#part of me feels it’s my responsibility to take care of her

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 6

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of their apartment, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The soft light highlighted the simple, yet cozy space they had made their own—a sanctuary that was their little world, hidden from the eyes of everyone else. Knox was still asleep in his crib, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, blissfully unaware of the tension building between his parents.

YN stood near the window, her back turned to Azriel, arms crossed over her chest. Her posture was stiff, her shoulders tense as she stared out at the city, her reflection barely visible in the glass. Azriel could feel the frustration radiating off her in waves, and he knew that this conversation was inevitable. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

He had taken the week off, needing to be with his family, needing to be with her. After overhearing Cassian and Mor talk about their little spying expedition on YN, he had made the decision quickly, without hesitation. But now, as he watched YN’s back, he wondered if he had acted too impulsively.

“Why did you do it, Azriel?” YN’s voice broke the silence, cutting through the stillness of the morning. It was calm, but there was an edge to it—one that Azriel recognized all too well. She was holding back, trying to keep her emotions in check, but he knew she was upset. “Why did you take the week off?”

Azriel let out a slow breath, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped closer to her. “I wanted to be here with you and Knox,” he answered, keeping his voice steady. “After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use the support. I wanted to make sure you both were safe.”

She turned around to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt. “Safe?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “Azriel, we’re not in immediate danger. You’re acting like I can’t take care of myself and our son without you hovering over us.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Azriel replied quickly, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. He was protective—maybe too protective, especially now that their lives were more complicated than ever. He crossed the distance between them, his hands reaching out to take hers, but she stepped back, putting more space between them.

“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You’re here because you don’t trust me to handle things on my own. You’re here because you think you need to shield us from everything—even from your own family. But Azriel, I can’t live like this. We can’t live like this, constantly looking over our shoulders, constantly hiding.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew she was right. But it didn’t change the fact that he felt this deep, unrelenting need to protect her, to protect Knox, to be there every moment in case something went wrong. The thought of losing them—of anything happening to them—was more than he could bear.

“YN, I’m not trying to smother you,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the desperation he felt. “I just… I need to be sure. After what happened yesterday, after knowing they were watching you—I can’t just leave you both alone and hope everything will be fine.”

Her eyes softened slightly at his words, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a sadness that made Azriel’s heart ache. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment as if trying to gather her thoughts before she spoke again.

“Azriel,” she said more gently, “I understand why you feel the way you do. I do. But this… this isn’t sustainable. We can’t keep living in fear, can’t keep reacting to what might happen. We need to trust each other, trust that we can handle things—even when you’re not here.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He knew she was right, but it was so hard to let go of that instinct, the one that told him he needed to be there every moment to protect them. He had been living on the edge for so long, constantly aware of the dangers lurking in the shadows, that he didn’t know how to step back and just… breathe.

“I do trust you,” he said finally, his voice rough with emotion. “I trust you more than anyone, YN. But I’ve spent centuries living in a world where letting your guard down, even for a moment, can cost you everything. I’m sorry if I’m overbearing—I just can’t lose you. I can’t lose our son.”

YN’s expression softened further, the tension in her posture easing slightly as she stepped closer to him. She reached out, her hand resting against his chest, right over his heart. “You won’t lose us,” she said firmly, looking up at him with a gaze full of determination. “But you have to let us live, Azriel. We can’t keep hiding in the shadows like this. I need you to believe that we can handle this—together.”

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. YN had always been strong, far stronger than he sometimes gave her credit for. And Knox—he was still so small, but Azriel knew his son would grow up to be just as strong. They didn’t need him to shield them from the world; they needed him to stand beside them, to be their partner, not their protector.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, opening his eyes to meet hers. “I’ll try to do better. I promise.”

She smiled at him then, a small but genuine smile that made the tightness in his chest ease just a little. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly, her hand moving up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, Azriel. Always.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, the simple act grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered. “Always,” he echoed, his voice filled with a quiet resolve.

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, the tension between them slowly dissipating. Outside, the sun continued to rise, bathing the room in warmth and light, as if to remind them that there was still hope, still a future to be had, as long as they faced it together.

In the crib beside them, Knox let out a small whimper, his tiny wings fluttering as he stirred from his sleep. YN pulled back from Azriel with a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with affection as she turned to their son. “Looks like someone’s awake,” she murmured, moving over to the crib to pick Knox up.

Azriel watched her, his heart swelling with love as she cradled their son in her arms. Knox blinked up at her, his small mouth forming a perfect little ‘O’ as he looked between his parents. Azriel stepped closer, wrapping an arm around YN’s waist as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Knox’s head.

“We’ll be okay,” YN said quietly, more to herself than to him, as she rocked Knox gently in her arms. But Azriel heard the conviction in her voice, the belief that they would find a way through this—together. And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe it too.

---

River House was alive with activity as the Inner Circle gathered in the spacious sitting room. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting warm pools of light across the room’s plush furniture. Cassian was sprawled in one of the armchairs, his wings half-draped over the sides, while Rhys sat opposite him, leaning casually against the backrest of a couch. Mor and Feyre were nearby, quietly sipping their tea, and Amren was perched on the window sill, her sharp eyes watching everyone with mild disinterest.

As usual, the meeting started casually, with updates on Velaris, news from the courts, and the usual banter. But something was different this morning, an undercurrent of curiosity running through the group. Azriel’s absence was becoming more noticeable, especially given his sudden declaration of taking a week off—a rare occurrence.

"So, does anyone else find it weird that Azriel's taking a week off?" Cassian said, breaking the silence. He shifted in his seat, his brow furrowed with a mix of concern and confusion. “I can’t remember the last time that happened. Not without a reason.”

Rhys’s violet eyes flickered with amusement, but there was a hint of curiosity as well. "It’s not like him," he admitted, his voice smooth. "Azriel rarely takes time for himself. He’s always working, always looking for the next mission or lead. But a whole week off? That’s new."

Mor nodded in agreement, her lips quirking in a small smile. “Maybe he finally realized he needs a break,” she said with a light laugh. “Even shadowsingers need to recharge once in a while.”

Feyre glanced at Rhys, her brow arched in thought. "He didn't seem like anything was wrong the last time I saw him. Do you think something’s going on that he’s not telling us?"

Cassian sat up straighter, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You know how secretive he can be. But a whole week off? Something doesn’t add up.”

"Maybe he met someone," Mor suggested, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Maybe there’s a secret lover involved, and he’s just been keeping it from us.”

At that, Cassian snorted, his wings shifting behind him as he chuckled. "Azriel? Keeping a secret lover from us? That sounds about right, actually. He’s good at hiding things.”

Rhys tilted his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. “He’s been acting strange lately. Not just with the time off, but before that too. More secretive than usual. And those late-night disappearances…”

Feyre leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think he’s hiding something serious?”

Rhys let out a thoughtful hum, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest of the couch. “Could be. Azriel’s not one to share things unless it’s absolutely necessary. If something’s bothering him, he’ll bury it deep.”

Mor crossed her arms, glancing between Rhys and Cassian. “Do you think it has to do with the place we went to in the Hewn City? The woman—YN—she seemed close to him. Could it be related?”

Rhys’s eyes darkened for a moment, as if recalling the encounter at the pleasure house. “Possibly. He did seem more… comfortable there than usual. And she did say something about going back after maternity leave. Perhaps Azriel’s more involved in her life than we thought.”

Cassian shifted, his expression turning more serious. "You think he's involved with her?"

"It’s possible," Rhys said slowly. "But Azriel’s careful. If he’s keeping something from us, it’s for a reason."

Amren, who had been silently observing the conversation, finally spoke, her voice dry and laced with boredom. “Whatever it is, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. No point in speculating about his private life.”

Mor glanced at Amren, then back at the others. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on things. If he’s tangled up in something, we should know. Especially if it affects us or the missions we’re planning.”

Rhys gave a slow nod, his gaze flicking toward the window as if he were already piecing things together in his mind. “Agreed. But we give him space. Azriel’s earned that much.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. “Yeah, but if he disappears again, I’m dragging him back here myself.”

The group shared a small laugh, but the lingering tension remained. Azriel’s absence weighed on them more than they were willing to admit, and the mystery of his sudden break gnawed at their collective curiosity.

As the conversation lulled, Rhys’s gaze turned distant, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. He could sense there was more to this story than what met the eye. Something was going on with Azriel—something deeper than just taking time off.

But for now, they would wait. And watch.

---

YN walked into the pleasure home, the familiar scent of incense and low hum of conversation filling the air. She had grown accustomed to the atmosphere over the years—the darkened rooms, the hushed voices, the hidden glances exchanged between patrons and the workers. Tonight, though, something felt different. Her nerves were on edge, her mind still unsettled by the feeling that she was being watched the other day at the market.

As she adjusted her black silk dress, ensuring it clung to her in all the right places, she pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do, and there was no room for distractions. She glanced around the room, scanning the faces of the patrons lounging in their seats, drinks in hand and their eyes on the stage where the night's entertainment had just begun.

And then she saw them.

At one of the booths near the back, sitting comfortably as if they belonged, were Rhysand and Cassian. But this time, they weren’t alone. Their partners, Nesta and Feyre, were with them. The sight of the group made YN pause for a split second, her breath catching in her throat as recognition hit her. It was them—she had felt their presence before. They were the ones who had been following her at the market just the day before.

She played it cool, forcing a neutral expression onto her face as she straightened her posture. Whatever they were doing here, she wasn’t going to let them know that she had figured it out. She was already too involved in the tangled mess of Azriel’s secrets, and the last thing she needed was to attract more attention from his friends. Especially Feyre and Nesta. If they even had the faintest idea about her connection to Azriel, things could go downhill fast.

With a calm smile plastered on her face, she made her way toward their table. Her heart raced beneath her composed exterior, but she kept her movements steady, her steps measured and graceful as she approached the group.

"Good evening," YN greeted them, her voice smooth and professional as she came to a stop by their table. "What can I get for you tonight?"

Rhysand, ever the picture of charm and elegance, offered her a polite smile. His violet eyes met hers briefly, but there was a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe suspicion. Cassian leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually over Nesta’s shoulders, while Feyre, sitting next to Rhys, regarded YN with an air of quiet observation.

“We’ll start with a round of drinks,” Rhys said, his tone casual, but YN could feel the weight of his gaze on her, as if he were sizing her up. “Something strong.”

YN nodded, jotting down the order even though she didn’t need to. She had memorized the menu long ago. “I’ll be right back with that.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her mind racing as she made her way to the bar. It was no coincidence that they were here again, especially after what happened at the market. Rhys and Cassian had come to the pleasure home with Azriel once before, and now this was their third visit in such a short time. It couldn’t be a casual night out—it had to be something more.

Harvey, her bartender friend, raised an eyebrow as she approached. "You okay?" he asked quietly, noticing the tension in her shoulders.

YN forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Fine. Just...unexpected company," she muttered as she handed him the drink order. Her mind was spinning with questions, but she knew better than to discuss anything in the open.

As Harvey prepared the drinks, YN leaned against the bar, trying to steady herself. She had to stay calm, keep up the act. If Rhysand and the others were here for information, she couldn’t afford to give anything away. Not about herself, not about Azriel. Not about Knox. They still had no idea about her and Azriel, and she intended to keep it that way.

After a few minutes, Harvey slid the tray of drinks toward her, and YN lifted it carefully, balancing it in her hands as she returned to the table. She felt their eyes on her as she approached, but she kept her expression neutral, her smile practiced and professional.

"Here you go," she said, setting the drinks down in front of them. She noticed how Feyre’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to place her.

"Thanks," Cassian said, his voice gruff but polite. Nesta glanced up at YN briefly before turning her attention back to her drink, uninterested in the small talk.

As YN set the last glass down in front of Rhys, she caught his gaze again. His expression was calm, unreadable, but she could sense the questions lurking beneath the surface. She had been in enough rooms with men like him to know when someone was trying to figure out a puzzle—and tonight, she was the puzzle.

Before anyone could say anything further, YN gave them a small nod and turned to leave, her pulse quickening as she walked away. She had to be careful now. Whatever game they were playing, she was already too deep in it. And with Azriel out on his week off, the last thing she needed was for his inner circle to find out about Knox—or their relationship.

As she walked back toward the bar, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. They were watching her, but she had survived worse. She just had to keep her head down, play her part, and hope that they wouldn’t dig too deep.

But the nagging thought wouldn’t leave her: Why were they here again? And what, exactly, were they hoping to find out?

YN stepped through the door of their small apartment, her body aching from the weight of the day. Exhaustion clung to her like a second skin, and her mind raced with endless thoughts—who had been spying on her, why the Inner Circle kept showing up, and what it all meant for her and Azriel. She had kept her cool at the pleasure house, but the constant pressure of pretending everything was normal while being watched was wearing her down.

The familiar warmth of home wrapped around her as she shut the door quietly behind her, but the tension in her body refused to ease. She dropped her bag on the floor, her gaze flicking to the couch where Azriel sat, barefoot and bare-chested, with only a pair of loose sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He was leaning back, a book resting in his hands, though the moment she entered, his golden-brown eyes were on her, sensing her frustration without needing to ask.

“Rough night?” Azriel asked softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. He closed the book and set it aside, his attention fully on her.

YN gave a small nod, too tired to speak. The weight of everything pressed down on her, making her feel like she could collapse right there in the doorway. Her shoulders slumped, and Azriel immediately got up, moving toward her with a fluid grace that belied the exhaustion she knew he carried too.

He reached for her gently, his hands sliding under her shirt, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her skin, but it wasn’t the chill that made her shiver. It was the way Azriel’s hands worked with such care, as though she were made of something fragile, even though he knew better than anyone that she wasn’t.

When he unclasped her bra and slid it off her shoulders, YN let out a long, shaky breath. Azriel’s presence was grounding, his hands firm yet tender as he guided her to the couch. He sat down first, pulling her with him until she was lying against his chest, her legs draped over his as she settled into his warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was the only sound in the room for a moment, and YN could feel some of the tension in her body begin to melt away.

But she still felt overwhelmed—by the spying, by the uncertainty, by the weight of the past few days.

Azriel knew. He always did. His calloused hands moved to the scars on her back, the ridged lines that traced where her wings had been brutally clipped when she was only nine years old. It had been a trauma that never left her, not in all the years since. Even though she had healed, those scars still carried memories she couldn’t shake. And Azriel knew how much they haunted her.

His fingers brushed lightly over the scars, tracing the familiar pattern as he began to massage the tense muscles beneath. The pressure was just enough to ease the knots that had formed in her back, and YN couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped her lips. He always knew how to take the pain away—both the physical and the emotional.

"Talk to me," Azriel murmured, his voice a quiet invitation. "What happened?"

YN closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his body and the soothing motions of his hands carry her for a moment. “I think they’re watching me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I recognized Rhys and Cassian at the pleasure house tonight, and... they’ve been following me. I know it.”

Azriel’s hands paused briefly before continuing their gentle rhythm. He didn’t ask who “they” were—he didn’t need to. He had already suspected the Inner Circle’s involvement, though hearing it confirmed made his chest tighten.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promised quietly, his voice steady and unwavering. “You don’t have to worry about them.”

But that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at YN. There was more—the weight of being watched, the fear that their secret might be exposed. The fear that her past, her clipped wings, her life at the pleasure house, and everything she had built with Azriel and Knox would come crashing down.

“They don’t know about us, about Knox,” YN continued, her voice trembling slightly as she curled in closer to Azriel. “But if they keep following me... I’m scared they’ll find out.”

Azriel’s arms tightened around her, pulling her flush against his chest. His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, a silent reassurance. “They won’t,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Knox. You’re both safe.”

YN buried her face against his chest, the steady beat of his heart calming the storm inside her. She believed him—she always did. Azriel had been her anchor, her protector, the one person who had stood by her when no one else would. But even with his promises, the weight of everything still felt like too much.

His hands continued to work at the knots in her back, his fingers gentle yet firm, easing the tension from her muscles. YN let out a shaky breath, feeling her body slowly relax under his touch. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink deeper into the safety of Azriel’s arms, the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a cocoon.

For a few moments, it was just them—their shared silence, the unspoken bond between them. Azriel’s hands never stopped moving, soothing the aches and pains that had built up inside her. His presence was her sanctuary, the one place she felt truly at peace.

And for now, that was enough.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

There's three more chapters left and I think I might make a sequel but not with the mmc you think it is.... But the drama unfolds in the next chapter

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat, Chapter 6: Her emotions

Summary: Friday's therapy session turns into camping with you.. where accidents happen.

Warnings: DRUNK WEDNESDAY! Light Angst. EmotonallyConfusedWednesday!!!! Getting Drugged Accidentally

(Note: It is a veryyyy long chapter, Tell me how you guys liked it, or if drunk Wednesday seemed out of character, I won't mind)

Chapter 1 Previous Chapter Worklist

By the time Thursday rolled around, the pattern had solidified itself, like a storm cloud hanging persistently on the horizon. Every morning, you’d sit beside Wednesday in the quad, annoyingly persistent but never enough for her to feel justified in telling you to leave. You had a knack for toeing the line—just far enough to irk her but never enough to earn her outright rejection.

In class, the routine was much the same. You’d slip into the seat beside her as if it were your rightful place. The second you sat down, her entire world seemed to narrow, every sense heightened in your proximity. The faint rustle of your clothes, the soft sighs you made when the lecture got particularly dull, the slight tap of your fingers against your notebook—it all became a package of distractions.

She tried to make sense of it all. Why would you go through such efforts to get close to her? You are definitely working for someone. Perhaps Thornhill? Or worse—another follower of crackstone? Could you have been a spy? Sent to observe her? To get closer and learn her weaknesses?

"What are you really doing here?" Wednesday’s voice was low, more to herself than to you. Her eyes remained focused on the blackboard, but her thoughts were elsewhere—specifically on the constant, irritating sensation of your presence. You blinked in surprise, your pen pausing mid-word. "Uh… learning? Isn’t that why we’re all here?" "Don’t insult my intelligence." Her eyes narrowed, her voice growing colder, “Why are you always here? Sitting beside me, following me like a shadow. It’s pathetic.” You leaned in closer, your breath warm against her ear. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.” Wednesday's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Enjoy? You find my disdain enjoyable?” A shrug. “I find you enjoyable. Everything else is just part of the package.”

That caught her off guard. For a moment, she didn’t have a response and it took all her self-control to avoid showing how much that unsettled her. She hated that you always had the upper hand in conversations like this. She hated that your attention felt like a weight she couldn’t shake. Most of all, she hated that a part of her—however small and buried deep—wondered what it would be like to let you in.

Wednesday didn't particularly care for or against Fridays. They were simply another day in the endless monotony of her existence. But this Friday? It was different. It was another one of those irritating anger management sessions—a pointless exercise orchestrated by fools, for fools. And now, she had to endure it with you. As if her tolerance for idiocy wasn’t already at its breaking point.

She had barely gotten herself dressed when the inevitable, irritating sound of knocking echoed through her door. "Do you ever get tired of existing so obnoxiously?" she asked, her voice cold and flat. You smirked, unfazed. "Not if it means I get to hang out with you." "Ugh," Wednesday muttered under her breath, reaching for her black trench coat. Before you could say another word, Enid popped into the doorway. "Ooh, look at you!" she said, her eyes lighting up as she saw you. "That dress is so cute! It really suits you." You beamed. "Thanks, Enid! Thought I’d try something different." Wednesday rolled her eyes. "Different? You look like a walking garden. I half expect bees to swarm you the moment we step outside." You shrugged with a grin, clearly enjoying her jabs. "I’ll take that as a compliment." "It wasn’t," she deadpanned, slipping into her coat. "Let’s go. If we’re late, David will prolong the session for me."

As you two made your way out of the dorm, Enid waved goodbye cheerfully. "Have fun at therapy!" Wednesday shot her a glare that screamed ‘I’d rather die,’ "So, you excited for today?" you asked, the teasing lilt in your voice grating against her already thin patience. "Excited would imply I feel any sense of positive anticipation," Wednesday responded coolly. "No. Today is just another unfortunate event in a long string of unfortunate events." "Yeah, that sounds about right," you agreed with a chuckle. "Though, spending time with me can’t be that bad." Wednesday shot you a side glance. "Your self-delusion is truly remarkable." "Oh, I’m well aware of my delusions, but hey, they keep me going."

She sighed, trying to ignore the warmth of your presence next to her. It was irritating, how familiar the rhythm of walking beside you had become. You always matched her steps perfectly, never rushing, never falling behind.

Wednesday would've preferred the taxi ride to be as silent as it can get but of course, you filled the silence with light conversation, asking her the most mundane questions imaginable, while Wednesday sat stiffly beside you, arms crossed, staring out the window. "So, I was thinking," you began, pausing for dramatic effect, "do you think if I ordered a black coffee today, I’d be more like you?" "No," she answered immediately. "You didn’t even think about it." "Because I already know the answer. You could drink a gallon of black coffee, wear all black, and listen to Beethoven’s most haunting symphony, and you’d still be as painfully cheerful as you are now." You grinned, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. I think there’s a part of you that secretly enjoys my company. You’d miss me if I stopped hanging around." "I’d miss you like I’d miss an infection," she said coldly, her eyes never leaving the window. But even as she said it, there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. The truth was, your absence would be noticed. After all, you were always there. And when you weren’t, it left a strange, hollow space in her day. Not that she would ever admit it.

"Ah, there they are!" David called, his voice loud and cheerful, as if he had been waiting all day just for your arrival. He was wearing his usual obnoxiously bright scarf and smiling wide enough to make Wednesday wish she’d turned back sooner.

"Wonderful to see you both! We’re doing something a little different today!" he announced enthusiastically as you and Wednesday approached.

Wednesday narrowed her eyes. "Different how?" she asked, already expecting the worst.

David motioned toward a minibus parked just outside the café. "Today, we’re going on a therapeutic field trip! Under the open skies, connecting with nature. It’s going to be great!"

Wednesday’s entire demeanor stiffened, and her gaze darkened. "I refuse," she said flatly. "I did not sign up for some kumbaya nonsense in the middle of a field. If you think—"

"If you refuse," David interrupted, holding up a finger, "I’ll have no choice but to report to Principal Weems that you’re not making progress. And we wouldn’t want that, now, would we?"

Wednesday’s expression turned venomous. She stood still, glaring at David with pure disdain. "You are a stain on humanity." "Not the first time I’ve heard that!" David replied, still grinning. "Now hop on the bus, both of you." Wednesday clenched her jaw, resisting every instinct to turn and leave. The bus was small and cramped, all those fools were already there. and Wednesday had already claimed the farthest seat in the back, as far away from everyone as possible. You slid in next to her, earning a sideways glare. "Don’t get comfortable," she said icily. "Too late," you replied, settling in with a smirk. As the bus rumbled to life and began its journey to the woods, Wednesday stared out the window, her mind racing. She hated every second of this. But more than that, she hated how… unsettled she felt with you next to her. She hated how she could feel your presence, how your every movement drew her attention. And she hated that she didn’t want you to leave. Maybe this session would offer more than just torturous fresh air—maybe it would give her the chance to figure out why you were really here. Because Wednesday knew one thing for certain: you were hiding something. And she was going to find out what it was, whether you liked it or not.

David, at the front of the bus, was chattering to the driver, too excited for whatever nonsense he had planned. "How much longer do you think this torture will last?" Wednesday muttered under her breath, her eyes fixed out the window, watching the trees blur by. You leaned closer, a smile tugging at your lips. "Not a fan of the great outdoors, Wednesday?" "No, I had my fair share in the woods. I prefer my environment to be hostile," she replied coolly The bus finally rolled to a stop at the edge of a dense forest. David hopped off first, "Alright, we’re heading to the lake! It’s about two hours walk, but don’t worry—we’ll take breaks if anyone needs it! Stretch those legs—we've got a nice hike ahead" Wednesday let out a sigh, muttering, “And thus, the descent into idiocy begins.” She glanced at you, fully expecting to see that infuriating grin of yours, and she was not disappointed. "Come on, Wends," you said, using the nickname you knew she despised. "It’ll be fun." "It will be insufferable," she corrected, stepping down from the bus with her usual grace. She was already too bored to correct you. “Man, I thought we were gonna talk about our feelings. Not… hike.” Alex complained. "Alex. It’s about the journey—learning to appreciate nature and each other." David answered from up ahead Wednesday stayed near the back as the group began to march forward, already regretting every moment of this cursed field trip. You, of course, kept pace beside her, walking with that irritating bounce in your step. "So," you said after a few moments of silence. "What do you think the lake looks like?" "Water," Wednesday deadpanned. Rick whistling low under his breath. “Can’t believe we’re actually doing this. You still got the shovel?” Ashley elbowed him in the ribs again, her voice a low hiss. “Shut up, Rick.” “So, like, do you think there are any wolves around here? Or, ooh, maybe bears! Wouldn’t that be so dramatic?” Brooked chipped. Mike looked like he was seriously considering abandoning her in the woods. “I… really don’t think there are bears, Brooke.” “Oh, but wouldn’t it be romantic? You saving me from a bear or something?” Mike just groaned Wednesday caught snippets of their conversation, her irritation growing with every inane comment. She muttered under her breath, “I would gladly throw her to a bear.” “Isn’t this just wonderful? The fresh air, the sound of birds, the gentle rustle of leaves! A perfect day for personal growth!” David cheered from the front. You were trying to stifle a laugh beside Wednesday, but it slipped out. “You gotta admit, he’s really into this.” “I have nothing to admit,” Wednesday muttered darkly. As they walked. Wednesday found herself paying far too much attention to your reactions—the slight smile on your face, the way you occasionally glanced at her when you thought she wasn’t looking. It was intriguing irritating.

Eventually, the trees began to thin out, the scent of water growing stronger as the lake came into view.

Mike was the first to notice it, squinting at the far side of the clearing. "Uh… guys? What’s with the tents?"

David clapped his hands together, that annoyingly chipper smile still plastered across his face. "Ah, yes! About that—"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed.

David gave an exaggerated shrug. "Oops! Did I forget to mention we’re staying the night?"

The entire group froze.

"What?" Alex’s voice dropped, his fists clenched. "Staying overnight?"

Rick stared at David like he’d just been sentenced to death. "Nah, no way. I’ve got plans. You can’t just spring this on us."

Ashley threw up her hands. "David, you didn’t say anything about camping! I didn’t even pack!"

Brooke, unsurprisingly, clapped her hands together. "This is amazing! We’re going to spend the night under the stars—just like in the movies!"

"Of course you’re excited," Mike grumbled. "This is a disaster."

Meanwhile, Wednesday stood there, silently seething. Her mind was racing with all the ways she could strangle David without leaving a trace. "You ambushed us," she said, her voice cold, each word clipped. "Do you have a death wish?"

David chuckled nervously. "Oh, come on, guys. It’ll be fun! A little nature retreat, some time away from distractions—" Wednesday interrupted, her tone venomous. "The only thing distracting me right now is the overwhelming desire to set this entire campsite ablaze." You, of course, were clearly enjoying this, "Well, this is unexpected, but kind of exciting, right? At least the lake is beautiful!" She stared at you with her deadpan expression, trying to comprehend how anyone could be happy about this situation. "I sincerely hope the lake swallows you whole." You only grinned wider. "Guess I’ll take that as an invitation for a swim later." "Ugh," she muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as though she could ward off the headache brewing in her skull. David, trying desperately to salvage the situation, raised his hands. "It’s not that bad, I promise! The tents are already set up, and we’ve got food, water, and supplies. This will be a great opportunity to unwind and connect with nature." You nudged her lightly with your elbow. "Hey, at least you’ve got me here to keep you company." "You’re the worst part of this." "Aw, don’t be like that. I’ll make sure you have fun." Wednesday resisted the urge to shove you into the lake. Each person got their own tent, which was the one small mercy in this nightmare of an outing. Wednesday glanced at the others, some fumbling with their tents or laughing awkwardly, completely unaware of how insufferable they were. Of course, you were helping David get the campfire going, your face lit up with a soft smile as you fumbled with the firewood. Wednesday watched you from the corner of her eye, wondering how you could seem so content in this ridiculous situation. You didn't seem annoyed or put off like she was—you were just… happy to help. She couldn't understand it. She had been relegated to "supervision duty," which meant standing around doing absolutely nothing while everyone else bustled about with assigned tasks. Mike and Alex were handling the food, Brooke was talking to some random birds like they were her long-lost cousins, and Rick and Ashley were off near the lake, laughing about who knew what.

David, with his typical cheery disposition, waved everyone over. "Alright, everyone, gather around! The fire's going, and it's almost time for our session!" Great. The therapy session. The exact reason Wednesday wanted to bury herself in the woods and never return. But she had to stay—for now because she had to find out why you were everywhere. She watched as you placed a few more logs on the fire before stepping back and joining the group. She hated how naturally you fit into all this, while every second felt like torture for her.

As the sky darkened, the session began. Wednesday sat at the edge of the group, her fingers twitching toward her coat pocket where her knives were hidden. Five knives. She let her mind wander to the logistics of taking them all out. David was the priority. Strangling him would be more satisfying, but a quick knife to the throat would be efficient. She could— "Wednesday?" She blinked and glanced at you, irritated at being pulled back into reality. You looked at her expectantly, probably wondering why she was spacing out. David cleared his throat, obviously oblivious to her thoughts. "Okay, let's start! Today's session is still all about discussing our most recent challenges. How we handled them, what we learned… you know the drill." Wednesday's expression tightened. Oh, she knew the drill all too well. Each session was the same monotonous routine—listening to everyone talk about their mundane problems and pretend they were making progress. It was a miracle she hadn't stabbed someone by now.

Alex started first, talking about how he got into a fight with his dad over some trivial matter. "But I didn't punch a wall this time," he added proudly, and Milo gave him a sleepy nod of approval. "That's great, Alex!" David beamed. "You're learning to manage your anger better."

Next up was Brooke, who dramatically recounted some "epic argument" she'd had with her mom over her phone privileges. "But I didn't give in! I stood my ground, because self-care is important, right?" David nodded enthusiastically, clearly buying into Brooke's theatrics. "Absolutely, Brooke. Boundaries are important."

Wednesday's eyes flicked to the campfire. Maybe she could just throw herself into it. That would be preferable to listening to more of this.

Mike's was about some misunderstanding with his sister, while Rick rambled on about his mother. Wednesday could feel her patience thinning with each passing second.

And then... it was her turn. David looked at her expectantly. "Wednesday, how about you? Have you faced any challenges lately?" She stared at him, the burning firelight reflected in her dark eyes. The group was silent, waiting for her to share some deep revelation. Of course, David had to push a bit, flashing his annoyingly encouraging smile. "It helps to talk, you know. We're all in this together." That was it. That was the final straw.

Wednesday's eyes narrowed, and she felt something snap inside her. "You want to know about my challenges?" she began, her voice dangerously calm. "My challenge is sitting here, surrounded by imbeciles, pretending that anything you people say has any merit. I don't care about your 'self-care' or your 'boundaries' or how you didn't punch a wall for the first time in months, Alex." Everyone froze. The campfire crackled in the silence as Wednesday's words hung in the air. "And you," she turned to Brooke, "standing your ground with your mother over your phone privileges, are you serious? That's not a challenge. That's pathetic. The fact that any of you think you're achieving something meaningful by whining about your trivial lives is insufferable." Then she pointed to Rick "You keep whining about your mother but you are so dependent on her that you can't even move out. How about you fix that and then whine." David opened his mouth to speak, but Wednesday cut him off. "Don't. Just don't. I've had enough of this ridiculous charade." She stood abruptly, her black coat swirling as she turned on her heel and stormed away from the group. You sighed, David giving you a look. "Yeah I know I know, I am going to get her, but umm.. if I do not return, look for me in the lake, that's where she might throw my body." The water shimmered in the fading light as she reached the far side of the lake. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, trying to calm the storm raging inside her.

But then, she heard footsteps behind her. Of course it was you.

"Wednesday," you said softly, your voice cautious as you approached. She didn’t respond at first, her eyes fixed on the shimmering water in front of her. For a moment, you wondered if she even heard you. But then, slowly, she turned her head, her dark eyes locking onto yours. There was a storm in those eyes—anger, frustration, something deeper that she was too proud to acknowledge.

"I don’t want to talk," she said flatly, "Go back to the group. I’m fine here."

You ignored her dismissal, walking closer until you were standing beside her, staring at the same water. "I’m not leaving you alone, Wednesday. Not when you’re this upset."

She let out a sharp breath through her nose, clearly irritated. "Upset? I’m not upset. I’m annoyed. There’s a difference."

"Right. Annoyed." You nodded, as if you were going along with her, but your voice remained soft, patient. "You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but... I just don’t think it’s as bad as you’re making it out to be."

Wednesday shot you a glare, her eyebrow arching in disdain. "Do you enjoy this?" she snapped. "Being part of David’s circus, listening to everyone complain about how tragic their lives are?"

You met her gaze, unfazed by her sharp tone. "It’s not about enjoying it, Wednesday. It’s about trying. Everyone has something going on, and sometimes, talking about it helps. Even if it seems pointless at first."

"Pointless is an understatement," she muttered, turning her eyes back to the lake. "All they do is whine. They don’t solve anything, they just sit around, waiting for someone else to fix their lives for them."

"Not everyone’s as good at handling things alone as you are," you replied gently. "But even you—sometimes you don’t have to handle everything by yourself. Opening up doesn’t make you weak."

She clenched her jaw, her fingers twitching slightly as if she was fighting the urge to argue. "Opening up is a waste of time. It accomplishes nothing. People think sharing their problems will magically solve them, but in the end, they’re still the ones who have to deal with it. Words don’t change that." You sighed softly, recognizing the walls she was building around herself. But you didn’t give up. You couldn’t. You had a mission.

"It’s not about solving everything in one conversation. It’s about letting go, even for a little while. It gives you room to breathe, to think clearly without all that pressure building up inside."

"I don’t need to breathe," she said finally, though her voice was quieter than before, less sharp. "I’m perfectly fine handling things on my own."

"I know you are," you said softly, turning to face her fully. "But that doesn’t mean you have to. You don’t always have to be so... closed off."

Wednesday didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flickered, something unreadable crossing her expression before she quickly masked it with her usual stoic demeanor. She sighed, clearly exasperated, but there was a hint of something softer in her voice when she finally spoke.

"Why do you even care?" she asked, her tone quieter now, almost vulnerable. "Why do you insist on dragging me into these... emotions?"

You smiled softly, knowing how hard it was for her to even ask that question. "Because I care about you, Wednesday. And I don’t want to see you carrying everything by yourself. I don't want to see you ending up alone. Even if you think you’re fine, it doesn’t hurt to let someone else in every once in a while."

She turned her head slightly, her eyes studying your face as if she were searching for some hidden motive. But all she found was sincerity. That seemed to bother her more than anything else.

"I’m not... good at this," she muttered, her voice almost too low to hear. "You don’t have to be," you replied.

For a long moment, Wednesday was silent, her expression unreadable as she stared at the lake. Then, with a resigned sigh, she turned on her heel and began walking back toward the campfire, clearly unwilling to admit that she was even considering your words.

You followed, relieved that she hadn’t completely shut down.

When the two of you returned to the camp, the group was still sitting around the fire, chatting quietly. To your surprise, no one seemed particularly upset about Wednesday’s earlier outburst. In fact, David greeted her with a bright smile, completely unfazed.

"Ah, Wednesday! Glad to have you back," he welcomed her cheerfully as if nothing had happened. Wednesday narrowed her eyes slightly. "Did you call Principal Weems to notify her about my "failure"? " David chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "Of course not! Everyone needs to vent sometimes. It’s healthy." The others nodded in agreement. Rick smirked a little, but even he didn’t seem too bothered. "Honestly, I kind of expected you to blow up sooner. That was nothing compared to what I thought you’d do." Ashley gave Wednesday an exaggerated wink. "I like a girl who speaks her mind."

Wednesday blinked, clearly taken aback by their nonchalant reactions. She had expected them to be offended, maybe even hold a grudge. But they seemed... fine. Completely fine.

She sat down reluctantly, her posture stiff as ever, but there was a faint crack in her emotional armor. "I still think this is a waste of time," she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual venom.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out and winced. “I have to take this,” you muttered to Wednesday, who shot you an irritated look. You mouthed an apology and stepped away, leaving Wednesday sitting awkwardly with the group.

David gently steered the conversation back to her. “Wednesday, do you want to share? You don’t have to, of course, but we’re here if you want to talk.”

The urge to reject him outright surged within her, but something—perhaps your words, perhaps the nagging feeling in her chest—made her hesitate. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her coat, and she looked away from the group, staring at the flames instead.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “There’s someone... someone who’s been getting under my skin. Someone who I can’t seem to get out of my head.”

The words felt foreign on her tongue, uncomfortable and raw, but she couldn’t stop them. The group remained silent, waiting, not pushing her.

“This person,” she continued, her voice cold but wavering, “is... everywhere. They keep showing up in my life, in my thoughts. And I don’t want them to. But I can’t stop it. It’s... infuriating.”

David nodded, encouraging her gently. “And how does that make you feel?”

“How do you think it makes me feel?” Wednesday snapped, her temper flaring. “Annoyed. Angry. It’s like they’ve invaded my mind, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake them. I don’t like feeling out of control.”

David nods, his tone patient. “How would you feel if you could get rid of those thoughts? Push them out entirely?” Wednesday frowns, the question catching her off guard. She thinks for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she considers it. She felt strange.. she thought she would feel better but she feels.. "Empty." The word tasted bitter on her tongue, foreign and unwelcome. She didn’t realize she had said it out loud until she saw the group’s reactions—or lack thereof. No judgment, no pity. Just quiet acceptance. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

David nods. “Sometimes, the things we resist the most are the things we need to hold on to. They can fill a part of us we didn’t even know was empty.”

Rick leaned forward with a grin on his face,

“So... is this 'someone' on the phone right now?”

Wednesday's head whipped around, her eyes narrowing into a deadly glare. "If you value your life, you'll stop talking."

Rick held up his hands in surrender, but the grin remained. Ashley quickly elbowed him, muttering, “Not the time, Rick.”

Alex groaned loudly, clutching his head in mock agony. "Ugh, All the emotional talk is making me sleepy, I need coffee, like, now. Someone, please, for the love of all that’s good in this world, make some coffee." David looked over at Rick and Ashley. "Alright, Rick, Ashley, why don't you two get the coffee started before Alex dies." Rick gave a half-hearted salute. "On it, boss." He turned to Ashley, who was lounging beside him. "Hey, go grab the sugar from my bag, will you? Ashley rolled her eyes but obliged, getting up with a huff to retrieve the 'sugar' from Rick's bag. Meanwhile, Rick turned to Wednesday, a sly grin on his face. "So, Addams, how do you take your coffee?" "Bitter," she replied finally, her voice flat. "Just like life." Rick snorted, shaking his head. "Of course. Should’ve guessed."

As Wednesday sat there waiting for the coffee to be made, she found herself growing restless. That hollow, gnawing emptiness she had tried so hard to ignore began to surface again, tightening in her chest. Where had you gone? You were always right there, standing beside her, but now you were out of reach well you weren't actually, you were just gone for a few moments and she hated it.

As the minutes ticked by, Wednesday’s thoughts drifted further. What did it mean?

The quiet chaos of her thoughts was interrupted when Rick handed her a cup of coffee. "Here you go, black as death itself."

She took the cup without a word, the warmth spreading through her hands as she stared into the dark liquid. She sipped it, expecting the usual bitterness. But this...this was different. It tasted...a bit weird but more than the coffee, it was her feelings for you that occupied her mind. How had she ended up here? Talking about her emotions, exposing herself in ways she never thought possible? She wasn’t the type to dwell on uncertainty. She preferred things to be direct, to have answers and solutions, but when it came to you—everything was blurred. Once these therapy sessions were over... where would you stand? Where would she stand?

She felt strange. The warmth of the coffee spread through her, loosening the tightness in her chest. The more she drank, the more that strange, comfortable haze settled in, drowning out her usual sharp clarity. She finished her cup without realizing it,

"More," she demanded, holding the cup out toward Rick.

"Whoa, didn’t take you for a coffee fiend," he teased, but he refilled her cup without hesitation.

What would happen once this was over? Once you both returned to your lives outside of these campfire confessions and group therapy? Would you drift apart, as people often do, or would you stay? And more importantly, did she want you to stay?

Everything felt off, but not unpleasantly so. The others were acting weird—dancing, laughing—but she didn’t care. She just wanted more of this feeling, more of the numbness that let her ignore the confusing emotions you always brought out in her. So, she drank more coffee. And more. And more.

Meanwhile, you wrapped up your call . “Yeah, Dad, YEAAAH, I GET IT. I’ll be careful. I already took them, okay? Yes, I’ll call tomorrow. Gotta go. Bye!” You sighed heavily, tucking your phone back into your pocket. That conversation had gone on way too long. You started heading back to the camp, but as you got closer, something felt... wrong. The group was acting strange. They weren’t just sitting and talking anymore—they were dancing. Not the casual, awkward dancing of people who barely knew each other, but wild, like they didn’t have a care in the world.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath, scanning the group. Where was Wednesday? You searched for her, but she was nowhere near the fire.

“David,” you called out, hurrying over to him. “Where’s Wednesday?”

David looked at you, his eyes glazed over, a lazy grin on his face. “Wednesday? Today’s Friday... right?”

You blinked. “What? What does that have to do with—never mind.” You looked past him and saw Wednesday, walking by the lake with a... distinct wobble. Your heart skipped a beat. Wednesday Addams didn’t wobble. She is as steady and composed as a statue.

As you approached, you heard her voice—low, muttering, and oddly slurred. "You... why do you do this to me? Always... being there. Except when you're not, which is even worse. But then you're there again, and I hate it, but... I don’t hate it."

You blinked, utterly confused. "Wednesday?"

She turned, almost tripping over her own feet, and gave you a look that could only be described as... perplexed. But not the usual cold, calculated Wednesday-perplexed—this was more... tipsy.

"Ahh, it’s you," she said, squinting at you like you were a strange object she couldn’t quite figure out. "Why are you always... there?" She waved her hand in a vague circle. "Like... just there, making everything... feel... confusing."

You stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. Wednesday never talked like this. "Wednesday, what are you talking about?"

She pointed a finger at you, jabbing it in your direction with surprising force, but her balance was completely off. "You! You make everything so... so... confusing. I don’t like it. But also... I kind of like it. And I hate that I like it. You’re... annoying. But I get more annoyed when you’re not here."

"Okay, Wednesday..." you took a step closer, noticing how she swayed again, her expression shifting between annoyance and something else—something vulnerable. "What’s going on with you?"

"I don’t know!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air dramatically, completely out of character. "I never know with you. I think about you, and it’s like... ugh, why are you in my head?"

Realization slapped you harder than Will Smith's slap to Chris Rock.

“Wednesday, are you... drunk?”

She squinted at you as if your question was offensive. “I don’t get drunk,” she declared. “I’m above such mortal weaknesses. But you... you make everything so complicated. You and your... your stupid face.”

You grabbed her hand to steady her. Her skin was cool to the touch, but the moment you made contact, she froze, staring down at your hand in hers. “Why does this—this thing always feel weird?” she muttered, her voice lower now. “Your hand… it does this thing... makes me feel… something. I don’t like it. But I do. And that’s the problem.”

You ignored the way your heart raced at her words, focusing instead on what was clearly the problem. You glanced back at the camp, suspicion building. Rick. It had to be him. You reached into Wednesday’s coat, pulling out her knife, not paying attention to the fact that you felt several knives, and marched back toward Rick, who was still swaying around, laughing with no care in the world.

“Rick,” you growled, grabbing him by the collar and pressing the knife to his neck. “What the hell did you do?”

Rick blinked, eyes glazed, a goofy grin on his face. “Whaaat? Nothing! I just made the coffee... best coffee ever, man.”

Your eyes landed on the open box near the coffee pot. You picked it up, sniffing it. This wasn’t sugar. Your heart dropped. “Rick, you idiot,” you groaned. “You spiked the coffee!”

Rick just laughed, completely oblivious to the chaos he’d caused. Meanwhile, you glanced around at the others—dancing, laughing, totally out of their minds. Great. You were now in charge of nine drunk people,

And a high Wednesday Addams.

You sighed heavily. This is going to be a long night.

[megamindsecretlair]

Hi, beloved! ❤️ Would you be down to write about Terry Richmond using some rope tricks that he learned from his Marine training on reader? 🤭 If not, I completely understand and you’re still amazing !😘

A/N: Forgive me, I know this doesn't technically fit the bill, but this got my mind spinning. Let me know if you want a more faithful response.

Touch Me Like You Care

Pairing: Daddy Dom!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female), fingering (fem receiving), teasing, size kink, dirty talk, mean Terry, daddy kink, praise kink, spanking, lite bondage, overstimulation, reader is able to be picked up, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, rushing.

Summary: See Ask. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog . Terry comes home to find you reading in bed, all thoughts of getting dressed out of your mind as you rest. He was prepared to let you, truly, but then he finds that you’re not wearing the bracelets he bought you. And well, he can’t let that slide, can he?

Word Count: 4,475k

AO3 Link

A/N: @planetblaque knows I can deny her nothing!! Whew, everytime I think I can take a break from this man, ya'll pop out with all of these amazing fics! I'm so over the moon to see so much activity. We fr just tossing this man around like a beach ball and I love that for us!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You pulled your dresser open and searched for your favorite pair of thigh high socks. Ever since the weather turned, you were back to shivering every two seconds, feeling colder than a witch’s broomstick no matter what you did. 

After a refreshing shower, you opted to dry under your blanket hoodie, feeling the need to retreat from having to be “on” all the time. Navigating the world as a Black woman was fucking exhausting. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your latest dirty book. There was a subtle increase in Black led romances that were making you stay up to the wee hours of the morning reading. The latest book was absolutely filthy from your favorite author. The anticipation for this book had been immense, the group chat blowing up with speculations and guesses.

The book was getting better, when the couple who swore they hated each other was about to fuck that tension out since fighting got them nowhere. You squealed, picking up the nearest pair of socks. You tore your gaze away long enough to put your socks on.

You looked around the room for your blanket hoodie. It was sitting on the famous chair, piled on top of a mountain of clothing that was near toppling over. You grabbed the hoodie and then checked in on your phone. 

Oh, the tension. The passion. It just ate you up inside when the characters got to that part. Confessing their love in drunken confessions or in the middle of an argument. Ouee, your body was on fire just thinking about it. Your pussy clenching at the details. The rich words creating a movie in your mind’s eye.

Abandoning your hoodie, you laid across the bed and decided to air dry. With the way this book was going, you might need a second shower. You rested your head on your closed fist and let your mind drift, picturing the scene.

You didn’t hear when your boyfriend called your name after he arrived home. Or how his heavy footfalls padded down the hallway to your bedroom. Or how he called your name again when he stood in the doorway. You didn’t hear the subtle camera click as a picture was taken.

Somewhere between the fifth and…counting?... sex scene, you ended up on your tummy, legs high behind you, tapping your socked feet together. You were literally kicking your feet as the characters kept telling each other that they hated each other as they were clutching onto each other for dear life. 

You sighed. You simply ate this shit up. You were already mentally typing up your notes for your review on Goodreads. Ouee, maybe you should start keeping a side notebook. Just to jot down bullet points so your scatterbrained mind didn’t forget a single detail. 

Fingers reached across your ass and you yelped, looking behind you ready to scream. Terry stood behind you, his head tilted and a smirk on his luscious face. You choked out a laugh, rolling to one side so you could look at him better. 

He looked damn good in gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. Terry slid his fingers absently across your bare ass, tracing the globes up and down. Your body shivered, pussy clenching with need. You gazed at your man. At the smooth planes and lines of his face, the cut of jaw, those big pink lips. 

“You didn’t hear me calling you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said, giving him a cutesy grin. 

His lips twitched but he didn’t let himself smile. “You’re not cute. You have to be more aware of your surroundings,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, nodding. “Though to be fair, the only man getting in here is you.”

“Mhm,” he said, nodding his own head. “You reading your dirty books?” 

“Yes! You remember my favorite author?” You asked. 

Terry nodded, hiking his eyebrow up as he encouraged you to tell him all about your favorite author. And the book you were currently reading. “And I just got to the good part,” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it,” he said. He trailed his fingers between your legs as he moved away and you gasped. For two reasons. On the one hand, Terry’s hands on you always instantly put you in the mood. With your pussy already wet, you were thinking it was a good time for a break. 

On the other hand, you forgot that you had taken off your gifts from him while you showered. It was the only time you were allowed to do so. You meant to put the ankle and thigh bracelet back on when you lotioned up but plum forgot.

Terry stopped and you could feel his stare. It burned in the back of your head. Your heart thumped in your chest. You had no idea what he was going to do.

“Baby,” Terry’s deep timbre was a physical caress down your spine. You stretched your back and bit your lip. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said, pitching your voice higher. 

“Where are your bracelets?” He rubbed his thumb across your thick thigh. The weight of those words pressed down on you, making you want to retreat in your mind. You began to pant, feeling out of sorts. You were so turned on you could barely breathe. But you were also worried about what kind of punishment you were about to receive. 

“I just showered,” you said. You rolled so that you could look at his pretty face. To at least try to gauge where his mind went. Terry stopped you by wrapping his hand around your thigh. 

“I believe you. But you’re out of the shower now,” he said. 

“I really forgot this time,” you said. 

Terry sighed, the sound like a coin drop in an empty room. “You know what we have to do now, right?” He asked.

“You sure I can’t bargain out of this one? I can be pretty cute, you said so,” you said. 

“Up,” he said, his calm voice making matters worse. You may as well have been pleading your case to a brick wall. There was no changing his mind.

You got to your knees and then flipped over, scooting to the edge of the bed. Terry rolled his shoulders as he moved to your closet. He pulled a pine green box down from the top shelf. 

He placed the large, repurposed gift box on your dresser and opened it. Cheery snowmen looked at you from the painted edges as Terry rummaged around. He drew out a pair of leather cuffs and crossed over to you.

You pouted at him as he strapped the cuffs to your wrists. There was a small golden link between them keeping it connected and not giving you much room to escape. You tested the pull on it as you tried to separate your wrists. No dice. 

Terry grabbed the link and pulled you into a standing position. He sighed deeply, his voice a rumbling thunder behind it with a hum as he stared you down. “I had plans to treat you so well when I got back,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you said, the curse flying fast. You rubbed your thighs together, staring up into his pretty colorful eyes. Every time you looked at them, they were a different color. You loved to see the changes, especially this up close. His eyes went more brown when he was like this, when he’d sunk into that role of being in charge. Of being protective. 

He kissed your cheek, softly, reverently, his juicy lips leaving a small wet spot behind. He moved down to your lips, not quite kissing you. He hummed and smirked. “Whatever happens, just know that I love you, okay?” 

“Terry,” you huffed. His name was a plea and a curse all in one. You didn’t know what was worse. Knowing the torture was coming or having to live through it. Your thighs were on fire, burning with the need to have him between them. 

He pulled you closer by the cuffs, kissing you completely this time. He brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, hands warm. You licked his lips and he moaned. “Nice try,” he said against your lips. 

He said that, but you stepped closer, rubbing yourself against his growing bulge. He chuckled, letting you, looking down while you rubbed on him. He grinned and then grabbed your shoulders, turning you around. He pushed you down. You let out a soft oomph, flopping onto the bed. 

He grabbed your hips, pushing you further up your big ass bed. He positioned you how he wanted, close to the edge, but not so close that he didn’t have free range behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you could only hear him moving around behind you.

It sounded like he was rummaging through the goody box again. You sighed. Digging your toes into the bed. “Start reading,” he commanded, voice sharp.

How the hell were you supposed to read anything? You hesitated, looking at your phone. There was no way you’d be able to concentrate and he knew that. 

“Baby,” you said and licked your lips. 

Terry said nothing and again, you felt his gaze bearing down on you. You whimpered as you grabbed your phone, unlocking it, and swiping back to your phone. You began reading aloud, reading about the sex scene you were in the middle of. 

Reading it aloud to Terry, picturing him as the main male character, you were miserably wet. Dripping practically. You sighed, thinking of your ruined bed. You’d have to spend tonight doing laundry. 

Terry’s massive hand slapped across your ass, the recoil loud enough to rival a gunshot. You squealed, falling forward onto the bed. Heat bloomed between your thighs, warming up your core to a dangerous level. 

It still really fucking hurt though. Your ass stung and you swore that you could feel aftershocks of his hand, slapping across your ass over and over. “Fuck, fuck!” You yelled out. 

“Keep reading,” he said. 

You got back to your knees and arched your back like he positioned you in before. You returned to reading out loud, pussy throbbing at the way the words made you feel. You got to an explicit part when Terry’s hands came back down. He smacked your ass a handful more times, covering a wide area and making your ass light up like a Christmas tree.

Tears welled in your eyes from the pain and the pleasure. It was too much stimulation. “Please, please, fuck me. I can’t take it,” you whimpered. The words on your phone swam in your vision as your body contracted with shivers. Both from the radiating waves of heat and the burn low in your belly. 

Terry rubbed his hands across your ass and you screamed, kneeling away from his hands. Wherever he touched, your ass sang with pain. “Are you going to remember to put your bracelets on?” 

You nodded. “Yes, I swear,” you said. 

Terry shoved his fingers between your legs, plunging right up your pussy. You collapsed onto the bed, twitching. “Mhm, I didn’t give you permission to cum,” he said. 

“Daddy, pleaseeee,” you pleaded, lower belly twinging with the pain of fighting off your orgasm. 

“You can get wetter than this, baby,” he said. 

“I can’t,” you said, drool seeping into the navy covers beneath you. Your face was smashed into the bed, no way to hold yourself up while his fingers stroked your walls. The loud squelching of your pussy, wet because of him, made you clench around his fingers and moan. 

He placed his free hand on your ass, giving you the dual sensation of sweet torture and cruel relief. He moved his fingers faster, stretching you out with his long, thick fingers. You rode yourself on his fingers, throwing it back and he moaned. He smacked your ass more lightly this time, more in encouragement than anything else. 

“Please let me cum. Please let me cum,” you said, legs twitching. You couldn’t hold off any longer. 

Terry leaned down over your body, placing his lips as close to your ear as he could get it. “Nahhh,” he said slowly, a subtle rasp in his voice. You bit your lip and rode him harder, showing him that you needed more. “Gotta earn that shit.” 

You sobbed into your bed, tears streaming freely. You were about to explode. Come undone at the seams. “Daddy, please. Pleaaseee. Pleaaasseeee, ouee, pleeasseee,” you moaned, desperately riding his fingers. 

“You know what Daddy needs,” he said. 

Tears leaked freely, mixing with the drool and pooling onto the covers. Your mind turned to mush, no longer able to keep reading. Your moans were loud and near screaming. Your throat raw with the effort. Your essence flooded his fingers and he hummed in satisfaction. 

“There’s my good girl,” he purred. He suddenly flipped you over, not giving you a chance to work with him. He was too impatient, too needy, too rough as he positioned you on your back. He pushed your arms above your head, giving you a look. You planted your hands above your head and knew better to move them. 

It pushed your breasts up, giving him a total view of your chest. He groaned, eyes tracking to your pert nipples. Terry folded you in half, scooting his thighs beneath your back, holding you spread open for him. 

He placed soft kisses to your wet pussy, lips smacking from your juices. “Baby, I can’t hold it no more,” you said.

“You’re gonna hold it because Daddy told you to,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. You whimpered, whined, trying to breathe through being folded like a pretzel. 

Your toes brushed against the bed with every rocking motion from Terry as he got himself comfortable. He continued kissing your pussy, stopping to look back and stare at your pussy. His lips began to glisten with your essence. 

You groaned, a primal, possessive side of you jumping out. You marked your claim. It was your juices on him. Your essence feeding him. 

“Daddy, please,” you cried out. From this position, you saw his face perfectly. He stared at your pussy like a man possessed. Like a greedy man with the richest treasure in the world. Your heart softened just as your pussy throbbed. 

Terry smirked. “Pretty fuckin’ pussy. She miss me?” He asked. As if you hadn’t gone two and half rounds when you woke up this morning. As if he wasn’t driving you insane nearly every time you got within two feet of each other. 

“Yes, Daddy, she missed you,” you moaned. 

“Yeah? She gon’ be good and cum when I say?” He asked. He stared at you from beneath his long eyelashes framing his stormy blue eyes while his tongue rolled out of his mouth. He used the tip of his tongue to search through your soaked curls, separate your pussy lips, and flick across that little bundle of nerves. 

“Ouee, shit,” you moaned. Sweat beaded on your forehead. Your heart beat so loudly, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it. You huffed, watching his tongue work around your clit. Feeling it was even better. His breath was hot across your pussy, making your breaths stutter in your chest.

His lips followed his tongue, going deeper, playing with the rim of your entrance before dipping his tongue inside you. You cried out, belly fluttering. You moved your hands and Terry’s eyes narrowed. 

Fresh tears leaked from your eyes, dripping down the side of your face. “Pleasseee,” you begged. 

“You’re doing so well, already,” he moaned. He sped up, licking you, eating you, devouring you as he lapped at your pussy. Fresh essence dripped out of you and he licked that up too. He moaned, burying his nose and face into your pussy. He ate like a man starved. Sloppily. Messily. 

“Oue, fuck, ouee,” you screamed.

Terry moved closer, like he was trying to shove his whole face inside of you. His plush lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. 

“Oh fuck! Terry! Terry!” You screamed. Your body began twitching. The orgasm you staved off was coming whether you wanted it to or not. Terry stopped altogether, suspending your body in the midpoint between denial and reprieve. 

Your eyes rolled lazily to him, panting, huffing, body feeling like you had been tossed into a barbeque pit. “T-T-”

Terry tilted his head, tongue flat against your clit. You throbbed and pulsed on his tongue but he didn’t move. Your body retreated from the edge in slow increments, relaxing against him. 

You blinked at him, no longer able to communicate a single thought. Terry’s eyes gleamed with sick pleasure. He hummed, moving his tongue against your clit once more. He brought you to the edge and then denied you the rush of pleasure at the last minute. He did it one more time, letting you relax and then bringing you back to the precipice. 

Your belly cramped so bad. Your mouth stopped working. You couldn’t do anything but pathetically moan as he ate his fill. Your toes brushed against the bed again as he leaned back far enough.

“She too tired now?” He asked.

You shook your head. Furthest thing from it. Terry smirked. “You nice and dumb for me, baby?” He asked. He gave you teasing little licks. You hissed and moaned, eyes aching from how hard you closed them from the torture. 

“Answer me when I’m talking to you,” Terry said, smacking your ass for good measure. It woke you from the fog long enough to nod. 

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you said. 

Terry grinned and then relented, giving in and eating you with a renewed fervor. “You can cum now, baby,” he moaned into your pussy. His tongue and lips teased your clit. His fingers dipped back inside your entrance, coaxing that sweet, sweet orgasm out of you.

You screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Or hell, maybe you joined them. Lights burst behind your eyelids as you came with so much force, you couldn’t breathe. Your pussy ached and throbbed, thighs shaking against Terry’s face as he teased you throughout the whole ride. 

He slowed down as he sensed that you were coming down, drawing out his teasing licks and kisses to your pussy. He pulled back and your essence dripped from his face. He looked like he went swimming in your pussy. His entire jaw was covered, shiny and wet. You wish you could take a picture of him like this.

A long spit chain connected you to him and he moaned, ending on a hiss. “That’s a good fuckin’ pussy,” he huffed as he regained his own breathing. “Turn that ass over.”

Terry lowered you to the bed while he hopped off. He made quick work of his clothes, his huffs and puffs the only indication of how badly he was rushing. You were just a noodle, watching him reveal inches of his bronze skin, the veins in his biceps, the tattoos on his arms.

You traced the tattoos more times than you could count, lips twitching with the urge to do so now. His thighs were equally delicious. As big as tree trunks, a light dusting of hair. And that ass. He turned to the side briefly so he could free his long legs from his underwear and sweats. 

“You are so damn pretty,” you mumbled. 

Terry chuckled. You didn’t think he heard you. “That’s my line,” he said. “And I’m pretty sure I told you what you need to be doing.” 

You couldn’t flip over fast enough, giggling. He’d just bent you over and ate you so well, your leg was still wobbly and shaky. Yet you yearned for more. Yearned for his body surrounding you, protecting you, caging you in his embrace. You were greedy. Needing, wanting, craving more. 

Terry descended onto the bed, roughly grabbing your hips and sliding inside with a savage thrust. 

“Oueeee, SHIT, Daddy!” You screamed. He slid out and then slid back in, coating his long dick with your essence. 

“Cream this shit,” he moaned, sliding inside faster. His massive hands gripped your hips and pulled you onto his punishing dick, ramming into you. “Made for me. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy, I was made for you,” you moaned. He stretched you beautifully, slamming into you just as rough as you wanted. As you needed. 

“Just a pretty, tight hole for me to abuse whenever I want?” He asked.

You sobbed, tears gathering in your eyes once more. He hit that magical spot inside of you, the spot only he could reach. No other man, not even your toys, could hit that spot with such precision. With accuracy. He was just as much made for you. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, voice muffled by the covers. The bed dipped as Terry leaned over, planting a fist beside your head to hold up his weight. He used his other hand to grab a handful of braids and yank, baring your throat to him. 

“I wish you could see how creamy you are. Pretty little ring on my dick. So nice and wet,” he cooed into your ear. He pulled your head back so that he could kiss you. His face smelled like you. You moaned and clenched around his dick. He hissed and then growled in your ear. 

“Filling me so deep, Daddy,” you moaned. “So fuckin’ deep, ohmygoood.”

Terry chuckled. He shifted his hips and drove in deeper, possibly down to his base, as he fucked you into the mattress. Your hands stretched out in front of you, gripping onto the covers just trying to meet his thrusts. 

“Untie me, Daddy. Let me feel you,” you begged. 

Terry responded by kissing you, tongue licking your lips. You opened your mouth and played with his tongue. His beautiful, amazing tongue that was capable of the sweetest words and the filthiest things. 

“You don’t know how to behave when you’re free,” he said against your cheek. 

“I’ll behave, I promise,” you whispered. 

Terry moaned, dick throbbing inside you. “I want to believe you,” he said. 

He kept up his brutal, savage thrusts, digging into you and making your belly clench. “Pleasse, Daddy. I want to feel you,” you moaned. 

“All you need to do is feel this dick, baby. Feel how much you mean to me. How much I want to take care of you,” he said.

Each thrust felt like it was going straight to your heart. There was no way you were still flooding his dick. Still making it easier for him to glide and thrust and stroke so far inside you, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. 

“Fuck me so good. So well,” you moaned. 

Terry gripped your hips and then pulled you down harder, faster, rougher. You yelped and squealed, stretched out on the bed, trying to escape. Terry yanked you back, fingers digging into your skin harder. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you moaned. Your thighs trembled from trying to hold yourself up from his hold. He kept you in place, filling you, fucking you good and deep. Your eyes rolled back into your head. But still, your body propelled you forward. Both because of his thrusts and because you just couldn’t take any more. All the edging from earlier had you spent. 

“Sit that ass up,” he panted, breaths falling across your damp back. 

“C-Can’t,” you stuttered. 

Terry grunted and pulled you by the hair until you were on your knees. He sat on his haunches, continuing to pound inside you. 

“You keep telling me what you can’t do. But all this time you been takin’ this dick and doing what Daddy tell you to. Do you know how proud I am of you? So pretty when you listen,” he moaned. 

“Fuck, Daddy, please,” you moaned. 

Terry grabbed your arms and pulled it until the cuffs went over his head. It made you thrust out your chest and he grabbed your titties, playing with your sensitive nipples. He pinched and plucked as he fucked you, kissing your neck and biting your shoulder. 

Your pussy made smacking noises on his dick, sounding thick and creamy. You moans mingled in the room, mixing with the pound of the headboard against the wall. You were constantly getting little dents in it from the force of your lovemaking. It was too much. You tried to sit on his lap but he grunted.  “Mhm,” he said, pulling you into a kneeling position one more time. 

“If I gotta stand you up one more time, you ain’t gon’ like it,” he snapped. 

You whimpered and whined but concentrated on holding yourself up. His dick slammed into your walls while he kissed your neck. One hand gripped your titty and squeezed while his other hand searched lower, rubbing two fingers against your pussy. 

You screamed out, unable to hold off this one. It gobbled you up with the force of it. Tearing you down to your roots, breaking you down to your center, to the very last atom that makes you you. You cried out, shaking, twitching. 

Your vision turned black and your right ear rung with a tinny bell as you came and came in rolling waves. One triggered another for an extended orgasm, body jerking uncontrollably. 

“Cum so pretty,” he said. “You ready for this nut?” 

You could only manage a nod as he rolled his shoulders and moaned in your ear while he came, unloading a thick load of cum inside of you. 

There was no more air in your lungs enough to moan. You could only sigh as he warmed you up from the inside, soaking your walls with his cum. Nothing leaked out as he continued to stroke into you.

Your body arched as he stilled, buried to the hilt. He kissed your neck, your cheek, your jaw. He brought the fingers he used to play with your clit up to your mouth and bid you to suck. 

“Taste that?” He asked.

You nodded. Too spent, too tired, to fucked out to do anything else but yawn. Terry chuckled, and slipped out. His cum leaked out with him, sliding down your leg and dripping onto the bed. 

“Sleepy,” you mumbled.

“I know, baby. But let’s run you a bath first and I’ll change these sheets,” he said. He lowered your arms from his neck and then laid you on your side. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. 

“Don’t let me catch you without your bracelets again,” he said.

“Yes, Big Daddy,” you yawned, stretching out onto the bed to await his tender, loving aftercare.

WHEW. If you need more like I do, here ya gooo! The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[movingmusically]

Caught Feeling - part 1

Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.

Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. I’m more the type to stay in, read a book, maybe watch a show on TV if I’m feeling adventurous. I keep to myself, blend into the background. It’s comfortable there. Quiet. Predictable.

But tonight felt different.

I couldn’t take another quiet evening alone, another routine night where nothing happened. Work had drained me, like it always did, and my mind felt clogged with the same old thoughts, the same old worries. So instead of heading home like I usually would, I found myself walking in the opposite direction, pulled by something I couldn’t quite explain.

And that’s how I ended up here, in this smoky, dimly lit bar I’d passed a hundred times but never stepped foot into. Paul’s wasn’t exactly my kind of place—it was gritty, loud, filled with regulars who all seemed to know each other. The kind of place where I would normally feel out of place. But tonight, I didn’t care. Tonight, I wanted to be someone else, someone who didn’t fade into the background.

The second I walked in, I felt the weight of the room shift. It wasn’t so much that people noticed me—most were too engrossed in their drinks or conversations—but I felt different. Out of my element. My nerves buzzed under my skin, that familiar urge to turn around and retreat bubbling up inside me. But I stayed.

Then I saw him.

He was behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter like he owned the place. His blonde hair was slightly messy, curling at the base of his neck, with a worn baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. But it was his eyes that caught me—blue, sharp, and piercing, like they could see straight through me.

For a moment, I thought about looking away, but I didn’t. Our eyes met, and a slow, lazy smile spread across his face, the kind that made my stomach flip. He didn’t say anything, just held my gaze for a beat too long before turning back to his task.

Something inside me stirred—a mix of nerves, curiosity, and something else. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I wasn’t the type to flirt with bartenders or sit alone in a place like this, but tonight, I wanted to see where this could go.

I made my way to the bar, sliding onto a stool and feeling oddly aware of every step, every movement. The bottles gleamed behind him, and the air was thick with smoke, wood, and something musky that I couldn’t place. As I sat down, he glanced up again, and that smile returned, like he was waiting for me to speak.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice low, rough around the edges.

Normally, I’d have some rehearsed response ready, a safe drink order to keep me grounded, but tonight I didn’t want safe. I met his gaze, a small flicker of boldness lighting inside me. “Whatever you recommend.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, feeling a little more confident now. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock disbelief, and reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

As he poured, I couldn’t help but watch him. He moved with a kind of effortless confidence that made it hard to look away. When he slid the drink across the bar, his fingers brushed mine for just a second, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm.

“Here you go,” he said, leaning against the bar with that same easy grin. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a sip, the alcohol smooth and a little sharp as it hit my tongue. Warmth spread through me, easing the edge of my nerves without clouding my thoughts. I wasn’t drunk—not even close—but I felt braver, more at ease than I had when I first walked in.

“Not bad,” I said, matching his grin with one of my own.

His eyes flicked over me, curious. “Good to know.”

For a moment, neither of us said anything, but the air between us felt charged. I could feel the pull, the chemistry building, and my heart raced in a way I hadn’t expected. Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different. Maybe I didn’t have to be the quiet, shy girl tonight.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too cliché.

He chuckled, running a hand through his blonde curls as he glanced around the bar. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way.”

Hank. It suited him. Strong, simple, with just the right amount of edge.

“I’m—” I started to introduce myself, but a regular at the end of the bar called out, interrupting us. Hank shot me a quick smile, a promise that our conversation wasn’t over, and turned to grab the man’s drink.

I watched him move, noticing the ease with which he handled the bar. There was something magnetic about him, something that made my pulse quicken. As the night wore on, the bar slowly emptied, but Hank kept returning to me, each time with a little more focus, a little more intensity in his gaze. It felt like we were picking up a conversation that never really paused. It wasn’t about the words—it was about the attention. The way he leaned in slightly, as if nothing else in the room mattered.

Hank returned after serving another customer, resting his hands on the counter. He gave me a crooked smile, a look that made it feel like we’d known each other for longer than just tonight.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s? You don’t exactly blend in with the regulars,” he said, his tone easy, like he was genuinely curious.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery. This isn’t my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen where the end credits of a Giants game were rolling. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere quieter.”

“Somewhere quieter like… where?”

He thought for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “A café, maybe? Somewhere peaceful. You seem like someone who likes calm.”

I smiled at that. “You’re not wrong. I’m more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

“Let me guess,” he said, resting his chin on his hand, “you’ve got a favourite corner, always reading, probably scribbling in a notebook. And you drink your coffee black. No sugar.”

I laughed, the sound surprising me with how relaxed I felt. “Close. But I do take a little sugar.”

His smile widened. “Good to know.”

There was a pause, and I could feel the shift between us. A deeper pull, something heavier lingering in the air, making my heart race again. The bar had emptied out now, the noise of earlier replaced by a quiet hum. Hank wiped down the counter, his movements slower, more deliberate.

“You’re doing a good job of stepping out of your usual tonight,” he said after a moment. “Coming to a place like this on your own? That’s not nothing.”

I smiled softly, realising that I did feel different—bolder, freer. “Thanks. It does feel… different. In a good way.”

Hank’s smile deepened, his eyes locking with mine. “Sometimes different is exactly what you need.”

I nodded, feeling a warmth growing in my chest—not just from the alcohol, but from something else, something more. “Yeah, I think so.”

The bar had thinned out, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their last drinks. The soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses filled the space, but it all felt distant now. It was just me and Hank. The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background.

Hank leaned against the bar, his blue eyes still focused on me, and I could feel the weight of his attention like a physical thing. “You seem like someone who’s got it all together. But tonight, you’re here. Why?”

The question caught me off guard, and I paused, glancing down at my nearly empty glass. “I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s expression softened, his gaze growing more thoughtful. “More than you’d think. It’s why I work here, I guess. This place… it’s real. People come here to escape, to let go. I get it.”

I met his eyes again, feeling a strange sense of connection, like he understood exactly what I was feeling. “Yeah, that’s what I needed tonight. Something real. Something different.”

Hank pushed off from the bar, moving a little closer, his voice dropping just enough that it felt like a secret between us. “Well, you picked the right place.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that felt loaded with possibility. I could feel my heart pounding, my pulse quickening, and I knew I was standing on the edge of something. Something new. Something unexpected.

Hank’s gaze flicked to the door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he even said it.

“You wanna get out of here?”

It wasn’t just an invitation—it was a challenge, a leap into the unknown. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “I do.”

The cool night air hit my skin the moment we stepped outside, but it did little to cool the fire that had been building between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips moved to my neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

Part 2

[kikimurphys]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 17)

Pairing: Cillian x Y/N

You choked on your water when you heard her name. "Fuck," you thought, panic seeping in. You were about to meet Cillian's sister—right now. Anxiety washed over you as your mind raced. What if she thought you were just a gold digger after her brother's money? Meeting Cillian's family had always been one of your biggest worries.

Orla stood at the door, waiting for Cillian to greet her, but he seemed to freeze in place.

"What's wrong, Cill?" she asked, noticing his odd reaction.

"Nothing, sorry. Hi, Orla. How are ya?" He quickly recovered, giving her a kiss on the cheek and closing the door behind her.

She carried a few boxes and bags as she made her way to the kitchen. "I'm just passing by to drop this off," she said, placing them on the counter nearest to the kitchen door. "And I bought this set of curtains for Mum and Da, but I don't know if they—" She suddenly noticed you sitting at the kitchen counter and paused, recognition dawning on her face. "Oh, hi," she greeted you with a warm smile as she walked over.

"Orla, this is Y/N. She’s on bed rest, so she's staying with me," Cillian explained, his tone firm, making it clear that you were important to him.

"Why? Are you okay?" Orla asked, concern lacing her voice as she leaned on the table. Her sweet demeanor and well-mannered approach immediately put you at ease. You could tell she was genuinely kind, much like Cillian.

"Yeah, I was hospitalized last week," you began, placing a hand on your belly. "I had some bleeding, but we're okay now. I just have to move as little as possible."

Orla’s eyes softened as she looked at you. "Oh, I’m so sorry. Glad you're well now. Bed rest’s the worst, especially when you get that insane need to nest in the third trimester. Those urges are no joke," she said, raising her hands for emphasis, making you laugh at her playful tone.

There was a brief, awkward silence as the three of you stood in the kitchen, unsure of what to say next. 

“Well," Orla finally broke the silence, patting the boxes she had dropped off. "I was just passing by to leave these. Don’t forget to take them to Cork,” she said, gesturing to the boxes, before handing Cillian the curtains. “And here, what do you think of these? Do you think Mum and Da will like them?” she asked, her expression a little more serious now.

"They're okay, I suppose," Cillian replied with a shrug, clearly not too fussed about curtain shopping. Orla rolled her eyes at his lackluster response, amused by her brother’s indifference.

"Alright, I’m headed off," Orla said, reaching for her coat.

"We were just about to have dinner, if you want to join," Cillian offered, sensing that this could be a good opportunity for you to spend more time with her. "I'm making chicken curry."

"You know what, Cill?" Orla smiled as she settled beside you, pouring herself a glass of wine. "I could go for some of that chicken you make."

As she took a sip of her drink, she turned to you with a curious smile. “So, how far along are you?”

“Almost 22 weeks,” you replied, feeling a bit more comfortable now.

“Ah, halfway already! Do you know what you’re having?” she asked, excitement lighting up her face.

“A girl,” Cillian chimed in from the stove, turning to you both with a proud smile.

“Oh, they’re the best! I had my Nina last year, and it’s so different than having boys,” Orla said warmly.

“How’s baby Nina?” Cillian asked, his eyes softening at the mention of his niece, who was nearly 10 months old.

“She’s exhausting,” Orla sighed dramatically, making both you and Cillian laugh. “She just learned how to get off the bed, and now I can’t close my eyes for a second without her disappearing.”

The evening flowed pleasantly after that. Orla shared stories and showed you pictures of her baby, and you got a glimpse of just how close she and Cillian were. His gentle care for his sister warmed your heart, and the easy dynamic between them made you feel more at ease.

After dinner, fatigue began to weigh on you, and Cillian noticed immediately. He offered to prepare the guest room for you, knowing that it hadn’t been decorated or lived in yet. You thanked him as he left to make the bed, his attentiveness leaving you feeling cared for.

Once Cillian was out of earshot, Orla leaned in closer with a playful, curious smile. “So, how’s my brother been treating you?” she whispered, her tone filled with interest.

You smiled softly. “He’s been very attentive and has helped me so much. He’s a good guy,” you said, genuinely grateful for Cillian’s care.

Orla raised an eyebrow slightly. “And are you two not together then?” she asked, her eyes flicking to the separate room where you'd be sleeping. “I don’t want to be invasive, but Cillian mentioned the situation…”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured her, appreciating her honesty. “To be honest, I don’t really know,” you added with a small laugh. “We’re taking it slow... just taking our time.”

Orla nodded, understanding. “That makes sense,” she said gently.

“I’m just staying here so he can take care of me if anything happens until my sister arrives. I don’t want to take up too much of his time,” you explained, feeling the need to be transparent.

Orla gave you a knowing look and smiled. “You don’t have to worry about that. Cillian wouldn’t offer if he didn’t want to be there for you. He’s always been a bit of a caretaker, especially for those he cares about.”

Orla’s smile softened as she leaned back slightly, swirling the wine in her glass. “You know,” she began thoughtfully, “even if you two don’t end up together, that baby girl of yours... she’s still part of this family.” Her eyes flickered warmly toward your belly. “And we’ll love her no matter what.”

You blinked, a wave of emotion rushing through you at her words. It was the first time someone from Cillian’s family had said anything about the baby, and hearing that acceptance brought a sense of relief. 

“She’s going to be surrounded by love,” Orla continued, her tone filled with sincerity. “You, Cillian, and the rest of us. Family isn’t always about how things start, but about how you come together in the end. And believe me, we’re here for both of you, no matter what happens between you and my brother.”

Her reassurance eased a knot in your chest that you didn’t realize had been building. “Thank you,” you said quietly, feeling a surge of gratitude. “I’ve been so worried about what people would think... that maybe they’d see me as some sort of... I don’t know.”

Orla waved a hand dismissively. “People will always have something to say. But those who matter—the people in this family—we’ll always have your back. And that little girl... she’s going to have an army of people loving her.”

Hearing that made you feel more welcome than you had expected. “I really appreciate that,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “It means a lot.”

Orla smiled again, this time with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Plus, you’re stuck with me now—an honorary sister. We’ll spoil her rotten, you just wait.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at her words. All you wanted in the world was for your baby to be happy and grow up in a loving environment.

Just then, you heard Cillian’s footsteps coming down the hall. “What were you two talking about?” he asked, his brow raised slightly as he entered the kitchen.

“Oh, nothing much, just talking behind your back,” Orla teased, shooting her brother a playful grin. Cillian rolled his eyes, used to her antics.

“The bedroom’s all ready for you,” he told you softly. You nodded, feeling your eyelids growing heavier as the night wore on. "Thanks, Cill."

Orla stood up, gathering her things. “Well, I better head off. Gotta tuck the kids in.” She smiled, giving you a quick hug. “Don’t forget to rest, okay?”

“Of course,” you smiled back, sipping the last of your tea.

Orla turned to Cillian, reminding him once again about the package for Cork. “Don’t forget! You’re as forgetful as ever,” she teased.

“What’s that for?” you asked, glancing at the large box she’d mentioned earlier.

“Cutlery and plates for our parents’ anniversary in October,” she replied. “Their 50th. We’re planning it way ahead.”

“You should bring Y/N,” Orla repeated, looking between you and Cillian. “It’ll be the perfect chance for her to meet everyone at once.”

Cillian’s eyes widened, and he shot you a quick, slightly panicked glance. You could feel anxiety bubbling up in your chest, a knot tightening in your stomach. "Oh no, don't worry about me. I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you blurted out, your voice a bit shaky. Your palms were suddenly sweaty. What would his family even think? You were already pregnant and hadn't met them. What if they judged you? You weren't even sure where you stood with Cillian—how would you explain this to them?

Orla quickly picked up on the tension, her smile softening as she placed a reassuring hand on your arm. “Honestly, don’t stress about it,” she said warmly, sensing your worry. “There’s plenty of time to decide, no pressure. Just something to keep in mind.” She gave you a comforting smile before turning to Cillian, pulling him into a hug as she said her goodbyes.

Cillian moved to the sink to wash up as you quietly made your way to bed. While he scrubbed the dishes, your mind raced. *Would he really want you to meet his family?* You still felt insecure, unsure of your place in his life. Despite all his efforts to show he cared, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong, especially with the baby on the way. He already had a family, a whole life. Sometimes, you felt like an outsider. Or worse, like you were intruding on something that wasn’t meant to be yours.

Meanwhile, Cillian’s thoughts were completely different. As he washed up, the idea of you meeting his family filled him with joy. He could picture you with your baby, surrounded by nephews and cousins, fitting right into the warm, lively chaos that he loved so much. You’d bring a new light into his world, one that had dimmed over the years. You’d made him feel alive again. But he didn’t want to push you. He’d let the idea sit for now, give you time to decide. 

Later, lying in bed, you rubbed belly butter over your growing bump, your mind drifting. The realization that your body would never be the same hit you hard. You wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were terrified. The stretch marks, the weight gain—it all scared you more than you let on.

Cillian, meanwhile, was fussing over the curtains, trying to make the room feel cozier. The space had been bare when you first arrived, just a bed and a mattress. He’d worked tirelessly to make sure you were comfortable, and now he was determined to block out the morning sun.

“Cill, it’s okay,” you laughed softly, watching him work. “I can do that tomorrow. You’ve got work in the morning.”

He shook his head stubbornly, finishing up with the curtains. “No, I don’t want you waking up with the sun in your face at 7 a.m.,” he replied, focused on getting it right.

You grinned, amused by his overprotectiveness. It was a little over the top, but sweet. You felt lucky that he was going to be the father of your child. Once he finished, he stood back, hands on his hips, looking at you with a smitten expression. Seeing you lying there, belly growing with his child, no makeup, just real and vulnerable—it melted his heart.

“All done,” he sighed, dusting off his hands.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice softer now. “Do you have to leave early for work?”

“Yeah, but I should be back by lunchtime,” he replied.

“Well, I’ll let you sleep then,” he said, turning to leave, but something made you stop him.

“Cill?” you called softly. He turned back to you, walking closer.

“Yeah?” he asked gently.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching for his hand, your voice filled with sincerity. “For letting me stay here, for being so good to me. And Orla, too. I was really scared to meet her, but she was so nice. I’m really grateful.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You don’t have to thank me for any of that,” he murmured. “Goodnight.”

Your heart fluttered at the softness of his touch, and almost as if in response, the baby kicked. She always seemed to know when you were nervous around him. “Goodnight,” you whispered, rolling over and closing your eyes. The sound of Cillian moving around the house was oddly soothing, and before long, you drifted into sleep.

Cillian went to his room and changed into his pajamas, but after tossing and turning for almost an hour, he gave up on trying to sleep. He padded softly into the living room, careful not to wake you. Opening your door just a crack, he peeked in. You were fast asleep, soft snores escaping your lips, and he couldn’t help but smile. 

He closed the door gently, grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen, and settled on the couch. Turning the TV on with the volume barely audible, he let the low hum of some sitcom wash over him, hoping it would help him fall asleep.

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog

[rockwgooglyeyes]

Although this is extremely late, what would you say happens during and after Nyx’s and the other’s escape?

HI (I am assuming) PARA!! I'm so sorry that I never wrote something for the aftermath of Nyx's round, I had a draft but I just moved into my flat at uni and my flatmates moved in last Sunday and it's been kind of super chaotic since. I haven't had much time to write. But the finished product will be in this ask-response, for simplicity's sake. If that's okay with you

LOG (SUBJECT: Round 18 - ONYX LOSS)

SPECIMEN: 001247 (ONYX)

When the lights go out, fear is the furthest thing from Nyx's mind.

Why would he be afraid? Lang won, she won, he's so happy he could cry. She deserves it, she deserves the world, he wants to hug her and kiss her forehead and tell her that he loves her before he goes. He clutches onto her, their dance stuttering to a stop in the muddy black. He can hear the alarms going off, the panicked screams of the crowd, the footsteps clattering through the arena and the gunshots ringing out, but it all feels far away. Lang starts to push him away, her hands shaking, but he holds fast.

"It's just me, please," he rasps, voice breaking on the last syllable. She goes still in his arms, wariness clear in the steely potential energy of her limbs. He finds her forehead with his hand and brushes away her bangs from it, bending down to press a kiss to the revealed skin. "Thank you, Lang, for being my friend. I love you." She hesitates, hands twitching where they rest on his chest, before hugging him. She squeezes him tightly and lets go all too soon, distancing herself from him. She takes one step and then another, getting farther and farther each time.

Letting out a shaky breath, Nyx lets her go. Lang doesn't turn, she doesn't run away, she watches him unflinchingly in the murky darkness. If there really is an afterlife, he thinks, I will miss her when I get there. Maybe I'll get to see Kyo, or Cas. Tov might even name a constellation after me. He doesn't follow her, simply standing there and waiting for death to come. He doesn't care how it's done, whether it be a bullet through the chest or someone slams him to the ground and bashes his head in, it doesn't matter. If his last memory is one of pain, then so be it. He deserves it, after all this time of living past his expiration date.

See, it was as soon as he realized that Kyo would never love him back, it was when he first set his eyes on Asahi, it was when he stood on stage at graduation- those were the moments that told Nyx that he wouldn't make it past twenty. Here he is, though, twenty and something months, however many days over his allowance. He doesn't regret it, the moments he had in that stolen time. He was able to tell Tov he loved her, he got to tell Vera goodbye, he saw Aurien one last time and Solei, well, Solei is still alive. He just hopes that they're happy.

Nyx can't help but laugh- Tov will be absolutely furious with him for dying. For losing. At least, he hopes she hates him for it, that it makes it easier to accept that he's gone. Part of him still wishes he had done something other than laugh. He wishes that the last thing he said to her was something gentle, sweet, but he supposes it wouldn't have been true to form. He's not a sweet, gentle person. He's brittle and sharp around the edges and cruel when it counts, bitter when it hurts. Still, he wishes that he had done something better than laugh when she told him to win. He laughed because he had nothing to say, because he was surprised, because he was astounded that Tov thought he even stood a chance. After all, she knows the truth, that Cas threw the round, that he'd done it as some kind of sacrifice, some sick act of love.

(Really, Nyx should have known from the beginning, that something was off, that Cas wasn't trying as hard as he should have been, that he wasn't pouring his heart out into it like he would've been had the circumstances been different. He should've known that the calm, the acceptance in Cas' eyes was a harbinger of doom, an omen for what was to come. He didn't. He was too foolish, too naïve, too stupid to see the truth.)

When a hand clamps down over his mouth from behind him, he doesn't scream. He doesn't fight. He waits for the end, no resistance, no questions, no fear. Maybe that's why it takes him a moment to make out Aurien's voice, pleading with him.

"Nyx? Nyx, can you hear me?" He blinks, turning to see his little sister, standing stark in the darkness. Inky strands of hair is dripping into her wild eyes, she pulls down a mask covering her mouth, breathing heavily as she watches him.

"Aurien," he murmurs, breathing her name in a hushed whisper, reverent as a prayer. He takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, cupping her face with a hand, stroking his thumb down the delicate curve of her cheekbone, the gentle flutter of her eyelashes. She leans into his touch, smiling slightly and releasing a sigh of relief. "You're not supposed to be here." What happens next doesn't make sense, her eyes flashing open, fury flashing in their obsidian depths.

"Nyx," she intones, warning obvious in her tone. She places her hand on top of his, her jaw twitching with barely constrained rage.

"I've already stayed too long," he tells her, running his fingers through her hair, just as he used to when they were children and he was comforting her while she cried. "Please, save Lang instead. She doesn't deserve to die." She jerks backwards, ripping his hand away and stumbling, looking shaken to her core.

"What are you talking about?" She demands, throwing her hands up in the air. "You don't deserve to die, either." Nyx barks out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Of course, you would say that," he sighs, looking down at the ground. "But Cas died. He died so that I could live. Kyo is gone, Vera too, that's not even mentioning Tallis. You and Solei are happy, now. I'll just drag you down, with my cynicism, my baggage. You're better off forgetting about me."

"You-"

"I don't deserve to be saved."

"Well, good thing that I don't fucking care whether or not you deserve it," Aurien snaps, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're coming. We're saving you. No buts."

Of course, right after she says that, a whistle pierces the air and punctures her in the side. Right where she was shot the first time. Right where Cas was shot. Nyx catches her when she falls, grasping at her arms with shaking, sweaty hands. She coughs out blood onto his shoulder, trying to push herself back up and failing. Nyx should be helping her, he knows he should be helping her. After all, she's real.

But his vision is flickering in and out, Aurien's hair turning curly, the color of dried blood, hemoglobin on silk. She looks up at him, says something, but he can only see Castor's face, smiling at him with bloodied lips. Nyx can only hear the laugh that bubbled out of Castor in his last moments. Nyx's heart is beating the drums of war in his ears, chest heaving and tears budding in his eyes. He presses his hand to the wound in her side to stem the bleeding (like he did with Cas) and she hisses in pain just like Cas did.

Nyx chokes on his own breath, stuttering backwards, unable to do this any longer. Aurien makes a noise in surprise, crumpling to the floor, just like Cas did. Just like Cas did.

"It's not, real, he's gone," Nyx hiccups out, shaking his head, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. "He's gone, he's gone. Please, please," He repeats it, a broken record catching again on the needle, attempting to self-soothe in the face of a fracturing psyche.

"Onyx," a voice cuts through his delusions. He barely hears it and when a hand suddenly grabs his forearm, he flinches away on instinct, eyes wide, panic taking over every other faculty of his mind. The owner of the hand is he doesn't recognize, with white curly hair and a face mask just like the one Aurien was wearing, and they're looking at him sternly. "We need to get out of here."

"Wh- I- alright," Nyx acquiesces, too tired to fight anymore. "Where're we going?" His voice is hollowed out and rough, broken by his crying.

"Surveillance room," the white-haired person grunts out while picking up Aurien gingerly and holding her over their shoulder. "You know a way there?" Nyx nods, scanning his mind for the shortest route from the stage. He beckons them to follow him and darts off, lowering himself down off of the stage and going to the undercroft beneath the stage through a hidden panel. The person ducks in behind him, seeming surprised at where they end up, the racks of costumes, the tools and other supplies, microphones and cords strewn about. Nyx weaves through the mess quickly, leaving his companions to catch up as he rewires the lift to bypass the security lockdown.

"I wouldn't risk the lift if we didn't have someone injured," Nyx says quietly, fingers tangles and disentangling the cords he pulled from the outlet. Finally, the lift dings, the light turning on as the doors open with a hiss. The person holding Aurien nods to him and enters the lift. Nyx presses the button inside and opens up the admin panel to program a no-stop straight shot to the surveillance room. "See, the thing is, the undercroft and the surveillance room are directly connected because they're both backstage work areas." Nyx doesn't know why he's talking, not really, but the words are spilling out of him and it feels good to fill the silence up with something other than the hum of the electricity and the whispers in his head insisting that this isn't real either, he's already dead and this is some grandiose delusion of heaven.

They actually reach the surveillance room before the person holding Aurien even responds to his rambling which feels a bit like a blessing in disguise. There are two people already in the surveillance room, one of which whips around to face them while the other stays hunched over the admin panel, presumably doing damage control. Funnily enough, they look like Ryu and Ji-Woo but that's ridiculous. Those two went missing.

"Nyx?" The person that looks and sounds like Ryu exclaims, amber eyes widening. "Shit, what happened to Aurien, Bunny?!" The person carrying Aurien, Bunny apparently, lets out a sigh and walks out of the lift, dragging Nyx with them.

"She got shot, Ryu, obviously," Bunny answers. "Now, where's our muster point? We can't just hole up in here."

"I'm working on it," Ji-Woo barks out. Nyx has decided that they must be the real Ryu and Ji-Woo, no matter how ridiculous that is, because they both sound like them and look like them and Ryu got called Ryu by Bunny and Aurien is the real Aurien and- fuck, he should really just shut up. Ryu glances at Nyx out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey, are you okay?" Nyx blinks, frowning at Ryu in confusion. "You seem shaken up." Nyx stares at him for a moment longer before trying to smile.

"Never been better," he lies through his teeth. He's definitely been worse but suffice to say, this not one of his better days.

"I've got a muster point from Solei, c'mon, we need to go," Ji-Woo says as soon as he sends out a command for a system wide 24hr shut down. "We meet at docking bay 4D in the Φ wing. You know where that is?" Ji-Woo glances to Nyx who blinks in surprise before nodding. He finds his way to the front of their pack before darting ahead, scanning the hallways for any guards as he slowly orients himself and takes them through the weird back alleys of the arena.

"How do you even know these are here?" Ryu asks at some point while they're in an abandoned fuel cellar in Φ wing.

"Uh, trial and error mostly," Nyx replies as he tries to remember whether they go right or left from here. "Oryon took me to the last two seasons of ALNST but it didn't really supervise me well so I wandered around."

"And you never got caught?" Bunny inquires, skeptical and for good reason.

"Oh, it's left," Nyx realizes, beckoning them to follow him through the gap between two walls where there used to be insulation, before the wing was decommissioned and set for demolition. "I mean, I haven't gotten caught doing this yet." Finally, they emerge in the bay after going through the vault in the ceiling, where all the old electrical is still hanging from the rafters.

"You would have been useful to have when we did this before, Ji-Woo and I kept getting lost," Ryu remarks. Ji-Woo blushes and elbows his partner before breaking off to find Solei. He waves them over to a bulky object covered by a dusty tarp after a moment. He and Ryu drag the tarp off and Solei pops up from the bed of the truck, eyes huge and wary in the dim. Bunny settles into the bed of the truck as well, putting Aurien down gently in the pile of bedding there so that she won't get jostled too much. Solei chirps, panic obvious in their tone and Nyx feels guilt pool in his stomach. He gets into the passenger seat after Ji-Woo settles behind the wheel, unable to face his sister who he was unable to help when she needed and the friend who loves his sister as much as he does.

Nyx thinks the best thing that happened tonight was Lang surviving.

Perhaps, Nyx is not good at accepting good things.

I will tag @starry-skiez because Ryu & Ji-Woo belong to him, @bluemoonscape because Castor & Kyo belong to him, @apriciticreveries because she's Aurien's mama, @solei-eclipse is Solei's creator, @rosedeleca for Bunny & Rose. um. @zerostyrant because he asked to be tagged <3 oh and @ivanttakethis because i mention Tov <3

[emeryhiro]

Hello!

I am new here and is feeling very overwhelmed right now with that is happening in the caryl fandom. I appreciate your insight into these characters. I am someone who has not seen Daryl Dixon season 1 and is seriously considering if I should even watch it with all that is being said about s2.

Reading all the early reviews that has dropped - I get a lot of mixed reactions to Isabelle's character. Some ppl say she was the best part about season 1 while others don't even mention here in their reviews. The caryl fandom is largely, understandably, biased against her.

I do not know anything about Isabelle and was wondering what your thoughts about her are - how she holds up as a character?

Hi Anon!!

Thank you for your question. I'm really glad you asked this question, and thank you for the kind words🥰 I'm going to do my best to properly answer and share my thoughts on all the points you've mentioned.

Firstly, welcome to the fandom!! 💖 I'm sorry you've joined at a time of so much uncertainty, but I promise that at its core, this community is a beautiful place to be. But like all communities, there is always positivity and negativity, and it's important to be careful with what's surrounding you, ensuring it's a healthy balance that works for you.

I've divided my response into several sections, as I find that to be the best way to convey my thoughts. I also wanted to be as clear as possible since this is a sensitive topic for some, and I want to try to alleviate at least some of the worries.

A mild spoiler warning for a mention of something that happens in episode 1 of season 2.

Reviews on Season 2:

I wasn't planning on reading any of the reviews for season 2, but since you asked for my thoughts, I read all the articles that I could find so that I could give you an informed response. And one thing I advise is to always take reviews with a grain of salt (this includes my thoughts as well) because, ultimately, they're all based on the writers' opinions.

What I've found with all previous seasons of TWD, especially season 1 of Daryl Dixon, was that no single review I read aligned perfectly with what I thought of the show once I watched it myself. And I know I'll say the same about season 2.

Regarding what I read in the season 2 reviews, I don't think I've actually read a single concerning line in any of the ones I've come across, and I'm pretty sure I've read every single one that has been released. There are, however, a lot of people who, out of fear or concern, focus on single lines from a review that may sound negative or worrisome when taken out of context, and ignore everything else in the review that's purely positive.

I can see many people have shared their specific thoughts on different segments of several reviews, but I won't go into my thoughts here for the sake of keeping this response reasonable short. If you're interested in a detailed post about my thoughts on the reviews in general or any in particular, let me know, and I'll share it as soon as I get a chance.

My thoughts on Isabelle:

I found Isabelle to be a fascinating character with many layers. She is unquestionably flawed and has a great mix of both positive and negative characteristics, which I think is what gives her character so much potential. She's intelligent, driven, brave, headstrong, and very protective, but she's also undeniably manipulative, which makes sense when you think of it as a self-defence mechanism that she developed during her rocky life before the apocalypse. I'm also a fan of Clémence as an actress, and I think she's a great fit for this character.

This next bit might sound a bit contrevoursial but bare with me. I've seen Isabelle get a lot of hate for being manipulative towards Daryl, even I personally hated seeing Daryl be treated that way, but it's important to remember that we've also seen Carol behave manipulatively when she's had to in the past in order to protect the people that she loves. This is something you'll see Carol do once again in episode 1 of TBOC, and when I watched it, it made me uncomfortable, but ultimetly, I could see that it made Carol uncomfortable as well; she doesn't feel any satisfaction out of what she does and is willing to carry the weight of that lie and guilt to achieve her ultimate goal of saving Daryl, the person she loves.

Even though, on the surface, it's not an admirable thing to do, we appreciate Carol so much more because of the lengths she's willing to go to for the ones she loves, and we've also seen her journey to this point, which naturally makes us love her and empathise with her.

So my point here is that I can't judge Isabelle for the same behaviour I admire in my favourite character. Just like Carol may act that way to protect Daryl (her loved one), Isabelle was doing it because she believed (to the best of her knowledge) that it was what was best for Laurent (her loved one).

However, what doesn't sit right with me about Isabelle's character is that what the showrunners and writers have been saying about her doesn't align with what I've seen on screen (this is a great example of why I try to avoid looking at unnecessary publicity). I want to love her character for who she is, flaws and all, but the inconsistency in her publicity makes me feel like there's some discrepancy behind the scenes, and that has stopped me from investing in her character and gives me slight concern for the trajectory of her arc, which has so much potential that would be incredibly tragic if wasted.

The only other thing that I would disagree with (IF the show ends up going down that path) is the negative messaging that would be given out about nuns if every surviving nun on the show is portrayed as willing to forget her vows the minute there's a man in front of them that they find interesting. I'm not catholic, but I think that it would be incredibly disrespectful towards actual nuns and the sacrifices that they make for their faith. But please don't take this as fact because I don't think this will actually ever happen. I honestly don't believe that AMC or anyone involved with the show would knowingly do something like that. I'd be happy to explain this a little further, but I don't think it's relevant if you haven't seen the first seasons.

Watching TWD: Daryl Dixon S1 & 2

My question to you would be, what draws you to TWD/TBOC? Is it Caryl itself and potential canon? And if so, do you feel that you'd be left disappointed and/or unsatisfied with the potential lack of romance between the characters in season 2? Or, do you enjoy the show for a combination of things, like the character development, world-building, cinematography, etc.?

I want to emphasise that there is no wrong answer to the above. Everyone is unique, and it's 1000% understandable and fair for each person to have unique reasons for being drawn to and loving, hating, or even being indifferent about a show.

I personally fall in the latter category; I love TWD for its rich story, action sequences, cinematography, multitude of interesting characters, and the mind-blowing ways in which they have developed over the years (the whole package of the show is exactly my cup of tea), and of course, it's no secret if anyone looks at my blog that my favourite character (BY FAR) are Carol and Daryl. I absolutely adore them for everything they are, both as individuals and what they bring out in each other and mean to each other. And if Caryl is ever canon (which I expect would happen in season 3), then that would be the cherry on top of a show I already love.

My very short review of season 1 would be that I really enjoyed it and would rank it at the top between all the other spinoff seasons we've gotten so far. However, in all honesty, I still felt and noticed the hole that was left behind in the story with the absence of Carol, but knowing that she will be returning in season 2 kind of made up for that lack in season 1. All up, I really enjoyed season 1 and have watched it several times in the last year. I'm actually currently in the middle of watching it again in preparation for season 2.

My recommendations:

If you personally fall into the former category and, as mentioned above, feel that you'd be left disappointed and/or unsatisfied with the potential lack of romance between the characters in season 2, then perhaps it's better to wait till all the episodes are released to then decide if it's something that you'd like to watch.

If you're willing to accept and are okay with the potential lack of romance between Caryl in season 2 but are concerned about and would rather not watch any potential romantic relationship develop between Daryl and Isabelle, then I'd say that you should watch the season as it releases because I honestly don't believe that something like that is a real possibility. At most, there may be hints towards one-sided feelings from Isabelle's side and maybe some confusion from Daryl's side, but untimely, it would not mean or go anywhere. I'm personally not even bothered with this worst-case scenario because it doesn't matter how many people have feelings for Daryl or how confused Daryl is because I know that once he's reunited with Carol, there won't be any more uncertainty about where his heart and loyalties truly lie. There's honestly not a single ounce of me that's concerned about this.

If you're more like me and enjoy the show as a whole, even though you may be slightly disappointed with a few accepts, then I'd highly recommend that you watch season 1 before the release of season 2 (if you have the time), because it genuinely was a good season and will give you a lot of backstory and context that would make season 2 feel so much more enjoyable and immersive.

~~~~

Thanks again for your questions!! I hope this all makes sense and that it answers your questions. As I mentioned earlier, if you'd like me to expand on my thoughts on anything in particular, please let me know, and I'd be happy to do so.

My last bit of advice is this: I know it's easier said than done, but I urge you, especially as someone who's new to the fandom, to not allow a lot of different voices and opinions to shape how you naturally feel or invalidate what you take away from watching the show (not that I think that's what you're doing but this is the general advice I wanted to give just in case🩵). It's really easy for anyone to be influenced by negativity and positivity when they find that that's all they can see from the people around them.

I personally try to focus on what I see on screen and what I hear directly from Norman and Melissa because, at the end of the day, showrunners and writers come and go, but Norman and Melissa have embodied these characters from day one and understand them more than anyone else ever could.

♡♡♡

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Not Ready Part 4/12

Part 5 and Part 6 are out on my Patreon!

Readers sister dies in a tragic car accident, leaving reader and her boyfriend Ruben in the urgent custody of her niece and nephew. Readers' life is suddenly flipped upside-down since having children hadn't been the plan for her and Ruben's life together. At least not now, when his football career was reaching great new heights.

Enjoy! 💞

"So you're the children's caregiver now?"

"No, Laleh. I'm still just their aunt." What a waste of your lunch break, you thought. Laleh was grilling you with questions all through your walk in the park. You should have stayed at the office, perhaps snuck up to the roof top and joined the chainsmokers on their lunch break. Lord knows you could use a cigarette right about now.

"But you're the only one caring for them, no?"

"Well, my parents sent me money for the week while the kids are staying with me. But, yes, their dad has gone a bit M.I.A for the moment. I suppose Ruben and I are the only ones caring for the children."

And how does he feel about that?"

"What do you mean?" You stopped before a park bench, behind it a large oak tree where a group of senior citizens were practicing Tai chi.

"Well you've involuntarily made Ruben a father figure now." Laleh said.

"What? No I haven't. The children call him uncle Ruben but that's because my sister and I joked about it once. It kinda stuck, but Ruben knows he is not responsible for the children in any way."

"But you are."

"Yes. I am. So what?"

"I dunno Y/N. It just feels like it can get a bit messy if you and Ruben aren't on the same page."

"Well, we are. The children are leaving tomorrow. Both my parents are coming to London to help clean out the rest of Liza's things. They're taking Emmy and Vale with them to Bournemouth after that, while their father stays back and continues to try and sell the house."

"It's really that bad huh?" Laleh picked up your walk, taking a sip of her coffee. "Does he want all traces of your sister gone?"

You nodded. "But I think it's for the best. There is no need for him and the children to be reminded of her everyday. It would be too painful. "

"And how about you, how are you holding up?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you—"

"Auntie Y/N!"

"Emmy, Vale, what are you two doing here?"

Fallen leaves rustled on the ground as the children came sprinting your way.

"Look what Uncle Ruben got us." Said Vale, waving his melting popsicle. Emmy was nibbling on hers, almost chewing on the stick.

"Ice cream?" You questioned. "In the middle of the day."

"Uncle Ruben said we could have as many as we like."

"Did he now?" You raised your head, watching Ruben as he walked towards you with a football at his feet. You crossed your arms, a smile on your face as he approached. He was supposed to babysit the kids while you were at work, not give them cavities.

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "Hey Laleh." He greeted her while pressing a kiss to your cheek. "How are you?"

"Fine. I see you guys have a full house now."

"More or less." He sighed. A sigh that caused a jab in your stomach.

"Baby, you didn't have to take the kids out to the park. You could have just watched them while you were resting." It was supposed to be Ruben's day off and now you felt guilty for ruining it.

"Yeah, but they got pretty bored of watching TV all day." He said. "I didn't mind taking them to the park. We had pretty fun playing football."

"Uncle Ruben lost." Emmy said, throwing away her popsicle stick in the nearest bin. "I thought you said that he was a professional auntie Y/N?"

"I am." Ruben frowned.

"Could have fooled me." Emmy scoffed and walked off to join her brother that had taken interest in the old people doing a funny dance under the oak tree.

"It was two against one." Ruben assured you.

Laleh laughed.

"Sure it was, baby." You patted his arm.

"It was. And I was tired from a whole week of training."

"Of course you were." You pushed up and pecked his lips, whispering against his mouth, "I hope you're not too tired for tonight. I'm finally off my period."

Ruben's eyes widened with interest, a smirk twitching his lips. "I'll see you at home then."

"See you." You waved, teeth biting down on your lips.

You went back to work that afternoon with mixed feelings. The week had gone by so fast. Your niece and nephew were going back home to live with their dad just when they were starting to come to terms with the fact that their mother was never coming back to them. It will be hard to let them go, not knowing if your parents will pamper them with the same loving affirmation like you have been doing every day for the past week.

"What are you thinking about?"

Ruben's chest vibrated against your face, his voice quiet and deep in the night. The children had gone to bed early while you and Ruben stayed up in your room, finally getting a moment to yourself.

"I'm worried about Emmy and Vale."

"You are? Why?" Ruben's finger drew lazy patterns on the hill of your naked shoulder. He did so, tracing his finger down your arm and then back up again, causing goosebumps to rise.

"My parents..." You sighed. "They're not very good with kids."

"No?"

"No."

Ruben lay quiet, his eyes gazing at the ceiling before stating the obvious. "Didn't they have two of their own?"

You shut your eyes, but shifted so that your chin rested against Ruben's sternum. Your eyes opened and found Ruben watching you, his expression dark but attentive.

"They did have two kids." You nodded. "But my sister and I took care of each other. At least for the most part. It was mainly in our teens that our parents stopped paying attention to us. Almost as if they one day decided that they had done enough for us."

"I see." Ruben removed a strand of hair from your face, letting his hand linger against your cheek.

"It was terrible." You said, remembering your parents' first vacation without you, and then the second one and the third one.... Liza wasn't too bothered by their absence, but that's because she had football. You on the other hand developed some bad attachment issues. Issues that showed themselves in future relationships. Mainly how you handled heartbreak, often blaming yourself. You also put others before you to a point where your own boss found you a replacement to cover your shift at work, only because she knew that you wouldn't dare to ask for a day off on your birthday. That's how much of a people pleaser you were (had become).

"It's a good thing that they have each other, no?"

"Huh?"

Ruben nibbled his fingers at your earlobe. "Emmy and Vale," He said. "I'm sure that they'll be looking after each other."

"Yes, but they shouldn't have to. My parents should—"

There was a crack of the door as it slowly came ajar. "Auntie Y/N?"

"Emmy?" You quickly reached for the bed sheets.

"Auntie Y/N, we can't sleep."

"No?" You couldn't see her where you lay pressed against Ruben's naked chest, the two of you butt naked under the sheets. Nevertheless, the door cracked open some more and you sighed.

"Yes. Me and Vale. Can we sleep in here with you and uncle Ruben?"

"Erm..." Ruben was already reaching for something on the floor. A pair of shorts. "You know what. Why don't you go and wait for me in your room? I'll be right there with you, baby."

"Oh. Okay." Her bare feet were heard scattering away, leaving the bedroom door open.

"Fuck."

You pushed off the mattress, climbing over Ruben, sliding down the bed. You hurried to get dressed, looking back at your boyfriend who was left in bed.

"I'm so sorry. I've got to—"

"It's okay." Ruben smiled. A thin smile. "I'll see you in the morning."

You nodded, closing the door behind you. The apartment lay quiet in the night, the city lights showing you their way towards the guest room. You opened the door with a light knock and was surprised to find Emmy and Vale in bed together with the dog. Iker who squealed and wagged his tail at the sight of you.

Vale was fast asleep while Emmy moved over to make a spot for you in the middle. There you settled with the dog curling up on top of your pillow and Emmy wrapping her arms around your stomach. You draped your arm over her head, pressing her closer to you. That's how you fell asleep, to the sound of the dog's light snores, in unison with the children's. For the split second between sleep and alert, you thought of Ruben and how this was the first time in three years that you slept apart. At least without saying goodnight.

The next morning went by in a flash. By ten o'clock you Ruben and the kids were out of the apartment, on the road back to London.

It wasn't that you were in a rush. It was just that the drive back to Bournemouth would take your parents a few hours. It was best for the children to grab their things as early as possible to save time.

"There they are!"

"Grandma!"

"Grandpa!"

Emmy and Vale scattered out of Ruben's car as it pulled up to your sister's house. Your parents had coincidentally arrived at the sametime you did.

"How are my favorite grandchildren?"

"Grandma, we're your only grandchildren." Emmy and Vale giggled, swept up in your mother's embrace.

"Are you? How could I forget?"

It was all smiles and giggles in the front yard. Your dad and Ruben shook hands, but not much more words were exchanged beyond that. Same thing with your mother. The farthest they had gone to approve of your relationship with Ruben was in the form of an yearly invitation to visit them in Bournemouth in the summer. But only at the sametime as your sister and her children were there. Other than that they left you and Ruben alone. Possibly because they were both radical traditionalists. Your mother once told you when you first started dating Ruben, that a man like him would only string you along as long as you maintained your youth and never upsetted his lifestyle by bearing children. It was a cruel and unfair thing to say, and perhaps your parents being born and raised in Chelsea might have something to do with their resentment towards your boyfriend. Nevertheless, you had learned to live with it and so had Ruben.

"Kids!" Your dad announced with a clap of his hands. "Let's go inside and help your dad with your things. We have a long drive ahead of us once we're done."

"Yay!" Emmy and Vale joyously sprinted into their home, through the door that had been left unlocked.

You and Ruben entered the house behind your parents. But just like them you were struck by the mess in the living room and the kitchen. Boxes lay scattered all over the floor. Boxes containing old books, records and pictures of—"

A heart-wrenching scream shook the house.

"Emmy!" Your heart tied a knot as you sprinted through the house in search of her. You passed the living room and pushed through the door to the office. In that moment an incredible stench hit you like a wall, tearing up your eyes as you regarded the tragic scene before you.

"My dad is dead. My dad is dead!" Emmy cried, and ran to you hiding her face. Vale on the other hand, stood in shock, his mouth left open, watching his father who lay slumped over the desktop his skin pale and gray. However, he wasn't dead. He was just passed out in a pool of his own vomit. Hence the stench. You counted at least four bottles of something strong, whiskey perhaps.

"Y/N?" Ruben appeared behind you in the door, wrinkling his nose once the smell hit him too.

"Oh dear." Your mother gasped. Your dad pushed past her and into the room his eyes wide and his breath shallow. "Valentie." He hissed. "Please, get away from there."

He didn't move, his feet remaining glued to the floor while his body trembled all over.

"Oh dear." Your mother repeated tugging at your arm for you and Emmy to step out of the room. However, you couldn't leave, not without Vale.

"Son, please" Your dad pleaded. Tears were seen streaming down Vale's cheeks but other than that he was unresponsive.

Your mother could no longer bare the tragic scene and disappeared down the hall, dialing 999 on her phone. Meanwhile you and Ruben watched how your dad struggled to get Vale's attention. The boy was simply in shock.

"Vale please." You cried. "Come to me." His sister trembled in your embrace, her arms wrapped around you tightly. So tight that you couldn't move. "Please, Vale."

His tearfilled eyes shifted towards you and the look in them was nothing but dreadful, emptied of all light.

"That's it. Good boy." You encouraged, as his little feet shuffled slowly towards you, or towards Ruben to be exact. He walked past your dad, stretching his arms above his head. And for a moment you saw the hesitation in Ruben's eyes. The fear. But he bent down to pick him up, cradling a sniffling Vale in his embrace.

The ambulance pulled up to the house as you stepped out of it. And just as you thought to see the end of a nightmare, another one had just begun.

Part 5 and Part 6 are out on my Patreon!

[libbytwq]

"Recieving Answers" part 1

next part: N/A

~♤◇♡♧~

SMGL:E walks slowly out of SMG1 and SMG2’s house, being careful to shut the door without making much noise. They let out a sigh in relief as the door shuts almost silently.

They look around and gaze up at the night sky. The stars were gorgeous. But now was not the time.

SMGL:E pulls out a small scrap of paper from his jacket pocket. Karen had found it this morning and handed it to her when SMGL:E stepped into McDonald’s. Neither knew where it came from.

It read:

Dearest SMGL:E,

Meet me by your USB. I may have the answers you’re looking for.

♡ An old friend

It was awfully sketchy, and awfully vague. But the idea of having closure to the gaps in his memories was worth every second, so SMGL:E speed walked in the direction of their USB.

The cool night air brushed their face and ruffled the fluff on their tanuki tail and blew through their fluffy ears. SMGL:E wore a serious and determined look on her face.

Closure... knowing about what happened before arriving in the Mushroom Kingdom... this is exactly everything SMGL:E could ever want!

Several little twinkles appear in the corner of SMGL:E’s line of vision. A pink one, a teal one, and a blue one. She sighs. They are used to these sparkles appearing at random points throughout the day and don’t want them to bother her now, not when she’s so close to having answers.

From the corner of his eye, she sees the teal spark whizz in front of her in some sort of shape, and for a moment, he thinks he saw the teal sparkle write a word, before it disappears as fast as it appeared.

Stop.

SMGL:E frowns and continues speed walking in the direction of his USB. They will ignore it.

The blue spark whizzes in front of him, just like the teal one, and forms another word.

Don’t.

SMGL:E groans and picks up the pace. They maneuver their way into the forest their USB is located.

Whatever these stupid sparkles are, they are trying to stop her from finding answers.

She will ignore them. They keep going.

The pink spark doesn’t form any words, but whizzes around her in speedy circles, and feels what feels like a hand grab their shoulder, but there’s nothing there, just pink sparkles, and it’s not enough to pull SMGL:E back. But it’s enough to startle him and yank her shoulder away.

They groan loudly, stop running, and yell out into the night, to wherever these sparkling entities are around them.

“Whatever you... things are, I want you to leave me alone for just this moment!!” SMGL:E shouts, frustrated. “This is my one chance at finding out a hint on who I actually am, I need answers, and you won’t take this away from me!”

They stop yelling, and wait for any type of response.

Nothing. No sparkles.

SMGL:E sighs in mild relief and wanders into the clearing of the forest, and spots the USB.

But there’s a person standing in front of it, their back facing her. Someone who looks familiar, but still someone she’s never met in their life.

They wore a dark gray vest and a white collared shirt, and long, sleek, black gloves that reached their elbows. They wore dark pants and knee high, sleek boots. Their hair was black and sleek, and in the silhouette of the night, they looked like they had fluffy gray ears, similar to the fluffy ears SMGL:E has, except her ears are purple.

SMGL:E swallows nervously and hesitantly steps closer. They clear their throat. Here goes nothing.

“...You wanted to see me?” Her voice wavered as she spoke.

The figure turned around and SMGL:E sees their face for the first time.

A familiar face, yet so unfamiliar. They had a singular curved, dark gray horn just above their forehead in the direct middle, and three eyes, two in normal spots and one on their forehead, with black in the spots the whites should be. Their pupils were a glowing white color, and they stared at SMGL:E, and a smile curves from their lips.

“I was hoping for the day I’d get to see you again,” they said. “I’ve missed you.”

They walk towards SMGL:E and grins. They were shorter in stature compared to SMGL:E.

SMGL:E tilts their head, a little nervous.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are. When I crash-landed here, my memories were all out of whack-”

“That’s perfectly okay!” They say, the smile not leaving their face. It was comforting, but also... ominous, but SMGL:E wasn’t sure how. “I don’t blame you for your memories being a little fuzzy. It must be awfully terrifying not knowing what happened prior to this… but I’m here to offer you some answers.”

SMGL:E’s face lights up and she sighs.

“Thank you… what’s your name?”

The mysterious person smiles a soft smile, their glowing white pupils twinkling lightly.

“Ignatius.”

SMGL:E was a little stunned.

Ignatius… that sounded… extremely familiar…

I.

SMGL:E had a habit of associating colors and words and objects and creatures with specific letters of the alphabet. I, J, K, L, M, N…

Something clicked in her brain.

These letters were people.

And Ignatius was the I.

They matched the exact vibe SMGL:E associated with I.

The one SMGL:E didn’t like thinking about for too long. The affection, yet the dread… the feeling of being able to meld with this person perfectly, yet the feeling like she will crumble if she allows that to happen… the one they associated with black and gray and white… the one they associated with the number three… it all made sense!

SMGL:E smiles softly, mildly nervously.

“…I don’t exactly remember you… but I remember your vibe…” SMGL:E says softly.

Even if the vibe was a little ominous, having some semblance of familiarity is a relief.

Ignatius smiled softly.

“What a relief… now for your introduction…”

SMGL:E glances around slowly, mildly confused.

“…You already know my name..? You wrote it on the paper you got to me…” SMGL:E says, tilting his head.

Ignatius chuckles under its breath.

“Maybe so, but you don’t know your name, now do you?”

SMGL:E feels even more confused.

“I do, though?” SMGL:E responds, puzzled. “It’s literally SMGL-“

“SMGLore.”

SMGL:E stops as Ignatius cuts her off.

Did… did they just…

She looks at Ignatius stunned, who just looks at her with a knowing smile.

“Your name, before your memory got wiped, was SMGLore,” it says, walking closer to them. “That’s what the L stands for. Lore.”

SMGL:E feels their heart race.

Lore…

SMGLore…

That was the name on the tip of her tongue that they were seemingly always unable to say. Every time she tried to say it, she glitches out a bit, as if he had forgotten it, despite not forgetting it.

“…SMGLore..?”

SMGL:E gasps when they realize they are able to say it.

“…oh my goodness… Lore… that’s me!”

She grows giddy and ecstatic. They can remember his name! After so long, she could remember what the L stood for!

Ignatius gazed up at SMGL:E lovingly, smiling softly. It had been a hot minute since it has seen her smile like that.

SMGL:E turns to Ignatius, beaming happily, before going to his chaotic performance grin.

“Now I can properly introduce myself to everyone I meet!” they proclaim loudly. “IT IS I, SUPER MEME GUARDIAN LORE!!”

The yelling echoes throughout the forest, and Ignatius chuckles softly.

“Do you want to keep the “Error” in your name, too?” it asks. “That’s what the E stood for in SMGL:E, right?”

She grins and shrugs.

“Eh. It gets to be a bit of a mouthful, y’know? Maybe I can drop the ‘Error’ sometimes.”

Ignatius chuckles, and SMGL:E’s smile softens. Despite this being the first time since they lost her memories they have heard Ignatius laugh, it feels like he’s heard it dozens of times before.

Ignatius steps closer to SMGL:E and puts both it’s hands on her shoulders and gazes up at them lovingly.

SMGL:E feels their heart skip a beat in his chest, and they blush lightly.

“Ignatius, hang on, what’re you-“

Before she could finish the sentence, Ignatius had pulled SMGL:E by the shoulders into a kiss.

SMGL:E freezes and doesn’t reciprocate the kiss immediately. Part of her felt horrified that this was happening, but part of them felt like this was right and perfect and wanted it to continue, and yet there was another part that felt ashamed for thinking that, because he wanted to save her first kiss for Karen, and now it had gotten pretty much stolen.

SMGL:E pries Ignatius off of her and breaks the kiss.

“W-Woah woah woah, hang on… what was that for?”

Ignatius was a little stunned when she parted the kiss, but composes itself.

“…Right, you don’t remember…” they say, smiling softly. “…We loved each other, Lore, y’know. Before your memories got lost.”

SMGL:E blushes and sighs.

“…Okay, maybe we were a couple back before I ended up here, but even if you’ve known me all your life, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve only known you for two minutes, so having my first kiss stolen by someone I’ve only known for two minutes is… yeesh…”

Ignatius’s eye twitches.

“That was far from your first kiss though, darling…” they say, a loving smile on its face.

SMGL:E blushes and frowns.

“Okay, whatever, but that felt like my first kiss…” they grumble softly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, but I was saving it for someone that wasn’t you.”

Ignatius’s smile falters for a moment, but quickly regains themselves.

“Someone else..? Who else could there possibly be?” they say.

SMGL:E almost names Karen, but feels the colorful sparkles from earlier return. SMGL:E feels a little frustrated that they’ve returned despite her yelling at them, but doesn’t show it on her face. Ignatius can’t seem to see the sparkles, which is a bit of a relief.

SMGL:E feels the phantom hand of the pink sparkle gently tug on their arm, almost as if it wanted her to stop speaking. SMGL:E sighs and decides not to say Karen’s name.

“It’s none of your business,” he says. “I came here for answers about my past, not small talk about my love life. I don’t want to focus on our history quite yet… I just want to know what’s going on. Tell me where I came from, what am I, how I got here… everything you know…”

Ignatius looks a little less happy than it was earlier, but smiles softly anyway. SMGL:E swears she saw a flicker of Ignatius’s hair drift up like a piece of ash from a fire into the night.

From the corner of her eye, SMGL:E sees the three sparkles whizzing around, the pink, teal and blue all writing out a word.

Unreliable.

SMGL:E pays it no mind and looks down at Ignatius again, who smiles a charming, yet eerie smile.

“…Very well. I will tell you all I know.”

end of part 1

~♤◇♡♧~

[dwemers]

I’m so excited I’m like literally shaking

[littol-bun]

i love being an age regressor ૮ᴖﻌᴖა ♡⁠ tonight it feels very affirming and comforting. I've kind of always had to look out for myself and be my biggest supporter, and there are a lot of strange ways this feels like a second chilhood at times.

like i regress to being younger, but I'm also a girl now in a completely different place with completely different circumstances/social circles etc. yk?

but when i feel rly small and my reality feels so big, it makes me happy that older me is there for me to make the important decisions and guide us there :3 it's like i am holding my hand through this, i haven't had an adult rly look out for me like this and it's so nice to have one now!!

i don't have to be scared of big changes, I'm doing good and I'm here for me and i can take it easy. i have someone who is helping me ♡⁠ i have someone who is keeping me safe. they work hard so i can be little ^.^ thanks big sis hehe ✌🏾

ouggghh im not little anymore but (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠) ♡⁠ yeah. when i am little i can still like.. function as an adult n talk to ppl n stuff. but it's also like, well like i said before ig 0:

like im smaller but different‚ subtly. still me‚ but someone else since I'm like.. a teen?? that i never was. my childhood was nothing like my adulthood so this rly is a whole new thing little me has needed to learn 2 navigate emotionally/mentally.

but as i become more aware of when I'm in a little headspace and not, the difference in perception stands out to me a lot more. i can't articulate it very well... oughh. this is giving me very specific questions, but on that note — i am happy to feel so safe and looked out for when I'm little 😌💕 i used to feel scared and helpless but it's different now. we're doing this together 👩🏽‍🤝‍👩🏾 i got ya lil sis

[toastsnaffler]

ykw actually I am angry + disappointed w them. I've been pushing how I feel aside and trying to make it my own fault so it's all contained but I think theyve just been mean. and they really should know me better ik I try to pretend I don't expect more from them so I feel less hurt when they do things that upset me but we've been friends for years by this point. like come on.

[seumyo]

KENJI SATO ✰ 10:43

“Working overtime really doesn’t suit you, Sato.” The teasing sentence made Kenji grunt in disapproval, slumping against his couch.

“Wow, I didn’t notice. Thank you for that valuable input, [Name],” he says, rolling his eyes at you. 

He can’t help the sarcastic reply. Kenji’s schedule was all over the place. His life has been all over the place ever since his return to his home country, Japan. And now he not only has to take care of himself—which, in his defense, was fairly simple when he just had to worry about himself—he has to worry about an infant Kaiju!

What a wonderful (not) icing on the cake.

“Ken is really appreciative that you made time to fulfill his request, or, shall I say, cry for help, [Name].” Mina’s familiar voice flurried from a distance, closing in to your right in a breeze. 

“Hey! It was not a cry for help—it’s more like a... Asking a friend for a favor,” Kenji says, trying to ease his brain with what’s coming out of his mouth (like it was on autopilot, scrambling to defend himself and the pride he had left).

“Uh huh. And the favor is? I don’t really think there’s anything I could do to her containment unit or any repairs that’re needed in this place.”

“I just need someone to watch over her.”

(“I just need someone to talk to” is a much fitting phrase.)

“Doesn’t Mina already do that?”

“There’s only so much a supercomputer like me can do to entertain a living being, [Name].”

On cue, Emi croons at the video of you singing on stage. A part time career of yours, because when you’re not developing new tech that boosts the economy, you might as well indulge in your hobbies. 

Kenji wouldn’t admit it, but he has a vinyl or two—or even a whole collection of them—that he considers as priceless as his one-of-a-kind sports car displayed in the basement.

“Would you look at that? She likes your singing.” 

He watches as you take a step closer to Emi, observing how she delightedly squealed at the soft melody being played on the holograms. This 20-foot-tall baby Kaiju reminded you of the time you took care of children at the daycare center.

“I just...” he sighs. You didn’t even notice that Kenji was already beside you, offering you a canned drink. 

“How do you do it? Juggle everything?” He murmurs. “You’re the busiest person I know. Working on your thesis, performing at various concerts, taking on charity work, and whatnot. Hell, if you could run for president, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you in the elections, too.”

A quiet laugh was returned. “It’s not easy, that’s for sure. But within time, you’ll learn just what you need and what you can handle.”

“Mm. Don’t you ever just want to run away from all the responsibilities people place on your shoulders? I can barely take care of this young lady,” he chuckles, though it doesn’t hold even the slightest ounce of humor to it.

“I wish, but then I’ll remember the kids who're so happy to see me whenever I drop by,” you say. “They may be a handful at times, but you’ll be surprised to know just how smart and caring they are. How they take in their surroundings and attempt to figure out who they are. We’re all what they have. The least we could do is give them our time and love all the same.”

Kenji lets your words sink in. Simple and touching. The kind that gets the gears in his head to start twisting.

“You really are a charm with your words; did you know that?”  

“Thanks; I try my best.”

The night continues with Kenji and Emi playing baseball on a simulated field with you by the shed, cheering on from a safe distance. Kenji doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this genuinely happy after his return to Japan. It’s a refreshing feeling that he wants to get used to again. To see the baby Kaiju successfully hit the ball with a swift swing after watching after him is a sight that tugs at one’s heartstrings.

Just like a proud father.

“Come on, girl! We gotta run the bases!”

And as the two celebrate their moment of triumph, the baby Kaiju stomps toward you and giggles happily as she hoists you in the air without much warning. You took it all in you not to shriek and absolutely lose all composure, but when you’re up in the air and are being held to a bear hug like some sort of teddy bear by a Kaiju that could probably crush your bones if not careful, it’s hard to not just scream for your life.

“Oh, ok—ok. Baby, put me down gently, please,” you chuckle nervously. 

“It appears that the little one sees you as her other mother,” Mina adds.

Kenji laughs at the sight, pulling out his phone to take a picture. This is definitely a memory he’d want to remember.

“This is not funny, Kenji. Tell her to put me down.”

“Aw, is Baby not listening to her Mommy?”

“Again, not funny. This is like an out-of-the-blue co-parenting a child with you. With you being my annoying ex-husband.”

“Specific, eh?”

“Shut!”

When you’re just about to leave for the night, Kenji suggests that you sleep over. There’s a lot of spare bedrooms in their manor, he reasons. He also doesn’t understand what came over him to offer, but he doesn’t take it back.

But it could be because he’s missed you. And he’s somewhat afraid that this may be the last time you see each other in a while due to your clashing schedules.

“You’re such a girl dad, Kenji,” you tease.

“Haha, good one,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. He took a couple of blankets from the closet and placed them on the bed.

“Just saying.”

“Whatever you say, Mommy.”

“Oh hush, Daddy.”

That ringed out a laugh from him. “Bleh, that sounds so embarrassing coming from you.”

You shrugged. “Hm? Don’t you think you’re embarrassing too?”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. I will not be going back and forth like this with you anymore, Kenji Sato. Good night!”

Kenji can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Definitely missed you.

SEUMYO © 2024. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[pedrospatch]

run

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

*moodboard is for aesthetic purposes only. no mention of reader’s race or skin tone.

summary: When you’re given the chance to run from your captor, you don’t take it.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. MENTIONS PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). reader is described washing her hair (the exact length is not specified) and she wears a dress. she is also shorter than Joel. violence, kidnapping, reader has major stockholm syndrome, Joel is fairly soft for her but HE IS STILL NOT A GOOD MAN, brief mention of Tess and Joel being involved with each other, Tess seems like the villain but she might actually be the only one of these three who is not totally fucked up in the head. SMUT. daddy kink. size difference (no description of reader’s body type, Joel is just a big guy with a big dick, enjoy it). oral sex (female receiving), super risky unprotected p in v sex (mention of reader ovulating, Joel pulls out, don’t be be like these two, practice safe sex), creampie (yeah he doesn’t give a fuck the second time around). many, many pet names (baby, baby girl, honey, angel, sweetheart, little girl). um i think that’s it. oh, and they fuck in the dirt.

PLEASE HEED ALL WARNINGS.

word count: 8.6k

a/n: one thing about me is i WILL soften up EVERY version of Joel Miller to my little heart’s content. HUGE HUGE thank you to @endlessthxxghts and @joelsdagger for lending me their eyes and beta-ing this fic for me last night. <33 i love and appreciate you guys SO MUCH. i loved seeing you both in the doc at the same exact time lmao. this can be read as a standalone, but it is considered part of the captive universe.

Everyone in the group has a job. Except for you.

Or at least, that’s what you hear them say.

That bitch doesn’t do shit.

She never has to lift a fucking finger.

She should work for her meal—just like the rest of us.

Bitterness laces their tones when they talk about you.

Insults grow a little bolder when he’s not around.

Useless.

Freeloader.

Leech.

You might not be out there with a rifle in hand hunting game or invading camps and spilling blood for supplies—but you do in fact have a job, and that job is to make Joel Miller happy. It is your responsibility, your duty, to please him, and to keep him satisfied. Because keeping him satisfied keeps him in a good mood, and one thing you’ve come to learn about your captor is, where there is a good mood, often there is mercy.

Hell, you’re doing them a favor by keeping their violent, fearsome leader in a good mood. Because you’ve seen what he does to them when he’s not. He can be just as brutal towards his own people as he is to strangers.

It doesn’t make a difference, though. They still see you as nothing more than his coddled little whore.

“Fuck, that’s it.”

He groans, his thick, callused fingers digging harshly into the softness of your flesh as he holds you firmly in place underneath him. “Oh fuck, baby girl,” Joel curses through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your hips as he uses his own weight against you, pressing you down into the old mattress until you feel every uncomfortable lump, each creaking spring.

While he isn’t fucking you as roughly as he has on other occasions, he’s hardly being gentle. It’s hard, fast.

Loud.

Joel couldn’t care less about the rest of the group, the men and women on the other side of the wall, forced to listen to the sounds coming from the single bedroom of the cabin he decided they would hunker down in for the remainder of the summer season. Strings of curses and brutish grunts that came rumbling from deep within his chest, pleading gasps and whimpers that fell from your swollen, bitten lips. If anything, knowing they were listening only spurred him on—it didn’t hurt to remind them, especially the men with wandering eyes, that you were his special girl.

His good girl.

You certainly did your job, and you did it so, so well.

“Christ, sweetheart. M’so fuckin’ close—” Joel picks up speed, his hips snapping even harder, faster, the front of his thighs slapping against the backs of yours. Each thrust causes the bed’s rusted, iron headboard to slam violently against the wood panel wall.

You clutch fistfuls of the single, stale, yellowing sheet beneath you, each stroke he delivers knocking the wind out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe. He is so heavy on top of you, this big, broad, bulk of a man who makes you feel swallowed, smothered, and small. Joel takes up so much room inside of you, and it’s a wonder how you could possibly have any space left to spare.

It’s a fullness you can’t seem to get enough of.

It’s a craving, a need.

Worst of all, it’s slowly becoming a want.

“Daddy,” you choke out, fisting the sheet tighter, your skin stretching taut over your knuckles. Can the others also hear the squelch of your drenched cunt around his cock as it begs him for more?

“Fuck. You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, baby,” Joel croons his praise. His hands abandon your hips and he hunches over you, his thrusts momentarily ceasing. He crushes his chest against your sweaty, quivering back and leans forward even further, bracing his large hands on either side of you. Then, his lips move to the shell of your ear and he speaks, his breath blazing hot on your skin. “Y’take me so well, honey. Y’take Daddy’s cock so fuckin’ well. This pretty little pussy was fuckin’ made for me. She was made jus’ for me—ain’t that right, angel?”

He’s right.

Oh, how you fucking hated that he was right.

It was made for him. Your cunt. Your body. You.

Every part of you was made for him, and only for him.

All you can do is nod dumbly in agreement.

“Say it,” Joel whispers his firm command. “Wanna hear you say it. Be a good girl and use your words. Say it, say this pussy is made for me.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan obediently, prompting him to grin against your ear. “My pussy is made for you, just—just for you. No one—no one else. Only you.” Could this really be the same voice that would break, grow hoarse from screaming for him to stop? The same voice that would beg and plead for him to set you free?

Jutting his hips forward, Joel buries himself to the hilt, eliciting a noise from you, something caught between a pained whimper and a contented sigh. His balls, heavy and full for you, rest on your clit, which is still sensitive to the touch after he’d spent a majority of the morning with his head buried in between your legs. Desiring yet another release, you try wriggling around beneath him in a silent plea for more. More, more, more.

Please, Daddy. More.

Joel’s grin widens. He places one of his hands on your soft lower belly, fingers dragging down the slope of it until he finds the slick swell of your seam between your legs where his girth splits you open. “Ready, baby?”

Nodding, you open your mouth to answer him, but the sound of your own groan cuts you off when his fingers firmly circle around your throbbing, swollen bud. “Oh,” you breathe, instantly sinking right into his touch. Your eyes screw shut tightly in pleasure, and you throw your head back onto his shoulder. The scruff of his beard is rough on your cheek, and it burns, the same way it had burned the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

His hips find their rhythm as you rub against his hand—you’re almost there. He knows this, you can tell by the chuckle that thunders in his chest and against your back. But you’re too busy chasing your pleasure to be embarrassed.

He’s made you a needy, greedy girl.

“Daddy,” you mewl, trying your hardest to move under him, to work your cunt up and down on his cock. “I’m gonna come—” You gasp, back arching as Joel strokes in and out, his fingers rubbing your clit with urgency.

Joel plants a sloppy, wet kiss on your cheek. “Give it to me, baby,” he grunts. “C’mon. Lemme feel her squeeze me.”

Feeling how close he is too, you try to hold on for just a little bit longer, at least long enough to finish with him, but Joel’s relentless, and you’re forced off of the ledge you’re both standing on first.

Crying out, your walls spasm around him, asking to be filled until he’s made a complete mess out of you, until white leaks, and it slowly dribbles down the insides of your trembling thighs.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel rasps. He lifts himself off you and he pulls out, taking his throbbing cock in his hand. His chest heaves as he fists himself, the wet sound of your slick in his palm filling the room. “Down,” he grits, and you obey him, lowering down yourself on the mattress until you’re lying almost completely flat before him. He gives himself one final stroke just as you look over your shoulder at him, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes the last push he needs. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck—” Joel spills his load, shooting thick ropes of warm cum along the soft curve of your spine.

You rest your cheek on your folded arms, biting back a small sigh.

He’s left behind an ache—you feel painfully empty.

But it was Tess, who had been given the task of helping you track your menstrual cycle, that had given him the warning earlier that morning. “She’s ovulating. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Joel. Last thing we need is for her to—”

“Relax,” he’d gruffed in response. “I fuckin’ know.”

Spent, Joel hunches over you once more and he lightly kisses the top of your head before burying his nose into your hair. “Good girl,” he murmurs. Affection that once was unwelcome and unwanted, that once made you feel sick to your fucking stomach, now makes you feel something else entirely. You’re not quite sure what it is, only that it’s warm. Comforting. “Y’did so well for me, sweetheart. Always do.”

Your lips curl into a faint, tired smile he doesn’t see.

A while later, you find yourself perched on the bed with the sheet wrapped around you, quietly watching as he gets dressed. “Daddy?” you say tentatively as he drops into a nearby chair to pull on his boots.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Do you—do you think we can go to the creek today?”

Joel finishes lacing his boots and looks up at you.

“I’d really like to wash up,” you admit, softly. That, and you would like to see the light of day. He’d boarded up the windows with slabs of wood—sometimes, if you’re lucky, you get some decent light seeping through the teeny gaps.

“Not today, honey. I’ve got some things to take care of. Supplies are low, we gotta do a run. Don’t have the time to take you.” He stands and picks up his rifle, slinging the strap of it over his shoulder. Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel’s eyes soften. He walks over and gingerly cups the side of your face in his palm. His thumb strokes your cheek. “Promise I’ll take you to the creek tomorrow, sweetheart. First thing. Alright?”

Nodding, your eyes fall to your hands in your lap.

“Okay.”

Joel kisses your forehead, then leaves the room.

He makes sure to lock the door from the outside, and you can’t help but wonder if he knows locking you in is no longer necessary.

“I can take her.”

Joel’s dark eyes remain focused on the state map laid out on the table in front of him. “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Tess?” He sees her in his periphery, but is too busy figuring out the group’s best route to look her way.

“I heard her asking you to take her to the creek so she can bathe,” she tells him. “I can take her.”

Finally, his head snaps up and he turns to her. “What?”

Tess leans her hip against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. “You and Tommy can take the group, go and take care of what you have to take care of. I’ll stay behind and take her down to the creek,” she suggests casually, as if she’s not asking him to trust her with his most prized possession—the only damn thing on what was left of this fucking earth Joel Miller actually gives a shit about. “Once she’s washed up, I’ll bring her back to the cabin and put her back into the room. Easy.”

Joel stares at her, bewildered. “What makes you think I’d fuckin’ allow somethin’ like that?”

“Oh, come on.” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Anytime I bitch about having to do something for that girl, you’re on my fucking case about it, and now that I’m offering to do something for her, you don’t wanna let me?”

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. “You’re talkin’ about takin’ her outside, Tess. Without me.”

“The creek’s just a mile away,” Tess reminds him. “I’m pretty sure I can handle getting her there and back with no trouble, Joel.” When he says nothing, she cocks her head to the side and scoffs. “What? You don’t trust me enough to take her under my wing for a couple hours?”

Joel’s lips pull into a tight line. 

Of course he does. Tess was his right hand woman, his second in command.

He trusted her more than his own fucking brother. She had never given him any reason not to, had never given him a reason to doubt her loyalty to him. No, his lack of trust has nothing to do with Tess—but everything to do with you. He doesn’t trust you. He will never trust you.

“What if she tries to—?” He can’t even say it.

“Tries to what?” She pauses. “Run?”

His throat goes dry and he gives her a subtle nod.

Joel Miller was a bad man who did bad things, but you were his good. You’ve brought back some meaning into this wretched life of his, gave him something that felt a lot like a sense of purpose. You were something for him to take care of, to keep safe and protect.

Tess raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I’d even give her the chance? Besides, the girl’s not that stupid, Joel. She knows better than to try anything. She knows she wouldn’t get very fucking far.”

“Tess—”

“I’m just trying to do something nice for her. Besides, I think it might do her some good to be in the company of someone else for once—the company of a woman.”

Joel peers at her, taking a minute to think it over in his mind before asking, “You’ll have her back in the room before I get back to the cabin?”

“Long before then,” she swears. “All in one piece.”

He hesitates. He’s still not sure.

It’s then that he remembers that disappointed look on your sweet, pretty little face. “Alright,” he relents with a deep sigh. “I trust you, Tess.”

It always feels a bit strange to be outside.

But being outside without Joel?

It feels even stranger.

When he’d walked back into the room and told you Tess was willing to take you to the creek, the news had taken you by complete surprise. When he said he was willing to let her take you, that you almost couldn’t believe. It hadn’t even sunk in until the three of you stood outside the cabin and he was kissing your forehead sweetly in a temporary goodbye before turning to Tess.

“Never take your eyes off her,” he’d instructed her.

“She’ll behave.” She had smiled at you as she pulled her pistol from the waistband of her jeans, the gleam of the silver barrel catching your eye. “Isn’t that right?”

Swallowing dryly, you had answered with a strained, “Of course.”

She’s the last fucking person you wanted to cross. She was almost as terrifying as Joel, if not more.

“Tess? W-Where are we going?” you ask as you trudge along behind her, hoping you don’t sound as winded as you feel. Although you had no way to keep track of the time, it felt like you’d been trekking for at least an hour. Your feet are starting to hurt in your shoes—old, worn, yellow canvas sneakers that certainly weren’t made for hiking. “I don’t remember the creek being this far from the cabin.”

Tess snorts. “Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

“It’s just—we’ve been walking for a really long time.”

She glances over her shoulder at you. “Here I thought you would be a little fucking grateful to be out getting some fresh air,” she chuckles, shaking her head before turning her attention back to the path ahead.

“I am,” you squeak, stumbling over a fallen branch.

Silence falls over the both of you.

“We’re not going to the creek,” Tess finally speaks after a minute. “I’m taking you somewhere else. Somewhere even better. Just trust me, kid. Now hurry up.”

It takes another hour before you reach your destination, and you hear it before you can even see it, a humming sound that turns into buzzing the closer you get. Then, you feel it, a vibration in the rocks beneath your feet. “Is that a—?” Stepping around her, your mouth falls open in absolute awe at the sight before you.

The waterfall is nestled right in between the trees and surges over the rocky mountain, throwing up bubbles of spray as it plunges into the lake at the bottom, and from there, it foams into a thick, white lather at the base. On the bank, where you stand, you spot different types of vegetation you couldn’t identify even if you tried—all you know is that it’s green, and it’s beautiful.

“This is incredible,” you gasp.

“Way better than some little creek, huh?” Tess tucks her pistol into the waistband of her jeans and shrugs off her pack. She digs around in the front pocket and pulls out something wrapped in a piece of crumpled brown tissue paper. She hands it to you. “Here.”

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you’d fucking open it, you would know,” Tess rolls her eyes. “It’s my last piece of soap. It’s all yours.”

Her kind generosity comes as a surprise—usually, Tess wanted nothing to do with you. But you don’t question it, and you certainly don’t turn the rare luxury down.

“Thanks,” you say, shooting her a grateful look.

Tess nods towards the body of water. “Alright, then. Go on and get to it.”

You take the piece of soap out the tissue. The scent of lavender is faint, but still very much there. Joel will like the smell of it on your skin tonight, you think.

As you start to pull the strap of your cotton blue dress down your shoulder, you feel her gaze fixed intently on you. Heat rushes to your cheeks. “Uh, aren’t you going to turn around?”

“For fuck’s sake,” she scoffs. “I’ve got what you’ve got. Now hurry up, we don’t have all fucking day.”

Nodding, you peel off your dress and underwear, your face on fire as the older woman’s eyes slowly drag over your naked body. Carefully, you step off the bank and wade into the water. It’s so clear that you can count the pebbles underneath your feet.

Leaning against a nearby tree, Tess calls out, “You have ten minutes! And stay out of the waterfall! Last thing I need is for you to fucking drown.”

As she lights a cigarette, you can’t help but stare at her. Her features, though worn down after the hell she had been through trying to survive the post outbreak world, are beautiful. Big, dark green eyes, a perfect nose, and full, pouty lips. There’s never been a doubt in your mind that she and Joel have been involved with one another, and lately, the mere thought of anything between them made you uncomfortable.

It’s an odd sensation deep in your gut—jealousy?

But what were you jealous of? Her having had him first?

It shouldn’t matter to you, but it does. Insecurities you have never in your life felt before seep into your bones.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s fucking rude to stare?” Tess quips, raising an eyebrow at you. She shoves her lighter into the back pocket of her jeans.

Nervously, you sink lower into the water, nibbling the inside of your cheek. “Tess? Can I ask you something?”

“What could you possibly fucking want to ask me?”

You hesitate.

“How—how long have you known each other?”

“Who?” Tess plucks the cigarette from between her lips and flicks the ashes. “Me and Joel?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. Six, seven years?”

“How did you two meet?”

“Long story that’s none of your fucking business.”

You ask your next question before you lose your nerve. “Have you two ever—?” Unsure of how to phrase it, you stop and clamp your mouth shut in instant regret.

“Have we ever what?” Tess studies your face, and she quickly realizes what you’re trying to ask her. “You’re seriously asking me if me and Joel have ever fucked?”

Biting your bottom lip, you glance down into the water at your feet. You honestly don’t expect her to answer, so when she does, you look back up at her in surprise.

“Yeah.” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, then adds, “Few times.”

Something unpleasant claws at your insides. “You two were together? Like a couple?”

“Something like that,” Tess mutters, flicking her ashes once more.

“What happened?”

She looks at you, pausing before answering, “You.”

Oh.

Before you can utter another word, Tess snaps, “Quit asking so many goddamn fucking questions and finish up washing. You’ve got eight minutes left.”

Not wanting to push your luck further than you already have, you do as she tells you in complete silence.

You lather up the soap in your hands, washing your hair first, and then your face and body, using your hands to scrub yourself as best as you can. Between the calming scent of the soap, the soothing sound of the waterfall, and the warm afternoon sun, you find yourself relaxing. You try to clear your mind, live in this peaceful moment which you very well may never get again, but your mind begins to wander.

And it wanders straight to Joel.

Closing your eyes, you can’t help but picture him here, standing behind you in the lake. You can almost feel his hands on you, long, thick fingers lathered with lavender soap, sliding down your body. His lips at your neck, he cups your breasts in his hands, rolling his thumbs over your hardened nipples until your head lulls, falling back onto his shoulder. Joel drags his hands further down, over your stomach, going lower and lower towards the place where you need them the most. “Yeah, baby?” he murmurs into your neck, dipping one of them between your legs until you are, quite literally, in the palm of his hand. “This where y’need me?”

Breathless, you respond, “It’s where I want you.”

Suddenly, your eyes snap open.

There is a wetness between your thighs, one that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re standing waist-deep in the middle of a lake. You shake those thoughts away and finish washing yourself.

“Time’s up,” Tess calls. She meets you on the bank with a dry rag. “Here.”

The rag doesn’t exactly cover much surface area, but you dry yourself off as best you can before tugging on your underwear and slipping on your dress. Just as you crouch down to slip your shoes on, she tosses her pack and it lands in front of you with a soft thud.

Confused, you glance up at her.

“There’s about a week’s worth of jerky in there. Longer, if you know how to ration,” Tess explains, calmly. “And a canteen for water. I also packed you a flashlight and a pocket knife. It’s not much, but—”

Frowning, you rise to your feet. “What are you talking about, Tess? What’s going on? Why are you giving me your pack?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance, kid.”

A feeling of dread pools in the pit of your stomach.

“A chance to what?”

“Run.”

Your heart stutters a beat. “Run?”

“He’ll come looking for you. You need to get as far away from here as possible. Run away, as far as you can, and don’t fucking look back.”

All you can do is stare at her in shocked silence.

“I can help you get a head start,” Tess offers, quietly. “I can show you which direction to go in and put you on a path leading to the closest state highway—”

“But what if I don’t want to run?”

Tess places her hands on her hips, and she exhales an incredulous laugh. “Jesus,” she breathes, shaking her head in pity. “He’s really got you fucking brainwashed, doesn’t he?”

You glare at her. “I am not brainwashed, Tess.”

“You’ve gotta be if you’re telling me you wanna go back to him.”

“Tess—”

She cuts you off. “He gave the order to raid your camp and kill your people,” she reminds you. “He fucking slit your father’s throat right in front of you, then took you as his prisoner. He made you his fucking sex slave.”

“He takes care of me! He feeds me, makes sure I have a bed to sleep in no matter where we are. He keeps me safe. He—he cares about me.” You will your voice not to tremble as you stand your ground. “No. I’m not running away, Tess. I want to go back.”

Tess sighs. “You’re really not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“Take me back,” you all but demand, your hands curled into the least menacing little fists she had ever seen in her life at your sides. “Take me back to the cabin—take me back to him, Tess. I mean it.”

Amused, she huffs through her nose. “Or else what?”

“You can’t make me run away, Tess.” As you take a step towards her, she reaches behind her and swiftly whips out her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. You halt, freezing in fear when she aims the barrel of the gun at your chest.

“Actually, I can,” she says, her finger hovering over the trigger. “So here’s how this is gonna go. I’m gonna walk away now. And if you even think about following me, or trying to find your way back to the group, you will die.” She tosses you a tiny, wry smile. “Believe it or not, I’m doing you a real big favor, kid. Problem is, he’s got you so fucked in the head that you can’t see it.”

“Tess, please,” you plead. “Don’t do this to me!”

She begins to back away. “Remember when you’d say that to him? How you’d beg him not to do those things to you every night? Beg him to let you go?”

“Please, just take me back to him!”

You start to follow her.

“You take one more fucking step and I’ll shoot you,” she threatens, her eyes darkening. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tess keeps her pistol pointed at you until she slips into the trees and disappears, abandoning you in the middle of the forest.

He’s furious. Livid.

Joel paces back and forth on the porch.

“Where the fuck are they?”

The old, rotting wood that wraps all the way around the cabin creaks, and certain softer spots bend and buckle, threatening to give way beneath his heavy boots. Joel’s younger brother leans against the railing, which is just as fragile, an unlit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Christ, Joel. Can you fuckin’ relax?” Tommy grumbles, fishing around in his back pocket for his lighter. “You’re gonna bring the whole damn cabin down if ya don’t cut that shit out.” He sparks a flame and lights the filtered end of the cigarette. He takes a long drag, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “You’re gettin’ worked up over nothin’, brother.”

“S’almost sundown, and they’re still not fuckin’ back.” Joel shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew I shouldn’t have let Tess take her. Somethin’ happened, Tommy. I just know it.” He lifts his shirt and reaches for his pistol, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. “M’gonna head to the creek myself to find ‘em. Ain’t gonna sit around on my goddamn hands and wait for it to get fuckin’ dark.”

“She’s with Tess. M’sure the girl’s fine—” Tommy stops, his eyes widening slightly. “Well, hell.”

“What?”

Tommy jerks his chin over Joel’s shoulder before taking another slow, casual drag of his cigarette. He savors the last few seconds of peace before shit inevitably hits the fan and his brother unleashes his wrath on anything, or anyone, in his path.

Joel whips around and his stomach sinks, his blood ice in his veins when he sees Tess approaching the cabin. Alone.

Both his mind and body go numb. It’s a jarring shock to his nervous system, and it takes him a minute or two to fully process the fact that you’re not with her.

“Joel,” Tess says his name carefully as he descends the porch steps and walks towards her. “I need you to take a breath, alright?”

“Where—where is she?” His voice breaks, his weakness momentarily slipping through the cracks.

Not that Tess didn’t already know you were Joel Miller’s weakness, his soft white underbelly, the only vulnerable part of his hardened self that could be penetrated—you would have been his downfall. As much as she’d like to say she did what she did solely for your own good, she also did it for his, and for the sake of the group as a whole.

It needed to be done.

He stands in front of her, a ticking time bomb about to go off.

Prepared to face whatever consequences of the choice she had made, Tess tucks her gun away and sighs. “You need to take a breath—”

Joel snatches her arm, his fingers digging into the flesh above her elbow. His emotions hit him all at once.

Fear, worry, anger. It’s the third that takes precedence, and before Tess can utter another word, Joel yanks her forward. She crashes against his chest so hard that it knocks the wind out of her. “Where the fuck is she?” He leans down, his nostrils flaring as he brings their faces the closest they have been in almost a year.

“Joel, take a fucking breath—”

“Where. Is. She.” His grip on her arm tightens with each word he bites out through his teeth. He’s vaguely aware the others have piled out of the cabin, gathering on the porch to watch the altercation.

“She ran,” Tess explains, calmly. She doesn’t falter, not even as his fingers sink deeper into her skin, promising her painful bruises which will take days to fade away. If he decided to let her live. “She ran away, Joel. I turned my back for one fucking second and she was gone. She even took my fucking pack. I tried going after her, but it was no use. She was too fast.”

Behind him, Tommy snorts. “She outran you?”

Her eyes momentarily flicker to him. “Her knees are a lot younger than mine,” she replies, flatly.

“Which direction did she go in?” Joel demands. When Tess doesn’t immediately respond, he shouts, “Which fucking direction!”

Tess manages to snatch her arm out of his grasp. She glowers at him, hissing, “What the hell does it matter which direction she went? You won’t fucking find her.”

His eyes meet hers, and he sees it. Feels it.

She’s lying to him.

“Tess.” Joel’s voice drops dangerously low. He studies her face, his brows creasing with suspicion. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do shit, Joel. She fucking ran away.”

Without warning, Joel takes her by her throat. His other hand brings his pistol to her head, shoving the barrel of it against her temple. His nose touches hers. “Now, tell me why I have the feelin’ you’re not tellin’ me the whole truth?”

Tess lifts her chin. She searches his eyes, a sharp ache shooting through her. After everything, all the hell they had been through together—he would end her life, put a bullet in her because of you? Did she mean that little to him?

Or maybe she’d never meant anything to him at all?

She’s not sure which stings more.

“Because you’ve fucking deluded yourself into thinking that she willingly wants anything to do with you,” Tess finally answers. “That’s why.”

He ignores the burn of her scorching words.

“Where the fuck is she, Tess?”

“If she’s smart, she’s far away from here by now,” she hisses. “I did everyone a fucking favor, Joel. That girl is just another fucking mouth to feed. And what if you get her pregnant? That’ll be another one. Not to mention, a crying baby could draw unwanted attention and get us all killed. Ever thought about that? She’s not an asset to the group, she’s a fucking liability. Besides, I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’re all fucking tired of hearing you ra—”

Joel digs the barrel harder into her temple, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Listen to me. You’ve got ten seconds to tell me where she is, y’understand me?”

“Or what? You’ll blow my brains out?” Foolishly, Tess chooses to call his bluff despite not knowing for certain whether or not he’ll actually pull the trigger. “Go ahead, then. Kill me, Joel.”

His finger twitches over the trigger, but he doesn’t pull it. He can’t fucking pull it. Not on her. Not on Tess.

Still in his hands, she sags slightly in relief.

Swallowing harshly, Joel Miller lowers his gun and does something she’s never seen him do before. He begs.

“Tess, tell me where she is,” he whispers. His pleading is subtle, and only she can hear it. “Please—just fuckin’ tell me where my girl is.”

Tess stands her ground and says nothing.

Releasing her, Joel shoves her aside and with nothing but his gun in his hand, he sets off to find you.

“Ow, fuck!”

You gasp, quickly lifting your bare foot off the ground.

You’d stepped on something sharp—a stick, or maybe a rock?

In a desperate attempt to try and keep up with Tess’ tracks, you had stupidly left behind your shoes back at the waterfall. But the mere seconds you had spared by not stopping to put your shoes on hadn’t given you the advantage you thought it would. She had moved much too fast, and within minutes, you’d become helplessly, hopelessly lost. Every tree and every bush, they all look exactly the same, and for all you know, you’ve probably been going around in fucking circles for the past couple of hours in your search for her footprints in the dirt.

Sagging against the trunk of a nearby tree, you take a minute to try and catch your breath, to give your poor little feet a break from hiking over fallen branches and jagged stones.

Your head falls back, eyes gazing through the canopy of trees. Dusk has settled in, and nightfall is on its heels. It was foolish of you to leave behind your shoes, but even more so to leave behind the pack she had given you—in the pack were all the things meant to help you survive. Knife, flashlight, food.

Sure, you can survive a night out here in the wilderness without any of those things—but then what? Come dawn, what do you do? Where do you go? Do you just stumble around in the woods and hope for the best? Pray you’ll make it onto a highway with signs that will point you to a quarantine zone?

Hell, maybe you’re overestimating yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t survive long enough to worry about your next move. Howls in the distance remind you there’s wildlife out here, dangerous predators that come out after dark in search of their next meal. Or what about infected? It wasn’t unheard of for them to veer off the highway and lose themselves in the trees.

You recall your first few weeks in Joel Miller’s hands.

Escaping them was all you could ever think about, even though the chances of you surviving alone were slim to none, just like they are now. Never having been on your own, death would have been inevitable—but back then, in your darkest moments in captivity, you wished for it. You’d welcomed the idea of starving, freezing, or being torn apart limb from limb by an entire hoard of clickers. At least then, you’d die with your freedom.

Almost a year later, that wish has been granted.

You’re free.

You may very well die, but you would die free.

Closing your eyes, you think about Joel. His arms, that once held you down—held you still—as he did all those things to you without your consent, are arms your heart yearns to have wrapped around you, holding you close.

“Jesus,” you grit, a tear rolling down your cheek.

Maybe Tess had been right. Maybe he really does have you fucked in the head.

Joel was a monster. He had taken everything from you, including your innocence. He’d defiled you in ways you hadn’t known were possible. He was a terrible, terrible man.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you fed.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you warm.

A terrible, terrible man who kept you safe.

Another tear slides down the side of your face. What is fucking wrong with you?

You don’t know. But what you do know is, the thought of never seeing Joel again is somehow more terrifying to you than the thought of dying even the most brutal of deaths.

A loud rustling sound brings your train of thought to an immediate, sudden halt, and your eyes wrench open.

It’s darker now, but you manage to catch a movement in the shrubs, only mere feet in front of you. Panic flares in your chest, it rattles you to your very core, and even though every nerve in your body is urging you to move, you freeze, your back flush against the tree trunk. Your fingernails dig painfully into the bark as you watch the shrubs part down the middle, and a tall, hulking figure emerges with a heavy grunt.

At first, you think it’s just a figment of your imagination showing you what you wanted to see—a hallucination. Blinking furiously, you lightly shake your head, and then take another look at him. Your breath hitches when you realize it’s Joel.

He stares at you in the same manner, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re real, or if his mind is playing a cruel, cruel trick on him. Feet cemented to the forest floor, he watches you take a small, tentative step towards him.

Once adamant that you’d never look him in the eye, you find your gaze locking directly with his as you carefully take another step closer. Then another, and another.

“Joel?” It’s the first time you’ve ever uttered his name.

He seems as taken aback hearing it as you are saying it.

“Joel.” It rolls off your tongue smoother, and with more ease the second time around.

It sparks a flame somewhere deep, deep inside of him, a fire that burns differently than those ignited by carnal desires.

No, this is something else entirely, and you feel it too.

“Baby?” he whispers hoarsely. “S’that really you?”

“Joel!” you cry, hurling yourself into his arms.

Joel’s gun falls from his hand and he curls them around you. Burying his nose into your hair, he inhales deeply. The scent of you, the feel of you—you’re fucking real.

Shuddering with sobs of relief, your arms wrap around his waist, and you cling to him as if you’re clinging onto dear, precious life itself.

“Hush now, s’alright,” Joel soothes, cradling the back of your head in one hand, while the rubs soft, calming circles into your back. “I’ve got you, honey. M’here.”

“I swear I didn’t want to run away,” you explain through your tears. “I begged her to take me back to you, Joel, I really did! But she left me out here—she said she would shoot me if I tried following her back. Please, you have to believe me, you just have to believe me!”

He squeezes you harder against his chest. “I do, baby. I do believe you,” he assures you. Pulling away, he takes a step backward and takes your face between his palms, peering at you in concern. “Y’hurt, sweetheart?”

“No,” you hiccup, curling your hands around his wrists. Your lower lip trembles. “I—I thought I’d never see you again. I was scared I wouldn’t,” you admit, softly.

Joel’s thumb wipes away a fresh tear. “M’here now,” he murmurs. “You’re with me, baby. You’re safe, alright?” As a late evening breeze passes through, he lets you go and shrugs out of his brown jacket. He goes to drape it around your shoulders, but you snatch it right out of his hands, then toss it aside.

Something in you snaps. You take fistfuls of his flannel, pulling him down towards you to do yet something else that takes you both by surprise—you initiate a kiss. You lean forward and press your lips to his, a little swipe of your tongue across his bottom lip as you clutch tighter at his shirt, holding him in place. Groaning, Joel opens his mouth more, his tongue brushing yours.

Liquid heat pools in your belly, and before you realize it, you’ve grown frantic, kissing him with fervor. Releasing his shirt, you slide your hands down his chest, over his stomach, lower and lower until you find his belt buckle. Desperate, you clumsily fumble with it, and that’s when Joel tears away from you, his breath hitching.

You’re begging before he can even say a word. “Please. I need you—I want you. Right now.”

You cup him through his jeans, and he exhales sharply.

“Fuck.” Without giving it a second thought, his hands reach for the straps of your dress, pushing them off of your shoulders. He roughly tugs at the material, letting it slip down your body until it falls around your feet. In a tangle of limbs and tongues, you both sink to the forest floor. Your hands brush his buckle, and he catches your wrists. “Not yet, baby girl. M’still in charge, alright?”

Sheepishly, you nod.

“Say it.” His command is firm, but somehow still gentle.

“You’re—you’re in charge.”

“Good girl.” Joel guides you onto your back. He’s over you in a second, swelling your lips with a hard, hungry kiss that leaves you dizzy and breathless. He moves his mouth, teeth scraping over your cheek and jaw, down to your neck where he nips at the tender, delicate flesh over your pulse point. Then, he bites his way over your collarbone and to your shoulder. “Bet she’s already wet for me,” he mumbles into your skin. “Ain’t she, baby?”

Pushing himself back onto his knees, he slides a finger over your clothed cunt, eliciting a small gasp from you. Hooking his fingers under the elastic waistband of your cotton underwear, he yanks the fabric down your legs. It catches on your foot, your wetness smearing against the inside of your ankle.

You’re drenched.

“C’mere,” Joel grunts, sliding his hands under your ass and pulling your hips over his thighs. He leans over you once more, your bare, throbbing cunt rubbing against the crotch of his jeans. He tuts lightly into your neck as you buck against him. “Such a fuckin’ needy little girl.”

Desperate, you try rolling your hips into his. “Joel.”

“Kinda like it when y’say my name.” He starts making his way down the length of your body. “Think I’ll like it even better when you’re screamin’ it. Won’t I, baby?”

Your stomach tightens as he nibbles his way down your neck again, teeth scraping over your clavicle and down your chest to your heaving tits. Taking one in his hand, the other goes into his mouth—his tongue is scorching hot over your nipple. He licks the pebbled flesh, sucks it and bites it while he rolls the other peak in between his thumb and index finger. “Oh fuck,” you gasp.

Releasing your breast with a wet pop, Joel sinks further down your body. He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your tummy, leaving behind a trail of fire in their wake. He stops over your mound and hovers for a fraction of a second before pressing his nose into the silky soft curls there. Inhaling deeply, Joel picks up the subtle, herbal scent of the lavender soap you had washed yourself with. “Fuck, y’smell so fuckin’ good.”

He pushes your thighs open, pinning one to the ground with his hand while the other goes over his shoulder. Your foot slides down his back, toes curling despite the fact that he hasn’t even reached the spot where you’re aching to have him most. Heart thundering, your blood rushes, roaring in your ears.

Joel turns his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh in another kiss. “S’this where y’want me, honey?” he asks you. Goosebumps erupt over every inch of your skin as he draws closer, his breath like steam on your core. He glances up at you, his cock twitching against his zipper at the sight of you laying naked before him on the floor of the forest. Willing. Wanting. “Hm? Right here?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please, Joel.”

Thankfully, you only have to ask him once, and then his face is buried between your legs, and he is giving you what you want.

“Fuck!” you cry out. Back arching, your head tilts back until the crown of it meets the ground, leaves and twigs finding their way into your clean hair.

Joel’s tongue flattens over your cunt in a broad stroke, then dips between your folds, collecting your slick with a harsh groan, one that sends a bone-rattling vibration throughout your entire body, from head to curled toes. His mouth opens wider—a starving, greedy man trying to eat you whole. Sliding his tongue over your clit, Joel seals his lips around it, sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves until it swells in his mouth.

High-pitched little cries and whines spill from your lips. Your hands shoot down, fingers tangling themselves in his dark, graying curls, eliciting a grunt from him when you tug at his roots. “Joel, fuck,” you choke, your nails scraping against his scalp. He slurps and swallows your wetness, the sounds drowning out those of the night—the chirping of crickets, the croaking of frogs, the soft hooting of owls are washed away until all you can hear is him devouring your pussy.

Your body starts to tremble, and you know you’re close. Joel does, too. He feels your thighs twitch, threatening to close around his head, but he wrenches them further apart with a muffled but firm, “No.” He drapes his arm over your pelvis, his large hand splayed on your belly.

Relentless, he sucks your clit, gliding his tongue over it, again and again until the muscles in your lower tummy tighten and you burst at the seams, unraveling into his mouth. Warm slick gushes out of you, a sweet mess he licks clean. You choke back sobs of pleasure, your body tensing, vision blurring with every stroke of his tongue, each scrape of his teeth over your clit.

Joel lifts himself onto his knees with a grunt and gazes down at you—his good girl, sweet and pliant and ready to be fucked full of his cock. His hands slide his belt out of its brass buckle, eyes still trained on you as he pops the button of his jeans and yanks down his zipper.

Your mind is fuzzy, still syrupy and dripping—it doesn’t fully register what he’s doing, not until he climbs back over you and you his hard cock brushes your thigh, hot velvet that sears the inside of your leg. Precum smears your flesh.

“Y’feel that? Feel what you fuckin’ do to me?”

“Joel.” Hands shaking, you reach for the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin on yours. You whine when he catches both of your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. “Your clothes—”

“Stay on.” Ducking his head, he nips at your pulse point and mumbles, “Tell me what y’want, pretty girl.”

Joel shifts over you, his cock now resting on your lower belly, thick and heavy and leaking.

You squirm under him, hips coming off the ground, that hollow thing inside of you begging to be filled.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what y’want.”

“You, Joel—I want you. Please, please, please—”

He hushes you.

“I’ve you, baby. I’ve got you,” Joel promises. He wraps his other hand around himself, dragging the head of his cock along the seam of your puffy folds, up and down—he elicits a ragged little gasp from you when he grazes your clit and his fingers tighten around your wrists. He coats himself in your slippery slick until he’s glistening with it, and then he gives a slow roll of his hips, working himself into you.

Your mouth falls open. No words come out, no pleas for more—only jerky breaths, pathetic little pants for air as you take it.

Joel’s cock throbs, pulses like a heartbeat as your cunt welcomes him home. He presses his forehead to yours. “She’s always so fuckin’ sweet to me.” His voice is low, rough gravel. His eyes meet yours in the dark blue glow of the forest, and he savors the last moments of seeing your pretty face before the last traces of dusk are gone. Brushing his lips to the corner of your mouth, he feeds you his cock inch by inch, murmuring, “That’s it, honey. Good fuckin’ girl.”

You melt around him at his praise.

Releasing your wrists, he moves his hand, placing it on the crown of your head. “Ain’t ever lettin’ you out of my sight again,” he swears. “Alright? Never gonna be apart from me again, baby girl. Never. Y’understand me?” He curls his other hand firmly around your jaw, his fingers sticky with you and him. “Do you understand me?”

“Never,” you repeat, softly.

Joel kisses you, deep and slow, almost sweet. Tender. He breaks away, his lips hovering right over yours as he pushes his hips forward, bottoming out inside you.

Moaning, your hands grasp at his shoulders. Your legs widen further to accommodate the breadth of his hips.

“There y’go.” Joel presses deep within, until your belly feels hot and full. “That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he coos, drawing his hips back, then rolling them right back into you. He takes one of your ankles and tosses it over his shoulder, giving himself a better angle to fuck into you.

A loud cry tears from the back of your throat. “Joel!”

He grins in the darkness. He knew he’d like hearing you scream his name.

Joel’s hand settles on your leg that’s over his shoulder, your thigh already shaking. “Y’gonna be a real good girl n’ give me another one?”

You try to answer him, you really do, but your mind falls further and further away.

His fingertips sink into your thigh. He strokes in and out of you, never retreating more than inches at a time so he keeps you full. Stuffed. “Christ. Takin’ it so fuckin’ well,” he croons, moving your leg off of his shoulder so they are both wrapped around his waist. Hunching over you, he bears down hard, using most of his weight. He almost chuckles at the little oof that puffs out of you.

Rocks and twigs dig painfully into your back, but all you can do is feel him. How close he is.

You’re right there with him.

“Joel—fuck, I’m gonna co—”

You’re cut off by your own sharp gasp.

“That’s it. C’mon, honey.” Joel slips his hand between your thighs, his fingers firmly rubbing your clit. “C’mon, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock—”

It rips through you like an electric current, a shockwave that has you clawing at the dirt. You come crying Joel’s name, crumbling into a whimpering, quivering mess.

Within seconds, he’s swept away by the same tide.

“Baby,” he groans, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck. He goes still and lets your tight cunt clench at him, gripping his cock as it throbs, pulses, empties into you. After a minute, he brushes a kiss to your neck before mumbling, “My sweet girl.”

Joel makes no move to pull out of you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your soiled fingers toy with the soft curls at the nape of his neck, shattered breaths slowing and piecing back together.

You gaze up through the trees at the night sky, feeling the safest you’ve ever been with the earth at your back and your whole world on top of you, his cock buried in your cunt.

Tess is right. Joel Miller really does have you fucked in the head.

You’re certain of it when you make the realization with a smile.

divider credit to @/saradika 🖤

for fic notifications please follow @joelsgreysupdates!

[candiehearts]

“He’s My Person.”

Paring: Hugh Jackman x Actor F!Reader

Summary: You and your co-star Hugh Jackman are in the eye of the public. Your fans always loving the dynamic between the two of you. However no one knew if you would be anything more than friends, not even you.

- oneshot, Hugh Jackman M.List, Navigation — other works!

Warnings: None!

Taglist: Just ask to be added.

I walked past the camera set crew, and smiled when I saw Hugh sitting in one of the chairs. The Aussie immediately stood up, and gave me a hug.

Today was the first, of many interviews for the press tour of X-Men Origins Wolverine. I had been so lucky to get a part in this film, and I loved filming every second of it.

The lights dimmed a little, and focused on us and the cameras started to roll.

“Welcome, welcome you too.” I smiled at her and did a little wave to the camera. “First I would like to say congratulations on your achievement in making this film.”

“Thank you, that’s really sweet.” I could feel red lightly forming on my cheeks at the praise while Hugh — like the professional he is, take the compliment like a champ. “Thank you, much appreciated.”

“Now we have a bit of a game set up for us to do, but first some questions.”

Oh gosh, I could feel slightly nervous, but Hugh placed his palm on my knee and slightly rubbed it with his thumb. Calming my nerves.

“Now Hugh, you’ve done X-Men for quite some time now, but Y/N this is your first time in the Marvel franchise.”

Hugh squeezed my knee slightly, and gave me a proud smile while he rested his chin on his other hand.

“Yes well it’s such an honor.” I couldn’t help but feel a tiny nostalgic when I remembered how I started my career and where I’m at now. “I had done some small films before, but nothing like this. It was truly a one of a kind experience.”

I was expecting for another question, but Hugh spoke up as well. “Not to mention Y/N is such an amazing actor — and she’s always fun to work with. She’s a very good sport when things don’t go right the first time.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that sounded like a giggle leaving my lip, a smile brightening my face.

“Careful Hugh I might think you’re flirting with me.” I wouldn’t mind that, and this teasing, flirting thing we do is something we’ve always done since we first met each other.

“You two are adorable.” The interviewer — Annie — commented. “What was your favorite thing to film.”

Oh god, this is a trap. The movie hasn’t hit theaters, and there’s only so much we can say before it comes out.

I slapped my hand over Hugh’s, “kissing Hugh Jackman.” That little bit was in the trailer — so it’s the safest thing to say, if not the honest.

Hugh didn’t his cute little laugh, a snort breaking free, before he regained his composure.

“I won’t lie, I 100% messed that scene up so I could just kiss the wonderful Y/N again. So I’ll have to agree with her there.”

My face started to warm in embarrassment while I hid inside my hands, all while Hugh laughed — his hand never leaving my knee.

“Do either of you have a date to the premier? If yes, then do you mind saying?”

My response came so quick out of my mouth I didn’t have a moment to process what I was saying, though that’s how I am a lot of the time. “Hey, Hugh, wanna be my date?” 

Hugh looked at you, and despite his smile, and the humor in his voice — his eyes were laced in seriousness. “It would be the greatest honor of my life, to walk down that carpet on your arm like eye candy.”

I blew him a kiss, teasing him before looking right back at the camera. “I might look fine right now, but trust me girls I’m screaming on the inside.”

The whole camera crew started to laugh, while I silently laughed as well.

“In ten or words less describe each-other’s character.” I gestured for Hugh to go first to which he took a moment to think, using his fingers.

“Badass solider that always completes a mission no matter what.”

Fuck. Alright.

“A military solider that can’t die, infused with metal.” Fuck I need another word. “Handsome.”

“Aweeeee.” Hugh leaned over and kissed my cheek.

The sound of cheering was the only thing I could hear as I grabbed a hold of Hugh’s arm and made our way onto the carpet.

“God, what if I fall on my face?” I stopped just before my heel could meet with the carpet. Too nervous to go on.

“Y/N, you’re going to be okay. I won’t let you fall.” He laced his fingers with mine and walked us down the carpet, giving me the push I needed to get out of my own head.

The paparazzi photos started to flash immediately, blinding me but I had been used to this by now — so I just kept my focus.

Hugh leaned down to my ear, whispering a joke about how a photographer back would hurt tomorrow in that position, causing me to laugh.

The lights went crazy as he hugged laughed with me, “you look very beautiful tonight.”

“I might have to make you my date to every premier Mr. Jackman.”

We made our way to the first reporter of the night, sticking close together.

“Good evening.” She was a pretty decidedly young girl, and you could see how nervous she was. “Hi/G’day.” Me and Hugh responded.

“So you two are each other’s date, any special chemistry going on.” The Aussie wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him, while I held his shoulder with my left arm. This position was suggestive, but it was teasing.

Unfortunately, to my disappointment we weren’t seeing each other.

“One day.”

One day.

You couldn’t help but give him a smile, and he returned it with the same exact emotion in his eyes. Care, and love.

Over the next few years, you and Hugh had worked on a few projects together, but even if you weren’t, you and him always were close and kept in touch.

You would grab dinner together often, or sometimes when one of you were free and the other was busy on a set, it wasn’t strange that one of you would fly out to the other.

Everyone believed that one of you were together, especially after a video leaked of you and Hugh slow dancing at a house party together.

But whenever asked about it, you two would always either say, “not yet,” or “one day.”

You were having a premier coming up, and it was the only time that there was a chance that Hugh couldn’t make it. So everyone was wondering if you would bring anyone else. It was well known you didn’t like going places without someone close to you.

You sat with one of your co-stars and smiled at the interviewer that was asking the question on everyone’s mind.

“Are you sure you and Hugh Jackman are not dating.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the phrasing of her words.

“Hugh Jackman? Never heard of him.” The crew and your Co-Star started laughing, but you did answer the question. “No we’re not dating.” It was the first time the two of you were direct with it, and not being vague.

Overtime you grew to love Hugh, and to be honest you didn’t know if you could keep telling yourself ‘one day.’ Because in your head you two weren’t only giving fans false hope, but you were giving it to yourself.

“Hugh is away filming, you always take him to events, since he won’t be here will you take someone else.”

You were quiet for a moment, thinking through your answer.

“To be honest, even if I wanted to take someone else I don’t think I could.” You looked down to your lap before continuing. “Hugh is such a major part of my life. Really he’s my pillar. He will always be the one a I take, and if I can’t take him then I wouldn’t go with anyone else.”

“It sounds like you deeply care for him. Are you sure there’s no feelings?” She didn’t ask if you were dating, but if you had feelings.

“Hugh Jackman is so many things. He’s a great dancer, actor, singer. Full of so many talents — and I always love the fact that I am apart of his life. Because most of all He’s my person.”

You finally looked back up to the interviewer.

“If something were to ever happen between us, then it would have already.”

Sure you fans would be sad, and even you, but it was time to finally put the rumors to rest.

You were a little quieter through the rest of the interview, but still kept it fun.

Hugh downed his drink. He was on a plane, flying back to you. He wore a tux so he could be on the ready to go so when he lands, he can confess, then they can make their way to the premier — where he can make it known to the world.

He was watching your interview, and when you put said that you two weren’t happening, he felt panic.

He cursed himself for waiting too long. But the truth was he felt like with his career going the way it was that maybe he wasn’t ready for a relationship. He was an idiot.

He felt terrible for leading you on so long, but he would make it right — and hope maybe you still liked him.

By the time he finally landed you had just walked onto the carpet, alone. So he paid the driver extra to just step on the gas.

Once he was let in — the crowd started going wild. He was on the carpet, and he didn’t stop to take photos, or talk to people.

He set his sights on you and immediately started to hurry to you. And ironically it was like something from a movie.

The cameras all the sudden started going crazy, and you looked to your right to see what was going on, but was met with a Hugh Jackman out of breath, and grabbing your face.

“Hugh? When did—“ You were cut off by his lips pressing into yours. His hands gently leaving your cheeks, and resting on your neck while he pulled you closer.

You parted just a little, so he could whisper his confession to you.

“You’re my person too. I’m sorry for being an idiot, but I’m an idiot in love with you.”

A smile took over your face, finally your one day was today. “Just kiss me again, you bloody fool.” You didn’t need to tell him twice — and the camera was absolutely going crazy.

The rest of the premier, Hugh had a few lipstick stains on his face that he didn’t even bother to wipe away.

He was took focus on the smile that was on your face, the same smile that matched his.

The next day Hugh found a photo of you two kissing, with Ryan Reynolds shocked, smiling face, he immediately posted it, letting your fans know that your finally got together with the caption, “my person.”

You two also made that your locks screen and every time either of you are asked about your friendship with Ryan, you immediately talk about it.

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© CandieHearts