Natasha smiles gently. "That's beautiful."

You nod slowly, brushing your fingers through your daughter's hair. "I thought so too."

Natasha leans forward just a little. "Can I ask about her father?"

Your whole body tenses.

Your eyes drop to Daisy's face again. So small. So innocent.

You swallow thickly. "I don't… I don't know him," you admit. "I never met him. Not really." You had only ever seen him in passing.

Natasha's gaze flickers, and you see it-just the briefest flash of concern. Worry.

"It wasn't like that," you say quickly. "No one… touched me. I mean, not—not that way."

She relaxes. Just slightly.

You toke a shaky breath.

"They called it Project Genesis. They told me they wanted to create a weapon with the perfect balance. My mind. His body. His strength. "You brush your fingers across Daisy's head. "I didn't even know whose DNA they used. Not at first."

"You found out?"

You nod slowly. "They left a file out once. I don't think they meant to. I saw his name."

Natasha doesn't speak.

"They called him… the Winter Soldier."

You wonder what happened to him. You stopped seeing him about a month before they stopped showing you Daisy. Had he gotten away? Was he a free man, living his life as normally as he could? Sometimes you wonder if you should have told him. He did have a right to know. If he had gotten away, would he have taken Daisy with him if he knew? Would he have kept her safe?

The room goes so quiet, you could hear your heartbeat.

"I didn't tell him," you whisper. "I was scared. I thought maybe he'd take her. Maybe he'd hurt her. Or… maybe he didn't know. I couldn't risk it. I had to protect her."

You looked up at Natasha, terrified.

"I swear I'm telling the truth."

She didn't answer.

She didn't have to.

Her face said everything.

----3rd POV----

Outside, behind a one-way mirror, the rest of the team watched in stunned silence.

Steve stood stiff, fists clenched. His heart hurt for the woman. She had been forced into a situation no one should ever have to be. And he felt bad for his friend. Bucky had no idea. If Bucky knew he had a child, he would've told Steve. He also would've done everything in his power to save it from the horrors the baby undoubtedly experienced.

Sam glanced at Clint. "Is this even possible? Bucky's never mentioned having a kid before. Could she be lying? Trying to get something from him or us?"

Tony frowned. "HYDRA did a lot of things that shouldn't have been possible. It's not out of the realm to think they would go this far. They were selectively breeding."

"She doesn't know he's here. What's there to gain from lying about him?" Bruce said quietly. "I don't think she's lying."

Steve ran a hand through his hair. "I think she's telling the truth. I mean look at that kid. I knew she looked familiar. It makes sense now. She's got Buck's eyes and hair. We can also do a DNA test, right, Bruce?" he said, voice rough.

Bruce nods. "If he wants one done, I can try to convince Y/N to let us take some blood from the baby." He observes the baby through the glass. "She does look a lot like Bucky."

"We have to tell him." Clint looks around at the group of men.

"Who’s going to do it?" Sam asked.

"I will." Steve volunteers. "It'll be better coming from me."

----- 3rd POV -----

The rhythmic thud of fists against the heavy bag echoed through the training room.

Sweat dripped from Bucky's brow, soaking into the collar of his shirt. His knuckles-flesh and metal-were raw from the relentless assault. The gym was quiet, empty except for the sound of effort. That's how he liked it.

This was the only place where the memories didn't claw so loudly at the back of his skull.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw faces-bloodied, terrified, dying. Faces he couldn't name. Faces he'd hurt. Even now, even free, the weight of what he'd done pressed against his chest like a boulder he could never move.

So he hit the bag.

Over and over.

Like he could punch his past into silence.

His metal arm whirred with each movement-controlled and brutal. He wasn't training to stay in shape. He was trying to feel something. Anything that wasn't guilt.

But then he heard it.

"Buck."

Steve's voice.

He didn't stop punching. Didn't look.

"I need to talk to you."

Still, he didn't stop. Not until Steve stepped into his line of sight.

Bucky dropped his fists, breathing heavy, strands of dark hair sticking to his forehead. "What is it?"

Steve hesitated.

And that… that was never a good sign.

Steve's voice was low, careful. Like he was trying not to spook a wild animal.

"There's a woman here. She was rescued from a HYDRA facility."

Bucky blinked, wiping his face with a towel. "Okay…"

"She was part of an experiment. One of the worst ones. Mental manipulation. Long-term isolation. She's been in there since she was eighteen."

Bucky stiffened.

"I… I wouldn't be telling you this if it wasn't important."

"Steve," Bucky said, voice a warning. "What are you not saying?" Steve needs to stop beating around the bush.

Steve's throat bobbed.

"She has a daughter."

Bucky frowned. "Okay? So?"

Steve took a step closer. "We're... We're pretty sure she's yours. She looks a lot like you did as a kid. The mother says they used your DNA, Buck."

The words hit him like a bullet to the chest.

"What?"

"She didn't know at first. She found out later. The girl-her name's Daisy-is about two years old. HYDRA created her. They used you."

Bucky staggered back, as if someone had punched him in the gut.

"No." His voice cracked. "No, that's not-That can't be-"

"I know it's a lot," Steve said quickly. "I know. She didn't lie. She didn't even know you were here. She wasn't trying to manipulate anyone. All she's done is try to protect that little girl. If you want more confirmation, we can try to get a DNA test from Daisy. It might take some time to convince her mom to allow us to get close to her, but we can try if you want."

Bucky stared down at his hands.

His right hand-flesh and bone-trembled. His left hand-metal, inhuman-hung limp at his side.

"A kid?" he whispered. "My kid?"

His vision blurred. He didn't realize he was shaking until Steve gently rested a hand on his shoulder.

"I didn't even know," Bucky rasped. "I didn't even know what they were doing. They took it from me. They used me again."

"I know, Buck."

He turned away, eyes wild. "I don't-What if I'm just like them? What if Daisy's like me? What if-"

"She's not," Steve said, voice firm. "She's sweet. Gentle. She looks at her mother like she's the whole damn world. She's a great kid, Buck."

Bucky's throat closed.

And then the question clawed its way out:

"Does she know I'm here now? The mother… does she hate me?"

"No," Steve said quietly. "She doesn't even blame you. She said she thinks you didn't know. That maybe you were just a name to them. She didn't tell anyone because she was scared. She's just trying to keep her daughter safe."

Bucky sank to the floor.

He didn't speak. Just pressed his face into his hands, breaths coming short and fast. Should I get a DNA test? That might put both the mother and the kid through a lot of trauma. Steve said Daisy looked like me. How could she look like me if she's not somehow related to me? I don't have any family left alive. It couldn't be a niece or something.

A kid.

A real one.

A little girl who existed in this world, who shouldn't, because of him.

And he didn't know if he had the right to see her.

-----

The compound garden was quiet except for the rustle of wind against tree branches and the distant hum of city life beyond the security walls. It didn't feel real, not after the concrete and cold metal of the facility. You still flinch every time someone closes a door too hard.

You sit on a bench near the far edge of the garden, your daughter cradled against your side, her tiny hands sticky with banana. The blanket around her small frame is a borrowed one-soft and blue with tiny stars stitched into the corners. It was Natasha's idea, something comforting and warm to help your daughter adjust.

Your own comfort? That was a different story.

You're still in borrowed clothes. Still tense. Still not sure when someone is going to pull the rug out from under you again.

Daisy's humming a little tune, off-key but sweet. Your hand moves in her hair, soothing her even though she doesn't need it. Maybe you do.

Then came the sound of slow, hesitant footsteps on the gravel path.

You don't move right away. You are used to the sounds of people coming. You'd learned that reacting too quickly made them think you were unstable.

But something about these steps made your body tense. Heavy. Measured.

You turned-and your breath caught.

It was him.

The man from the file. The man from the hallway glimpses when you'd been escorted for testing. The man who made your head race with a million questions.

The Winter Soldier.

No-Bucky Barnes. That's what Natasha calls him.

He looks like a shadow from the past given breath. His long hair is tied back in a loose band, strands escaping around his jaw. He's wearing a hoodie too big for him and boots that look scuffed from use. His vibranium arm shines in the filtered sunlight, catching faint reflections of the world around him.

His face-oh, his face.

He isn't the weapon you remember. He's a man. And he looks like he hasn't slept in weeks.

He stops several feet away, eyes locked on you, then flickers to the child on your lap. His eyes stay on Daisy as he takes her in, like he's trying to memorize her.

He looks like he wants to speak but doesn't know how.

You sit up straighter, your arms instinctively wrapping more protectively around Daisy. She shifts, sensing your tension.

Bucky notices.

"I-" he starts, voice rough like gravel. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

You don't answer.

"I shouldn't've come," he murmurs. His hands hover at his sides, uncertain. "I didn't want to scare you. I just…"

He swallows hard, eyes flicking to Daisy again.

"She's mine?" he asks quietly.

You nod, slow and cautious. "Yes."

His jaw clenches. He looks like he might collapse under the weight of that one word.

"I didn't know. They didn't tell me," he whispers. "I swear, I didn't know."

"I believe you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. He looks so different then how you'd seen him in the past. His face, which was usually stoic and emotionless, is filled with conflicting feelings. This has to be a lot for him to take in.

His eyes-startlingly blue, filled with pain, finally meet yours.

He takes one step forward and then pauses again. And then, hesitantly, in a voice that barely held together: "Did I-did I hurt you when she… when she was…" He trails off, the words choking in his throat. His eyes drop to the ground. "I hoped I wasn't capable of shit like that but… I don't know. I never know what they made me do. Not really."

You stare at him, breath caught in your chest.

You know what he meant. He wants to know if they made him rape you. It was too hard for him to say.

That has to be a horrible feeling to experience. Knowing your mind and body could have been potentially used to so horribly violate another person. HYDRA controlled his actions, but in the end, he was the one having to live with the consequences.

"No," you say softly. "You weren't even in the room."

His head jerks up to look at you. He's confused.

"It was in vitro," you clarify. You tear your gaze away from his face, embarrassed by your vulnerable experience. I wish I could've protected myself. Stopped what they did to me. I couldn't, which makes me feel so weak. You continue. "When I was first brought into the facility, they took some of my eggs. They fertilized the egg with your sperm in a lab and then put it back in me. You were never physically involved in it." You try to reassure the man. "They never let me see who the donor was. I didn't know until about a year after Daisy was born."

You push yourself to look at his face.

Relief crashes across his features-brief, raw, and almost too painful to look at. He nods, a quiet breath escaping him, but the tension doesn't leave his shoulders. Then sympathy and regret take over his face as your words settle in his head.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that...I can't imagine what that must've been like. Living in a place like that, in those conditions while pregnant...it's hard enough to survive without a baby." Bucky apologizes like it's his fault. Like he had put you through that situation. "If I had known...I would've tried to get you both out or helped you. It's not fair that you had to do that alone." He speaks genuinely.

"It's not your fault. They used you like they used me. There's nothing you could've done. They would have killed you or sent you away." I don't hold a grudge against him.

"Still, I'm very sorry."

You look at him again-really looked at him-and realize something that unsettles you.

He's just as scared as you are.

And just as broken.

There was silence between you. Heavy, aching silence. You both had experienced so much at the hands of the same people. While your journeys were different, you were both left with trauma and nightmares. You both missed time with your daughter.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." It's your turn to apologize. "About her. I-I didn't know what you were going to do or react. If you would even care. I didn't know if it was safe to tell you. I couldn't risk being hurt and getting killed or losing the time they allowed me to see her." You nervously continue. "I had seen you a few times in the halls. You always looked angry and emotionless. Like a cold weapon. I was nervous to talk to you."

Bucky face is stiff. His eyes, however, hold sadness. " I'm sorry. I couldn't control myself. They killed my personality and feelings. You did what you had to. She comes first. I'll never be angry for you putting her well-being first."

He isn't how you expected. Well, you didn't really know what to expect. It makes you sad he didn't get to spend time with her at all. At least you saw her once a week. This is the first time he's met her. While you missed a few milestones, he had missed them all. That's time he could never get back.

Then Daisy stirs.

She blinks up at the stranger, her small brows furrowing. "Mama?" she whispers.

You smooth a hand over her hair. "It's okay, sweetheart."

Bucky slowly crouches down, still not closing the distance.

He looks at Daisy with a softness that shocks you. His metal hand flexes on his knee, uncertain.

"She's… beautiful," he says, voice cracking.

Your throat tightens. "She is."

"How old?"

"Almost two and a half."

He nods slowly, trying to work the math in his head. "God…"

You see him glance toward her again.

He wants to reach out. You can tell.

But he doesn't.

And that matters more than anything else-he doesn't assume he has a right to her. He respects you. He's willing to go at your pace.

"Do you… do you want to sit?" you ask hesitantly.

He looks up, shocked. Then nods, barely breathing.

"I'll stay back here," he promises, lowering himself to the far end of the bench. "Just wanted to see her. That's all."

You watch him out of the corner of your eye as Daisy nibbles on the banana again, still watching him with curiosity. She giggles and waves at him with a wide grin.

Bucky's lips curl into a pained smile. He waves back.

"He good guy?" she asks, glancing at you.

You pause.

You look at Bucky again.

The sorrow on his face. The weight on his shoulders.

"I think he's trying to be," you said quietly.

----- 3rd POV -----

Bucky didn't remember walking back into the compound.

He remembered standing up from the bench with a nod and a faint, careful thank you to Y/N. He remembered Daisy waving her banana at him in a tiny, sticky goodbye. He remembered the ache in his chest when he looked at them one last time.

But after that, it was a blur.

Now he was back in the gym, his hoodie on the floor, fists slamming into the punching bag like it had personally ruined his life. Sweat clung to his skin, hair stuck to his forehead, and the fabric of his shirt felt suffocating. The leather wrap on his right hand had already started to fray.

Wham.

WHAM.

"You're gonna break the wall if you keep that up."

Bucky didn't stop punching, but his jaw tensed. "Maybe it deserves it."

Steve stepped into view, hands in the pockets of his jeans. His voice was steady, but soft. "You went to see her?"

Bucky exhaled through his nose and gave the bag one last blow before stepping back. His chest heaved. "Yeah."

Steve didn't say anything for a long moment. He just waited.

Bucky ripped off the wraps on his hands, tossing them onto the floor. "Y/N, she's scared of me."

"She's been through hell," Steve said quietly.

"I know that," Bucky snapped, more at himself than Steve. "I saw it. I saw it all over her face. Every time I moved too fast, every time I even looked at her wrong, she flinched like I was going to-"

He broke off, dragging a hand over his face.

"I didn't mean to scare her."

Steve walked closer. "You didn't mean to have a kid, either."

Bucky barked a humorless laugh. "No, I didn't. Hydra made that choice for both of us. Took what they wanted, like they always did. Used me to make a baby and used her to carry it. That shit is cruel. All those procedures Y/N had to endure...going through pregnancy in a place like that. A time that was supposed to be happy for most must've been a nightmare for her. Yeah, they took sperm from me, but that was the end of my job. They made her carry Daisy and suffer alone. The fear she must've felt, Steve. The pain. And she had no one there to support her." Bucky was pissed and guilty.

He had wanted kids when he was younger. Before the war, he wanted a family. He wanted to be there for his wife, whoever she was, when the time came for them to have kids. He wanted to help her and be there to get everything she needed or wanted. He felt like it was the responsiblity of the father to be there to support the mother of their child. He hadn't known, so he wasn't able to be there. That hurt. Besides that, he missed so many milestones. Daisy's first laugh, first word. And so many more.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, pacing a few steps away. "You know what's messed up? For a second-I was terrified I'd hurt her. That they made me violate her..." He swallowed the bile crawling up his throat at the thought. "But she said it was in vitro. That I wasn't even there. And I was relieved. Relieved I didn't hurt her."

"That's not messed up," Steve said. "That's human. It'd be messed up if you didn't care what had happened to her."

Bucky slumped onto a bench, metal hand resting on his thigh. "She said she'd seen me before. That I looked cold. Like a weapon."

Steve sat beside him, not too close. "You were being used as one."

"It doesn't matter. That face still haunts her. Still haunts me."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "She was trying so hard to be brave. Holding that little girl like her life depended on it. Maybe it does."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "Did you look at her?"

Bucky glanced sideways. "The baby?"

Steve nodded.

Bucky's voice dropped to a whisper. "She’s perfect, Steve. Big eyes. Wild hair. She's got this laugh-she laughed at me. Me. Can you believe that?" His lips pulled into a soft, disbelieving smile. Then it faded.

"I don't know what to do. She's scared of me. Rightfully so. I don't even know what I am to that little girl. I don't know if I'm good enough to be a dad. I've never had a responsibility like that. I didn’t choose any of this."

"No," Steve agreed. "But you're here now. You're going to be a great dad, Bucky. You're just going to need to learn a little bit. There's nothing wrong with that. Y/N is still learning too."

Bucky closed his eyes, the weight of it all pressing into his spine. "What if I mess this up?"

Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm and sure. "Then you keep trying. You show up and try again. You don't give up on your kid. And you let them set the pace."

------

You watch Daisy sleep from across the room, arms wrapped around your knees, curled into yourself like you used to in your cell.

The compound was too quiet sometimes. Not the same kind of terrifying quiet like HYDRA, but… too peaceful. Like silence, you hadn't earned.

You could still feel the warmth of the bench under your body. Still see the careful way Bucky had kept his distance. The way he'd crouched like he wasn't sure if he should even breathe too close to your daughter.

Our daughter.

This isn't how you had planned to have a family. As a young girl, you had always wanted to have a family someday. You wanted a lot of things. You want to graduate from Harvard with honors and get into a great graduate program. You wanted an amazing career in an industry where you could make a difference with the help of your intelligence. You wanted to find a man who loved you completely, no matter how much you weighed or what you looked like. You wanted to get married and have children in a beautiful home you worked hard for. You wanted your husband to be there when you gave birth to your babies, to be able to share the moment with you. You wanted your husband to be able to share your baby's beautiful moments and milestones with you. You wanted to throw birthday parties and show your baby off. You wanted so much.

And you got none of it.

You didn't get to graduate or get married. You didn't get to fall and love and have support through your pregnancy. You were forced through hundreds of tests, surgeries, and experiments until your bubbly, confident self was turned into a shell of who you were. You were forced to experience the heartbreak of being forcibly impregnated by a stranger, growing a bond with your baby, delivering her in a traumatic setting, and then getting her taken away.

You shiver at the thought.

You had seen his face in so many nightmares. Those glimpses in the hallway, the times he'd walked by in black gear with no emotion behind his eyes. The Winter Soldier. A ghost of war, of death, of silence.

Now that face had looked at you with fear. Guilt.

And tenderness.

He had looked at Daisy like she was made of stardust. Like she was the one good thing in a world full of pain.

Your heart twisted.

You wanted to hate him. To blame him. That would be easier than trying to navigate this next stage in life.

But he hadn't been in the room. He hadn't made the choice. He hadn't known.

Neither had you.

You reach up and touch your side, remembering the cold, sterile ache of the implantation procedure. The way they drugged you and stole pieces of you before violating your body and forcing you to take those changed pieces back. Remembering the nurse who whispered, "You should be honored. He's the pinnacle of perfection. Your child will be a masterpiece."

You blink hard, pressing your forehead to your knees. Rage and shame twist in your stomach.

You hadn't even known his name when Daisy started to grow inside her. Just a number. A file. A myth.

And now he was real.

So painfully real.

You weren't ready. You wanted to be-but you weren't. Not yet.

But the way he'd looked at Daisy…

It made something shift in you.

A glimmer of hope.

A flicker of trust.

You didn't know what was going to happen next. Didn't know if you could ever let him in completely. But maybe-just maybe-Daisy could have the chance at something better.

Maybe they all could.

------

It was late afternoon when the hallway outside the common room falls quiet again, the golden sunlight slants across the polished floors. The Avengers Compound always seems to hum with a soft, underlying rhythm-doors closing gently, distant voices, the faint clinking of cups or laughter echoing down corridors.

You sit on the floor with Daisy again, this time carefully braiding your daughter's hair-short, wavy strands that refuse to stay in the little plaits. Daisy keeps giggling and squirming, half-playing, half-patient. A picture book lies forgotten on the rug, open to a page about rainbows.

It feels… almost normal. A warmth in your chest you don't dare name yet.

You don't hear him at first.

"Um… hi." The voice was gravel-soft. Low. Hesitant.

You look up slowly, hands still tangled in your daughter's hair.

Bucky stands a few feet away, not moving any closer, shoulders drawn in like he's trying to make himself smaller. He's wearing a dark sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up just enough to show the glint of his metal arm. His eyes, usually so guarded, are careful now-open in a quiet way, like he's trying not to spook you.

You stiffen slightly, but don't pull Daisy into your lap the way you might've just a few days ago.

He notices.

"I-I didn't mean to interrupt," he says quickly, raising one hand in a peaceable gesture. "I just… I was wondering if I could… if I could talk to her. To Daisy. Just for a little bit."

His voice cracks slightly on the name.

You blink. Daisy keeps playing with her plush porcupine, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two adults hovering above her.

"I wouldn't-" Bucky looks down at his boots, then up at you again, almost painfully slow. "I wouldn't touch her. Or scare her. I'd just… like to sit nearby. Maybe say hi. If that's okay."

There's a long silence. The kind where you can hear every breath.

You look at him-really look at him. He isn't trying to loom or press. If anything, he looks like he's bracing for you to flinch. For you to say no. For you to shut him down completely.

And yet… he's still here.

Still trying.

"Yeah sure. She's just playing," You say, finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "You can sit. If you want."

The relief that passes through Bucky's body isn't loud-but you feel it, somehow. Like something in the air softened.

"Thank you," he murmurs.

He steps over slowly and settles on the floor, leaving a comfortable space between them. He sits cross-legged, not facing Daisy directly-just angled enough to be part of the circle, but not too close. He doesn't speak right away. Just watches.

Daisy looks up from her toy and blinks at the new face.

She tilts her head.

Then offers him her porcupine.

Bucky lets out a breath of laughter, barely audible, as he reaches forward with a hand that trembles just slightly.

"That for me?" he asks softly.

Daisy nodded solemnly. "His name's Pokey."

He takes the plush in his large, careful hands and holds it like it is something delicate. "Pokey, huh? That's a good name."

You watch them both. Your hands drop from your daughter's hair as you sit back against the couch, unsure of what to feel. Your heart is beating a little too fast.

Daisy begins stacking plastic cups again. Her porcupine now rests between her and Bucky, like a silent peace offering.

"She likes you," You say after a beat. "I can tell."

"She's brave," Bucky says, watching her. "She's got your smile."

The compliment stirs something warm in your chest, though you don't show it.

You two sat like that for a while. Not friends. Not strangers. Something in between. A fragile beginning.

And Bucky doesn't push. He just stays.

Careful. Quiet.

Present.

----3rd POV----

Bucky sat alone on the balcony connected to his room, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his mouth. The sky was slipping into dusk, streaked in lilac and orange, and the air carried that subtle shift toward nighttime-the kind of cool that made you breathe a little deeper.

He hadn't moved for nearly an hour.

The image of Daisy-stacking plastic cups with gentle concentration, her nose scrunched, her little fingers brushing his when she passed him the porcupine-played on repeat in his mind.

She didn't know who he was.

And still, she smiled.

Still, she trusted him-instinctively, openly, like no one ever had without reason.

It was unbearable in the best and worst way.

The door behind him opened softly.

He didn't look back.

"Figured I'd find you out here," Steve said, stepping onto the balcony with two mugs in hand.

Bucky took one without a word. It was warm-chamomile or something equally Steve-like.

They sat in silence for a few long beats. The kind of silence only decades of friendship could make comfortable.

Steve finally spoke.

"How'd it go?"

Bucky let out a breath through his nose.

"She let me sit," he said. "That's more than I expected."

"She trusts you?" Steve asked gently.

"No. Not yet," Bucky murmured. "But she didn't flinch when I talked. She didn't grab Daisy and run."

Steve nodded. "That's progress."

"She looked scared of me," Bucky said finally, softly. "Even though she was trying not to be. I know that look."

Steve tilted his head, studying his best friend.

"And Daisy?" he asked.

"She gave me a damn stuffed animal," Bucky said, shaking his head. "Called it Pokey. Just… handed it to me like she already knew I wasn't gonna hurt her."

There was a beat of silence.

"I didn't think I'd ever get this," Bucky said, almost too quietly. "A kid. Even just… knowing there's someone out there who's part of me."

Steve set his mug down carefully on the railing.

"You didn't get this, Buck. It was taken from you. From both of you."

Bucky nodded slowly, staring at the darkening horizon. His hands clenched around the mug.

"I want to know her," he said. "But I don't wanna push Y/N. I don't wanna be that guy who comes in and messes it all up just because I showed up too late."

Steve looked at him, steady and kind.

"You being cautious already tells me you're not gonna mess it up. You care. You're trying. That counts."

Bucky exhaled deeply.

"I just hate that HYDRA used us both like that," he said. "Violated her. Used my DNA like it meant nothing. I feel like I'm walking into a house made of glass. One wrong word and it all shatters."

Steve nodded again, silent in understanding.

"You'll figure it out," he said. "She'll see it."

Bucky didn't answer. Just stared at the horizon, holding the warmth of the tea in his hands like an anchor.

----

The compound was quiet again.

You stand at the crib beside your bed, your fingers brushing softly over Daisy's soft hair. The toddler was fast asleep-tucked up tight, one arm around Pokey, the other sprawled across her blanket.

She looked so small like that. Fragile. But she wasn't, not really. Daisy had known nothing but chaos and confinement, and yet she still smiled. Still trusted.

Still shared her toys.

You turn away and sit down on the bed, your knees pulled up toward your chest. The sheets were soft. Clean. The scent of lavender drifted from the pillow.

It was all so different from the concrete cell.

From the cold, sterile walls of the lab.

And yet you couldn't stop the way your heart pounded anytime you saw someone unexpected in the hallway. Couldn't stop the way your body tensed when someone spoke too loudly. Couldn't stop glancing at the exits.

One of the moments with Bucky played in your head over and over.

His voice, low and cautious. The way he sat across from you, like he didn't want to breathe too loudly.

"Did I… did I hurt you…"

You swallow hard, your chest tightening again.

He'd been so careful. So afraid that he had done something monstrous without knowing. And when you told him he hadn't, you saw him breathe again. Like someone had finally taken the weight off his chest.

He wasn't the man who hurt you.

He'd never even been there.

And yet… he was the man whose face haunted you back then. Cold. Silent. Deadly. The Winter Soldier had passed by your cell more than once. You remembered the way guards stood straighter. How even the doctors looked nervous.

But this Bucky?

This was someone else entirely.

Gentle and broken.

And you didn't know what to do with that.

How could someone be the ghost in your nightmares and also the man your child smiled at?

You curled tighter into yourself and closed your eyes. Your body ached with memory and fatigue. Your heart-felt stretched thin with confusion and fear and… something else. Something warmer that you didn't dare name.

Not yet.

But maybe, if he stayed gentle… if he kept giving them space and showing up without demanding anything…

Maybe you could learn how to name it.

----

Bucky now spent a little more time with you and Daisy every few days-never too long, always careful not to push. Sometimes he brought little things for Daisy: a new picture book, a wooden toy. He always checked with you first.

And you two started to talk.

It started out slow with things like 'How are you?', 'Do you like the tower?', or just general conversation about the baby.

"She reminds me of Becca sometimes," Bucky says one afternoon as Daisy scribbled chalk shapes on the pavement. His soft eyes gaze down at her, a small smile curling on his lips. "My sister."

You tilt your head. "Was she older or younger?"

"Younger," he says, his smile widening at a memory. "Bossy. Tougher than I ever was."

You smile back. "I had a brother. He was older. He… tried to stop them when they came for me."

Bucky looks over, eyes shaded with something dark and aching. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," you whisper. "I don't even know if he made it."

Bucky gives you a sad smile. "My sister got sick and died a long time ago. This was after HYDRA got to me."

There was silence for a moment, not heavy-but shared. Bucky sits back on the bench, arms resting on his knees.

"You were only eighteen," he murmurs. "I read your file."

Your stomach clenches. "Oh."

"No- I just…" He sits up straighter. "I'm not trying to dig into your past. I just-wanted to understand. What they did to you, what they made you go through…"

His voice cracks a little, then hardens again. "It's not fair. None of it."

You look at him carefully. He was trying to understand you. "It wasn't your fault."

"But it's still part of me," he says. "HYDRA's part of me. And I hate that."

You are quiet for a while. Then softly you speak: "They tried to break both of us. But we're still here."

He looks at you. Really looked. There was something in his eyes-a kind of admiration you didn't know how to respond to. He gives you space, respects every boundary. And still, there's warmth. There's safety.

And you were beginning to feel it.

Your chest aches with something too complex to name. You knew you were starting to like him. To care. But you couldn't let it show. Not yet.

You turn your eyes to Daisy, who is now chalking a stick figure with dark hair.

Bucky smiles faintly beside her. "That one's me, isn't it?"

You laugh under your breath. "Looks like it. Strong jaw and everything."

He grins, and for a moment-just a fleeting second-you feel like a girl again. Not a prisoner. Not a lab rat. Just someone…normal.

And that was new.

---

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 AU

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misstycloud · 1 year ago

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[Yandere.Rich man x ballerina reader]

(I don’t actually know much about ballet so forgive me if things are incorrect!)

—————

Rich. Yandere who was pestered by his friend and his wife to join them at the opera house and enjoy a performance. The couple had asked him numerous times before but he’d always declined. He was a workaholic and didn’t have any other commitments, so there was no need to break his routine. Although he would never admit it to anyone- he barely does to himself- he often find himself imagining a different life; one where he had a wife to welcome him home every evening. Perhaps a few children too. There was no sound besides himself and the staff in his home, it would be so very nice to hear the noise of running feet and happy chatter echo through the empty halls.

Rich. Yandere who is lonely above all else. His family is dead and he has next to no friends- the only one he has is married and devote all his time to keep him company. He knows that he doesn’t have the best track-record of being the kindest person in the world, and he might not be the friendliest or the most out-going, still, doesn’t he deserve some love too?

Rich. Yandere who eventually give into his friends demand and goes with them to the opera. As they took their seats- the expensive and best ones, of course- his friends wife babble on about her favourite dancer. They were regulars there and had seen many performances. He simply sighed and leaned back into his seat, waiting for the show to begin. He could only hope that it’ll be somewhat enjoyable since he doesn’t like wasting his time.

Rich. Yandere who was prepared for it to be a dreadful 3 hours, rubbing his eyes and suffering from lack of blood-flow in his legs. Oh how wrong he was. Instantly his gaze zoomed into you as soon as you stepped forward from behind the curtain. You were so beautiful and you moved your body gracefully to the music. It was magical. While he knew close to nothing about ballet, he knew that the point of it were for the women to look like they’re floating, and it’s exactly what you were doing.

Rich. Yandere who is instantly enamoured with you. As someone who’s never felt love this was all a brand new experience for him. He asked his friend and his wife if they knew who you were, since they frequent the opera so much. And turns out the wife did know who you were; you were her favourite after all. Rich. Yandere was never close with her or particularly liked her even, but he had to give it to her: she has excellent taste in performers.

Rich. Yandere who starts looking up information regarding you. It’s be your name, age, background, family, where you went to school and where you live. Everything. He also begins donating a lot of money to the opera house. In a short amount of time he’s become their nr.1 funder. The managers and owners are ecstatic at the news! They ask why he’s so generous and he simply answers that he loves culture and thinks it’s important it doesn’t disappear. Then, they wonder if there is anything they can do for him return, to which he smiles in response.

“Well, I do suppose there is one dancer I would be delighted to meet in person.”

Rich. Yandere who you feel uncomfortable around. He is so strange. You were just a normal ballerina, a dancer, no better or worse than anyone before your time. That’s why you can’t fathom the interest this wealthy man has taken in you. You two came form completely different worlds! But what can you do when your bosses not-so-gently urge you to see this man alone? You dont have any other skills and can’t apply to another job if you get fired.

Rich. Yandere who is determined to make you fall for him the way he has fallen for you. He’ll take care of you, love you and protect you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. He will do anything for his love.

“Don’t be scared, just keep on dancing, my little dancer.”

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euphoricimagination · 2 years ago

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𝓗𝓪𝓲𝓴𝔂𝓾𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓼 𝓶𝓮𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓹𝓲𝓬𝓴-𝓶𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 - Part 2

Feat. Aoba Johsai & Fukurodani

Premise: You had to do something else for a week and a half, leaving the boys alone for that period. Although they told the coaches that they could survive without you, the coaches ask a girl to help them out instead. They weren’t particularly excited, which got worse the more they spent time with her

Aoba Johsai

Since Seijoh’s volleyball club was very popular among the students, the coach had no problems in looking for someone to be there while you weren’t

In fact, the coach found two, mostly because there were a lot of duties during that week

Unnecessary in the eyes of the team, they were fine before you, they don’t need two of them now

Not even a day passed when the team were dreading this decision; not only they were Oikawa fans to begin with, but they were also annoying

Even Oikawa couldn’t find joy in this situation

The normally heartthrob of the team, the one that adores receiving attention, couldn’t stand them, missing your *playful* punches and scoldings

You luckily were able to hang out with them after their Sunday practice, when it had become a tradition to go to the nearest shopping mall to eat a meal as a team

So to surprise them, you went there without them, planning to raid their table

When you saw them walking into the food court you couldn’t help but giggle, one girl was holding the arm of a very disgusted Oikawa, while the other was clearly acting like a dude alongside an annoyed Iwaizumi, everyone else ignoring them

You started looking at the menus, deciding what to eat, ordering a burger and some fries

“Wow, you’re eating…that? Someone is not thinking about hot girls summer” you hear from your left, one of the girls looking at you as if you were committing a sin

“yeah I don’t care”

“That’s all you’re getting? I could not eat only that, I’m ordering like 6 burgers” another voice comes from your other side, the other girl was there too

“…ok” you say, starting to understand why the team was so fed up with them. The team looks mean, but they were never unnecessary rude

“can I have a salad? I wish I could eat..that, but I’m too worried about how I look, you know” the girl in your left says

“I just got done playing volleyball with the team, so I need like…6.000.000 calories, imagine only eating a salad” the other says, making you sigh

“I love your make up, by the way! It’s so…natural, I wish I had the confidence to not care about how I look on public, good for you!” the girl says with a sarcastic tone

“imagine even wearing make up every day and trying that hard, like I just roll out of bed an-”

“I don’t care about any of your thoughts, so shut up please” you say annoyed, you didn’t know if you were annoyed, uncomfortable or straight up angry, but before you could add anything else an arm wraps your shoulder

“Yn-chaan!” Oikawa squishes you

“Yn-san, you’re here!” Kindaichi exclaims, relief appearing on his face. Kunimi gets slightly closer to you, a move that means that he wants some type of affection, so you pat his head

“Y-you know her?” the princess type of girl asks, eyes wide

“She is our dear manager” Matsukawa adds, Hanamaki nodding with a smirk that only grew bigger when the girl shrieks

“H-her?! But she looks so weak! And I bet she doesn’t know shit about sports! Like.. she’s a girl!” the ‘tomboy’ girl says now

“don’t get too comfortable now, you were just a substitute for her, not the other way around. She is the best manager we could ever ask for” Oikawa says mockingly, hugging you tighter

“b-b-but…”

“you can leave now, we have our manager back, we don’t need you two here anymore” Iwaizumi ends the conversation, taking your tray with food as they all take you to the table

“I still have a few days that I can’t be there” you tell them once you were sitting

“we’ll manage” Iwaizumi says

“What Yn-chaan? Are you sure you aren’t missing this handsome face of mi-ouch!” Oikawa tries to say, but you punch him making the team laugh

You were at peace again

Fukurodani

Despite having another managers in their rooster, the coach decided to ask the manager of other team to help them out

After all the team is big, so another hand wouldn’t be bad

The team was nice, so they did try their best to make her feel welcome eve if it was for a week and a half

But she was making things hard

Washio tried to be a gentleman, but he ended up not interacting much with her

Konoha, in the other hand, was sarcastic, but she was either too dense or too delusional to realize

Akaashi tried to be understanding, but even he was starting to get tired of it

And Bokuto, even with his loud and extroverted personality, ended up just trying to avoid her

When you came back, you had the *amazing* opportunity to meet her first hand, right after entering the gym

What the guys have told you wasn’t particularly encouraging, yet you still wanted to give her a fair shot

“Why are you looking at me? It’s just a knee brace, you never seen something like this?” she tells you, before you could even say hi

“well, hi, nice to meet you too”

“So…you are the manager? The one that I’m replacing? Well, of course you don’t know what this is, since you don’t play any sports”

“well, before I kinda did some cheerleading, but it wasn't for me so I joined this idiots and…”

“exactly! Cheerleading isn’t a sport! Gosh, how are you even the manager of this team”

“Yn!!” Bokuto enters the gym, hugging you tightly as he spins around. Akaashi was behind, who gives you a smile

“If you were wondering! I got injured by playing football…and then basketball and then volleyball with the boys, remember that Bokuto?!”

“eh..nope” bokuto answers confused

“Well me neither”

“anyways! I’m back on the team, so thank you for…well, being here. I’ll take care of it from here on out…unless the guys want you to stay..?” you say

“NO!” a collective answer came in, way too quickly. You resisted a laugh

“well, that settles it, good luck with your knee brace” you push her out softly, a grunt coming from her

“Thank god you’re back Yn-chan” Akaashi tells you, the team patting your head lovingly

“we should celebrate! After practice lets go to eat!” Bokuto adds

“okay! Bokuto is paying!” Konoha says, going to the court to start practicing

You see bokuto whine as he goes too, everyone joining while making fun of the owl boy.

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finelinevogue · 5 months ago

Text

i’m right here

summary - you’re constantly worried about Aaron after a dreadful attack

pairing - aaron hotchner x pregnant!reader

word count - ~1k

You were a little bit emotional to say the least.

If you were to perfectly describe it; You felt a wreck. You were sad and insecure, but you were also hopeful and happy. You were anxious and upset, but you were also relaxed and safe. You were worried and scared, but you were also comfortable and okay.

Feelings were already a lot to deal with, but add in a pregnancy and your emotional baggage will become ten times worse.

Like now, for example.

You felt so warm and safe in bed with your husband, but you were also so damn anxious and sad.

You stared at the wall as you slept on your side, tiny tears dripping from the corners of your eyes.

The room was warm and the bed was comfortable. Aaron was tucked in safely on the other side of the bed. You had started the night with Aaron right behind you, cuddling you like he always does, but he ha drifted away in the night and you really missed him.

He was 20 centimetres away and you missed him.

You looked at the picture on your nightstand. It was a picture of Aaron and Jack, framed in a batman themed frame because that’s what Jack had picked out.

It was taken only weeks before Aaron had been stabbed 9 times, alone, in his apartment, around the early stages of your relationship with him.

2 years on and the incident still scares you.

You blew out a short breath, blinking back the tears, when you felt Aaron’s hand come around your waist. His body slid right back up against yours and his chin rested on your shoulder, but not before leaving a kiss there.

“I’m right here.” He whispered, making your tears spill even more.

Your hand came to rest upon his hand that was on your stomach, stroking calming lines across your swollen belly.

You couldn’t find the words to reply.

“You know, I was just dreaming about you.”

You swallowed back the tears with a smile, rolling your eyes at his silliness. Whatever he was doing was working though.

“Pretty sure I dreamt you were a pirate or something.”

You chuckled at that, thinking that he was going to make up some really lovely dream story but remind you there was nothing better than having the real version of you right there in his arms. Instead he was honest about how he was still dreaming about you as a pirate and had been ever since you dressed as a pirate for halloween.

“You, like always, were on my mind,” Aaron kissed your shoulder again, “But what’s on yours?”

You shook your head, “Nothing good.”

Aaron’s other arm snook underneath your body so he could help carefully turn you around in his hold.

His heart broke a little when he saw how teary and puffy your eyes were. You had clearly been upset for a while but hadn’t wanted to bother him.

“Y/N…” He whispered, cupping a hand on your cheek and wiping your tears. “Talk to me.”

His brows furrowed like he was angry at whatever, or whoever, had made you sad. He had felt ridiculously overprotective ever since he had found out you were pregnant and seeing you cry was the worse sin there was.

“You’re here.” You said softly.

Aaron nodded carefully.

Your hand slowly moved underneath his pyjama t-shirt and traced over the jagged edges of his scars. You knew exactly where each of them were on his chest and you move efficiently between them to count them all again.

Aaron let you do what you needed to do.

After the events of that fateful need 2 years ago, you and Aaron had gone to therapy together to talk through it all. Aaron had found out there that you needed to touch the scars from time-to-time to make sure that they were all sealed and healed. You needed a physical reminder that he was okay now.

If anyone else touched him the way you were then he would feel so uncomfortable and exposed. With you, he felt safe and grounded.

“You need to try and sleep. Get some rest, before trouble comes.” Aaron suggested.

“I c-can’t.”

“Why, sweetheart?”

“In case he comes back. I need to keep you safe.” You said.

“Y/N.” Aaron’s frown softened, finally understanding the reason for your upset.

You were so worried about something bad happening again that it was keeping you up. Aaron needed as much rest as possible with such a stressful job, so you decided you’d take charge of night-watch.

“I need to. I can’t…. I…” You were getting yourself worked up again.

“Look at me.” Aaron’s voice forced you to look his way, “I am right here. Jack is next door. We’re all here and we’re all safe, that much I can promise you.”

“But…” You hiccuped.

Aaron shook his head, “We’re okay. We got the bad guy, we always do.”

“I just.. I keep thinking how alone you must’ve felt…” You cried, “A-and I was out at a-a bar.”

Aaron smiled at you.

“I wasn’t alone.” Aaron picked up your hand gently and rested it over his heart, “You were right here. So was Jack. You both got me through it - all of it.”

You gave out another cry and Aaron knew then that you would be okay, you just needed to understand that he was here now and he was okay.

He brought you closer to him, tucking your head beneath his chin and holding you close against him. He made sure there was room for your bump between you both and cradled you tight.

“I’m right here. I’m safe.” Aaron repeated mindless phrases to you to remind you of the present.

He was okay. You and Jack were okay. You’d all be okay in the end.

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch angst

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year ago

Text

Brother's Best Friend - Part 12

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Trying to get back into these two. Did we miss them?

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: 2600+

Part 1 | Masterlist

“So…” Jake pauses and purses his lips to suppress a mischievous smile. “When did you start liking me?”

You look down at your lap where his head has been resting for the last five minutes. “Did I tell you I like you?”

Jake meets your gaze and snorts. He reaches up to take your hand off the keyboard of your laptop and brings it down over his chest. “Indirectly,” he admits.

You roll your eyes, recalling when you had expressed to Bradley – in Jake’s presence – how ‘your guy’ makes you feel. You pull your hand out of his grasp and look back up at the screen in front of you. “I have to work, Jake.”

“You’re too hardworking,” Jake responds with a whine.

You shake your head with a grin. “Such a dreadful habit, I know. I’m working on it – wait. Damn, I see what you mean –”

Jake starts chuckling and his head tickles your bare thighs. “You’re so fucking cute.”

You press your lips together as your smile broadens. “When did you start liking me?” you ask.

Jake releases a heavy sigh and sits up. “Alright, enough chitchat. Get to work.”

You watch him rise to his feet and make his way into the kitchen, curious why he so abruptly decided to change the subject. “Got any plans this weekend?” you ask casually, wondering if he’ll finally ask you out on a date. The two of you have been sneaking around for a while, but your only outings together have been with Bradley, so you couldn’t even hold hands. Thus far, you’ve assumed that Jake is just waiting for the right moment to speak with Bradley before the two of you make your relationship official but, as time goes on, you become increasingly skeptical that Jake actually intends to come clean.

Jake shrugs. “Not really. Just hangin’ with your bro.”

You try your best not to frown. “Sounds fun.”

Jake walks back over to you and sets a bowl of strawberries on the table by your laptop. You glance up at him inquisitively and he responds with, “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

You give him a smile. “Neither have you.”

He nods. “Which is how I know you’re hungry.”

“Thanks,” you say. “As soon as I’m through with this part, I’ll move all this shit and we can have some lunch.” You gesture at the pile of literature currently cluttering your workspace.

Jake takes a seat adjacent to you at the table and lets out another sigh. “I don’t know,” he says.

You shift your gaze from your computer to look in his direction. “Don’t know what? If you want lunch?” You pick up a strawberry and pop it into your mouth.

Jake is observing you carefully and you stop chewing because the attention makes you uncomfortable. “I don’t know when…” he says, pausing as though he isn’t sure how to continue. “When, uh… I don’t know at what point” – he exhales sharply – “I have no clue when I f – when I started to see you as more than just Bradley’s sister. As more than a friend.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, your mouth still full of half-chewed strawberry.

“I think I just realized, at one point, that I’d rather spend time with you than with anyone else,” he admits.

You finish chewing awkwardly before responding with, “Huh.”

Jake stares at you expectantly, as though you should have something to add.

But you’re not really sure what to say. You’ve been crushing on Jake for an embarrassingly long time and he does not have clearance for that kind of classified intel, especially since his interest in you is far more recent. What does he want, anyway? A pat on the back for finally figuring it out?

“Your turn,” he says, clearing his throat and leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence.

You purse your lips as though you’re in thought. “Not sure,” you say vaguely.

Jake narrows his eyes. “Not sure? Or don’t want to say?”

You meet his gaze tentatively. “I probably liked you before you liked me.”

Jake watches you with a slight grin. “In that case, you were very good at hiding it.”

…

You arrive at the pub already slightly tipsy after pre-drinking at your friend’s house. In fact, you’re drunk enough to not give two shits that Jake has, once again, decided to spend his Saturday night with Bradley. This time, he didn’t even invite you along.

Once inside, you head straight for the bar; no sense in wasting time waiting for a table. You grab a drink and take a look around the crowded establishment. That’s when you see him.

Jake fucking Seresin is sitting at a table near the back – not with your brother. You stare at him – and his female companion – in horror for a few moments, letting the scene sink in. Wondering if you’re in the wrong for being shocked. Are the two of you even exclusive? This has never actually been discussed. But one thing is certain: Jake lied, which makes you sick to your stomach.

You slide off your barstool and, cocktail in hand, you make your way to the little table in the back where your supposed boyfriend – or whatever he is – sits entertaining another woman. It’s not long before Jake notices your presence because you’re making quite a spectacle on your way over as you furiously skirt every person in your path.

Jake looks uncomfortable and that satisfies you greatly. “Hey,” he says when you arrive.

You gape at him. “Hey?” you exclaim in outrage.

“Uh,” Jake stalls for a moment. He turns to his date and says, “This is Bradley’s sister.”

The woman opposite Jake smiles at you but you’re too busy glaring at Jake to acknowledge her. “That’s all you want to say about me?”

Jake watches you pointedly. “What else do you want me to say about you?” He looks back at his date and lets out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Seresin?” you shriek, slamming your stemmed glass onto their table so aggressively that your sour apple martini splashes over the rim.

Jake jerks back to avoid getting wet and then looks up at you in alarm. “What’s the matter with you?”

You shake your head at him in disappointment and then turn abruptly to leave. You expect Jake to grab your hand, or follow you out, but he does neither. In fact, you make it all the way back to the bar before you realize that Jake is not even looking in your direction. You see him laughing together with his female friend, as though they both just witnessed something absurd and worthy of repeating in the future for a good chuckle.

“Hey, isn’t that your brother’s aviator buddy?” your friend says, nodding toward the back of the pub.

You roll your eyes and then turn toward the bar, realizing you left your drink at Jake’s table.

“He’s kind of hot,” you friend continues. “But he’s got fuckboy written all over him.”

You close your eyes and sigh. You have nobody to blame but yourself. You know Jake. What in the world made you think he would become a different person if he were with you?

…

The following day, you wake up past noon with a debilitating migraine. You hear Bradley and Jake’s voices drift up from the kitchen and groan. You’re not in the mood to face Jake after the events of the previous evening. You ended up going home shortly after confronting him and you have no idea where he ended up. Probably in bed, and probably not alone.

You get dressed unhurriedly, dizzy from the pain and, on your way downstairs, you grip the banister tightly just in case. The kitchen is excruciatingly bright, and you cringe upon entering, shielding your face from the open window like a vampire.

“Oh, hey sleepyhead!” your brother greets you.

You grunt in response and head straight for the coffee pot. “Is this fresh?” you ask.

“Nope!” Bradley replies cheerily.

You pour yourself a mug anyway and put it in the microwave, turning to face the two of them while your coffee warms.

Jake meets your gaze with a stoic expression.

“How was your night?” Bradley asks with a grin, clearly seeing that you’re hungover.

“Fine,” you say monotonously.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “It’s the enthusiasm for me,” he says with a smirk, looking over at Jake.

Jake, however, ignores him and grabs his jacket from the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “You ’bout ready, Bradshaw? I ain’t got all day.”

“Alright, alright,” Bradley says. “Let me get my stuff.”

Bradley jogs over to the staircase and runs up to grab his duffel bag. Meanwhile, you are deliberately avoiding Jake’s gaze as you lean your back into the kitchen counter. Jake stuffs his hands into his pockets and is also not looking at you. When Bradley returns a few minutes later, disrupting the silence with a melodic whistling, the two of you have not moved an inch from where you’d been standing when he left. Even though the microwave has beeped at you twice.

“What’s with you two?” he asks, pausing in the doorway.

“Nothing,” Jake responds curtly. “Let’s go.”

Bradley glances between the two of you. “Okay,” he says slowly, his gaze lingering on you in particular. “See you later, sis,” he says.

You wave a distracted hand in his direction and head for the couch with your coffee, nearly bumping into Jake as you cross paths because neither of you is looking at the other.

“Sorry,” Jake mutters, stepping aside to let you pass. His hand goes up instinctively to guide you but he catches himself before letting it rest on your arm.

“It’s fine,” you say, wavering slightly on the spot. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and press a couple of fingers into your temple.

“You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows converging as he tries to catch your gaze.

“I said I’m fine.” You sigh, trying to walk around him.

“Seresin, you coming, or what?” Bradley calls from the foyer.

Jake hesitates as you finally pass him, and then yells back. “I’ll meet you there!”

Bradley waits a moment as though he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on. Then you hear the front door open and Bradley shout, “Don’t be late!” as he exits the house.

Jake trails after you into the living room and, when you lower yourself onto the couch, he crouches down in front of you, placing a hand on your knee. “Migraine?” he asks.

You nod slowly so as not to exacerbate the pain.

Jake’s hand gives your leg a soft squeeze. “Have you eaten?”

You cringe. “Please don’t talk to me about food right now,” you beg.

“Did you take anything?”

You shake your head. “I’m out.”

Jake gets to his feet. “I’ll go pick up some meds for you,” he says.

You glance up at him miserably. “You’re going to be late.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds, already on his way out.

…

Jake returns not ten minutes later with your medication and a bag full of snacks. “I heard dark chocolate is good for migraines,” he says, holding out a block for you as you swallow your pills.

“I’m not hungry, Jake,” you say weakly, closing your eyes and lying back down on the couch.

Jake sighs, sitting down on the floor beside you and starting to unwrap the chocolate. “You need to eat something,” he says, breaking off a piece. “I also have gummy worms and popcorn.”

You open your eyes. “I love gummy worms,” you whisper.

Jake grins. “I know,” he whispers back.

You take the chocolate square from his hand and he busies himself with opening the bag of gummy worms while you let the chocolate melt in your mouth. A moment later, he hands you a gummy worm and you stick it between your teeth and bite. “Oh my god, it’s so good,” you moan. The motion of chewing helps alleviate some of the pain in your temple and you sigh blissfully, closing your eyes.

Jake leans his back into the wall adjacent the couch and pops a gummy worm into his mouth. For a while, the two of you sit in silence. Then, he says, “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you say.

Jake shakes his head and you can sense his irritation without even looking at him. “This isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.”

You turn to give him a flat look. “Would you trust you, Seresin?”

Jake squares his jaw. “I have never given you a reason not to trust me.”

“You lied to me! You said you were meeting Bradley!”

“I was! He was running late.”

You watch him sourly. “And you just happened to pick up a girl while you were waiting?”

Jake returns your bitter glare. “Is that actually what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think,” you say, sitting upright to look him in the eye. “You weren't exactly forthcoming with an explanation.”

Jake sets the gummy worms on the couch and gets to his feet. “The girl was there for Bradley. He was running late. End of story.”

“You couldn’t tell me that yesterday?”

“She’s seeing Bradley! And he doesn’t know about us. It’s not like I can say, ‘Oh, by the way, I’m actually dating your boyfriend’s little sister and that’s why she’s acting like a nutcase. Brb.’”

You fold your arms, sulking. Did you consider the possibility that the woman Jake was sitting with wasn’t his date? Briefly. But you were already annoyed with Jake and that, combined with your less than sober state, was apparently a recipe for disaster. “I guess I don’t trust you,” you say with a shrug, even though this statement isn’t altogether true.

Jake places his hands on his hips, exhaling slowly. “Why?” he asks, sounding exasperated.

You stay silent and continue to brood.

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and grimaces as though this conversation is wearing him out. Then, he lets out another sigh and crouches before you again, trying to catch your gaze as he places his hands in your lap, palms up. “Why?” he asks calmly, waiting for you to join hands with him.

You do. “Well, why would I?” you say quietly, hesitating before you continue. “What is this, even? What are we? Do you know? Because I don’t.”

Jake’s eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, why haven’t you told Bradley yet? Is it because you’re not sure you want to make this official? Is it because it’s just a fling so why bother?” You cringe inwardly, hating how insecure you sound.

Jake stares at you in wonder, as though this line of thinking has never even crossed his mind.

“Like, are we even exclusive?”

Jake’s eyes widen and he blinks at you in awe. “We fucking better be,” he retorts, his hold on your hands tightening slightly.

“Well, how would I know that?” you exclaim.

Jake brings his hands up to his face and rubs his eyes. “Jesus fuck, how would you not know that?”

You scoff at him. “Because you’ve never once been in an exclusive relationship! Not while I’ve known you, anyway. Do you even know how?”

Jake’s hands slide down his face and stay over his mouth as he gapes at you. When his hands finally drop back into your lap, you can see that he’s got a small smile on his face. “You’ve got nothing to worry about,” he says finally.

You lower your gaze, not exactly comforted considering he still has not addressed your main concern: Bradley.

Jake stands up and pulls you up off the couch. He puts his arms around you and you rest your head against one of his giant shoulders, allowing him to cradle you lovingly.

“Why haven’t you told Bradley?” you mutter into his shirt.

Jake pulls away from you and runs a hand through his hair uneasily. “I’m scared, Baby B,” he admits. “I’m scared he’s gonna make me choose.”

Read Part 13

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

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pretzel-box · 11 months ago

Note

I love you writing! Could you do something with jealous Sebastian?

A joke too much

words: 1,3k

status: non-proof read

tags: established relationship, sebastian is jealous, random nameless guy to fill in for the plot, comfort & bad diving suit jokes

sebastian might be a bit ooc but that's nothing new lol

Despite all the horrible things that had happened so far in the drastic depths of the Hadal Blackside, you were more certain than ever that hardships are easier to overcome with a group of co-workers—or, in this case, familiar victims of the expendable project that Urbanshade had set up to retrieve a simple crystal.

One of those people was a fellow inmate who shared a punishment similar to yours, which made it easier to bond over the shared misery. Their sarcastic way of lightening up every dark situation was a refreshing change of pace amid all the horrors and violence that usually surrounded your group.

"I would have worked harder on my bikini body if I knew I’d end up here," the fellow prisoner joked, gesturing to the basic diving suit Urbanshade had issued as minimal equipment. The ill-fitting suit clung awkwardly to his frame, adding a touch of absurdity to an otherwise grim situation.

"Ah yes, these diving suits definitely highlight all the right curves," you hummed back in amusement, trying to suppress a grin.

The lighthearted banter continued as you both navigated the dim, foreboding corridors. The small, wholesome moments of connection were a welcome reprieve from the relentless tension. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep the growing dread at bay, if only for a little while.

Eventually, you found yourselves standing before Sebastian's signature vent—a crude entrance that had become all too familiar. With a quick push, the piece of metal flew across the dark floor, clattering noisily. From the other side, Sebastian's disinterested voice echoed in the narrow passage.

"Welcome back, you... and you," he muttered, his tone flat as his ear fins twitched slightly, betraying his annoyance. His gaze flicked to the person next to you, clearly sizing them up. "Another day, another poor selection of team members, huh? Shame I don’t sell good ones either."

His joke, dripping with sarcasm, didn’t go unnoticed, but it didn’t have the desired effect either. You could see the faint lines of irritation on his face when he noticed your unimpressed expression. His usual wit seemed to fall flat in the current circumstances, and even he seemed to sense it.

"Really, Sebastian?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Your new companion stifled a chuckle, but you could tell they were a bit wary of the sea-serpent’s mood.

Sebastian sighed, leaning back slightly as if trying to shake off the tension. "What can I say? The company down here isn’t exactly what I’d call inspiring," he retorted, though there was a hint of resignation in his voice. He glanced between you and your new friend, his irritation giving way to something softer, almost like concern and you didn't missed the way his tail moved, showing how bothered he actually is without speaking it out loud.

“Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to send us down here with nothing but these glorified wetsuits?” Your team mate joked trying to get the comfortable atmosphere from earlier back by continuing his joke, shaking his head in disbelief. “If I knew I’d be stuck in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean, I might’ve packed something a little more comfortable.”

You chuckled, trying to ease the palpable tension. “At least you’re making it work,” you said, playfully nudging him with your foot.

Sebastian’s ear fins twitched at the sound of your laughter, and own claw-like fingers digged themself uncomfortably into his own palm. Without a care, he spoke, his voice carrying a sharp edge. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of laughing at this situation.”

Your friend raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Sebastian’s mood. He pushed off the wall and took a step closer to you, a lighthearted smile still on his face. “Hey, we’re all just trying to make the best of it, right? No harm in keeping things a little less... bleak.”

Sebastian finally faced him directly, his eyes locking onto your friend with an intensity that made the room feel even smaller. “If you’re so focused on keeping things light, maybe you should find somewhere else to do it.”

The words were laced with a possessiveness that took both you and your friend by surprise. The room fell into a heavy silence as Sebastian’s gaze shifted to you, his expression unreadable. “Or is this how you’d rather spend your time?”

You swallowed hard, sensing the unspoken conflict. “Sebastian, we’re all stuck in this together. We don’t have to turn on each other.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stuck together, sure. But don’t pretend like this is just another day at the office. We’re not exactly a team, are we?”

Your friend cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he was caught in the middle of something much deeper than he’d anticipated. “Look, maybe I should just... give you two some space,” he suggested, glancing between you and Sebastian.

Before you could respond, Sebastian stood up and slithered across the room, positioning himself between you and your friend, his tall frame blocking the view. “Yeah, maybe you should,” he said, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.

The air in the room was thick with tension as your friend hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Right. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later,” he mumbled before slipping out of the room by crawling back throug the vent behind him.

Once the two of you were alone, Sebastian didn’t move, standing with his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could feel the cold emanating from his body, but there was also something else—a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Sebastian,” you started softly, reaching out to touch his arm. “What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t turn around either. His voice was low when he finally spoke. “Because I’m tired of watching someone else take care of you when I’ve been the one keeping you alive all this time.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you suddenly understood the depth of his jealousy. It wasn’t just about the other guy—it was about everything you’d been through together, everything he’d done to protect you. He was scared of losing you, of not being enough and being replaced with someone you just met.

You stood up and stepped closer, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head against his back. “I know, Sebastian. I know you’ve always been there for me. And I’m grateful for that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension drained from his body. Slowly, he turned in your arms, his cool hands resting on your shoulders as he looked down at you, his expression softening. “I just... I can’t lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here.”

Sebastian’s gaze searched yours, and after a moment, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms and tail around you in a protective embrace. The coldness of his body was no longer unsettling; instead, it was a familiar comfort.

For a while, you just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of the room, the earlier tension dissolving into a peaceful silence. Finally, Sebastian pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his breath cool against your skin. “I didn’t mean to get so... possessive.”

You smiled gently, your hands resting on his chest. “It’s okay. Just... remember that we’re in this together. Both of us.“

Sebastian nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Sweetheart."

#sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace #sebastian solace x you #roblox pressure

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ch33z3grits · 3 months ago

Text

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut (f*ngering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, mentions of BDSM, mentions of org*es), dark romance, angst, manipulation, possessiveness/obsessiveness, mentions of Arson, mentions of violence, mentions of blood

word count: 12,535

a/n: y'all...Y'ALL!! I'm so so sorry for missing these last two weeks 😭😭 life been a lil overwhelming recently ngl, so I've been real distracted lately. But, I should be good going forward! Hope y'all like this chapter :) Also, also, thank you to all the kind people who reached out 🥹 thanks for checking in and leaving words of encouragement. And I'm editing this with like four days of sleep deprivation, so sorry for any mistakes!

Terry's song: All I Want is You-Miguel, J. Cole | Camille's song: Honesty-Pink Sweat$

Pt. Eight

Terry

Terry watched as Aston thrashed around as the security guards dragged him away, a man he assumed to be his father and Mr. DeWaterson following close behind. Onlookers watched in horror as they tried to make sense of what happened. The most senior partners of the firm began to pace around the venue frantically, trying to console potential donors and industry friends. But as everyone tried to return to normal, Aston’s screams reverberated off the walls, raw and frantic. As entertaining as his meltdown was, Terry couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. Aston’s thrashing, manic behavior was enough to make anyone uncomfortable, but what struck Terry most was the complete absence of control in Aston’s eyes—a wild, feral desperation that seemed beyond anything natural. It was so odd, Terry couldn’t even focus on the fact that he outed his true nature. Granted, it didn’t matter that he just told everyone in shouting distance that he was a vampire. His ramblings were so incoherent and all over the place, no one would assume that they were more than the delirious outbursts of someone unhinged. Aston sounded too deranged, too far gone for anyone to take him seriously. But as Terry watched him disappear down a hall, he knew, deep down, that the truth was far more complicated than simple drunkenness or madness.

Aston’s erratic behavior was much more than a random drunken episode. Sure, the sulfur he had ingested might have played a part in his frenzied state, but there was something more sinister at play. No, this was something deeper, something far more potent. This incident mirrored other times in Terry’s life where supernatural workings went wrong. Aston wasn’t merely intoxicated or out of control. He was under the intense, suffocating grip of a love spell. And not just any love spell. A spell powerful enough to bring even a supernatural creature to its knees. The thought made Terry’s stomach tighten, and a sharp exhale escaped his lips as his mind raced, locking onto the only person who could be arrogant and reckless enough to cast such a dangerous charm.

Stephanie. Of course, it had to be her. A thorn in his side since he stepped into Watkins & Grant. She was supposed to be a pawn, a temporary diversion, someone to give him easy access to Camille. In return, Terry would give her the attention she desperately craved, keep her entertained and satisfied—enough to keep her useful, but never to get too attached. That was the plan. But Stephanie, like plenty of other women in his past, had become consumed by him. She had become obsessed, her infatuation growing to an unhealthy intensity that was difficult for Terry to control. That obsession was more of a headache than it was worth, so Terry had created a plan that would get her out of his life once and for all. His generosity that week, his outward kindness towards her, had only been a means to an end, a carefully calculated move to draw her into a situation where she would be fired.

But Stephanie had used this night as an opportunity too. A spell, one potent enough for a vampire. And now, the aftermath was unfolding in front of him. Terry never imagined he would find himself thinking something like this, but in that moment, Terry was strangely grateful for Aston. Aston’s foolish attempt to poison him, as reckless and poorly executed as it was, had saved him from falling under Stephanie’s influence. Terry wouldn’t be making an ass of himself like Aston was since he was the intended target of the spell, but he would’ve lost control of himself and Stephanie would’ve been his sun, moon, and stars.

The idea of submitting to her demands, becoming obsessed with her like some lovesick puppy, made Terry’s jaw clench. But how did she get her hands on something like that? How did she know she would need something that powerful? Terry knew she was no witch, so she couldn’t have made it herself. So whoever did her work, did they know about him? Or did Stephanie know too? He needed to find out fast. And he needed to deal with her for even trying some shit like that on him. But, as always, there was someone far more important he needed to focus on.

His eyes drifted to Camille, who looked to be in a state of horrified dissociation as she leaned against her mother’s shoulder. He licked his lips in a desperate attempt to taste any residual of her lips, of her mouth. His whole body seemed to buzz from their exchange on the patio. He had to force himself to concentrate to keep his mind from dwelling on how she so easily melted into him. How sweet she sounded moaning into his mouth. She had kissed him… she had actually kissed him. He wanted to feel triumphant. At least, more than he did. But he could tell that the night for her was overshadowed by the psychotic episode they just witnessed. But episode be damned. Terry wasn’t going to let this night slip away like it was nothing. After the breakthrough they had experienced tonight, there was no way he was going to let her out of his sight, not without some sort of resolution. He couldn’t bear the idea of letting her leave without a conversation, without clearing the air. Slowly, he pushed himself away from the balcony and crossed the short distance to where Camille stood.

Her mother, ever watchful, stiffened slightly at his approach, her eyes narrowing with wariness. But Terry wasn’t going to be deterred. Not tonight. Not after everything.

He gently grasped Camille’s elbow, the contact light but firm enough to draw her attention away from the place where Aston was just standing. “Camille,” he called out. She startled, a tiny gasp escaping her lips, as if she’d been lost in thought, unaware of the world around her. Her eyes blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Oh, Terry,” she murmured, her voice quivering as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his torso in a sudden, almost desperate gesture. The action was unexpected, but Terry didn’t hesitate. He welcomed her, pulling her close, instinctively guiding her to rest her head against his chest.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered, her breath hitching as she pulled away just slightly, looking up at him through watery eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. All of those strange things he said about you. I just don’t know. I think he’s just a little…sick,” she hiccupped, her form trembling as she pressed herself tighter into him, seeking comfort.

He shushed her softly, a comforting hand stroking the back of her head, his thumb brushing against her hair in gently. “Camille, there’s no need to apologize. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your burden to carry.”

As she pulled back slightly, their eyes locked for a moment, the raw emotion in her gaze leaving him momentarily breathless. He fought the urge to lean in and kiss her again. He knew there would be plenty of time for that later. Instead, he forced himself to continue, his voice low and steady, “Do you want me to take you home?”

He heard a sharp intake of breath from behind them. Camille’s mother closed the distance between them and latched onto Camille’s arms, beginning to pull her away. Camille just wrapped herself tighter around him and Terry held onto her tighter. Camille’s mother glared up at him.

“That’s very thoughtful, sir, but I think you two have had enough time alone,” Camille’s mother chimed in, her voice dripping with disapproval. She looked to Camille, who refused to meet her gaze. “Come on Camille… let’s check and see if Aston is alright,” she added, her tone much more gentle.

Terry’s grip tightened even more, his expression hardening with quiet resolve. His eyes narrowed at the gesture, the tension in the air thickening. With a calm yet undeniable force, he responded, “Mrs. DeWaterson, Camille’s comfort is my priority. Don’t you think seeing him right now would be too much for her?” His words were laced with power, the Veil weaving through his tone like an invisible thread, an undercurrent of power that would not be ignored. Terry knew that she wouldn’t be able to refuse his suggestion.

The woman blinked a few times, as if momentarily stunned by the lack of control over her mind as it scrambled to process his suggestion. The brief hesitation passed, and then, as if the words were her own natural response, she spoke. “You…you have a point.” She removed her hands from Camille and took a few steps back, still blinking with confusion. Terry felt a flicker of satisfaction, his body relaxing slightly. Good. Now, leave us be.

He watched as her eye twitched, fighting against his command. “Camille, please just remember everything at stake,” her voice quivered. Terry narrowed his eyes, doubling down on his influence over her. She stopped talking and turned sharply, her heels clicking against the floor with a speed and posture that seemed forced. Camille’s eyes tracked her slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion at her mother’s retreating form. But she didn’t voice any objection, didn’t make any move to stop her.

Terry gently cupped her chin in his hand, his touch tender but firm. He guided her face back to him, forcing her gaze to meet his again. Her eyes, still clouded with discomfort and exhaustion, softened as he spoke, his voice low and soothing. “You wanna go now? Get some rest?” His thumb brushed over her soft skin before he released his hold to let her move freely again.

She nodded as she unwound herself from his embrace. He noticed the way her shoulders drooped slightly, the weight of the night still pressing down on her, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes.

Terry stepped forward, taking her arm gently but with purpose, guiding her away from the scene, towards a quieter, less crowded exit. Most people still lingered near where Aston had been, and the space ahead of them was mostly empty, allowing them some privacy.

He slipped a hand into his suit jacket pocket and retrieved his phone. His fingers danced over the screen as he typed a quick message to his driver:

Leaving now. Be ready for two stops.

Just as he hit send, a message from Jabari flickered across his screen:

It’s done.

His lips curled into a slight smirk as he tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket.

He glanced down at Camille, her fingers still lightly gripping his forearm, the warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the cold, calculated thoughts racing through his mind. That same far away, worried look she had before had returned to her face. He gently placed his hand over hers, a subtle but deliberate action to bring her mind out of her worries and back to reality. Back to him.

“You not shutting down on me, are you Camille?” He asked as he pushed the door that led them to the rounded driveway of the venue. She softly chuckled, shooting him a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. “No Terry,” she said quietly. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

He sighed inwardly. He could feel the tension radiating from Camille, the way her mind was undoubtedly consumed with worry for Aston. She was probably replaying the scene in her head, trying to make sense of it all, wondering what could have pushed him to act the way he did. And then there was the question of Stephanie. Why he attacked her of all people. He could almost see the gears turning behind her eyes, the attempts to piece everything together, the deep concern, all wrapped in layers of confusion and helplessness.He shook his head lightly, trying to push his anger away. He could feel her thoughts swirling, even without her saying a word, and it made his stomach tighten. He placed his hand gently on the small of her back as they neared his private black car, his driver Lorenzo already propping the door open. The contact was meant to ground her, but it did little to calm the storm brewing inside him.

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his face clenching momentarily as a surge of possessive jealousy rose in his chest. The thought of her mind occupied by Aston, of her attention lingering on someone else, ignited something dark and primal inside him. I should’ve fucking killed him. A long time ago. His thoughts twisted.

But he forced himself to breathe. This wasn’t about Aston. This was about Camille, this was just her normal reaction. She was compassionate, too deeply at times, and her concern for others was part of who she was. It didn’t mean anything beyond that. It didn’t change the undeniable truth of what they had shared, what was still between them. The kiss, the connection they had, it was real. The feelings she had for him hadn’t disappeared just because she was worried about someone else, even if it stung.

He gently assisted her as she stepped into the Suburban, making sure her flowing gown didn’t snag or catch on anything as she moved. Once she was settled, he slid into the seat beside her. The driver swiftly closed the door with a quiet click, then hurried back to his seat, the hum of the engine coming to life with a soft roar.

Terry leaned forward, his fingers lightly brushing the blacked-out divider that separated the front of the vehicle from the back. With a soft click, he raised it, the sound of the mechanism muffled in the otherwise quiet car. As soon as the barrier was in place, sealing them away from the rest of the world, the silence between them was broken by soft, shaky sniffles. Terry turned his gaze to Camille, watching her struggle to hold back the tears that had already started to spill over. Her face was a mask of effort, but it was clear the floodgates were ready to burst.

Without saying a word, he reached out and gently pulled her into him, settling her into his lap. She stiffened for the briefest moment, caught off guard by his sudden movement, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her body sagged into his, and she let go. Her sobs hit him like a wave, deep and wracking, her shoulders trembling with the force of each breath she gasped for. Terry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, trying to offer her whatever comfort he could. He pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, willing her to feel safe in his arms. Her cries soaked into his chest, her tears staining the fabric of his shirt, but he didn’t mind.

His eyes closed, and he let out a deep sigh, pushing down the ache that rose in his own chest. It was unbearable to see her like this, so broken and upset. But at the same time, something inside him swelled with gratitude, because in this raw moment, she was trusting him enough to fall apart. She had found a space with him where she didn’t have to hold back.

As the sobs began to subside, Camille wiped her face with trembling hands, her movements hurried and self-conscious, as if she was trying to hide the emotions she couldn’t control. Her voice came out thick with emotion, a broken whisper. “I’m… I-I’m so sorry, Terry,” she choked out, the words trembling as she forced herself to calm down. “This is so inappropriate of me–”

Before she could continue, Terry gently cupped her face, his fingers brushing away the last of her tears. “Camille, baby,” he murmured softly, cutting her off, “please don’t apologize. Just let it all out. I don’t mind at all.” His voice was firm but tender, his eyes locking onto hers to add to his sincerity.

Camille

She wanted to feel embarrassed. She wanted to feel ashamed, to shrink into herself. But when she gazed up at Terry, his expression soft and free of judgment, only filled with genuine concern, she couldn’t shake the sense that there was nowhere else in the world she’d feel safer. His gaze felt like a quiet promise, one that made her feel sheltered, protected, even in her most vulnerable state. His words, gentle and soothing, wrapped around her like the warmest, most comforting blanket, filling the aching spaces within her.

But as much as she wanted to let herself be comforted by him, her mind couldn’t hold onto that peace for long. The tears kept coming, falling faster now, a steady stream that she couldn’t stop. She dropped her head, unable to look at him anymore, as though the simple act of hiding her face could somehow make her disappear. She just wanted to be invisible. She couldn’t bear the idea of him seeing her like this. Not her boss. Not the man she loved.

I can’t believe I’m crying like this in front of him, she thought, her heart aching at the vulnerability she was forced to reveal. He probably thinks I’m so dramatic...

The shame swelled as she imagined how Terry might be viewing her now. He already had to witness her fiancé’s ridiculous outbursts about him, absurd accusations thrown in front of his colleagues. He had seen her mother treat her like a stubborn child, dragging her and bossing her around like she owned her. He must think I’m just as dysfunctional as everything around me, she mused bitterly. A mess, just like everything else in my life.

Her humiliation grew. Camille tried to push herself off his lap, to get away from the intense vulnerability she was drowning in. But Terry’s grip didn’t falter. His hold on her was firm, steady, unyielding. Even as she tried to pull away, pulled her chin to face him. The movement was soft but insistent, coaxing her to meet his eyes despite her desperate urge to look away.

She shut her eyes tightly, fighting the pull of his gaze, afraid of what she might see reflected in them. His eyes felt like they could strip her bare, unravel her even more. She couldn’t look. She couldn’t bear to be seen. But still, she could feel him, his presence, drawing her in, not letting her hide from him.

“I’m sorr–” Camille started to speak, but her words were cut off by a kiss. Deep, tender, and so unexpected that her eyes flew open in surprise. But as Terry’s lips pressed against hers with gentle insistence, her eyelids fluttered, and the kiss deepened. A wave of heat pooled in the pit of her stomach, radiating outward to every part of her body. Her intimate areas throbbed with a sudden, overwhelming need, a sharp pang of anticipation that made it hard to think. Every nerve seemed to hum with the connection, her pulse quickening as his kiss lingered, soft but searing with unspoken desire.

After what felt like an eternity, Terry slowly pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a quiet reluctance. He rested his forehead against hers, breathing softly, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. It was as if time had momentarily stopped, and they were the only two people in the world.

“Camille, please don’t apologize,” Terry murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hand reached up to caress her cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through her body. “I deeply care about you. I’m drawn to you in ways I can’t fully explain.” His words were sincere.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her jaw, and she felt a shiver of warmth spread through her. “I know tonight’s been heavy for you, and I don’t want to brush past that, but…” He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing hers. “Nothing that happened tonight was your fault.”

Everything fell away and they simply looked into each other’s eyes, as if speaking without words. But Camille couldn’t hold his gaze for long. Her eyes flickered away, finding the window, her thoughts spiraling.

“Still…” she began, her voice shaking with self-doubt. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was unaccepta–”

But Terry’s deep chuckle interrupted her, full of warmth and amusement. Her eyes returned to his. “I kissed you back, didn’t I?” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you how I really feel about you, right?”

Camille opened her mouth to rebuttal but the words never came. And they didn’t need to because Terry continued.

“Like I said, I know tonight’s been a lot for you. But don’t beat yourself up about anything that happened. Especially not kissing me. I’m grateful that you did,” he said. He gave her a sheepish smile, his eyes soft but filled with something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name. She just stared back at him, her expression a mix of surprise and confusion, her mind struggling to process everything.

“But… what about Stephanie?” Camille asked, her voice soft but laced with disbelief. She felt him tense beneath her. His eyes narrowed, and she could feel the shift in the energy around them as his expression turned more serious.

“Why would she tell me she’s your girlfriend if that’s not true?” she pressed, her gaze searching his, trying to find something—anything.

Terry’s face hardened, and he dropped his hand from her face, the softness of his earlier touch vanishing. He turned her to face him, as much as the confines of her dress allowed, her body shifting in his lap.

“Stephanie is not, and never was, my girlfriend,” he said, each word deliberate, his tone unwavering. “She misunderstood our previous arrangement. It’s been over for months. She probably told you that out of jealousy.”

His words were firm, leaving no room for ambiguity, but still, Camille’s mind couldn't help but race. She nodded, as if to convince herself, knowing he had no reason to lie. Yet, a faint stir of doubt lingered in the back of her mind, a feeling that there was more to the story than he was revealing. But how could she blame him for that? He was a single man, and she… well, she wasn’t single herself.

Her thoughts immediately turned to Aston. The guilt crept in like a shadow, darkening her heart. I’m cheating on him, she thought, her stomach twisting. Yes, he deserves it, but… it still feels wrong.

The sharp edge of her guilt faded as she felt Terry’s soft lips brush against her forehead sweetly. “Come on,” he whispered, his voice soothing, “let’s not let you worry about anything else tonight.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out to her, the screen lit up with Apple Maps. “Let’s get you home.”

Camille bit her lip, taking the phone from him, and typed in Kali’s address, her fingers trembling slightly. She pressed ‘Go,’ and the directions began to echo through the car’s speakers, the driver easing the vehicle into motion.

For a few minutes, the only sound was the low hum of the engine and the soothing rhythm of Terry’s hand rubbing gentle circles into her thighs. Camille tried to let herself relax, but her mind wouldn’t stop churning. Am I being stupid? she wondered, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Is Terry lying about Stephanie? Is Aston going to be okay? The questions gnawed at her, biting into the fragile peace she’d momentarily found. Is this wrong? Her heart felt like it was being pulled in two directions.

“Camille.”

The sound of Terry’s voice sliced through her racing thoughts, his words grounding her once again. She looked back at him and what she saw made her heart skip. His eyes were serious, intense, but there was something soft in them too, something that made her breath catch.

“I’m serious about you,” he said sincerely. “I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, her mind momentarily frozen by the intensity of his confession. His gaze never wavered.

“Now, you don’t have to give me an answer right now,” he continued, his voice calm yet filled with purpose. “But we will be having a conversation about this. Sooner than later. Okay?”

Camille felt a flutter in her chest. She took a moment, letting the words sink in, before giving a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Okay–” As soon as the words left her mouth, his lips were on hers. She moaned as she lost herself in him. He kissed her with so much passion, so much fervor. And she returned his eagerness. He pulled away from her lips, moving down to her jaw and her neck.

“Terry,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering as his lips touched the most sensitive parts of her skin. He hummed softly in response, placing another kiss on her collarbone. He shifted her in his lap, his growing bulge pushing against her ass. She gasped as his tongue ran up the side of her neck. Her head fell back, giving him better access to her and making him smile against her skin.

His kisses on her neck and shoulders turned into slurps and bites. Camille had no doubt that his actions would leave behind hickies in some areas. But she couldn’t care less. She felt like she was in heaven.

She moaned a mixture of curses and his name as he moved lower down, going towards her cleavage. Terry let out a deep growl as he tugged down the top of her dress, exposing her full chest. In one swift motion, he pulled her off his lap and laid her back down against the cool leather seats. He hovered over her as he tugged the rest of the heavy gown down her body, casting it somewhere behind them as soon as it was past her heels.

He pulled back slightly, kneeling over her to take her in fully. She was almost completely naked, wearing nothing but black lace bikini-style underwear. He stared down at her, his eyes looking her up and down as they swirled with intensity. And it made her self-conscious. She moved to cover herself with her arms, but Terry grabbed them before she could.

“Don’t hide yourself from me. You’re too fucking beautiful for that,” he muttered, pulling her wrists together and pinning them above her. He kept them gripped in his left hand while his right hand traced her body lightly, making her breath hitch. He chuckled, leaning down to plant another deep kiss on her lips. But then he trailed light pecks down her chest, gripping her breast in his large hand, guiding her nipple into his mouth.

“Ooooh, fuck,” Camille cried out, arching into him. He chuckled, the sensation sending vibrations through her. His tongue dragged against the sensitive puff, his hand releasing her heavy tit. It slid down to her panties, tugging the material to the side. His fingers played with her slick folds as he leaned back to look down at her again.

“Damn,” he breathed, his thumb circling her clit in slow, teasing circles. “I got you this wet already, baby?” She just whined in response, her eyes rolling back as he slowly slipped a digit into her weeping hole. Once he was knuckle deep, he pulled back slightly before plunging back deeper into her depths, adding another finger to stretch her out.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered. “Can’t wait to feel this pretty ass pussy around me.” Moans tumbled past her lips as he continued to fuck her with his fingers as his thumb circled her clit. After a few moments, stars began to form behind Camille’s vision. “T-Terry,” she stuttered, feeling herself clenching around him.

“Just let go baby,” he purred. “Cum for me.” His fingers curled in a come hither motion, hitting a spot she didn’t even know she had. “Terry!” she shouted as her orgasm rippled through her. She writhed and twisted as her high stole her breath.

But Terry’s fingers continued to pump in and out of her at the same pace, making a squelching sound fill the air. She squirmed at the overstimulation, looking up at him with a pleading look. He gave her a smirk, slowly pulling the two thick fingers from her sex, bringing them to his mouth. She watched as he erotically licked his fingers clean, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Fucking delicious,” he growled, pulling at her panties lightly before snatching them off completely and tossing the fabric next to them. “Too sexy for your own good…” he trailed off as he released his grip on her wrists. But before Camille could reorient herself, he pulled her thighs farther apart, giving him easy access to her pussy. He licked his lips as he stared at her soaked folds, gently pushing her to the farthest end of the seat, lining her pussy up with his face. She closed her eyes in anticipation as she felt his breath hover above her quivering heat.

“Look at me,” he demanded, forcing her to meet his gaze again. She propped herself up slightly, watching as the ocean colored orbs stared back at her. Without another word, his tongue took a long drag across her pussy, making her shout as her toes curled. He groaned, the sensation making her legs shake and setting every nerve in her body on fire. His tongue flicked rapidly, his lips sucked furiously, and his mouth slurped expertly. She attempted to run from him, but his strong hands held her on place, forcing her to succumb to sweet torture. He would alternate between slow, deliberate licks that pulled low moans from her to quick slurps that made her mind buzz. And in between, his tongue would plunge into her hole, making her feel stuffed. It didn’t take long for her to come all over his tongue, making him grip her even harder.

But he didn’t stop. He pushed her past overstimulation, her cries becoming gasps as her third orgasm crashed over her. Only then did he finally show her some mercy. “That’s it princess,” he chuckled, placing sloppy kisses on her inner thighs. “Wet these seats up.”

She attempted to catch her breath, her mind too jumbled to do anything but let him do whatever he wanted to her.

But, something shifted.

He pulled back suddenly, as though jolted from a trance, his body flinching as he recoiled from her touch. It was as if an invisible force had snapped him out of a deep, intense daze. His movements were jerky as he quickly scooted back, distancing himself further, avoiding any form of eye contact. Camille sat up on her elbows, her brow furrowed in confusion. A cold knot of unease formed in her stomach as she looked at him. “Is everything alright?” she asked softly, her voice betraying a hint of concern as he shifted even further away.

He gave a quick nod, but his gaze never met hers. For a split second, Camille could have sworn his eyes flickered a different color. Was it red? But when she blinked, they were back to that familiar blue shade. She shook the thought away, convinced that she had imagined it.

“D-Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice catching in her throat, anxiety tightening around her chest like a vice. His eyes finally met hers again.

“No, baby, not at all,” he replied, his voice quiet but heavy with something she couldn’t place. “I just need to get you home,” he breathed, his words barely more than a whisper. Camille's mind raced, her instincts telling her that something was off, but she didn’t want to press him too hard. She decided, instead, to push forward, to be bold in the face of his retreat.

“I don’t have to go home…” she said, her voice trailing off into a teasing suggestion, a playful offer hanging in the air.

His eyes flickered over her body in a way that sent a chill down her spine, lust and hunger obvious in his expression. His chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths.

“We’re almost at your place,” he murmured, his voice tight, strained. “Come here.”

Camille, disappointed, slid towards him, her eyes searching his face for any hint of what was really going on. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and guided her naked body into it, pulling it around her shoulders with a gentleness that didn’t quite match the turmoil she felt radiating off of him.

“Terry,” she pleaded, her voice laced with worry and longing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Camille. I promise,” he said, the words smooth but hollow. There was an unmistakable strain in his voice and it made her heart drop into her stomach. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it, even as he tried to convince her otherwise.

He bent down to help her slip into her shoes, which must’ve fallen off as he had her legs spread wide, just as the car rolled to a stop. Camille’s gaze drifted toward the window, her eyes momentarily resting on the familiar shops lining the street outside of Kali’s apartment building. As the car door opened with a soft click, the driver stepped aside, allowing Terry to guide her out, his hand gently brushing against hers as they both stepped onto the curb.

“Can I walk you up?” he asked, his voice warm yet tight. He placed his hand on the small of her back, a touch meant to comfort, but Camille couldn’t ignore the tension in the air. She gave him a shy smile, trying to mask her disappointment.

“Sure, if you want,” she answered, her voice light but hesitant. She didn’t want to appear too eager, didn’t want to seem desperate. But the truth was, she didn’t want to leave his side, not just yet.

He flashed her a slight, reassuring smile, the kind that almost made her forget her unease. “Yes, ma’am. Lead the way.”

As they walked together through the lobby, Camille couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Terry wanted to spend more time with her at her place. The thought flickered through her mind, only to be dashed by the reality of the situation. Too bad this isn’t my place, she thought as they stepped into the elevator.

Her finger pressed the button to Kali’s floor as she sighed softly. What went wrong? They were enjoying themselves, weren’t they? At least, she thought they were. Her heart felt heavy, her mind racing to see if she had missed something. Missed a cue. But she couldn’t think of anything. She slumped a little as the elevator doors slid shut.

As they ascended, Camille couldn’t help but notice Terry’s foot tapping impatiently against the elevator floor, the sound almost too loud in the otherwise quiet space. He must be eager to get away from me, she thought, a pang of insecurity hitting her like a cold wave. She wrapped her fingers tighter around the fabric of his suit jacket, trying to steady herself.

The elevator’s chime rang out, breaking the silence. She quickly guided them out, her steps hurried as she led him toward Kali’s door, her pulse quickening with every step. Her embarrassment was crawling up her neck and into her cheeks. Getting inside was the only thing that she felt could make her feelings go away. She knocked a few times and prayed that Kali wasn’t wearing her headphones and drowning in her music.

Just as Camille’s heart began to sink with the fear of an unanswered door, it swung open with a swift motion.

“Cammieeee!” Kali’s voice rang out, bright and full of her signature infectious energy. “Oh, hi Terry…?” Her voice trailed off as if she asked a question.

“Hey, Kali,” Terry responded, his voice even more strained than before. Camille barely registered Kali’s excited chatter as she tried to slip past them, eager to retreat from the overwhelming moment. But before she could get any farther, Terry’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising force.

He pulled her back toward him, making her pulse race. He gripped the back of her neck and shamelessly plunged his tongue into her mouth. Her gasp was muffled by his tongue twisting against hers. She clenched her thighs together as she tasted herself on him, her mind drifting to what they had shared in the car. But the moment wasn’t long. He pulled away quickly, leaving her dazed.

“Goodnight, baby. We’ll talk later,” he murmured, his voice a mixture of sweetness and finality, before he turned abruptly, making his way back toward the elevators. His steps were longer, quicker than usual, as though something was pressing him to leave in a hurry. Camille watched him, her heart still thudding, until he disappeared around the corner.

A moment of silence lingered between Camille and Kali as they turned to face each other. Kali’s eyes were wide in surprise, her gaze flickering over Camille’s form as a soft pink hue spread across her caramel-toned cheeks. Kali’s eyes swept over Camille from head to toe, taking in her new attire. The elegant blue gown Camille had worn earlier was now nowhere to be found. Instead, she was swaddled in a men’s suit jacket, the fabric oversized and hanging off her shoulder.

Camille gave Kali an embarrassed smile. She’s going to want to hear everything, Camille thought. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to hide the flush creeping up her neck. “After you,” Kali said softly.

Camille stepped inside, the sound of the door clicking shut behind her feeling louder than it should have. She could feel Kali's gaze on her. Sharp, observant, like a hawk. But Camille pretended not to notice her best friend’s scrutiny. Instead, she caught her own reflection in the mirror near the entrance, and the sight made her freeze.

Her hairstyle was a chaotic mess, strands of hair falling loose and wild from where they had once been perfectly styled. Her lips were swollen and red, and most of her makeup had been smeared, leaving dark smudges under her eyes and across her cheeks. Her neck and collarbone were dotted with hickies, dark purple and unmistakable. The sight of them made her throat tighten and she quickly turned away, the image of herself only deepening her self-consciousness.

“Bitch,” Kali started, her voice intense but laced with amusement. “Are you really about to walk in here and not tell me what the hell happened tonight?”

Camille barely registered Kali’s words as they passed through one ear and out the other. Her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t help herself, her feet carrying her over to the window that faced the street. The timing was almost cruelly perfect. She saw Terry’s silhouette just as he hopped back into the car, his movements hurried as the driver closed the door behind him. Her chest tightened as she watched the car pull away.

A deep, heavy sigh escaped her lips as she stared out the window. Was I too forward? The question gnawed at her. Did I say the wrong thing? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to silence the doubts that swirled inside her. Did I do something that made him change his mind?

With a resigned breath, she stepped away from the window, her feet dragging as she turned back to face the living room. Kali stood there, her arms crossed. The silence between them was suffocating as she gave Camille a look that seemed to say, I know something happened. Now, spill. But Camille hesitated momentarily.

“Girl, did you hear me? What the hell happened?” Kali asked, settling into a plush chair. “You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked. You got this whole walk of shame look going on.”

Camille let out a soft chuckle at her friend’s bluntness but it quickly faded as she thought about how heavy tonight was. She sank into the seat across from Kali. For a moment, she stared at the floor, then sighed, looking up to meet Kali’s eager eyes.

“Tonight was… crazy,” Camille said, the words escaping her lips like a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She felt like she was still processing it all, the events spinning in her mind, impossible to organize.

Kali, never one to hold back, let out a giggle. “Obviously, babe!” Her voice was filled with mock surprise, but the sparkle in her eyes showed she was genuinely intrigued. “That man tonguing you down in front of me? And called you baby? I have to know how we got to this point.”

With a deep sigh, Camille began, recounting every detail of the chaotic night. She told Kali how she and Terry had shared that intense kiss on the balcony. She explained how Aston had exploded and lost control in front of everyone, his fury turning the night upside down. Camille’s words slowed as she described the moments with Terry in the car, how their conversation grew increasingly intimate, how vulnerable he seemed, how vulnerable she had felt, allowing him into spaces she hadn’t planned on sharing.

As she spoke, Kali was hanging onto every word, her gaze never wavering. She leaned forward, eyebrows raised, eyes wide with a mix of awe and curiosity. It was clear from her body language that Kali was fully invested in the story, living each moment with Camille.

“I mean, like I said, tonight was crazy,” Camille said, her voice trailing off at the end, the words almost lost in the haze of her thoughts. Her mind briefly wandered back to the car ride with Terry and how he practically devoured her. How his eyes watched her as she came on his tongue. Her pussy throbbed at the thought. The intensity of it left her breathless, her heart still thumping a little faster at the memory.

“But…” Camille faltered, her voice dropping to a quieter, almost hesitant tone. She wrung her hands nervously in her lap as the embarrassment crept up her neck. “I think I might have been too eager,” she murmured, her face flushing as the memory of her boldness with Terry hit her again. The way she had practically invited herself to his place, desperately trying to cling to the moment they were sharing. Her chest tightened at the thought, a knot of shame curling inside her.

Kali tilted her head to the side in confusion, a flicker of amusement passing through her expression before it shifted into genuine curiosity. “Huhh?” she asked, her voice soft, almost incredulous.

Camille sighed, sinking deeper into the chair’s cushion. “He probably thinks I’m a slut,” she muttered. She dropped her head into her hands. “I ruined what we had before it even got anywhere.”

Kali’s eyes widened in dramatic disbelief as she gasped. “Okay, wait. I love you, Cam, but you sound ridiculous right now,” she said, the words tumbling out with a mix of affection and exasperation. She threw her hands up, letting out an exaggerated sigh before rising from her seat in one fluid motion, her body language speaking volumes of her frustration.

With a confident stride, Kali made her way to the kitchen, the sound of her footsteps echoing lightly on the floor as she moved with purpose. She reached for a bottle of wine, her fingers curling around the neck of the dark glass like it was an extension of her own energy. With a sharp twist of her wrist, she popped the cork with a satisfying thwip before pouring the wine into two glasses, the deep red liquid swirling in the light. Her movements were quick, almost theatrical, as she spoke.

“That man,” Kali continued, her voice rising slightly, the words rolling off her tongue like a lecture she couldn’t wait to deliver, “not only got you back here, but he walked you all the way up and french kissed you to hell and back right in front of me! That’s not casual, Camille. That seems like he’s pretty damn interested to me.”

Camille’s eyes followed Kali as she carried the glasses back into the living room, her heart still fluttering. “You think so?” Camille asked, her voice soft, the words feeling like a tentative offering. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from Kali, watching as her friend set the glasses down, the dark wine shimmering in the low light.

Kali raised an eyebrow. She slid one of the glasses toward Camille, the stem of the glass cool and delicate between her fingers. “Cam, if that doesn’t scream interested, then I don’t know what does,” she said, her voice laced with a teasing certainty.

“And even if you came across too eager, tonight was a rough night, right? Terry likes you, he would give you some grace. And maybe you should be a little slutty. You deserve some dick, and you need to make that clear to him.”

Camille blinked, her mind slowly processing Kali’s words. Maybe I am being too hard on myself, she thought. Maybe I need to be clearer about what I want. She frowned as she absently reached for her clutch. But as her hand swept across the space beside her, her fingers met nothing but air.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and for a moment, she simply stared at the space where her clutch should have been. The feeling of something missing gnawed at her, unsettling in its suddenness. She sat up straighter, her mind flicking back through the events of the evening.

Wait a minute. Her heart skipped as the realization slowly crept in. She never placed her clutch next to her. In fact, she hadn’t brought it inside at all.

Camille’s mind raced, her thoughts spinning faster as she tried to piece together the fragments of the night. She could clearly picture the last time she saw it, lying innocently on the backseat floor of the black Suburban as her thighs sat on Terry’s shoulders. Its contents neatly arranged inside: her phone, her ID, her credit cards. Everything she needed to keep in sight.She leaned her head back as she realized her mistake. Fuck.

Terry

Terry’s voice cut through the silence of the car like a blade, low and menacing. “Lorenzo, if you don’t speed up this car, I will fucking eat you. No hesitation,” The growl in his words sent a shiver down the young supernatural’s spine, his fingers instinctively tightening around the steering wheel as he stole a quick, fearful glance at Terry through the rearview mirror. With trembling hands, he pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal, sending the car surging forward toward the destination Terry demanded as soon as he returned to the car.

The road and passing buildings blurred, but it wasn’t the journey that consumed Terry’s focus. It was the gnawing, insatiable hunger that clawed at him, burning like a fire that threatened to swallow him whole. His stomach churned painfully as the dark, overwhelming need for human blood swirled in his veins, a primal hunger writhing beneath his skin. Every second was a battle. Terry’s vision flickered as his eye color shifted back and forth. He could feel madness tugging at the edges of his consciousness, the urge to sink his fangs, and his cock, into the woman he had just dropped off pulling at his sanity. But he couldn’t go back. He wouldn’t go back.

His grip on his seat tightened, his claws ripping away the leather as he fought to keep himself in check, but his resolve was starting to fray at the edges. He had been fighting for what felt like eternity, but he couldn’t risk losing his composure. I’ve held on for this long, he thought, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. The thought of Camille flashed in his mind, a vivid image of her warmth, her scent, her pulse beneath his fingertips. Her naked body that she so willingly offered to him. The hunger intensified, his mouth pooling with saliva.

He shook his head, trying to reason with himself. I can’t feed from Camille again. Not now, he thought. There won’t be an excuse that I could use.

He continued to soothe himself as he thought back to the moment where everything had shifted. He was eating her pussy like it was his last fucking meal. She smelled divine and tasted even sweeter. And her moans? It was the most satisfying thing he ever heard in his life. And the way she came on his tongue… it nearly made him feral. He was tempted to take her straight to his penthouse and claim every inch of her until the sun rose. But he contained himself, pulling away to kiss the inside of her thighs to calm himself before he lost all control. But then, it happened. His canine nicked her flesh ever so slightly, and a drop of blood landed on his tongue. It didn’t take more than a second for him to realize he got a taste of her nectar. Smooth as the finest wine and sweet and rich like molasses. He knew he had to get her away from him. And fast.

He hated how confused and dejected she had looked. He knew she felt like he was casting her aside. And he despised how he had to turn her down when she suggestively asked to stay the night at his place.

Just as Terry was about to snap at Lorenzo, the car finally pulled in front of the destination. Red Rum. An exclusive BDSM playground in the heart of Houston that doubled as a space to supply vampires with Indulgences. The human members were aware of the existence of his kind and got off on being available for their consumption. The space was perfect for lust and bloodlust to intermingle. Although less popular than Crimson, and Terry didn’t have any ownership in it, Red Rum was useful to Terry during rare occasions like this.

Terry didn’t wait for Lorenzo to come to a complete stop. With a growl of impatience, he threw open the door, and stepped out of the vehicle, his dress shoes hitting the pavement with a solid thud as he strode toward the entrance with a predatory grace.

The bouncers at the door shifted, their eyes narrowing as they assessed him. But the moment recognition flickered across their faces, their expressions turned fearful. They stepped aside, clearing the path for him with the ease of men who knew better than to challenge someone like Terry.

He barely acknowledged them as he moved past, his gaze fixed on the door ahead. The hallway stretched out in front of him, long and brightly lit, the deep red of the lights casting an almost sinister glow.

His footsteps echoed off the polished floors, reverberating down the corridor.

At the end of the hall, a set of imposing double doors loomed. With a swift, violent motion, Terry pushed through them, the sound of the heavy wood slamming against the frame loud enough to be heard over the low hum from within.

The air was thick with the smell of sex and alcohol, moans of pleasure and screams of delight mingling with the sound of flogging and other types of play. But Terry didn’t even blink as his eyes swooped over the orgy unfolding before him. Instead, his eyes scanned for any stray wanderers. He felt a small hand grasp his bicep and he glanced down, his eyes meeting a short, fairly attractive woman wearing nothing but a collar with a leash who stared up at him with a warm, eager smile.

She will do, he thought to himself.

Lorenzo

Lorenzo paced outside of the car as he waited patiently for his terrifying but well paying client. Although he didn’t drive him often, Lorenzo knew the ins and outs of Terry Richmond’s reputation. And from that reputation, he learned three things. One, don’t waste his time. Two, don’t try to fuck him over. And three, keep your eyes off his women. Up until tonight, Lorenzo followed those three principles to the tee.

But when he saw the Indulgence that he brought back with him when he left his event… he couldn’t help but stare. She was gorgeous, and just his type. Dark skin, big titties, little waist. He would do anything to have someone like her to come home to every night. But he made sure Terry never caught his wandering eye. It’s not like he got to look at her long anyway. He kept the privacy barrier in the car closed. But he still got to enjoy her in his own way.

From the way she was moaning, Terry was tearing that ass up in the backseat. Lorenzo’s imagination ran wild as he beat himself off with one hand and drove with the other. He couldn’t help but think about how her face looked when she came. How she looked right before she hit her peak.

And when Terry dropped her off at her place, she looked like an angel who the devil fucked just right. Skin flushed, hair messy, wearing nothing but Terry’s suit jacket and some heels that perfectly complimented her long, shapely legs. He had fallen in love. Lorenzo’s heart raced as his thoughts circled back to her, the image of her lingering in his mind like a haunting melody he couldn’t shake. He paced in front of the luxury car, the cool night air nipping at his skin, but it did nothing to distract him. He knew it was wrong to keep thinking about her, especially after such a brief encounter. But it didn’t matter. His mind kept returning to her.

Suddenly, a soft trill cut through the silence. Lorenzo froze mid-step, his body tensing, and cocked his head to the side, trying to make sense of the sound. It came again, more insistent this time, drawing his attention to the backseat of the car. His eyes narrowed as he peered into the dimly lit interior, scanning the floor. There, partially obscured by the plush seats, was a small blue purse, its clasp slightly undone, and the corner of a cell phone peeking through. It had to be hers, he thought. She must’ve left it behind.

Lorenzo couldn’t resist. He opened the car door with a quiet click, sliding inside just enough to retrieve the bag. The phone had stopped ringing by the time he pulled it out, but the screen was still lit, showing several missed calls. His brows furrowed as he noticed the repeated name flashing on the screen: Houston Fire Department. A strange knot twisted in his gut, a flicker of concern mixed with confusion, but he didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he placed the phone back in the bag, his curiosity now burning hotter.

As his fingers brushed over the contents of the purse, they landed on something hard and plastic. His eyes flickered down to see a driver’s license. Glancing around quickly to make sure Terry hadn’t yet returned, Lorenzo pulled it out, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as he read the name that appeared in bold, printed letters: Camille DeWaterson.

The name rolled off his tongue as he stared at the photo on the ID, tracing its edges with a light touch. Her face stared back at him, soft, serene, and strikingly beautiful, captured in the flat simplicity of a driver’s license photo. For a moment, it felt as though she was there with him, her presence tangible in his hands as he caressed the thin plastic like it was the real thing. His breath caught in his throat, and he found himself lost in the simplicity of her face.

But before he could linger any longer, he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. His heart skipped, and panic surged through him. In a rush, he shoved the ID back into the purse, his hands shaking as he closed the bag with a quiet snap.

“What are you doing?” Terry’s voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing, making Lorenzo’s heart leap in his chest. He whipped around quickly, the adrenaline surging in his veins, his eyes wide with surprise and guilt.

Terry stood there, towering over him, his expression one of thinly veiled suspicion.

“Oh, sorry about that, sir,” Lorenzo stammered, his voice polite, the words tumbling out in a rush to cover his flustered state. He gestured toward the blue purse, which he still held in his hands, not having had time to set it down. “I... I heard something in the backseat and found this.”

Terry’s eyes dropped to the purse, and Lorenzo saw the brief flicker of recognition flash across Terry’s face. His posture stiffened. “Shit,” he muttered, grabbing it from him. He pulled out the phone and checked the notifications before his eyes met Lorenzo’s again. “Thanks for finding this. Let’s go, I got another stop to make.”

Lorenzo nodded, hurrying out of his way so Terry could slide into the car. But as he jogged back to the driver’s seat, Lorenzo wondered if Terry would really mind if his eyes lingered just a bit more on Ms. Camille.

Terry

Terry leaned his head against the headrest as his body hummed with satisfaction. His thirst was quenched and his balls were empty. Sure, it wasn’t under the most ideal circumstances, but it kept him from doing something he would regret. And maybe that slip up was for the best.

Although he didn’t want anything more than Camille in his bed tonight, Terry knew that his apartment wasn’t exactly “human-proof” at the moment. His love-drawing altar sat prominently in front of his bed, adorned with pictures of Camille. Pictures he had no business having.

And then there was his fridge, stocked full of blood bags courtesy of Elijah. He couldn’t risk Camille stumbling upon any of that. Sure, he could keep the bedroom activities in his living room. But there was no way he was going to make her leave right after. And her sharp eyes, too observant for her own good, might’ve caught a glimpse of something that would send her spiraling into confusion or fear. So dropping her at Kali’s place was for the best. Especially since it was the only place he could drop her too.

Terry’s mind lingered on the message from Jabari, the one he had received over an hour ago. The simple confirmation that Camille’s old apartment was gone, consumed by flames.

Since he had her phone, he hoped she wouldn’t find out about the fire right away. The thought of her being burdened with the knowledge of her past being lost was something he wanted to delay, at least for a little while. She deserved the peace of knowing nothing was wrong, even if it was a fragile illusion. She deserved to sleep through the night without the weight of a seemingly tragic fire pressing down on her. He would make sure of that, even if it meant shielding her from the truth for a few more days.

When the news finally broke, he would be ready. He would be there to hold her, to offer comfort, to tell her everything would be okay. He would be the rock she could lean on, her knight in shining armor, sweeping in with solutions for every problem she had. Problems that he had carefully orchestrated.

But right now, his thoughts shifted. He had something far more immediate to think about. The events of the gala replayed in his mind, twisting and turning, and he knew he had to get to the bottom of it. As Lorenzo drove him back toward the venue, Terry’s mind worked over the best way to approach it. Aston was irrelevant to him, justice for that nigga wasn’t worth his time. But Stephania’s actions? Now that was something Terry couldn’t overlook. How had she managed to slip that love potion into his drink without anyone noticing?

The venue had to be crawling with cameras, but the problem was that no one had likely paid attention to the footage yet. To them, it was just another night, another drunk man making a fool of himself. But Terry knew better. He knew there was something deeper at play here, and he was determined to find it.

Stephanie

Stephanie stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, scrutinizing every inch of her reflection. Her fingers traced the grooves of her lingerie, the red of the set complimenting her tan skin. She could still feel the lingering tremor of fear from the night before. Aston’s attack had been a brutal, terrifying experience that rattled her to the core. She just had never seen a man act like such a crazed animal before. But now, in the soft light of the morning, she allowed herself to focus on something else. There was a silver lining to the chaos.

Terry had reached out to her earlier, his message simple yet filled with a quiet urgency. He wanted to make sure she was okay. And he asked if he could come over. That simple question ignited something deep inside her, an unexpected spark of hope. He cares, she thought, buzzing with happiness. Maybe she didn’t need a love spell after all.

Of course, she had eagerly said yes. She’s been living for moments like this. Just times where she could be with him without her having to share his attention. She couldn’t afford to let any trace of yesterday’s pain show. Not when he was coming to see her.

For the past two hours, she’d been meticulously preparing herself, her hands working with practiced precision as she applied layer after layer of makeup, ensuring every stroke of mascara and brush of powder was flawless. She adjusted the tie on her robe, making sure enough of her was peaking through to remain tasteful but still inviting. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and she ran her fingers through it one last time, adding volume, making sure it looked effortlessly perfect.

As she took one last glance in the mirror, her breath caught in her throat as she studied her reflection. The woman staring back at her looked absolutely stunning. But of course she did. This was herself she was talking about. Terry wouldn’t be able to resist her. She would make sure that the memory of yesterday’s horrors was overshadowed by the undeniable pull between them.

She poured two glasses of wine, the rich, deep red liquid spilling smoothly. She lightly chastised herself, wishing she had some of the potion left. Just enough to add to his glass. But she quickly brushed off the thought. Tonight, if everything went according to plan, she’d have more than enough time to try again. The taste of success was already on the tip of her tongue.

Setting the wine glasses down on her kitchen table with careful precision, she looked around her living room. The atmosphere had to be just right. With a determined exhale, she moved to grab a lighter from the counter, her fingers steady as she flicked it and the flame burst to life. She moved from candle to candle, igniting them one by one. Soon, the room was bathed in soft, sultry light.

She shuddered as her mind conjured up all kinds of ways he might have his way with her. On her floor like last time? Or would it be her couch? What about the coffee table? She swooned as her mind went even further. Would he finally cum in her? Would he sink his fangs into her neck? Her panties grew damp with each passing thought.

Stephanie was jolted back to reality by a heavy knock on the door. A wave of excitement washed over her as she smiled to herself, the anticipation making her pulse quicken. She glanced at the mirror nearby, her reflection staring back at her as she subtly adjusted her hair, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She gave herself one last look, and then hurried to the door to swing it open.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes locked with Terry’s. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but exuding an effortless confidence. He was dressed simply. A white pullover that clung just enough to reveal the outline of his toned arms, gray sweatpants that hung loosely around his hips, and a subtle gold chain that caught the light with every small movement he made.

The combination of his casual attire and undeniable charisma left her momentarily speechless. But she quickly composed herself.

“Come on in,” she giggled, tracing his form with her eyes. He smirked, pushing himself off the doorframe to walk into her space. His cologne trailed behind him, making her eyes flutter as she breathed him in. She quickly followed after him and guided him to her kitchen table. “Wine already?” he asked as he sat down. “On a Sunday?” Stephanie just playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Terry. As if you’re some saint,” she said, her mind thinking about he had Camille in that parking lot. God, that was so fucking hot.

Terry just smirked, watching her intensely as she sat across from him. Stephanie felt confidence surge through her as she watched his reaction to her. She would be getting her way in no time.

“So,” he began, pushing his wine glass to the side. Her eyebrows furrowed at the action, but she listened as he continued. “How are you feeling? Were you able to sleep off what happened yesterday?” he asked, his voice soft.

Stephanie fake sniffled, hoping it would get some sympathy from him. She took a long dramatic sip of her wine before she responded. “Oh, Terry… I-I’m trying my best to stay grounded and not let Aston consume me. But it’s so hard, baby. I just wish you were here to help me through everything.” Instead of a sympathetic look, Terry just tilted his head, his smirk growing wider. Almost to the point that it looked sinister. Stephanie’s confidence faltered as she watched him lean forward slightly, propping his chin up with his hand.

“You’re so fucking funny, Stephanie. Do you know that?” Stephanie’s stomach dropped, blinking rapidly as she tried to understand what he just said. “E-Excuse me?”

Terry let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and amused, vibrating through the air. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something far darker as he leaned back with a casual ease, the lines of his body stretching in a way that seemed both effortless and intimidating. He raised his hands, slow and deliberate, and clapped them together three times, each clap sharp and resounding in the now-quiet room.

On the third clap, something almost otherworldly happened. The flames of every candle she had lit flickered violently, as if caught by an invisible gust of wind. And then, with a sudden, eerie finality, they were extinguished, leaving the room much darker. The once intimate space now felt suffocating.

Stephanie’s heart leapt into her throat, a wave of panic gripping her chest. She shot to her feet, her breath coming faster, her body instinctively tense as her eyes darted around the room.

Terry’s smirk only deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her flustered reaction. His voice was cool, almost mocking, as he repeated himself with slow, deliberate precision, “I said, you’re so fucking funny.” His gaze never left her, and there was something unsettling in the way his eyes seemed to pierce through the dimness. “You’re really sitting there, trying to make yourself seem like a victim,” he added, his words laced with a bite that sent a chill crawling down her spine.

It was as if Terry knew exactly how to dismantle her, piece by piece, with nothing more than a glance and a subtle shift in his tone. She could almost feel the coldness of his words wrapping around her, tightening with each breath she took.

Her eyes widened, nearly bulging from their sockets as she stared at him, her mind struggling to catch up with what he was saying. Was he mad at her? Was he somehow blaming her for everything that had happened?

Her voice trembled as she finally found the strength to speak, the words coming out in a shaky, breathless whisper. “Are you saying that what happened was my fault?” The question felt foreign on her tongue, an accusation she couldn’t quite comprehend. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to hold herself together. What was going on with him?

“Oh cut the bullshit, Stephanie. Whatever you tried to give me was passed on to Aston. Everything that happened was your fault,” Terry seethed, his expression darkening. Stephanie’s eye twitched. How the fuck did he figure that out?

She giggled lightly. It was an attempt to defuse the thick tension in the room. “Okay, Terry,” she breathed out, her voice lighter than it should’ve been. She raised her hands innocently, the gesture as much an offering of peace as it was a shield. “Let’s just calm down, alright?”

Terry’s smile returned, though this time it didn’t reach his eyes. Without breaking his gaze, he slowly rose from his seat. Each step he took towards her was measured, predatory. “Oh, I’m very calm,” he replied, his voice smooth with a hint of something dark. “But let’s get some things straight.”

Stephanie instinctively took a step back, putting distance between them, but Terry matched her movements, his long stride closing the gap with unnerving precision.

“After today,” Terry continued, his voice low and dangerous, “I don’t ever want to see you again.” The words hit her like a slap to the face, cold and final. “So I suggest you leave the firm. Use whatever money Grant has given you over the years and disappear.”

Stephanie’s jaw went slack. He couldn’t be serious. She could feel the heat of anger rising in her chest. How dare he, how dare he, think he could control her, order her around? The nerve of him testing her in such a way. No matter how powerful he was, she wouldn’t stand for it.

Her body tensed, filling with fury. She lifted her chin, her voice steady. “Watch the way you talk to me, Terry,” she retorted. “I know more about you than you know.”

The words hung in the air, loaded with a threat that she hoped landed with the force she intended. She saw the flicker of something in Terry’s eyes, but whatever it was, he didn’t flinch. He just scoffed like he didn’t take her seriously at all.

“I don’t give a fuck that you know what I am,” he growled. Stephanie's confidence wavered. That was the only leverage she had left over him, and she could feel it slipping away. Her mind raced, scrambling to regain control of the situation before he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. She couldn’t afford to lose her footing now.

Terry leaned in slightly, his voice low and taunting. “Who are you gonna tell, huh? Who would believe you?” He chuckled darkly.

But Stephanie wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her face as she met his gaze, her eyes glinting with the sharpness of someone who wasn’t willing to back down. She leaned forward slightly, her voice oozing with sweetness, but the threat behind it was unmistakable. “I don’t know,” she purred. “Maybe Camille.” Her smirk deepened, her eyes narrowing. “I’m sure she would love to know how she really fainted in that parking lot.”

Terry’s hand shot out and wrapped around Stephanie’s neck in a merciless grip. She gasped and sputtered as she attempted to pry his hands off of her. But nothing worked. Instead, he raised her slightly off her feet, dangling her in the air with one hand. She cried as she watched his appearance change. Eyes flickering to a deep red. Canines lengthening. Pupils narrowing. It frightened to the point that she closed her eyes tightly, wishing she could take back what she said. He pulled her dangling body closer to him, his lips nearly pressing against her ear.

“Don’t be fucking stupid Stephanie,” he whispered calmly. But the cadence of his voice wasn’t natural anymore. It sounded demonic. “I’m not particularly interested in killing women. But it’s not above me,” he growled, making her whimper.

“Take this as your one and only warning. Leave town and never look back. Or else.” With that, he dropped her, causing her to crumple to the ground. She clutched her neck as she gasped for breath. A few tears spilled from her eyes before she looked up at his towering form. He stared back down at her nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Slowly, his appearance became human again. “And don’t you ever fucking speak of Camille again.” Terry turned on his heel and walked toward the door. With a final glance over his shoulder, he opened it and stepped out, leaving her alone in the dimly lit space. The door clicked slammed behind him, sealing off any hope of reconciliation.

Stephanie sat there for a moment, her breath still shallow from the intensity of what had just transpired. The sharp sting in her neck still pulsed with a dull ache. But as her fingers gently traced the soreness at her throat, it was not fear that consumed her, nor panic or regret. It was something far more dangerous.

Lust.

It crept through her veins, slow and insidious, taking root deep inside her. It was as though the intensity of the moment, the raw power he had wielded, had lit a fire inside her she couldn't extinguish. She had always been attracted to Terry—his strength, his confidence, his unyielding control. But now, after everything that had happened, it was no longer just attraction. It was an obsession, a fierce craving that clawed at her insides.

Her body hummed with the aftershocks of his presence, the memory of his touch still lingering on her skin, and her mind raced with images of what could come next. He was perfect. He was everything she had ever desired—the right mix of danger, power, and passion. He was toxic in the most intoxicating way. She had spent her whole life chasing something like him, and now that she had found it, there was no way in hell she was letting him slip through her fingers.

A sly grin tugged at her lips as she straightened, a new sense of purpose settling over her. She would lie low for now, give him space. But that didn’t mean she was done. Far from it. She would wait, she would plan, and when the time was right, she would make her move.

Stephanie had no intention of giving up on Terry Richmond. Not now. Not ever.

-------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83 @bruleecream @playingaymes

#terry richmond #terry richmond smut #aaron pierre #aaron pierre smut #rebel ridge #terry richmond fic #terry richmond x black character #aaron pierre fic #aaron pierre x black!oc

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aureum-cordis · 1 year ago

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Lost & Found

Parental!DogDay & Child!Reader

A/N: Hey there! First post, I know, but I couldn’t help but share this. A friend of mine encouraged me to, so I hope other people like it as well! This is only the first part and I have much more planned for this story, I hope you enjoy! I know this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but that may or may not be intentional. Find Part 2 here!

Spoilers for Poppy Playtime Chapter 3: Deep Sleep!

Warnings: Mentions of character death, blood, gore, and the like. Child experimentation will also be mentioned. This story will contain references to the information in the game as well, if uncomfortable with any of those topics then please proceed with caution.

________________________________________________

DogDay and the others knew well that something was amiss in the building, several of the Smiling Critters had sought him out due to the fact that he was the leader. CatNap was the only one that had been distant for a long time now, becoming something that he couldn’t recognize.

And then it happened. The Hour of Joy. The metallic scent of blood was something he could never rid his nose of, his ears still rang from the sound of screaming from both children and adults. The Prototype had clearly been convincing the cat of the Smiling Critters, for nothing but praises fell out for the creature amongst that dreaded red gas that poured out of his perpetually gaping maw.

DogDay had been able to reach the others first, encouraging them to not stand idly by and follow something as monstrous as The Prototype and his newly fashioned pawn.

It ended poorly, their rebellion was met with nightmarish hallucinations and a set of claws that sliced their bodies to ribbons.

Even they were not impervious to the red gas that covered the ground like a dense fog, announcing CatNap’s presence before he could be seen. Few of them remained, far less than what once was. They rotated hideouts regularly, knowing well that they had to keep moving to avoid CatNap’s patrols.

Currently, the place they had sought refuge in was some long abandoned room of the orphanage. Those that remained were silent.

CraftyCorn was frantically drawing something on a dirtied sheet of paper, the colors bleeding against her hooves as she struggled to keep a steady grip.

Bobby BearHug was huddled in a corner, clutching a blanket that was shredded in places and nearly fell apart as she held it to her chest, her body shook from silent sobs or perhaps fear of what would come.

DogDay himself was solemn, resting on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. They had just lost Hoppy days prior, or at least it had seemed like days. Any semblance of a concept of time was lost in this pit of despair, the inability to even catch a glimpse of light that wasn’t artificial was disheartening and disorienting. The others in the room were in no state to actively patrol, their minds in shambles and in various states of decay.

There was no optimism to be found, he knew that. Any attempt to even lighten the mood would be met with dismay and the kind of disgust that caused nausea to wash over oneself and clouded any other senses. They had lost far too many for any form of joy to be found.

CatNap may have been the one to end their lives, following the guiding hand of The Prototype, but their blood was also on his hands. Their screams kept him awake, the fear in their voices as they called out and weeped for help kept him going.

Slowly, he rose from his seated position to his feet, the sun pendant that hung from his zipper clinked against the metal with the motion and swung gently before resting against his chest. It was enough of a sound to draw the eyes of CraftyCorn, to which DogDay gave a dip of his head. “I’m sorry to startle you, that wasn’t my intention,” he started, voice rough and scratchy from disuse as he met the eyes of the other.

“I’ll take the first watch, be safe and try to get some rest, please.” The please sounded pathetic in his own ears, a sign that despite his attempts to remain strong for the other survivors, he was suffering from the grief and loss of their shared companions.

The idea of losing them too was something he refused to linger on, a small sliver of hope remained in his heart despite the horrors that threatened their very lives.

CraftyCorn didn’t seem to mind the interruption, even going as far as lowering her hooves as she looked over at him, the red crayon in her grasp rolled to the floor with a quiet thump. “Be careful, DogDay.” Her voice was soft, it was a comfort in this trying time. As gentle as the very petals of the flower she once smelled like, an extension of her kind yet hardy nature.

He wanted to reassure her, to give her some hope that he might return. But that wasn’t a guarantee, he knew that.

Regardless, he nodded before approaching the door, opening it slightly before listening carefully for any sounds. Relieved to have been met with relative silence, he crept through the door before shutting it behind him. Complete silence was impossible for him to achieve, given his size and the overall state of the orphanage itself.

His movements were slow and deliberate, each placement of his hand or foot was mindful of the debris that lined the halls. Shattered picture frames with glass littering the floor and various toys that had once belonged to the children here were a common item to stumble across. There had been moments when the odd toy activated or some rotting piece of wood snapped under the pressure of a bed that rested upon it, but it was silent other than that.

His ears were active in keeping note of his surroundings, as his nose focused on the horrible scent of lavender and the intensity of it. It stuck to every crack and crevice of this building, yet it was relatively faint at the given moment, a positive in an otherwise grim situation. His eyes swept every open door that he passed by, peering into the room for several moments before moving on. To say he was tense and alert was an understatement, every fiber of his being stood on edge as he patrolled the halls.

He froze in his tracks as a sound caught his attention, a sound that he hadn’t been expecting to come across. It had been a sob, a shuddering and weak sound that left from an open door in front of him. Had he not been focused as intently as he was, he could’ve missed it. DogDay stayed in that position as he listened further, making sure that he hadn’t been imagining such a sound. His doubts were shattered as he heard the sound repeat, the fear in the weeping was unmistakable.

The thought didn’t even cross his mind that it could potentially be a trap, that some sick monster would be willing to mimic such a heartbreaking sound.

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worstgenerationloser · 1 month ago

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,, Who the hell is FireFist?! ''

Synopsis... Unable to resist the temptation of an internet argument, you accidentally end up dooming yourself by responding to "FireFist." Now, he's obsessed with pissing you off.

Warnings... There are crude comments and remarks, profanity, internet harassment, ... Be advised of this as you read!

Fic Masterlist here!

Tags: @neospade ; @lilink ; @bluetokie ; @kanekisheart ; @ren-ni ; @hauntedlunaa ; @mylifeisamess ; @euriiverse ; @j014xio ; @fruitncandy ; ; @ally-wow ; @spyderst4r ; @kiberrymatcha ; @valkyrie-8

A/N: I know there was a super long wait but surprise surprise i have gotten rather busy and straight up forgot to post this...

Everyone knows the internet is dreadful at times with differing opinions and hateful comments towards one another, some people trying to turn themselves into the embodiment of peace and happiness on their social media pages despite being the literal incarnation of evil… Now, you won’t try and say you’re all sunshine and rainbows, but maybe you get a little defensive when it comes to the things you like, and that may or may not lead to a few arguments in comment sections. Which is exactly your current predicament.

The notification wall on your phone's lock screen displayed one notification from Instagram. There was no doubt in your head that it was the guy who had become the reason for your most recent internet argument.

FireFist replied to your comment: “ dont care, didnt ask. “

Three tips for dealing with internet trolls, and you managed to break the most important one. Everyone says not to engage but you can’t resist the temptation, and that is a bad habit you’re eager to break; but it can also wait for another year or two. Naturally, your anger gets the best of you over an Instagram comment, and you click on his profile again to see if there’s something to use against him. Unfortunately for you, his account is private, and he has five followers, so there is zero chance of you sneaking in even, on a burner account. Just your luck, you had no fuel for your fire besides the fact that “FireFist” had terrible opinions regarding music, and his username sounded like a shitty porno. Despite that, you began to type away, forgetting whatever it is you were doing to try and come up with a comeback.

You replied to FireFist’s comment: “then why r u still responding lol thats sad.”

Not even a minute later, his reply lit up your phone screen.

FireFist replied to your comment: “i can say the same for you LMAOO u want me so bad!!”

Okay, they are just trying to rile you up. And unfortunately for you it was in fact working alarmingly easily.

You replied to FireFist’s comment: “i wouldnt touch u with a 10ft pole, ur probably infectious”

He replied quickly that time, too.

FireFist replied to your comment: “sounds like u rllyy wanna touch me bcz u keep responding to me… its ok to say u want me”

The asshole twisted your words. Do you get defensive, insult him more, or block him? Blocking people is for pussies, and that definitely makes you a hypocrite because you have blocked so many people you reached the limit more than once, but you feel such intense hatred for this internet stranger today that you don’t want to block them. For a while, you try to figure out what to say back without sounding too offended… Ultimately, it's a losing battle, and you can’t figure out where to go from here. Your heart is racing and you feel anxious but you don’t stop to think about why you’re doing things like this despite the reactions they give you.

Then, your screen lights up again. Moving slow as a snail, your hand shaking from anxiety picks up your phone. Yes, it was who you’d expect.

FireFist replied to your comment: “don't be shy, im open minded ;)”

That sets you off. Really bad. Clenching your jaw uncomfortably tight, your hand clicks on his profile, then the three dots in the corner. There, that bright red text greets you.

Block.

Are you sure you want to block FireFist? They won’t be able to…

After seeing that text a thousand times over, you just don’t care anymore. You blocked him, and you aren’t expecting anymore of his odd messages anytime soon. Simmering in anger alone in your bedroom, you’re interrupted by a knock on your bedroom door. It’s probably your roommate, Franky. He’s an eccentric guy with electric blue dyed hair that he styles differently every other week, a ridiculous amount of confidence in himself, and that’s not even mentioning his weird obsession with cyborgs. You are sure in another life Franky is living out his cyborg dreams, still having his outbursts of energy.

“Y/N! Wanna come to the pet store with me? I gotta get a new filter for Jinbe!” Franky yells obnoxiously loud through your door. Jinbe, his pet fish who he swears has the spirit of a whale shark, but to be fair, that fish is pretty badass.

“Sure! Let me get dressed!” You yell back, tumbling out of bed towards your dresser. Your phone can wait! All you need now is to throw on a little something that won’t make you look like you have a bleak life.

“Hm? Were you cooking? The smoke alarm is going off!” Nonchalant as ever, Franky gently pushes open your bedroom door. Wait, why is he holding Jinbe’s tank in his hands? Disregarding his question you stupidly focus on the most irrelevant thing, before your eyes widen in shock. Without an utterance of any words, a string of noises escapes your mouth.You throw yourself out the door, dashing towards the kitchen. Okay, fixing your temper is now number one on the bucket-list, if it allows you to make a mistake this big then maybe it’s a problem.

And with that, you manage to subject yourself to a few months of signature Franky-style teasing. The whole situation is so absurd, even you have trouble trying to wrap your head around why you got so worked up… Looking over at your roommate on the couch next to you, something tells you that he's about to offer some clarity.

“Y’know… You spend a little too much time online. Seriously, you have no idea how many angry DM’s I get from people you argued with in a comment section or whatever. Kinda tiring.”

Franky blurted out loud, cleaning the salt from his chips off of his fingers with an obnoxious sucking noise as the loud crack of a can of cola follows along. It had become a sort of biweekly tradition for you and Franky to sit on the couch and put on some sketchy movies which if the law asks, you legally acquired. Despite him having literally no reason to, he took you in when reality hit you right in your soul upon moving to this town; Franky even invites you places and offers to buy you things when you’re short on cash. He does still annoy you, but it’s in more of an older brother way instead of the way a regular old roommate would.

“There’s no room for you to critique me. I haven’t seen you drink a drop of water since we started living together four years ago.” A rather extensive sigh highlights your softened speaking voice, though only Franky picks up the dash of sarcasm found in your words. He always ends up parroting words and promises you utter to yourself, it’s annoying but you guess he’s just gotten to know you excessively well. You don’t really like being told what to do anyways.

“Hey! That’s a completely separate matter! I am my own person. But–...” Tapping his chin, Franky licks salt from the corner of his mouth after he trails off for a moment. The blue light from the T.V screen makes his hair look luminescent in a silly way and that’s all you can focus on.

“I have seniority over you. I showed you the not-so-local scene, hidden gems, and I let you stay with me dirt cheap! I also know that I’m practically your only friend. Maybe listen a little, because sometimes I worry about you like my own family.”

Well, he’s got you there. You have definitely neglected your social life— yourself in general. After turning eighteen you bought a lottery ticket, won a decently sized prize; realized that you didn’t wanna live with your parents forever— and following the scent of freedom you landed yourself in this stupid town with a significantly less amount of money, and barely a plan. Eighteen is still very much teenaged, so you thought you would maybe be able to work things out after only having maybe $400 left and the brand-new car you got with your lottery money… No apartment lined up, not thinking of the fact you would have to buy furniture or get a job, just living off the adrenaline rush that came with a change of scenery. It’ll be four years since you moved here in a month or two, and sometimes your life feels just as messy at times.

Looking over at Franky you feel eternally grateful, he would laugh if you ever told him something like that to his face, so you keep emotional words to yourself. With a permissive nod, Franky settles back onto the couch and stares right at you.

“I know you're technically an adult, but I can't forget the eighteen-year-old girl I saw sulking in the streets. It's fine if you wanna be introverted, but you don't go outside if you aren't shopping or going places with me. Plus, being angry at internet strangers is terrible for your mental health. I’m not super into these corny talks, just try and do something without being mad all the time. Start a blog, take up video gaming, things like that.”

Franky leaves you with his words of rare wisdom, he turns the volume up on TV without looking back in your direction. Taking his advice into consideration, you tune out the noises coming from the television and start reevaluating the choices that have led you to this point.

Pros; you got Franky and a cheap place to stay that isn't a total shit hole.

And the cons… It's best if you ignore them for now, you'll end up on a downward spiral, and not the good Nine Inch Nails album kind of downward spiral.

There's barely any luck when you try to make small talk with the cashier at your local supermarket, and online 90% of the time whenever you voice your opinions it makes somebody angry— the other 10% is when you're upset with someone else's opinion... When you put things like that you start to wonder if you're the problem. Socializing without Franky would be the first step towards becoming a better you! Starting off small is the key to success in your case.

“Okay, now let's just relax and forget all about my blog. Gotta wait for some likes… But I guess here they're called hits.”

Closing your laptop, you sit back in bed. There's an odd rush of adrenaline running through your veins, something's telling you that this is going to be a success. Here you're going to make some cool mutuals, engage in friendly conversation, and hopefully if someone thinks highly enough of you— you’ll get yourself a fan. That's wishful thinking, though. If things go sour you have to abandon this platform forever. The moment you get comfortable and reach for your phone, a soft knock sounds at your door, and you already know it's one of the only people you maintain a relationship with and live with.

“Y/N? Just wanted to make sure I didn't overstep earlier. I know you've never had an issue with it before, but I tend to overthink. You also know that. Tell me you aren't upset so I can post Jinbe on my story with a clear mind.”

Without even seeing him, you can tell by his voice that he's got his face pressed against your door.

“I’m not!” You shout aloud, getting back into a comfortable position.

“Are you sure?”

“...I’m sure.”

“Okay, but are you sure that you're sure?”

“Rest assured I’m not upset with you in any way or manner, Franky.”

“...Alright, but are you confident?”

He's doing the thing again. Angrily, you walk towards your door and fling it open— but Franky is already scurrying to his room, giggling along the way. His joy is infectious, and you forget about your worries and previous annoyances. Today was productive enough in your book; Franky made some burgers on the grill earlier and invited a few of his more sociable and interesting friends, mentioning how bummed he was that some girl… Whatever her name was, couldn't come over. Even if they weren't there for you it was still nice to have a few laughs with new faces. Then you got in some sun and just let your thoughts drift away; until the creation of your blog, which is still in the densely populated space of your brain.

You forgot all about it until you were dressed up the next morning, scurrying to open your laptop in a daze. More anxious than ever, the color blue highlighting the numbers over your notification's inbox reading “99+” damn near killed you. You move your mouse over to your profile picture in the corner, and check out your post, a simple photo of your outfit with less accessories than usual.

800 hits total. 12 comments. 46 reposts. And your post was added to a few collections, you'd say maybe 20 people did so. That leaves 722 likes.

Something tells you to check the comments, and after skimming through them, you're comforted when you see nothing negative. You felt comfortable saying this since he hopefully wasn't omniscient, but you're glad you didn't see that FireFist dude in your notifications. Honestly you can't even explain to yourself why he came up just now, but he did. He pissed you off a great deal, so it's valid you're still thinking of him. The positive comments distract you more than that asshole does, though. Starting from the top you begin to read.

NamiLuvsMoney: “def not my style but super cute <3”

When you checked her profile, you saw that she seemed to have amassed a large fan base doing the same as you. That wasn't even mentioning how beautiful she was in her profile picture, so much so that you followed her immediately after verifying it was really her of course. Your eyes move on to the next comment.

SuuperCyborg: “i need my belt back”

It's Franky, you nearly forgot you gave him your blog handle. He doesn't post much but he has an introduction on his page, you follow him after giggling at the familiar profile picture which was the same on each social media page of his. It was the one a show photographer took of him spraying cola everywhere with his hair in a huge Mohawk, there's a few of his friends whom you barely remember holding him up and laughing. It makes you want to go to a punk show with him.

The next comment is just a thumbs up emoji, and the person who commented has no profile picture set. Checking their profile, they only seem to repost historical things. You block them under the assumption bot interactions will mess with your blog's engagement, you did so well on this first post, and you don't wanna ruin that. Goodbye to the blog titled “Bookmark”, it's a stupid name for a blog but FireFist is worse.

SaDbo: “this outfit reminds me of my little brothers friend. he's pretty kickass and I kinda want his closet, but his eyes are intimidating sometimes. i think you wear it better 👀”

Oh, you've made it. After scanning his profile obsessively, your ego experiences a massive increase. This hottie complimented your outfit. This gorgeous blonde man? Stay calm, racing heart. When you dig a little more you see that he reposts a bit of everything, and you find yourself a little curious about him. Any sane person would follow him. Anybody. Franky would give you a round of applause right about now.

The page suddenly refreshes on its own, and there you see it now placed at the top of the column of comments.

FireFist: “i see you!"

FireFist: “did ya miss me?”

His comments were immediately deleted, but apparently this website didn't allow you to block people on new accounts, so you decided to send this guy a DM in hopes of maybe getting him to fuck off. Preparing an angry DM you try not to sound too aggressive to risk your following of 78 people, which is still pretty impressive if you do say so yourself. Enough about you, more about your aggressor.

“this is really creepy of you to do”

On the other side of the screen, you like to think this guy is old and greasy, maybe even divorced or something. Again, his profile is bare. Nothing at all, just a black profile picture.

“you're the one playing hard to get babe”

His response came quickly, like he was waiting for you to message him. When you read his message and see he called you “babe” that makes you think it would be for the best if he wasn't an old man. This wasn't your first time being harassed online, but this was the first time someone found an account with an entirely different email address linked to it, not to mention there was no indication that it was you. Every other profile is bare, besides your close friends' stories.

“youre harassing me???? on the internet? do you have any hobbies? no sane person has this much free time”

“how did you even find me, my user is completely different” This bizarre situation is gonna leave you with long lasting paranoia regarding social media. Three dots pop up and fade in and out in the bottom corner of your chat, showing that FireFist is now typing.

“yah i knew you would have a fuckass handle like this bcz wtf does this even mean”

Is your handle really that cringe? The essence of social media is that you can do things with less cares than usual, so you begin to think letting your imagination run wild and ironically choosing your username was a mistake. Does everyone know its satirical?

“youre one to talk, FireFist”

Another message of yours trails behind. The typing begins, but then it stops. And it doesn't pick back up after that. You refresh the page over and over whilst not even blinking, itching for a response so you can say something else without seeming obsessed— but it never comes. Guess that's the end of it.

At least that's what you thought at the time. Fifteen minutes later is when it happened.

“Y/N! Who the hell is FireFist?!” Franky’s yelling is close, and then your door swings open with such force, the brass doorknob comes crashing into your drywall at record speeds. When the door lightly swings back and forth and lets out of the wall, there's a circular hole from where the doorknob made contact.Damn this shitty house and its fragile walls. To make matters worse; when you look up at Franky he seems angry.

“Shit. Did he do something?” Your anxiety is killing you to the point you barely manage to speak to Franky. Is it wrong to think that this is kind of scary? It's just some dude online, but he's everywhere now. That means the chances of seeing him in real life are slim… You think.

“Something? Did he do something?” Franky hangs his head, his hand gripping the side of the door while he seethes in his anger.

“He trashed my base in Cyborg Utopia! Uh, why are you so nervous anyways?” Then comes Franky’s dramatic outburst, and suddenly the tension in the air dissipates a bit. But you can't shake the feeling that this isn't the last instance of him popping up places.

“Huh? Oh, well— er…”

Maybe you shouldn't worry Franky. He would probably end up embarrassing you by making a few thousand angry posts about him if you told him you had a new internet… Stalker? FireFist falls into that category you suppose. You choose to keep quiet about it all. Franky looks at you expectantly, but you just shake your head. Don't worry about it. His eyes betray him and showcase his momentary worry as he walks away, shutting your door softly.

Wait a second.

“Hey! My wall, asshole!” You scream and stand up, shouting closer to the door so Franky could hear you a little louder.

“Not my problem!” Franky yells back even louder than you. The slamming of the front door is heard all the way from your room, followed by the sound of your roommates' noisy, beat up motorcycle speeding off. It's almost twelve in the morning, and he's off again.

Fuck, the week isn't even over. A stalker, a hole in your wall, and an odd sense of loneliness. You do still need friends, after all.

#portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #portgas d ace fanfic #portgas ace x y/n #one piece x you #worstgenerationloser

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controversially-young-girlfriend · 6 months ago

Text

read me like a book 💌prof. spencer reid x reader

💋 office hours with your fav professor. oneshot smut with softdom spencer and praise 💋

you’re prone to skipping an occasional lecture - 9am is just too early to be up! you’re a week ahead on your developmental psych notes! but you’ve never missed a class with dr. spencer reid.

as much as you enjoy the course content (and actually do the required readings) your mind goes blank once professor reid enters the lecture hall and his words fade into the background as you admire his curly hair and soft eyes. you’re almost mad he’s so hot because your lack of focus just landed you a C+ on your recent essay. you’re embarrassed not at your own academic efforts but rather the effect he has on them.

as usual, you doll yourself up before heading to class and take a seat right in the middle where dr. reid tends to lay his eyes while lecturing.

after the heard of girls auditing the class finish talking to professor reid, you approach the front of the class to ask about your essay.

you’ve always loved talking to him after class, getting a few minutes of one-on-one time with him. he’s different when not lecturing, and has an endearing awkwardness that you’ve become infatuated with. you loved when a simple question turned into what felt like a personal lesson.

“hi dr. reid, i’m wondering if i could discuss my recent essay with you?”

“definitely, however i think the next class is starting in a few minutes. would you be okay to discuss it in my office?” he tells you and you feel yourself get hot. you’ve talked to him plenty of times but never in his office, your mind immediately fantasizing about all the things you’ve imagined him doing to you in there.

you try and remain composed on the walk there, making small talk to not let any signs of your schoolgirl crush on him show.

he opens the door for you, closing it before walking over to his desk. you hand him the essay and feel your heart flutter when your fingers grace each others briefly. you try your best to follow the feedback he’s adding in red pen but you’re transfixed on the way he’s moving his hands.

you snap out of it when he softly says your name, “i hope you’re not discouraged by the grade. you’re a smart girl.” you hope he doesn’t notice how hard you’re blushing at him calling you smart.

“i know you understand the concepts but your analysis needs to remain objective. i would have given you a B if you stayed closer to the assignment outline.”

the feedback is fair but you’re worried about your gpa. “is there anyway to do some extra credit or raise my grade?”

dr. reid tells you “come see me back here before the next assignment is due and we’ll go through it together.”

you’re grateful but dreading the end of this conversation and having to leave his office.

“thanks professor reid! i really enjoy these post-lecture conversations.” you know your words are implying something more, but you’re wondering if it shows.

dr. reid replies “me too.”

you guys make eye contact until he looks to the left and takes a deep breath. “by the way, most student-teacher relationships end horribly. not to mention they’re pretty explicitly banned in the contract i signed to guest lecture here.”

“oh my god oh um i’m sorry i didn’t mean to say anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“don’t worry, you didn’t say anything. i think you just forgot that i make a career out of profiling people.” dr. reid tells you with a slight smile on his face

“so what gave it away then?”

“you’ve been blushing for the last 15 minutes and stumbling over your words despite being a normally eloquent student in class. you’re leaned into me talking right now and i’ve caught you staring at me multiple times.” he says while smiling. you’re relieved he’s not mad, but can’t quite identify his intentions of telling you this.

“well professor reid, you’re good at your job. but like you said i’m a smart girl, so it’s only fair i get to profile you back.”

you can tell you caught his attention with that, feeling him getting a bit nervous but leaning in to hear what you have to say. your legs are now touching as you list the little traits of his you’ve noticed all semester.

“you have a whole fan club of girls who come to your lectures and wait to talk to you. do you give all of them the student-teacher relationship talk? or am i just getting special treatment?”

he puts his hand on your thigh. “do you wear skirts this short when you talk to your other professors.” you’re shocked at how far he’s going but you don’t want him to stop.

“you’re easy to read, princess. i know when you’re sitting in my lectures and thinking about me. you subtly bite your lip and stare, and i can only imagine what you’re fantasizing about. i’d guess you get off on me being your older professor, me fucking you bent over my desk as i tell you how how you’re such a pretty little slut for me.”

is he a profiler or a mind reader? you don’t want to let him win but he looks at you self-satisfied and starts talking before you can think of a reply.

“and i’d place my job on the line that you’re wet just hearing that.”

“well professor reid, i’ll leave it to you to prove your theory.”

reid pushes up your skirt and feels your soaked panties. you watch him smile before pulling you into his lap and kissing you.

the makeout deepens as he grabs your waist, slowly guiding it to grind against him as his tongue is in your mouth. you hold him by the hair until he leans back to look at you. through heavy breaths he says “i’ve been thinking of you since i saw you in my first lecture.”

he takes your shirt and bra off, moving kissing your lips, down to your neck, and then down to your chest. you take off his cardigan and begin working on his button up shirt, leaving you both shirtless against eachother. “you’re so beautiful like this.” he tells you.

you feel him adjust your legs to take off your skirt and panties. slowly teasing his fingers at your entrance, he quickly dips a finger in just to tell you “you’re so wet, so desperate for me pretty girl.” as you try and rub against his hand for contact. he’s right, you need him badly right now.

dr. reid rubs circles on your clit and you let out a soft moan. he watches your face as he slips his fingers inside. “fuck you’re good, dr. reid.” you can tell being called by the honorific turns him on by the way he gripped you tighter and sighed. he takes his fingers out from inside you and pushes them into your mouth. you give him a show, looking him right in the eyes as you work your tongue around them. “you’re such a slut for me, baby.” you’re shocked that this sort of dirty talk is coming from your nerdy, cardigan wearing professor.

he pulls his fingers out and you unbuckle his belt. you palm him which earns a slight moan out of reid. “seems like you want me just as bad” you tell him. you pull down his boxers and he grabs your hair into a ponytail. with his other hand he lifts your chin slightly to ask, “well how bad do you want me?” you immediately begin going down on him, eager to impress.

you’re blissed out listening to the praises coming from him between the heavy breaths. “so pretty baby”, “taking me so well”

he lifts your head up, “wanna bend over the desk, sweetheart?” you gladly agree, anticipating him as he grips your hips and plants a kiss on your neck.

he’s big but you’re savouring every inch of professor reid inside of you. thrusting slowly as you adjust to the feeling. he speeds up as he talks you through it, “such a cute little slut sitting in my lectures imagining me fucking you like this. you feel so fucking good baby.” you begin to unravel with pleasure.

you can barely form a sentence but manage to ask “have a thing for fucking college girls, professor reid?” you say between moans.

he thrusts into you harder and positions his mouth right beside your ear, “just the ones who come into my office in short skirts to seduce me.”

you guys won’t last much longer, he feels your core tightening around him. “i want to watch you cum for me.” he tells you.

you unravel in his arms, with him finishing soon after. he holds you in his arms as you catch your breath. “maybe your profile was right about me, dr. reid” you say to him lightheartedly.

“you can call me spencer. although there is a definite appeal to being called dr. in this context” he says.

you help rearrange the papers on his desk that were pushed off earlier and get dressed again.

“um don’t worry about your essay grade. if you ever want to do this again perhaps i can count it as extra credit.” he smiles and tells you.

“i’d love that. i’ll be here after every lecture.” you say with a massive smile on your face.

he kisses you once more, “now go study. i’ll see you next week.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #professor spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #dr reid #criminal minds fanfiction

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bigwishes · 11 months ago

Text

Transformation Swap

a quick trade with @transformation4life

It had been a while since you had managed to get yourself to the gym and even longer since you were able to go for a dedicated strength training session. You walk into the gym and are instantly greeted by the trainer at the front desk.

"hey man long time no see!"

You become a bit flustered as exactly what you dreaded would happen came to pass, he recognised you and recognised you had taken a few weeks off.

"haha yeah, I've been really busy and don't really have time" You awkwardly stumble over your words as you try not to get distracted by the trainers arms filling out his shirt.

A moment passes and you realise the trainer was staring at you with one raised eye brow and it suddenly hits you that he had asked you a question that you didn't hear.

"eer, yeah! haha" you smile and laugh nervously trying to play it off like you understood what he was saying.

"great!" the trainer quickly ducked under the desk and came back up a moment later with a shiny golden key card, "that should help you get in the gym at night"

You take the card from his hand and let out a small sigh of relief that it was just a night access card and you hadn't accidentally agreed to some weight lifting classes. Looking at the card it was a bright gold with the black silhouette of a bodybuilder doing a double bicep pose. On the back was a back code and nothing else. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

You thank the trainer and make your way to the scan in terminal, as you pull out your regular white scan card the trainer quickly calls out to you to scan your new card so he can set it up for access. Fumbling your bag in your hands you swap the cards back and scan your way in with the new card. The terminal light flashed green and you walked through the steel gate. As you left the lobby area your body began to feel warm, like someone had put the heating on in the gym.

walking over to the bag rack you take your hoodie off and put your bag away as go off to start your workout. Working out your body begins to feel warmer and warmer, with each rep your muscles feel more and more exhausted and pumped up with blood, your skin feels tight and rubs against your clothes. You didn't think about it much at first but as you continued to workout you felt uncomfortable as your clothes got tighter and tighter. Your biceps felt like they were about to split through your shirt and then you saw yourself in the mirror.

At first you didn't even know it was you, your clothes now skin tight and muscles huge. You took a moment to flex your bicep when it split straight through your sleeve.

"ah fuck"

leaning across yourself with your other arm to check how bad the tear was you heard a much louder tearing noise and felt the fabric split across your back, if you weren't careful you'd bust out of your clothes in the middle of the gym.

Making your way to the gym lost and found you find a 6XL tank top and shorts, no way it will fit you but its better than what you are currently wearing and you just need something to get out of here and get back to your car.

Slipping on the loose clothing your muscles feel tighter and tighter by the second. At one point you were sure the skin around your biceps was about to split open. Moving started to feel like a chore as it began to feel like something was weighing you down, like you were trying to pull a car that had been piled onto your back.

As you make your way back out into the weights room you hear yourself taking deep heavy breaths, it takes a few seconds to fully inflate your lungs and the clothes begin to feel tight again. You stop and lean against a bench to catch your breath, looking up you see yourself in the mirror....could it really be you...

"fuck...how'd I get so....big" you struggle to say between gasps of air trying to catch your breath.

Almost automatically you began posing , you could feel your muscle wasn't done expanding as the tightness continued to get worse in your body. You moan as you flex trying to ignore the ever stretching discomfort as your body expanded even more. You could hear the fibres in the tank top barely holding together and you tried to take it off. You looked stupid desperately trying to lift the tank top up and off your body as your huge muscles collided and the fabric got stuck on your pecs. Finally you were able to slip it off and you stood in the mirror panting, your chest heaving up and down filling with oxygen making your frame impressively wider for a few seconds with each breath.

A wave of pain washed over you as you felt blood desperately try to get into your muscles to support their colossal size. Veins appeared all over your body visibly pumping, they then began to appear on your forehead and temples, you grimaced in pain rubbing your temples trying to ease the headache but it was starting to become hard to think...

You looked at yourself in the mirror you were big, you came here....to get big....yes, big and get big....big...get big....

You took a few steps forward to the dumbbell rack, already panting again from the amount of effort it was to move your massive frame. You picked up the largest dumbbells you could see as the numbers didn't make sense and you began lifting.

As you curled you felt the pleasure of your muscles pumping with size, as you panted to keep your breath your fat tongue fell out of your mouth slightly without you even noticing....be big....get big....big...big....big....big...

the only word you could make out in your mind

and the gym claims another gold member....

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #reality change

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joooooniecore · 6 months ago

Text

Confessed by the wrong person

scoupsxfem!reader, best friends to lovers, happy ending

PLOT: a reunion changes everything between you and your best friend Seungcheol. A revengeful confession. Will you both be able to find each other back? Or drift apart?

WARNINGS: smut, explicit language, bodily fluids mentioned, tiny bullying? smut has been marked(skip if uncomfortable)

______________________________________________________________

CTRL+A and backspace. These two are the only things you have known for the past two months. Being an author is fun they said. You would call yourself kind of a newbie author who rose into fame through her debut book. You are a romance book writer but recently you are trying to do something a little different for your fifth book. A mystery thriller encapsuled in a romance book. Its different and hence you are unable to think of any possible plots. A tenuous job. Your agent was kind enough to give you six months' time to finish this book. Your other books were doing great so you could sit back and relax a bit while working on this book.

The doorbell was what brought you out of your endless turmoil. You groaned a bit while getting up from the office chair that have by now moulded itself to the shape of your body. Your hips cracking a bit as you walked up to the door to see who it was. Opening the door widely, you are welcomed by a very happy Choi Seungcheol.

Seungcheol has been your best friend for ages. You both went to the same high school and later attended the same university. It was always you both. From the awkward teenage phase to the pressure of university projects. You both never left each other's sides and everyone around you knew that. You were a duo. A duo many loved but also many hated. The hate list mostly included Seungcheol's dates. All of them miraculously hated you even if you rarely met him. You weren't exactly the type of person who would try to be in her male friend's arms pretending to be platonic. You maintained distance and never sabotaged his dates.

Even if you were in love with him.

"I bought food, now move.", Seungcheol said as he pushed past you and kept the food on the dining table before taking his usual spot on the couch.

"Why are you here?", you asked clearly confused.

"Why? Can't I meet my best friend?", Seungcheol feigned a pout.

You rolled your eyes before replying, "No idiot. I strongly believe that one should work on weekdays."

Seungcheol shrugged his shoulders before replying, "I am the boss so..."

Seungcheol took over his dad's company once he completed his studies. It was his lifelong dream to become a business man. His dad is a very lenient man and actually never pressured Seungcheol into inheriting his company but Seungcheol wanted to do that. So now, with his dad retired, he is the current CEO of the company. You were actually proud of him for achieving something like that at such a young age.

You checked the packets he had bought and it was mostly snacks. You picked out two packets of chips and sat beside him before handing him one.

"How is your book coming along?", Seungcheol asked between bites.

"It's umm well not going great.", you answered with not much confidence in your voice.

"Why? What's wrong?", Seungcheol asked.

"I am unable to create the plot.", you truthfully confessed. You have been struggling to arrange the plot for over a month now and it was killing you from inside. Normally you struggle with writing lines but it has never happened to you that you have not a single plot idea in mind.

"You will be fine. Don't worry.", Seungcheol said as he patted your back.

"Are you going to the reunion?", Seungcheol asked.

The reunion. That is something you have been dreading for quite some time. You love your classmates, there is no lie in that. But you hated that one girl who had once been your entire life. Your ex best friend. The girl you shared everything with. The girl who was there on your highs and lows and the girl who was the only one who knew how you harbored a tiny crush for your male best friend. Haewon.

You and Haewon became close very quickly and were each other's solace. You both went to classes together and even shared weekends at each other's dorm rooms. Seungcheol being in the different department actually gave you less time to meet him so most of your time was taken over by Haewon. Then she started expanding her friend circle. She would talk to the more popular girls of the department and hang out with them more often. The meet ups increased and slowly she abandoned you. She became mean, closed off and somewhat invincible.

You tried to talk with her many times, reminding her about the friendship you both shared but nothing bothered her. She was proud of being one of the famous girls in the class and you were simply a dark spot in her ever so flashy life. You gave up. After that one fight which has been the nastiest fight you have ever encountered, you walked out of her life and planned on never looking back.

"I am not sure Cheol.", you said clearly not willing to face Haewon and her new friends. You knew they will be there, showing off the successes they have had after university.

"Come on. I have no one else to go with.", Seungcheol nagged.

"Don't lie. Jeonghan is going, I know.", your grumbled.

"Yes, but we both know that he is going to flirt all night.", Seungcheol reasoned.

You chuckled a bit after remembering how good Jeonghan is at flirting with literally anyone he finds attractive. You thought for a bit, and seeing how Seungcheol really has no one to go with, you agreed. He jumped on you, hugging you tight as if you saved him from some sort of apocalypse.

______________________________________________________________

The next few days went by in a blur. You were added to the reunion group and you were fearing to even look at the members of the group. The reunion was actually going to be a weekend long trip to a nearby beach city. A simple weekend with old friends sounded so fun if you omitted that one group of people. You decided to not think about it.

It was one morning when you woke up earlier than you do and went out for a walk in the park. You normally exercised at home or in the gym that was attached to your apartment complex but you felt like you need some fresh air. As you walked through the beautiful scenery of the park, you could see many people who have come for morning walks, jogs or even to take their dog out. There were elderly people exercising in the middle of the green ground and you kind of found it peaceful.

After rounding the entire park two times, you decided to sit on a bench and rest. A little while later, you felt someone sit beside you but you were so engrossed in thinking about the plot that you barely noticed.

"Want a drink?", came the deep voice from beside you.

You whipped your head to see Seungcheol smiling at you. His forehead was glistening with sweat from exercising or running laps and he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt for god's sake. His biceps proudly on display and his abs and rigid chest slightly visible through the sweat dripping shirt that was stuck to his body like a glove.

You gulped a bit, trying to maintain your composure and nodded your head. He took out an energy drink from his backpack and handed it over to you not before opening the can by himself.

"There you go.", he said with a tender smile.

These were the kind of things that Seungcheol did which made your heart flutter. He would pay for your dinners, send food to your house, buy you expensive gifts and even run to you whenever you need him. He was a gentleman through and through. You have never seen him miss a chance to open the car door for you. You normally looked at these things through a platonic eye but at certain moments they urged you to ask him "What are we?"

You took the drink and chugged it down in one go, coughing a bit when the strong acid hit the back of your throat.

"Easy there love.", Seungcheol said as he patted your back to help you control your reactions. The warmth of his hand on your back did nothing but send shivers down your spine. Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to control yourself.

"You run here?", you asked after you have controlled your hiccups.

"Yes. I always come here for running. Great place.", Seungcheol explained as he himself took a sip of the drink he was holding.

"Why have I never known about this?", you asked.

"Well maybe because rich people go to apartment attached gyms.", he joked, elbowing you.

"Yah! You are rich too!", you pouted.

"I live in a house, not apartment.", he smirked.

You rolled your eyes and hit him in the chest which did nothing to him. Instead, it made your imagination go wild when your hands laid flat on his chest even if it were for a fraction of second. The hardness of his muscles imprinted on your palm as you flinched a bit and laughed nervously.

"When will you go home?", he asked after a while.

"In a bit.", you replied, enjoying the nature around you.

"Let me walk you back to your house.", Seungcheol said as he got up.

"I can walk back myself.", you said as you also got up and started walking but couldn't reach far as he held your elbow firmly and pulled you closer to him.

"W-What's wrong?", you asked, internally cursing at how you stuttered.

"You see that man over there.", he said as he subtly pointed at this very strange man.

"Yeah? What about him?", you asked.

"He has been eyeing you since past ten minutes. Its only eight in the morning and the streets are empty. Let me. Please.", he practically begged you.

You nodded and started walking with him. And as if on cue, the man eyed you, trying to find a way to see if Seungcheol was going to be with you and that felt like a gut punch. You hated how men thought of women as easy targets, almost trying to attack even if it is in the broad daylight.

After reaching the apartment door, you asked Seungcheol to come in for breakfast which he declined saying that he needs to run some errands before he visits his office.

The rest of the day went by quickly as you sat on your desk and thought of plots. You were actually elated when you thought of a good plot and even discussed it with your agent who gave you a green signal. You racked your brain for ideas and finally by evening, your first chapter was done and you have almost decided eighty percent of the ending.

A phone call took you out of your zone as you picked up the phone to find Jeonghan calling.

"Hello Jeonghan-ah!", you smiled.

"Hie! I have been meaning to call you. How have you been?", Jeonghan said.

"I have been great. What about you?", you asked.

"Great. I heard you are coming to the reunion with Seungcheol.", he said and you could hear the teasing in his voice.

Jeonghan is someone you can never hide something from. He will know and there is no denying in that. The first day he saw you and Seungcheol together at that one party, he came up to you and bombarded you with questions and you quickly complied and told him about your feelings. He laughed and said that Seungcheol was really dumb to miss on a girl like you which you were not sure if was true or not. Why would Seungcheol regret it? You are no one special. And with his money and looks, Choi Seungcheol can date anyone he wants. Then why you?

"I am going yes.", you answered with a sigh.

"Come on it will be fun. So, you both entering like a couple or...?", Jeonghan asked.

"No! We are going as friends Jeonghan.", you answered through gritted teeth.

"Wow stupid people. Anyways, just so you know, I won't let Haewon and her minions ruin this trip for you.", Jeonghan firmly confirmed.

______________________________________________________________

The day of the reunion came closer and your heart started beating faster. You were stressed about your book itself and on top of that you haven't packed anything for your trip. Everything was a mess and it overwhelmed you. You panicked so much that you lied down on the ground in your living room and cried. Finally, when you realized that the panic wasn't going away, you called Seungcheol.

"Hello?", came Seungcheol's husky voice.

"Hey umm are you busy?", you asked, clearly unsure of how you should say this.

"A bit. Why?", said Seungcheol

"Oh. Then no worries.", you quickly said.

"____. What happened?", Seungcheol demanded sternly.

"Its nothing important.", you tried to dismiss the situation.

"You say it or I come there and find out myself.", he warned.

"I was just having a panic attack as everything was overwhelming me so I thought of calling you.", you explained.

"Are you okay now? Do I need to come right now?", Seungcheol asked, clearly concerned.

"I am fine now.", you said.

"Okay. Listen to me carefully. I want you to take some rest and give me half an hour. I will come to you by then.", Seungcheol explained.

"No. Its not required.", you reasoned.

"Just listen to me once.", Seungcheol groaned and you agreed.

Half an hour later, Seungcheol was actually standing in your living room, helping you sort through your dresses with the help of his sister. She commented on every dress and was glad enough to help you pick some good ones.

"Thank you Seunghee.", you said as you smiled at her through the phone.

"Noona, can I talk to you for a second. Go to the other room.", she said.

"Why? I also want to hear it.", Seungcheol visibly pouted.

"No dummy. I want to have a girl talk.", Seunghee rolled her eyes.

You gladly took the phone from Seungcheol's hands and went to your bedroom before plugging your headphone in.

"What is it?", you finally asked.

"You remember the red dress that I rejected?", she asked and you nodded. It's a bodycon, mini dress with shimmery design and looks absolutely great on you. You were actually disheartened when Seunghee said no to it.

"Pack that when Seungcheol goes back home.", she said with a smirk.

"Huh? Why?", you asked, clearly confused.

"You are dumb enough to not see that my brother likes you.", Seunghee rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time.

"What? He doesn't!", you whisper yelled.

"Trust me this one time please. Take that dress and wear it on the night of party. Please.", she pleaded with those glistening eyes that you can never say no to. Seunghee was someone you immensely adored and so you easily caved in.

After the conversation, you handed the phone back to Seungcheol and when he asked about what his sister said, you denied it saying it was related to some girly stuffs that he won't be interested in. You have heard many people say that Seungcheol might like you but for the first time you let someone's words actually affect you. Seunghee's words were enough to put a seed of doubt in your mind and you started seeing everything Seungcheol did from a different perspective.

______________________________________________________________

The journey to the beach town was nothing special. Everyone boarded the train and went there, clearly not sitting side by side. You saw Haewon once but she was soon off to a different coach with her friends. It felt like a relief to you. The rest of the journey went by you and Seungcheol eating, reading, listening to songs and laughing while remembering your college days.

The hotel was pleasant looking. It looked over the beach and gave an amazing view of the sea. You have always been a beach person and finding out that your room overlooked the ocean made you all giddy from inside. After setting your luggage in your room, you went to the attached balcony to enjoy the view. Seungcheol knocked on your door and informed you that everyone is planning to eat something before resting for the evening.

You had some food and sat at the farthest corner, clearly trying to avoid Haewon. You only looked up when Seungcheol sat across you with his food and when someone came by you to greet you and talk with you for a bit. Most of the people who came on the trip were nice. They talked with you with the same enthusiasm that they showed during your college days. Jeonghan was coming later in the evening because he had to get some job done before he catches the train.

The rest of the evening went along without any more interactions. You locked yourself in your room and worked on the book. You have made quite some progress and were actually proud with how good it was coming out. You busied yourself with finished at least the initial segments of the story, weaving most of the mystery and romance that were the main focus of your book.

After dinner you were too tired to even keep up with most of the conversations and you decided to call it a day.

The next day, everyone decided to hit the beach. Jeonghan was finally here and you along with Seungcheol decided to go together. You weren't exactly feeling comfortable in wearing a bikini so you decided on a tank cropped top and some shorts.

As you walked out of your room, you felt someone eyeing you as you turned to see Seungcheol leaning against one of the pillars in the main reception area. He gave you a lazy smile as he walked up to you.

"Good morning.", he said in a soft voice and your heart skipped a beat.

"Morning. Where is Jeonghan?", you asked, trying to compose yourself.

"He is already gone. You are late madam.", he teased and you simply rolled your eyes before walking out of the door, followed by Seungcheol who was simply smiling from ear to ear.

As soon as you stepped on the sand, you saw Haewon and her friends in bikini, lying on beach towels and tanning themselves. You decided to maintain a distance and sit a bit farther near other classmates. They gladly welcomed you and soon you were laughing and chatting happily with them. They even congratulated you for your successful releases. One of the girls even brought one of your books with her on the trip and you were happy enough to sign it for her. It felt good to see people actually being happy seeing you succeed.

"I didn't see you in the hotel last night.", came a high-pitched voice from behind you.

You turned to see Haewon standing there and just said, "I had an early dinner."

"Why? Growing old I see. Or is it your boring books that make you old?", she smirked and you really had no idea why she hated you so much.

You just smiled at her and that seemed to infuriate her more as she walked off.

"I don't like her.", said one of the classmates and all you could was simply agree.

The tension didn't die down from there. Every time you went past her and her friends; they would glare at you. From commenting on your looks to almost faking their concern about your weight gain. You have seen and heard many such things and this was not going to ruin you. Past you would have broken down and cried for days but present you was successful and had a very strong mental grip.

"You know why Haewon hates you so much?", Jeonghan asked as soon as he sat beside you.

You both were currently in the hotel garden that was beautifully decorated with all kinds of flowers.

"Because I am boring?", you answered unsure.

"No! She doesn't care about that.", Jeonghan laughed.

"Then why? I haven't done a thing to her.", you reasoned.

"She likes Seungcheol. Let me tell you a secret. She confessed to Seungcheol on the graduation day.", Jeonghan whispered.

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, "What? Seungcheol never said me that."

Jeonghan laughed a bit and said, "Yes. He knew you hated her and so he just didn't want to bother you more. He rejected her."

"Really? For me?", you were shocked by this new information.

"Yes. He said to her that he can't accept it because of what she has done to you and hence Haewon hates you. Because Seungcheol chose you over her.", Jeonghan concluded.

With this information in mind, you felt like you should infuriate her more. The plan was approved by Jeonghan and he even told you to glam up. It was Saturday and everyone will be gathering in the party hall of the hotel for a reunion party before they go back home the next day.

You decided to wear the red dress and even called Seunghee to help you with your makeup. She was more than happy to help. She told you to leave your hair open and un-styled because it looked good in its natural wavey form. She told you to do subtle makeup but put some bold red lipstick. The dress did the rest of the job as it hugged your curves perfectly. Finally strapping in the high heels, you were ready to go.

Seungcheol was already at the party when you entered with Jeonghan. The moment you entered, you saw Seungcheol get up and walk to you.

Jeonghan whispered a little 'enjoy' and left your side to talk with someone else.

Your breath hitched when you saw Seungcheol check you out from top to bottom. His hot gaze never leaving your figure as he took long strides and in a mere matter of minutes was standing in front of you, towering you even if you were wearing high heels.

"Hi.", you finally said.

"Wow. You- I mean don't take in the wrong way but you look very pretty.", Seungcheol sighed, his hot breath fanning your face.

"Thank you. You also don't look bad.", you teased and he smirked.

You both sat near the bar and ordered few drinks. Laughing and judging everyone that came here. You both shared a bond that nothing could break and at these moments you wished for him to stay in your life forever. Even if you never confess, you would want him to stay as a friend.

"Let's play truth and dare.", someone yelled and everyone agreed, soon huddling into a circle.

You sat in between Seungcheol and Jeonghan on the chair and someone spun the bottle. The game continued for like thirty minutes or so before it finally landed in between you and Mina, Haewon's friend. Your breath hitched as you saw Haewon smirk before whispering something to her friend.

You chose truth just to play it safe.

"Tell me a secret of yours that no one knows about?", she asked.

You racked your brain a bit and finally said, "Umm I write better when sitting in my bathtub."

There were some giggles and relief washed over you. Seungcheol looked at you as if you have offended him and said, "What? How do you use your laptop in that situation?" and you simply just flipped him off.

"Come one ____, you know we want something worse.", Mina smirked.

Your eyes went wide as you said, "I-I don't have such secrets."

"Seriously? You don't? You are not secretly harboring a crush on someone for years now?", challenged Mina and you knew you were fucked.

Seungcheol went stiff beside you as you saw him slightly retract his hands that were originally resting on the back rest of your chair. You quickly felt the loss of warmth that was coming from his hand over your shoulders.

"I-no I don't.", you answered but the slight tremor in your voice gave it away.

This time Haewon stepped in, meaning to ruin you for once and for all as she simply said, "So you are telling me that you are not in love with your best friend?"

That was the final nail on your coffin. You stiffened as you could only look down. Your mind raced as everyone around you hollered. As if on cue, Seungcheol rested his hand on your back and you flinched. You got up, murmuring a small 'excuse me' and left the party even though you could hear your friends call you. Without thinking anything you ran straight to your room and while you fumbled with the keys, you felt a presence behind you.

You turned around to see Seungcheol standing there, breathing heavily as if he has run hundred miles.

"Damn woman. How can you walk so fast in those heels?", he managed to breath normally.

"I- can you leave me alone please?", you pleaded.

"No. We both know that we need to talk.", he answered sternly and you were left with no option but to welcome him inside.

He sat on the bed and patted the space beside him for you to sit. The closeness caused shivers down your spine as you sat down.

"Listen-", he was about to start talking but you stopped him and spoke first.

"I know. I am sorry for hiding it. I didn't want to ruin our friendship and its fine that you don't have feelings for me. You can end the friendship if you want. I was just scared to confess because I knew you would never like someone lik-", this time you were cut off but not by his words, rather by his lips. On yours.

!!SMUT STARTS FROM HERE!!

Without realizing what was happening, you kissed him back. The kiss soon escalated as you both devoured each other's mouth before creating a distance only to breath.

"W-Wha- What was that?", you stammered.

"I didn't know how to shut you up darling.", Seungcheol said with an easy smile.

His fingers were placed on your hip as he firmly kneaded the skin and it sent shivers down your spine. Even if you were wearing clothes, you could feel the warmth of his hand right across your skin.

"I- you? Why would you?", you were at loss of words.

"I have liked you for a long time too. I also didn't want to ruin our friendship and hence I went on all those meaningless dates so that I could move on from you which never happened. I never moved on from you. You were it for me and I should have confessed sooner. I am sorry."

His confession made you blush as you closed the distance and kissed him. Your body molding with his as he pulled you on his lap, your dress riding up a bit as you sat on his thighs.

"This dress has been driving me insane all night.", Seungcheol groaned as he firmly gripped your hips and made you grind on his lap. You moaned in response as your slowly moved your hips in a rhythmic motion.

"The moment I saw you, I wanted to slam you against a wall and kiss you dumb.", said Seungcheol as he stared at your eyes with nothing but lust.

"Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me dumb.", you teased as you dipped your head a bit but didn't exactly kiss him.

This seemed to work wonders as he groaned and kissed you harshly. It wasn't a sweet kiss. This kiss was all teeth. It was a storm after a calm day. It was like the oceans that gushed and hit the shore harshly. His tongue played like waves inside your mouth as his hands grazed over every part of your body, as if memorizing you.

Seungcheol found the chain of the dress and slowly pulled it down, as you got out of it. The dress bunching up near your hips only.

"Fuck.", Seungcheol whispered as he saw the lingerie you were wearing.

"Please tell me that it is a matching set.", he pleaded and you nodded shyly.

"Did you wear this for me?", Seungcheol smirked.

"Kind of. Jeonghan said to see how you would react if I wear the dress.", you explained shyly.

"Oh, I will react. I will react very well.", his voice turned huskier as he cupped your clothed breast and took one in his mouth. With the material still in between his tongue and your breast, it created a delicious friction that made you grind your hips more.

"Fuck I will go crazy. You are so responsive baby.", He whispered against your skin as he unhooked the bra.

"Seungcheol...", you moaned.

"What is it darling?"

"Please Seungcheol.", you had no idea what you were begging for.

"What do you want?", he smirked as he picked you up and threw you on the bed before hovering over you.

"Take it off please. Take your shirt off.", you begged.

Seungcheol delivered. He stood on his knees and in a painfully slow pace, unbuttoned his shirt before throwing it aside. You were welcomed with his toned chest. You audibly moaned and that seemed to boast Seungcheol's ego.

"Loving the view?", he teased

"Of course.", you said as you did a come-hither motion to which he complied.

He dipped his head and trailed kisses down your chest. Starting from your neck, he marked every inch of your skin as you writhed under him. With an agonizing slow pace his mouth finally hovered over your core, which earned a moan from you.

"Please. Seungcheol, please.", you moaned.

"Patience baby.", Seungcheol chuckled and finally teased your core with his tongue which slowly turned into more aggressive licks as he devoured you. All you could do was moan and writhe which also got restricted when he used his left hand to hold your hips down with one strong grip.

Soon you were coming undone on his tongue, as your body shook and all you could do was moan his name.

"I love when you moan my name.", Seungcheol said as he looked at you, his chin glistening with your juices which made you even more aroused.

Suddenly you sat up and pushed him down on bed, before unbuckling his belt and rubbing his throbbing member over the fabric of his underwear. He let out a guttural moan and you smirked in victory. Having such a big strong man moan under you felt so good that you almost got wet again.

"Don't tease me love.", Seungcheol groaned and who were you to deny him.

You quickly dragged his pants and underwear down in one go and his dick sprang up, standing proud and thick.

"Fuck you are big.", you moaned as you moved your palm up and down the length before giving the tip kitten licks.

You took his whole dick in and bobbed your head while consecutively using your hand to create more friction. Seungcheol's fingers went through your hair before gripping it tight to control the bobbing of your head, fucking your mouth deep. Your eyes glistened with tears as you moaned at the feeling of being used by him.

"Fuck baby. You take me so well.", moaned Seungcheol before picking you up in one go and throwing you on the bed again.

"So wet from just sucking me?", Seungcheol teased before sinking two of his fingers in.

"Seungcheol, please fuck me. I don't need your fingers right now.", you moaned and Seungcheol obliged.

"I-I don't have condoms.", Seungcheol confessed shyly.

"It's okay. I am on birth control and clean.", you said to which he simply smiled and kissed you.

"I am also clean so, can I?", he asked and you nodded.

Lining his dick to your core, he slowly sunk in, giving you time to adjust.

"Fuck you are so tight.", he groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as he let out a disgruntled sigh.

"Seungcheol...", you moaned his name as you supported yourself by holding his biceps.

"Keep saying my name. Let everyone know who is fucking you right.", Seungcheol demanded and you moaned his name loud.

"Cheol fuck.", you whispered as you moaned and groaned.

"That's it. Baby, cum for me. Cum all over my cock. Cream me fuck.", Seungcheol whimpered as he kept his pace steady and firm.

Within seconds you were reaching your high again as you creamed his cock. Seungcheol pace didn't slow as he kept pounding into you, making a mess out of you. Your juices were everywhere as sweat formed on your forehead. Seungcheol dipped his head, as your foreheads were against each other and whispered, "I am gonna cum baby."

"Then cum Cheol. Cum inside me. Fill me up.", you said in a lust laden voice and that was Seungcheol's undoing as he came inside you.

!!SMUT ENDS HERE!!

After catching his breath, he lied down beside you for a bit before getting up to bring a warm water-soaked towel to clean you and then clean himself. After showering, you wore Seungcheol's shirt and lied down on the soft bed. Seungcheol joined you as he pulled your back against his chest and nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

"I love you.", he whispered and your heart melted.

"I love you too Cheollie.", you smiled as he giggled.

Then Seungcheol started laughing as you turned your head and gave him a questioning look.

"We are idiots, aren't we?", he giggled and you laughed along with him.

"You know what I am thinking?", you said.

"What?", asked Seungcheol.

"Haewon's face when she sees us hand in hand in the morning.", you smirked and Seungcheol gave a hearty laugh.

"You are a menace my love.", he teased and then you both dozed off.

______________________________________________________________

Author's note: First of all, ignore any sort of typos or grammatical mistakes. I am still trying to get a hang of this app as I have never made such long posts on this app before. Now, I love best friends to lovers trope so much and hence I really wanted to write this. I dreamed about this plot and I needed to write it down. I hope everyone enjoys it.

#seventeen #scoups x reader #scoups smut #scoups seventeen #scoups fluff #scoups imagines #svt #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol fluff #svt scoups #scoups

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mooki3-bear · 1 year ago

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I Need You (Paige Bueckers x black!fem!reader)

Summary: You and Paige go through a rough patch, you only see one solution

Warnings: Just a lot of cursing

word count: 1346

I was tired. I was tired of the constant arguing, silent treatments, and petty comments. The most tiring thing of them all was trying to keep up the picture of a happy couple when I knew we were the complete opposite at the moment.

I woke up around eight in the morning, feeling around the bed for Paige’s warmth. When I was met with a cold part of the bed, the memories from the night before came rushing back. The screaming, the insults, and the words that could never be taken back. Which then led to Paige sleeping on the couch. We have had some pretty bad arguments, but this one definitely takes the cake. I rubbed my burning eyes, which were dry from the tears, and made my way out of our room to the kitchen. As soon as I opened the door, I was met with Paige, making coffee in the kitchen. Our eyes met, but we didn't say a word to each other. I hesitantly made my way to the kitchen island and took the coffee that she slid in front of me. We sat in an uncomfortable silence, which was considered normal at this point, waiting for the other to say something. Anything.

As we sat there I wondered to myself. I wondered how everything went to shit after a beautiful three-year relationship. I wondered how such a loving apartment that felt like home soon turned into a place you dreaded waking up in. I wondered if I had the opportunity to go back in time, what I would have to do to prevent all of this from happening.

With a deep breath, the first word in five minutes is spoken. “Paige…we need to talk” I say with a shaky breath. Paige’s head shoots up, her eyes filled with concern. “All we’ve been doing for the last month is arguing. It’s literally draining the life out of me” I say as I move my coffee away to make sure I am more focused on the conversation. “I know. I'm sorry but I've just been stressed, babe. You can’t get mad at me for being stressed” Paige scoffs and turns away. “Did I fucking say I was mad at you for being stressed, Paige? No, I didn't! So don’t put-” I take a deep breath, not wanting to start another draining argument between us. Paige noticed that I was more frustrated than usual. “Look, I'm sorry. Can we just lie down and watch a movie? I just wanna forget last night happened” Paige suggests as she takes my hand in her’s. This is the bullshit that makes me so mad. I don’t want to ignore the issue. That's all she ever wants to do.

“No, Paige. We have to talk. We can’t keep ignoring this. If we ignore it all the time it just gets worse and worse” I stand up and walk around the small space of our apartment. “I don’t feel like talking about it. I just wanna sleep and lay with you. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable” Paige laughs, trying to soften the mood. “I understand Paige. However, what happened last night was just…it was a lot” I sigh, rubbing my hand through my tight coils. “ Oh my god. Are you seriously still upset about that? I told you about eighteen times you have nothing to be jealous of” Paige's voice gets louder, as she remembers how ridiculous she felt the conversation was. “You constantly telling me ‘Don’t worry about it’ and ‘You're overreacting’ doesn’t ease my fucking nerves, babe. It makes me feel like I'm delusional and I know I'm not” I say, becoming more and more frustrated with every word that leaves my mouth. “I never said the you were delusional, babe! I’m telling you that you have nothing to worry about. If you don’t believe me I don’t know what to tell you. What do you want me to do” Paige rubs her hands over her face as she makes her way over to the couch.

“I don’t know Paige! I honestly don’t know but you don’t understand. The way you say these things makes me feel…like I'm this weird insecure girlfriend who needs you to coddle her all the time” I say walking over to stand in front of her. She slightly, but noticeably rolls her eyes. I scoff and walk into the bedroom, just needing to get away from her. To my misfortune, she follows me. “Baby! I am trying my best to figure out what you want. You're acting fucking weird and I don’t know what you want” Paige exclaims. I stood and looked at her for a while….what did I want?

Why were we always having these useless arguments that felt like they were going nowhere? Was I trying to prove something? Were we trying to keep something alive that just wasn’t there anymore? What the fuck was going on.

“Hello? Seriously what is going on with you” Paige asks as she annoyingly waves a hand in front of your face. “Paige” I pause, not exactly sure what to say. “I think we need to take a break” Tears finally fall from my eyes. Paige’s entire demeanor changes, shock filling her body. “What the fuck are you talking about” Paige asks with a shaky voice. “I just feel like we should take a break…this relationship needs a break” I walk over to the closet, packing a bag full of enough clothes until I can get the rest of mine. “Why would we need to take a break Y/n? Because we had a few arguments? That makes no sense” She exclaims, following me into the closet. “Paige! We have been constantly fighting for a fucking month now! Im fucking tired” I yell while clapping my hands, hoping to get my point across. Paige’s eyes fill with tears, both of us motionless. It felt like someone had just stabbed me in the heart.

I would never in a million years have guessed that I would be packing my clothes to take a break from the love of my life. Paige all of a sudden takes my hand in hers, staring into what felt like my soul. “Y/n…please. Don’t leave. I'm sorry” Tears fall down the blonde's face as I drop my duffle bag to the floor for a split second. Every bone in my body was telling you to stay, to forget everything that had happened. They were telling me to just sit on the couch like I usually would and brace for the next argument that would ring throughout the apartment. However, my heart was telling me that you needed time apart so that we could get better.

I take the girl's face in my hands, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. “It’s not forever Paige. I promise,” I say, trying to keep a strong face on. “But we need some time apart so that we can get better…I need you to understand” I whisper. Paige is hesitant but nods her head. I finally let out a shaky breath as she sniffles and leaves the room. As she closes the door I let out another shaky breath that turns into a sob.

As I calm myself down I finish packing my bag with enough clothes to keep me through the “break”. Once I finished, I walked out into the living room to see Paige curled up on the couch, eyes red from her tears. With a shaky breath, I walk over to her, giving her a passionate kiss before making my way to the door. With my hand on the handle, I hesitate, turning to Paige to look at her for the last time in a while. “I love you, P,” I say, with a smile and salty tears falling down my face. “I love you too, Beautiful” Paige sniffles and laughs. With those last words being said, I close the door to our apartment, ready to see what life has in store for me until I see her next.

This was my first REALLY long fic! I hope yall enjoyed and I MIGHT make a part two cuz I hate when some angst don't have a happy ending <3

#paige bueckers x black!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige buckets #wlw #lesbian #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers angst

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bestlilithian · 1 year ago

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Home is the first grave.

[ Moon-Pluto, Pluto in 4th house culture ]

tw for various mentions of abuse and death as well as mental problems, sh and su!cide, also needles (dont ask)

- may have experienced a lot of death in thr family or in the close neighborhood

- feel more connected to your dead relatives than your alive ones

- there mightve been a death in your family before you were born

- feeling peacful in graveyards

- may have fantasized about death/su!cide, might percieve death as something that brings peace (hence the fantasies, because really all you ever wanted was peace)

- wanting peace but knowing you cannot have it because of your nature; feeling like theres just something in your blood in your soul that is uncontrollable and overwhelming

- your household was always a house , never a home

- being raised by very old people, enjoying the presence of much older wiser people (like, literal elders not hot teachers 💀)

- enduring literal psychological warfare in your home (usual your mother waged war on you as soon as you were old enough to form a coherent critical thought)

- "I hate you, dont leave me" (might be the attitude of your mother towards you, or yours towards others you love)

- Your mother always knew when you were lying or hiding something. Especially if she had a scorpio moon or moon/pluto aspects herself. You grew up extremely fearful of her.

- moon pluto culture is hearing your mother talk lovingly about her own fucked up mother, she never accepted the severity of her own abuse, until of course she needs to use it in an argument against you "Im a great mother, my mother was so much worse"(basically Im good because I abuse you differently than I was abused 😍 same shit different package)

- not liking motherly women or women who try to be mother figures to you, feeling uncomofortable around them; youre uncomfortable with how much you crave motherly love and people who can provide you that become threats because of the power they could have over you if you opened up

- being betrayed by the women in your life, especially those who were much older and supposed to take care of you (teachers, tutors, family members, therapists, babysitters..)

- toxic female friends 😁🔫 bonus : really close but toxic female friendships in youth that feel like death when you end them even though you know it was necessary

- feeling pain so deeply you think you will drop dead or have a heart attack. (When I was little and depressed I wrote in a diary of mine "My body will kill me before I get to")

more on this : when you start crying because of immense emotional pain and suddenly your heart is burning and beating too fast and youre getting light headed and throwing up , and suddenly youre not crying because of the pain, youre crying because youre afraid youre about to have a heart attack and die

- fearing that your mother will k word herself or you if you try to leave her (harsh aspects mostly)

- learning what emotional violence is very early, how to wield it and defend against it

- turning your emotions off completely for a while and then having a nervous breakdown when it all rushes back

- reading up on psychology, psychiatry and works of psychotherapists so you can heal and never become your mother

- wanting to put a bullet in your head when you notice yourself thinking or behaving like your mother

- going home after you spent time somewhere where you felt good and safe is extremely dreadful

- your mother doesnt see you as a human being (harsh aspects especially), and may take you a while to figure this out

- extremely controlling behavior from your mother or other caretakers (for example my mother threatened to send people to stalk me when I moved to a diff city, to 'make sure Im not doing something bad')

- deeply grieving the loss of your childhood and your inner child

- almost choking while crying or passing out

- feeling like youre a horrible person and dont deserve your family [because youre in deep denial and are seeing the flaws of your family as your own and denying your own trauma]

- learning about sex early on, perhaps early sexual obsession but not like promiscuity more like craving for deep intimacy (also you were probably deeply ashamed of it)

- not telling your family (esp mother) anything because they will ruin it for you

- being accused of being a psychopath, uncaring, selfish for "not loving your family enough"

- not knowing how to feel about the members of your family that played a more passive role in your life because they didnt do anything wrong but they didnt do anything right either; surely they knew , why didnt they stop it? why didnt they save you? (Im talking about adults obviously)

- your parents mightve been much older when you were born, you might have siblings much older than you

- doing anything to avoid your intense emotions and then when you break down and feel everything you realize how freeing it is and how comfortable you actually are with the intensity

- gutteral reactions to songs you deeply relate to (I hear 10 seconds of 'Slipping through my fingers' and I am dead on the floor)

- being afraid of your mother or just of your family in general

- you could probably kill someone with your bare hands if you were angry and hurt enough

- scary as fuck when you actually show your anger

- if you cry in the midst of a fight (verbal or physical) ... someone tell that person to make peace w God . cause thats you crying because of what youre about to do, because thats you loosing the last crumb of humanity you had for them and that can only end one way.

- you would probably kill for your loved ones

- your friends feel like you would help them hide a body (and you probably would)

- recognizing people by footsteps and breathing patterns (especially family members)

- deep deep eyes, people can see war and death them, and they feel like you see their pain too (because you do)

- reading people easily

- enjoying? cruelty (to yourself or others), like getting impulses to do something that would cause you or someone else that ugly feeling of facing cruelty

- finding comfort in the cold and the dark

- insane nightmares since youth, growing to be used to them

- its very hard to shock you

- you know when someones lying

- you might dread certain types of pain yet feel pleasure from them (personally I hate having my blood taken for a test but then I end up immensely enjoying the feeling of a needle pricking my skin and going deep into my vein)

- feeling the need to "kill" some your habits; most likely to drop things cold turkey and be extremely strict in breaking bad habits

- might enjoy really dark, emotionally and morally complex media

- immediately recognizing other moon pluto people and trauma bonding

- extremely good pain endurance. not necessarily tolerance , but endurance. you feel the pain and do it anyway.

- might not react to physical pain at all from a young age

- fantasies about drowning or slipping away peacfully

- either loving deep waters or hating them

- randomly breaking down in the middle of the day because of some pain you buried 5 years ago

- might self harm a lot because of your complex relationship w pain, it genuinely helps sometimes

- home feels like literal prison

- seeing the value in suffering, you might reject the idea that suffering is bad and should be avoided and prevented at all costs

- you might become religious as you mature (but usually in your own way, not necessarily according to tradition)

- forced to eat or denied food in your home, this mightve fucked up your relationship with food

And lastly, I need you to engrave this in yourself :

Wrong love is not love.

#plutonian #pluto placements #moon square pluto #moon opposite pluto #moon conjunct pluto #moon trine pluto #moon sextile pluto #astro placements #horoscope #astrology #trauma #dysfunctional family #moon #moon placements #mommy issues #abuse awareness

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bumblesimagines · 8 months ago

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When Fire Meets Fate

Part 14

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After a failed assassination attempt, (Y/N)'s thoughts become filled with reminders of his family on the opposing side.

CW/TW: Typical Got/HOTD warnings, violence, Ser Erryk's death, not-so-subtle period typical sexism, Ser Alfred and Lord Celtigar are their own warnings at this point

someone get this man a ticket to the summer isles asap

~~~

His hobbies became less enjoyable with each passing day. His eyes skimmed the words on the page, reading them, but his mind could not process them due to the turmoil within. The days of devouring books, reading hundreds or more pages were gone, halted by the war seeping through the cracks of barely contained peace.

(Y/N) thought of his niece's son, and couldn't help but wonder what his sister thought of it all. Did she despise them, despise him? Did she believe them free of guilt or had her futile hope died when the sword sliced through her grandson's throat?

He squeezed his eyes shut at the image, unable to think of the child without thinking of his own toddlers. With the death of Jaehaerys still fresh, everyone remained on high alert for a counterattack or another enemy taking advantage of the unsteady Realm by sowing more mayhem. Many'd chosen to remain neutral, some such as House Tyrell and House Greyjoy, but neither house seemed like the type to send assassins to kill children in their beds. Lord Tyrell was a mere boy whose mother ruled as regent and the Red Kraken faced his enemies head-on.

A quiet sigh brought his attention to Elinda as the handmaiden followed Rhaenyra to finish braiding her hair, only for his wife to walk forward again, too lost in her mind to give Elinda enough time. (Y/N) closed his book and set it aside, a trickle of amusement pouring in when he took in Elinda's twisted lips. Rhaenyra stared toward the window, her hands tightly clutched and her brows fixed into a near-permanent furrow. Worry had never been a good look on her.

"Nyra," He spoke, snapping her out of her distant trance. "Allow Elinda to finish working."

"Ah," Rhaenyra glanced over her shoulder at the brunette before snapping her head forward sheepishly, the skin along her cheeks gaining a soft pink color. Elinda, in all her patience, simply smiled and resumed working swiftly, her fingers moving automatically from the countless times she'd helped do Rhaenyra's hair. "My apologies."

"It is quite alright, Your Grace. Please try and lay down; it has been a weary day." Elinda spoke softly, finally finishing the long braid and resting it along Rhaenyra's back.

With a sigh of agreement, (Y/N) twisted around to tug down the pillows resting against the wooden headboard before he leaned back into them and sunk into their soft cushion. Rhaenyra joined him soon after, tucking her legs beside his underneath the covers and fluffing up the pillows with the heel of her palms. Elinda watched them solemnly as she placed empty teacups onto a tray and approached the bed with a sympathetic frown.

"You must sleep tonight," She told them gently, "Let me ask the maester for some draught."

Rhaenyra exhaled heavily through her nose, her body naturally curling into his side once she placed her head on his chest. "Perhaps that would be best." She murmured and draped her arm across his stomach. His fingers crept up her back until his palm settled on the curve of her hip. "Thank you, Elinda."

"Of course."

Elinda crossed the room to continue tidying up, but her work was cut short when the door opened and a familiar man stepped inside. Immediately, the couple sat up in their bed with near-bated breath at whatever news he could possibly be bringing them at such an hour. Even Elinda straightened up, the calm of her features disappearing into worry.

When the knight remained quiet as he stepped further into the room, Rhaenyra's brows furrowed. "Ser Erryk?"

The sound of a sword unsheathing echoed coldly through the room and dread settled uncomfortably in (Y/N)'s stomach. "Believe me," he spoke through gritted teeth, "I had no choice."

"Brother!" An angered shout followed the door being thrust open by a copy of the man already standing in their bedchambers. Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, (Y/N) quickly realized, but who was who? (Y/N)'s arm shot out in front of Rhaenyra, his body scooting forward whilst his arm pushed her behind him. Her quickened breath filled his ears and her nails dug through the thin fabric of his sleeve as she clutched at his arm. "Do not do this. I beg you."

The twin who'd entered their room, Arryk, spoke heatedly but the slight tremble in his hand when he pointed his sword at his brother spoke for his true thoughts. "You are the one who betrayed us, Erryk,"

The two knights continued facing each other, one pushing forward and the other stepping back tentatively, the hesitation in their limbs keeping them separate until Arryk suddenly lunged toward the bed with a cry and his sword raised high. Rhaenyra yelped in surprise, her hands tugging and dragging her husband along with her as she scrambled backward until the two were pressed up along the headboard but thankfully, Erryk sprang into action immediately, blocking the swing of his brother's sword. Elinda dropped the tray onto the nearest table and ducked down behind it, her widened eyes jumping frantically between the couple and the brothers.

"Elinda, go!" Rhaenyra called to the panicked handmaiden, her voice mixing with the frequent clashing of metal against metal. "Run and find Ser Lorent!"

Hurriedly nodding, Elinda scooped fistfuls of her dress into her hands and raced toward the open door where she disappeared into the hallway. The knights took a moment apart, their chests heaving and features concentrated, but (Y/N) caught the flicker of relief on one of their faces when Elinda's footsteps became distant. Ser Erryk.

"Come," He breathed to his wife, reaching around behind him to grasp her arm and pull her as he scrambled toward the edge of the bed where Erryk stood closest. The knight glanced over his shoulder and followed their movements, using his body as a shield when Arryk swung again.

"(Y/N)," Rhaenyra whispered shakily, pressing herself against the stone collum and wincing with each clash of swords.

When Erryk's leg was struck, (Y/N) took her wrist and ran, the clanking of metal that followed them making his throat tighten. Rhaenyra cried out when she tripped on the ends of her nightgown, forcing (Y/N) to stop and duck down toward her as Arryk's body tumbled forward and onto a vase with a shove from Erryk. He wrapped his arms around her swiftly and cradled her whimpering form close to his chest, heavy and quick pants leaving him whilst he watched the brothers swing at each other.

"Your Grace, My Lord!" Ser Lorent appeared, rushing down the steps leading further into their bedchambers and waiting for the knights to move away before he raced forward to them. "With me!" He ordered, one arm behind them to guide them toward the other door and the other arm keeping his sword trained on the two for any sudden movements toward them.

Wiggling on the doorknob, (Y/N) cursed in frustration when it wouldn't turn, the adrenaline flowing through his veins beginning to give way to panic fueled by Rhaenyra's whimpers and watery eyes. The knights had tangled themselves together, concentrating their fight on each other but with their features and injuries, (Y/N) could no longer tell who was who. They only watched hopelessly as one began strangling the other.

"We were born together," One wheezed, voice strained from the hands clamped around his throat. (Y/N)'s hand tightened on the doorknob, finding his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the sight and words spoken. Alicent, Alicent, Alicent. His sister, his twin, the other half of his soul and body. Had she known of this? No.. not even their father would think of such a thing... would he?

"You parted us!" The other wailed through blood and tears, his body trembling from exhaustion and grief. Aching familiarity flooded (Y/N)'s chest and filled his eyes with salty, warm tears. "But I still love you, brother."

The one pinned between the floor and the wall dug his fingers into a cut on the other's leg, prompting a pained cry as he toppled over onto the floor. He dragged himself toward a tossed-aside sword on the floor as the other did similar. They stood up, faced each other, and charged, but instead of the dreaded clanging, (Y/N) heard the horrifying noise of cloth and flesh being torn into.

They held onto each other, stumbling and staggering through sobs.. until the dead weight of one forced the other to finally step back. The remaining twin panted heavily, his tears mixing with sweat and blood whilst he stared at the corpse of his brother.

"Your Grace, My Lord," He exhaled heavily when he faced them on unsteady feet and quivering lips. He turned his sword onto himself, shoulders slumping with exhaustion as soft sniffling left him. "Forgive me."

(Y/N) blinked. "Erryk-"

His words caught in his throat as Erryk collapsed down onto his sword, impaling his midsection and covering the floor with blood. (Y/N) turned Rhaenyra toward him instinctively, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head into his neck. The late guards that'd stormed the room at the last second stared aghast at the bodies, both men familiar but only one had been loyal to their cause.

His eyes roamed down to the floor, meeting the blank blue eyes of Erryk. Was this how he and his twin would reunite? Forced to look upon the body of the other in the end, with no way of reversing time and doing it right?

(Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut. When had been the last time he'd told Alicent he loved her?

"He is the basest of villains." Jace's voice held barely restrained anger in it, an emotion his son had grown so used to throughout his childhood. Always the storm, the spitfire, the one who lost his temper with mere words or looks. (Y/N) felt exhausted, too tired to deal with a son that reminded him so much of his younger self but when a hint of irritation flared in his belly, he remembered the wide-eyed, teary look on Jace's face upon seeing them alive and without injury before he'd rushed into their arms like a frightened child. "He sullies his brother's grave."

"They formed together in the womb, Jace." (Y/N) muttered, feeling the dirt escape between his fingers and onto the knights below. They said the dead often looked as if they were sleeping, but not even the Silent Sisters could hide the look of death on their faces; olive skin was now ghostly pale, and once pink lips a purplish tint. "They were born together, they died together. They were halves and now they're whole again. Leave them be."

"We cannot fault him for keeping his oath," Rhaenyra added softly, tiredly, mimicking her husband and releasing the dirt clutched in her hands onto the bodies below. Grief had become a numbed feeling, one circling their minds but too muddled with exhaustion and muted anger to take them fully into its clutches once more.

(Y/N) stepped away from the grave, unable to stand the sight of watching dirt slowly cover the twins any longer. He'd hardly slept, and the few moments of sleep had been filled with dreadful nightmares of what would come of him and his family. His uncle would send knights and soldiers out to help King's Landing, many among them being his blood. Gwayne came to mind specifically, his older brother with a level head on his shoulders but an eager desire to please their father.

The smallfolk and soldiers were always the first to die in conflict; it made him wonder if he'd ever see his brother again with eyes full of life.

"Father," Jace caught up with him, his curls bouncing and reminding him of Alicent in her youth when her curls had begun having some definition. He made a face and the tip of his ears turned a light red. "Apologies. My Lord." He corrected himself, eyes darting toward the knights and servants escorting them back to the safety of the castle. He was a little boy no longer but he thought himself too grown.

"What is it, Jace?" (Y/N) turned to him, studying the side of his son's face and being unable to stop himself from picking out the traits that reminded him of his family; a mesh of his mother and siblings' faces stared back at him whenever he gazed at Jace, from the curls of his hair to the slope of his nose.

"Is it not..." Jace trailed off, the tip of his tongue swiping over his lips. "Is it not unjust to bury Ser Erryk alongside the man who attempted to kill him, who attempted to kill you and Her Grace? It's despicable what he did, what he chose to do. And... for Ser Erryk to..."

Exhaling softly, (Y/N) looked forward. "Siblings are siblings but.. it's different with twins, Jace. You are born together, they are the first face you meet.. you are one soul, one heart, almost one body. I remember the pain of losing Corren, one of my older brothers. I can only imagine that very pain would be intensified tenfold if I were to hear of Alicent's passing."

"She is a traitor." Jace scoffed. "She placed the usurper on the throne. She wanted Princess Rhaenys to bend the knee to him. She-"

"Is still my sister." (Y/N) interrupted softly. "Just as Ser Arryk, traitor or not, was still Ser Erryk's brother. You may not understand as your brothers are too young to yet inflict any sort of betrayal... but it's complicated. There may be hate and grief and frustration but the love will linger.. the hope. You'll understand, someday."

Jace frowned at that, jaw tightening. "I'm not a child to be coddled-"

"You will always be a child, Jace, to us." (Y/N) told him, a hint of a dry chuckle following. His gaze drifted toward the woman standing on a balcony, watching them with curious eyes. Their savior; the woman who'd alerted the guards of Ser Arryk's trickery. "You will always be the boy with round cheeks, gentle waves, and a penchant for trouble. Now, head inside and check on your brothers."

His hand grazed Jace's shoulder before he parted from his son, making his way up the cobbled steps where Lady Mysaria waited, her hands intertwined before her and the hint of a smile on her lips. Truthfully, (Y/N) had expected her to depart after giving her warning as some sort of way of evening out the field. They'd kept Daemon's promise and in return, she'd helped them. Yet, there she stood, gazing thoughtfully at him before the echoing shrill of Seasmoke brought their attention out to where the dragon flew. He'd grown restless in recent times, dancing in the sky after his flights and filling the air with his cries.

"They are... curious creatures." Lady Mysaria spoke, seemingly captivated by Seasmoke. He hardly blamed her. He himself saw the dragons in fleeting moments, sometimes even allowing Rhaenyra to convince him to join her on a flight or two with Syrax. For the smallfolk, seeing a dragon close must've been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Seasmoke was a beauty with his pale silver skin but frightening in his bursts of irritation. He loved Laenor as much as a dragon could, (Y/N) knew that much. "Have you ridden one?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Before the youngest arrived, yes. Rhaenyra enjoys taking to the skies and she enjoys sharing her hobbies. I would not say it's a favored pastime of mine." His words drew a quiet laugh from her.

Footsteps filled his ears and he glanced over his shoulder, his arm immediately extending toward his wife to coil around her waist. Rhaenyra gave a quiet sigh and leaned into his side, fingertips brushing away a loose strand of silver hair. She appeared conflicted at first but she wiped the look off her face to address Lady Mysaria with a polite smile, eyes briefly flickering to the dragon in the distance.

"We were told you turned back from your ship to bring warning."

"I was not believed at first." Lady Mysaria stated, her head remaining forward but her eyes flickered toward them, obversing and waiting. The sea breeze ruffled back her raven locks, and she turned to look at them. "What is the life of a queen worth these days?"

"You wish to be rewarded." Rhaenyra mused, withholding a heavy sigh.

A hint of a smile graced Lady Mysaria's lips, playful in a way but not mocking. "As I would think you would wish to reward me." She said, her brows briefly lifting and voice nearly drowned out by another cry from Seasmoke. (Y/N)'s attention darted between the two, trying to focus on the woman before them, the woman he now owed his life to, and the dragon that'd once belonged to his close friend.

"What price would you set?" Rhaenyra questioned, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her voice tight and guarded, slightly worried. Maybe even paranoid. Now were hardly the times to owe anyone anything, not with war rearing its ugly head and castles being so easily breached. His fingers danced the curve along her side, tips pressing against the rough texture of her dress to ease her nerves. She exhaled through her nose and spared him a glance, but it did little to cease the way she toyed with her fingers.

"A place.. at your court." Lady Mysaria revealed, dark eyes watching them closely.

"You wished to free yourself from the webs of court, and yet now wish to find yourself a place in it?" (Y/N)'s brows dipped inward, perplexed. The castle had been breached by a knight with the sole goal of slaughtering a queen and he'd nearly succeded. Anyone else would've collected their things and raced for the next ship away from the Crownslands, away from the infighting. Lady Mysaria's shoulder lifted with a half-shrug.

"And you let me go. You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised." She said gently, a shadow briefly casting over them when Seasmoke flew in front of the sun. "I know the workings of the Red Keep and the movements of those who serve there. That is worth more than gold to you now."

Rhaenyra's lips pursed, eyes squinting when she spared Seasmoke a glance at his call. "What is our worth to you?"

"I would punish the Hightower for what they have done, to me and those who served me. But more than that, I know the struggles of the smallfolk of King's Landing. They will be ruled, either by you or by the usurper. And only one of you has shown yourself to be merciful."

"Well, I hope you do not confuse mercy with pliancy."

Another shriek, one much closer, interrupted the beat of silence that passed over them after Rhaenyra spoke. It almost seemed purposeful, urgent. (Y/N) watched Seasmoke's distant figure twist in the sky and dip downward toward the water, skimming it briefly before rising again. His flying seemed purposeless; no hunting, no playing, seemingly no enjoyment coming from it. Was it the equivalent of pacing? Or an attempt at communication without his rider to decipher it for them? (Y/N) frowned. Could it be...

"Seasmoke, my late lord-husband's dragon. He's grown restless as of late." Rhaenyea turned away from the sight and gave another tight yet polite smile, her hand rising to touch her husband's back briefly, signaling to him their departure. "We can not know why."

"Maybe he's lonely." Lady Mysaria said, and Rhaenyra halted, eyes darting back to her before turning to her husband.

Their departure from the balcony was quiet, with Lady Mysaria staring after them until she resumed her watch of Seasmoke. Rhaenyra stared forward whilst they walked down the hallway, her lips twitching into the beginning of a frown and brows furrowing. They had news for Rhaena but (Y/N)'s mind remained consumed with other things. Dragons and their riders were bonded, united as one in more ways than one; rumors and speculations the bond was emotional, possibly even bound by souls. Syrax had grown restless during Rhaenyra's early labor, shrieking and roaring within the caves she and the others called home. It was enough to prove there was something there, some sort of connection... one that would be severed after death.

His lips brushed over Rhaenyra's temple, his legs leading him in the opposite direction of their bedchambers. He needed more time with his children, now more than ever. His chest constricted with the beginning of grief.

They'd gone years without hearing a word from Laenor or his lover, as they'd agreed upon to avoid rousing suspicion, but Seasmoke's restlessness, his constant shrieks and cries... the chance it was his way of mourning was high. Lives were lost so easily, fragile things capable of breaking at any time and any place. And so far from home.

Rhaenys and Corlys had mourned their children for years and felt the turmoil of not having been there for Laena during her time of need. Lady Jane Arryn would take good care of the children but it hardly shook away the worries.

Could he survive losing another child, let alone one of the youngest? Could Rhaenyra? What would come of Jace if he lost Joffery, Viserys, or Aegon? His eldest son was already brash yet withheld his impulses, but (Y/N) knew the flush of youthful anger and arrogance all too well. It was all-consuming and dangerous.

Council meetings were wearisome. How his father managed to attend each and every one for decades was a mystery to (Y/N), a mystery he thought about as he sat in his seat and listened to the droning of the other lords. In a fleeting desire, he desperately hoped once the waters calmed, he'd be able to do as other consorts did and stay far from the Small Council and its squabbling men.

"Still no sightings," Rhaenys announced as she strode into the room, peeling her gloves off as she approached her seat beside him. It'd been early afternoon when they'd heard of an army leaving the gates of King's Landing, its destination unknown and unclear thus far. "No men, no horses, no ships... no dragons." She gave a quiet sigh, tossing her gloves upon the table and sitting down.

"Good. Then we must seize the hour and act before our enemy does. They have penetrated our castle walls and now the Riverlands are aflame after the Battle at the Burning Mill." Ser Alfred spoke, turning his attention onto Maester Gerardys expectantly. "How fares Prince Daemon with our army?"

Maester Gerardys grimaced. "There has been no word from Prince Daemon, Your Grace."

"Then we must press what advantage we do have."

"And what's that?" Lord Staunton questioned from beside Ser Alfred, eyeing him with a level of uncertainty (Y/N) could not fault him for.

"Dragons." Gods. "Send all of them out. Start turning Green strongholds to our cause and burn those who resist."

"No," Rhaenyra spoke up with a dismissive shake of her head, her fingers tightly wound together and lips slightly pursed. "If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. Fear of it is in itself a weapon. The Greens will make the same calculation."

Ser Alfred's dry laughter followed, mocking as if he were faced with a child rather than his ruler. "The value of a sword is not within its scabbard."

"We will secure victory with armies, not with dragons alone. The Greens understand that." Rhaenyra swallowed, her jaw tight from Ser Alfred's attitude and chest falling with a deep exhale. "The Vale and the North will send men. We must give Daemon time."

"Your Grace," Lord Gormon Massey spoke next, shifting in his chair and leaning back into it as he looked toward her with a small sniffle. "You have witnessed firsthand just how vulnerable you are. Prince Daemon is abroad, Lord (Y/N) is more skilled with words than with swords, and Aegon's factions are enraged at the death of his son. You have never been so exposed!"

"Perhaps it is time for you to think about secreting yourself somewhere safe while we remain here as a source of distraction for the enemy." Lord Celtigar proposed, and (Y/N) couldn't help the laugh that tumbled free from his lips. The lords turned their attention swiftly onto him, brows furrowed at his amusement but (Y/N) simply arched a brow, eyes flickering between them all.

"You expect Her Grace to turn and cower away whilst you do what exactly? Appoint a regent in her stead? Play pretend as children do so that you may indulge in fantasies? Age has truly emboldened too many of you, made your tongues loose and brains hazy, it seems. You act as if you are speaking to your daughter, your sister, or wife. You speak too freely in the presence of the Queen." (Y/N) inhaled heavily and leaned forward, resting his elbows upon the table and studying them each. His tone remained icy, cold and distant whilst he addressed them to further watch them shift uncomfortably in their seats. "What do you think Her Grace's enemies would do if they caught wind of her.. 'secreting herself somewhere safe'? They would call her a coward, and what House would wish to follow a coward?"

"My Lord, t-that is not what-"

"And what would you do, Ser Alfred, if we were to send all our dragons away to fight and left Dragonstone vulnerable? The riderless dragons may be prompted to attack, sure, but without riders, they have no loyalty. Dragonstone's inhabitants would be left to face the same fate as Harren the Black or the Harroways of Harrenhal." (Y/N) raised his brows at the man, turning away when he parted his mouth to speak and leaving him to clamp it shut.

"You sit here and act like children who've been gifted their very first sword whilst simultaneously disregarding the very reason we have dragons at our disposal. The rulers of the Targaryen Dynasty may have been men thus far but we have seen women rule before, or have you all forgotten of Dorne? It was Princess Meria Martell who led her people against the conquest and won. Perhaps, instead of opening your mouths, you should open a history book."

(Y/N) scoffed softly and stood from his seat, prompting the rest of the men to stand as well with their heads bowed. "Oh, and Lord Massey," (Y/N) watched the man swallow before he lifted his head to look at him. "Nearly all of my brothers are knights. I was taught how to fight in my youth. That I choose words is not a flaw, for someone else may have chosen to cut your tongue if they felt slighted." He turned away, moving to stand beside Rhaenyra as she too rose from her seat.

Coiling her arm around his, Rhaenyra gave him a fleeting smile before looking over her council. "Let us not speak or entertain such an idea again. It'd be inconvenient amid a war to have to charge someone for treason, wouldn't it? If there is nothing else of value to inform us of, we shall take our leave."

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