#she keeps us fed and clothed and happy

[readyforthegarden]

@ascendingtostardust is the goddamned backbone of this fandom and deserves everything good and nice thing ever

[fastandcarlos]

Soft Launch : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: follow the journey of lando’s soft launch to reveal your relationship

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 1,302,382 others

landonorris: one shoulder up or two 🤔

67,505 comments

username1: anyone else notice the person who accidentally walked in midway through the stream tonight!?

username2: lando definitely had a girl over…

alex_albon: you must be desperate for content if this is what you’re posting 🙄

username3: why won’t you tell us who was round your apartment lando??

georgerussell63: how about neither of your elbows up you weird man

username4: I keep replaying it but I can’t work out anything about them…

username5: what if lando has a secret girlfriend or something

danielricciardo: you know it’s okay to look at a photo and change your mind about posting it

username6: not everyone rinsing lando in the comments 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by georgerussell63, carlossainz55 and 1,937,605 others

landonorris: life’s been pretty good recently ☀️

58,391 comments

username7: any particular reason why that might be mr lando norris

carlossainz55: care to elaborate? 🤔

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 zooming over to ferrari now to fill you in

username8: wonder if it’s pretty good because of someone??

georgerussell63: glad to see you with a smile on your face buddy 🫶🏻

username9: is he hinting that this new girl has made his life better??

maxverstappen1: I wanna know all of the gossip too 😂

username10: I’d love to be the reason for lando’s smile fyi

username11: I’m more interested to know who even took these photos

oscarpiastri: I’m fed up of this new version of you, you’re too smiley to have around the garage now

landonorris: @/oscarpiastri sorry not sorry 🙃

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by team_quadrant, maxfewtrell and 1,492,606 others

landonorris: apparently if you find a girl who likes quadrant, she’s definitely a keeper ✨

78,301 comments

username12: this sounds like confirmation to me that lando has a girl

team_quadrant: girls who like quadrant = girls with good taste

username13: do you reckon that’s her in the photo ☺️

danielricciardo: ik a better brand of clothes that they could wear 😂

landonorris: @/danielricciardo quadrant > enchante 🤫

username14: really hoping this new girl likes quadrant so she can stick around forever

username15: I like quadrant…does that make me your girlfriend now??

charles_leclerc: I like quadrant but you’re not willing to date me…

username16: @/charles_leclerc also not a girl you clown

oscarpiastri: if I do a photo shoot with you do I get free merch too?

pierregasly: why am I so invested in being part of lando’s comment section lmao

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1 and 1,594,706 others

landonorris: thank you for bringing so much positivity into my life 🫶🏻🥺

89,394 comments

danielricciardo: you’re welcome honey 😇

landonorris: @/danielricciardo you wish that I was talking to you

username17: look how perfect they look together wow

username18: it’s official, he’s actually managed to get a girlfriend

georgerussell63: congrats on not being the single friend anymore 👏🏻

carlossainz55: little lando norris finally got himself a girlfriend 😂

username19: I want to be happy but I so wish that this was me

username20: the look on his face 😭 I’m so happy he’s happy

charles_leclerc: if you want some tips on how to be a good boyfriend just zoom back to ferrari again

username21: my heart is so full - cheering for these guys all the way!!

username22: constantly telling myself not to be bitter that my dreams now won’t come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by mclaren, charles_leclerc and 1,395,604 others

landonorris: race weekend with a first timer, luckily for her she picked the best team to support 🧡🏎️

89,483 comments

maxverstappen1: did she get a choice or did you force her to do this??

landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 she said she wanted to support the team with the most handsome driver 💁🏻‍♂️

oscarpiastri: @/landonorris she thinks I’m handsome awh

landonorris: @/oscarpiastri 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

username23: how have we not got a face reveal when she was literally at the race

username24: I never had lando down for a soft launch kinda guy

danielricciardo: did you even introduce her to all the teams on the grid, you know, let her make her on mind up??

username25: whoever she is she knows how to rock papaya

username26: omg the height difference is the sweetest

logansargeant: I remember when I used to hug you and you’d rest against my chest like that 😂

alex_albon: look at you being all cute and charming

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 1,022,494 others

landonorris: holidaying with my favourites 🌊☀️

89,504 comments

username27: eurgh lando you’re killing us with all these almost photos

maxfewtrell: I’m the number one out of the two of us though right??

landonorris: @/maxfewtrell whatever makes you feel better sweet cheeks

username28: my heart can’t cope with this for much longer

oscarpiastri: so you holidayed with your favourites and yet I’m here at home 🤔

username29: lando replacing oscar with his girlfriend is peak

username30: lando knows what he’s doing and this is so not fair

username31: I bet he’s laughing at all of us when he looks at his comments section

alex_albon: it’s alright for some 😂

username32: lando I’m on my knees pls just tell us more about who this lucky girl is

georgerussell63: I think your fans might turn on you soon if you don’t stop playing them 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 1,302,493 others

landonorris: another race weekend with my best human there to cheer me on 💕☺️

99,398 comments

username33: FINALLY HE GAVE US WHAT WE WANT

username34: omg she’s absolutely gorgeous lando

username35: we won at last woooooo

alex_albon: still can’t believe your girlfriend supports mclaren 😭

oscarpiastri: don’t forget who the most handsome mclaren driver is tho 😂

username36: they look so in love together 💞

username37: I want to be jealous but how can I be when they look so cute

lilymhe: we’re double dating asap btw

danielricciardo: they don’t prepare you for when the kids grow up 🤧

landonorris: @/danielricciardo sorry dad 😭

username38: my heart has officially exploded 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, danielricciardo and 1,948,502 others

landonorris: whoops they caught us 🥺

tagged: ynusername

138,849 comments

username39: these two are gonna be such a duo omg

username40: ah and he even tagged her 🤩🤩🤩

danielricciardo: my kids are the cutest things in the world

carlossainz55: smooooth operator 😂😂

landonorris: @/carlossainz55 high praise from you my friend 🫡

username41: thank goodness that the soft launch era is now over

username42: I’m already in love with them so much

username43: I don’t want to be yn anymore, I just want to be her best friend

charles_leclerc: congrats buddy 👏🏻👏🏻

alex_albon: stop making the rest of us feel single even though we’re also in relationships please

ynusername: ily 🥺🥺🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

seven | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

The whiplash of last night's dinner seems rectified at breakfast. Marlene arrives an hour after you wake up with a basket of farmer’s market produce, glass bottles of fresh juice, a dozen eggs still dirty with a baby feather nestled between shells. She brings cuts of bacon so fat it’s practically pork belly, and all manner of greens for the omelettes. “Gotta keep these working men fed,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’d quite like to know why Sirius Black can’t make his own breakfast.” 

Sirius falls in barely half an hour later, all hardness gone, dressed in slacks and a brown leather jacket, his loose curls pinned away from his face. “I’m thinking of growing a moustache,” he says when he spots you on the sofa. “What do you think? I don’t have much space for one, really, but it would look rather refined.”

James shows up soon enough. You worry he’s angry with you after his quick departure last night, but he says, “Princess, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Mum said she saw a photo of us together in the paper. She’s having it framed.” 

Things between James and Sirius are frosty for all of half a day. 

So for a while everyone pretends the conversation about Baron Riddle never happened. Things go back to normal, driving lessons, self defence, clothes shopping. You keep attending your university classes at the local college upon Remus’ assistance —Sirius will find a way to have them transfer your credits, he says, so long as you finish this year. Two more terms and you can take a break. 

You pretend that everything is okay, and permanent. 

“It’ll be Christmas soon,” James says.

You tilt your head to him but keep your eyes on the burning white of the computer screen, scribbling the last words of a sentence down for your next assignment. Researching isn’t fun, and getting James special permission to enter the college building hadn’t been easy, but he makes your long afternoons bearable. “Do you celebrate?” you ask. 

“I do.” 

“Your mum will be happy to have you home.”

“I’m not going home this year.” 

Your beginning smile is stopped, fading fast. “‘Cos of me?” 

“Because this is the job,” he says easily. “It’s alright. I’ll still speak to her. She’s used to not seeing me. I’ve spent more time away from her than with her, for years.” 

You close your textbook, tracing its softening edges in an avoidance of his gaze. “Well. Well, I don’t really need you, James.” 

“No?” 

You meet his eyes. Careful not to spook yourself. He’s looking at you with little emotion, impossible to infer his mood from expression alone. You don’t know what he means to ask you here. 

“Missing out on time with your family for me, when nobody even knows who I am–”

“That’s not true, is it? You get a fair few stares.” 

“Not because they really know who I am,” you whisper. “It’s like seeing someone you’re sure you’ve met before, but really you’ve seen them on TV. I’m like an odd memory or something.” 

“An odd memory.” 

You turn back to your computer and flick through the journal you’re reading for want of something to do. James twists in his chair with a hand fallen between your shoulders. Your skin tingles under his touch. “I just don’t think it’s good of me to have you when I’m fine.” 

“Do you have me, Princess?” James says, his voice turning soft slow as a taffy pull. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Yes, I do.” James’ hand comes to rest on the desk beside yours, not touching you, not moving a millimetre. He can be so still, but it’s a stillness that came with practice. He’s as at ease here as he would be at home, trusting his abilities. Nothing that can get you here scares him, not for a second. “I’m afraid I’m yours for the foreseeable future.” 

You fight down a shiver. “It’s not fair for you to miss out on Christmas. I’ll be fine by myself. I would stay home, I promise, you could lock me in and set me free a week later.” 

“I won’t do that,” he says. 

“But you could, and then you won’t miss Christmas or your mum, and–” You realise you’re talking too loudly and tone it down. “And I’ll be fine on my own.” 

“You said, yeah…” 

You stare at the cover of your textbook. “Right.” 

James checks his watch. In his ‘bum bag’ as he calls it, the radio he’d been carrying around on his shoulder when you met makes a concealed crackle. He pulls it out and brings it to his mouth. “Say again?” he orders. 

“We’re waiting outside,” Sirius says, to your surprise. 

“Pads, you’ve actually done something I asked,” James says in amazement. 

“Not really. It’s Remus’ radio, you know I won’t carry them around. It’s ridiculous. I would’ve liked to have called you but you never answer, even if it’s life or death!” 

“It’s never life or death with you.” 

“Cruel. Tell the Princess to hurry her work, she promised we’d go to the cinema and it’s getting on.” 

“She’s done when she’s done,” James says. 

“I’m finished,” you say. 

“She’s finished,” James says. 

“Oh, good. Has she picked what movie she wants to see?” 

“Sirius, can’t we have this conversation in two minutes, when we’re in the same car.” 

“What’s the fun in that?” 

You pack away your things and log out of your account on the library computer. James offers to take your bag, grumbling when you insist on carrying it yourself, and rebelling against you as you descend the stairs into the college’s entrance atrium by holding open every stairwell door. 

“What movie does he want to see?” you ask James. 

“Never mind him,” James says, stilling at the shock of cold that ebbs from the main doors. “Button your coat, lovely.” 

You thought perhaps James would get to know you more and he’d stop using ‘lovely’. There isn’t all that much about you worth such a nice word, but he still says it. He calls Marlene gorgeous practically every morning when she makes his coffee, Lily sweetness or angel or —really, he’s quite fond of Lily. You don’t see her too often; she’s here to take care of diplomatic matters directly involving you, and so she pops in every now and then to gather your signatures or ask an opinion, busy at the embassy. You get this uncomfortable feeling when you see them together, too complicated to name, like fingers curled tight around your heart, squeezing until you’re squeamish and pounding behind the ears. And Sirius makes these jokes you’re too afraid to ask about, little snippy things aimed to make fun of James in a brotherly manner. Our Prongs likes a redhead. I considered going ginger for a bit, but I don’t have the complexion for it. You have no choice but to sit there still and silent until they change the subject. It must be the not knowing them well that makes it hard. 

Just outside of the college, Remus and Sirius wait in the front seats of a rather nice car. 

“Where did you get this?” James asks, stopped too far in the road. 

“Bought it.” 

“Why?” James asks. 

“You said I couldn’t get a bike.” 

“I said you couldn’t get a bike,” Remus corrects. “James said he wouldn’t get on the bike, or sit by your bedside if you drove it into a wall.” 

“You like it?” Sirius asks. 

James gives you a smug, fond smile. “Do we?” he asks. 

“It’s pretty,” you say. 

“She’s gorgeous, Princess! Don’t downplay it like that! Now, are you getting in? Remus has picked tonight’s movie–”

“Get out,” James says. 

“You are not driving my baby,” Sirius says, “I’ve only had her an hour.” 

“I don’t care how long you’ve had the car, if the Princess is riding in it, I’ll be the one driving it. You know the rules.”

“Yes, but you’re the one who makes the rules, and they’re stupid rules, so I suppose this time you’ll be letting me drive, won’t you?” Sirius asks. 

—

“My own car,” Sirius mutters to himself beside you, “can’t even drive my own bloody car. This is worse than the summer I saved for an electric guitar and my mother smashed it into smithereens in the foyer. At least Walburga let me play a couple of songs first.” 

“Walburga?” you ask, grinning. 

“Patron Saint of hydrophones,” Sirius says offhandedly. ”And cunts. It’s why I hate water so much, see, I’m worried mum’s going to deprive me of protection.” 

“Sorry, Princess, Sirius is having one of his days,” Remus says from the passenger seat. 

“I’m being serious,” Sirius says. “Unsurprisingly.” 

“Don’t let me tell Effy who you’ve just called mum,” James quips. 

“Euphemia,” Sirius says quickly, “name of a well-spoken woman. And she is well-spoken, James’ mum, she’s well everything. Well dressed, well kind,” —he puts his hand on your arm and rubs gently, enough affection for the woman in question running through him that it pours into you instead— “she would just love you to death, Your Gorgeousness.” 

“You are having one of those days,” you say. 

“Not sure I know what you mean.” Sirius grins at you, dark hair in his eyes, his irises a pale grey that catches you. “Alright there?” he asks. 

“Your eyes are grey.” 

“If you fancy me–”

“I thought they were brown, is all, like James’,” you say, voice taking a sharp turn into loudness in a poor attempt to move away from what you’ve said. 

“We can’t all have that dreamy mocha brown,” Sirius says. His grin has changed, morphed into a mischief you aren’t yet familiar with. “We all have grey eyes, the Black’s. My mother and father too. Makes sense they would, what with their… similar heritage.” 

Sirius doesn’t volunteer information about his family often, and as he does he squirms. You wonder if he’d tripped into saying it on automatic. You know intimately how that feels. “Don’t worry about it,” you say, “I spent the last twenty years thinking my mum was a drunk and my father an idea. Of course, I know more about my dad now.” 

“Not about your mum?” 

“Oh, no. She’s dead, I think,” you say. 

“You don’t know?” 

Your turn to squirm. “Not really, no.” 

Sirius frowns. His lips part, a concerned platitude no doubt on his lips, but James’ strong voice cuts in, “You can share mine,” he says, “god knows she’s always trying to find another of my friends to parent. She even tried to baby Regulus when they first met.”

“Your brother?” you ask Sirius, remembering some tidbit of conversation. 

“He isn’t exactly versed in accepting affection,” Sirius says. 

“Neither were you!” James doesn’t look away from the road ahead as his arm reaches back. He points ineffectually. “And now look at you!” 

“Get me out of this car,” Sirius says. 

Remus, grey at the gills, murmurs, “I was just thinking the same thing.” 

Remus wars with migraine–motion sickness nausea on the corner of the street. James, having parked and locked the car once you all emerged, stands straight beside you, worry flashing across his face. Sirius has it all covered, patting the space between Remus’ shoulders slowly as Remus says, “Stop smothering me, or I’ll be sick on your shoes.” 

“Finally return the favour, then,” Sirius says. 

Remus groans, bending further toward the ground. 

“Is he okay?” you ask. 

James doesn’t answer for a while. He sweeps his gaze around the streets, cataloguing people and squinting against the lowering sun as it shuttles behind buildings. The evening cold is setting in, lights of the cinema blue-bright white and buzzing just ahead. “Remus will be alright,” he says, sounding like he believes it wholeheartedly. “Just gets sick sometimes ‘cos of the headaches.” 

It really bothers him, all the same. He doesn’t hide it well, the twitch of his fingers to go help, his furtive glances. He looks up and down the road, behind the cars, around you, and always back at Remus and Sirius. 

“How old were you when you first went away to boarding school?” you ask. 

“We were eleven. Why?” 

“I’m just wondering. You’ve been friends for a really long time, then.” 

“Not too long, now, Princess. I’m only in my twenties.” 

“Right,” you laugh, “of course.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing! It didn’t mean anything.” 

He gets a Sirius brand of smile, then. No, not Sirius at all, just a James you haven’t met before, cheeky and funny at once. “Sure it didn’t,” he teases. “You think I’m old. Do I look old to you? I’ll have you know I’m in perfect athletic shape. My mile time is six minutes on the dot.”

“Very impressive,” you say. 

He rolls his shoulders. “Yes, it is.” 

A couple of feet away, Remus has stood tall, a hand covering his eyes. Sirius covers that hand with his own, his laugh carrying across the street. “You’re a mess, Lupin, but you’re nothing I can’t handle, obviously. Get over yourself.” 

“All I said was ‘fuck’s sake’,” Remus says.

“It was teeming with self loathing.” 

“It‘s like I’m stuck together with shit PVA or something, I feel ridiculous.” 

“You’re fine. You are. You’ve never looked so fine, Moony old chap.” 

“Can you stop?” Remus asks, sounding like he doesn’t mind it either way. 

“Sure,” Sirius says anyways, softer now by a thread. “I’m done.” 

“James, should we–”

James goes down with a quiet thump. Your hearing flats out, no sound of him as his arms curl outward and his back rolls —he’s too smart to let his head smack the pavement. 

You aren’t smart enough to move out of the line of fire. 

A weight like a log forced itself into your stomach, slamming your back to a chest. You thrust your head back hard and cry out as a stab of pain rushes through your head, stumbling as best you can away from it, but the arm doesn’t let you go. 

Sudden, there’s another cry of pain, male this time, and the arm is letting you go. You bound two steps forward and spin in time to see James in a fist fight with a masked assailant, punches popped faster than you can track: you see clearly only points of contact, James taking a hit to the chest, to the head, his face snapped sideways as his knee comes up. He puts all of his weight into the motion and kicks, putting some much needed space between the two of them. 

You glance back for Sirius and Remus in a tizzy and come face to face with another black mask. 

You aren’t sure why you do it. Perhaps James’ sense of urgency rubs off on you, all his echoes of why you don’t want to let an attacker take you away from the public eye if you can help it, or maybe it’s knowing James is locked into his own fight and he might not win against another, caught off guard like that. You can’t confess to thinking, only swinging, the power of your entire upper body thrust into a punch that shatters you with pain. 

Before you can see if the punch had any effect, someone is stepping in front of you and hitting him again. Twice, a third time, James hits the masked man until he’s incapacitated on the ground. 

He swings back to you with a harsh breath. Your ears pop. “What the fuck!” someone’s saying, not James, his lips unmoving as he looks you over. 

“…You okay?” he says finally, stepping into your space to hold you by the arms. “You’re not hurt?” 

You flinch as his hand slips down to yours. 

“My hand!” you yelp, pressing it to your chest.

“What about your hand?” 

“I punched that guy!” 

“Did you tuck your thumb into your hand?” 

“Yes!”

“I told you not to do that!” James exclaims, breathless and vaguely pained as he puts his hands out again to take your injured one. “You tuck your thumbnail against the curl of your index finger!” 

“Is it broken?” Sirius asks seriously, stepping over one of your attackers in his rush to be next to you. “Are you okay? Fuck, it looked like a good one, though!” 

“I didn’t think properly,” you say, biting back a whimper as James rolls down your sleeve, your hand shaking terribly in his grasp, “I was just scared–”

“No, I know, it’s not your fault,” James says in a run on, sounding far outside the realm of a professional as he pokes near your pinky fingers knuckle. Your whine of pain makes it worse. “Sorry, lovely. I think you have a fracture. Fuck, you didn’t have to do that, I had it handled.”

“He was gonna grab me!” 

“I know.” He rubs his brow. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” James raises his gaze to Sirius as though he’s going to ask for something, but he pauses. “Where’s Remus?” 

“Turned into a migraine pretty much the second before those guys turned up, I had to sit him down.” 

James holds your arm with both hands. His eyes are browner than anything as he levels your gaze. “I’m gonna fix this, okay? I just need to make sure they aren’t getting up.” 

“Okay.” The pain in your hand gets worse by the second.  

“Okay?” he asks. 

It hurts so badly that tears form, one dribbling hot and fat down your cheek. “Okay,” you say again, wobbling. 

His lips go flat, but he turns away to start cleaning up. Sirius takes his place, wrapping an arm behind your back with a comforting murmur that you don’t quite hear. 

—

James is gone for hours. Sirius and Mikkelson take you home, and waiting for you is a team of doctors and nurses that seem unperturbed to be treating a princess in her rinky dink living room. The craziest part about it all isn’t that you’ve been attacked, or that the two doctors and three nurses are smiley, unhurried but not uncaring, and it’s not that you wish James was there so sorely it has you unsettled despite the rapid pain relief, no. The craziest part is the portable x-ray machine. 

“We could’ve gone to the hospital,” you tell Sirius, leaning back in your kitchen chair as a sweet-faced nurse slips a brace carefully over your injured hand. 

“No, we couldn’t have.” 

“I don’t understand why not.” 

“Yes, you do.” Sirius points at the plate of biscuits by your cup insistently. “Go on.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Just something quick for your blood sugar. Or pressure? One of them. Would you rather have a sandwich?” 

“No.” 

“Princess, please,” he says, giving you a frown you're unused to, like you’re pissing him off and he expects it. 

You grab a biscuit to appease him. 

Remus is wrapped in a throw blanket in your bed, likely sleeping, or perhaps still furious that Sirius had asked one of the nurses to give him a good look. Her diagnosis wasn’t anything new; Remus is suffering in the third stage of a migraine. It’s best he be left alone for a little while to rest. He’s going to be very tired when he comes out of it. 

James hasn’t returned yet. When they first stuffed you to the brim with painkillers, you’d thought morosely that you‘d needed him there, but now you just wonder what’s taking him so long. Who were those men? One of them had grabbed you tightly with intent to drag you away, so where were you going? 

Your flat is growing more crowded by the second. Marlene is in the living room trying to take dinner orders from extremely happy doctors and bodyguards alike, and with her is a stranger, a woman with dark skin and darker hair, black curls piled away from her face. You haven’t asked about her yet. Perhaps Marlene needs help catering for the sheer amount of people. 

“This isn’t exactly incognito,” you say, “all these people.” 

“Yes, well, James wants you to move anyways. And maybe that’s for the best. It’s rather cramped in here.” 

“It wasn’t,” you say. 

He assesses you quietly. 

“What?” 

“It’s alright if you don’t want to move, but you must know you’re a sitting duck here.” 

“I must?” 

“You are not a normal person, and you never will be. James won’t tell you about the things you should be scared of even if he’s honest about the risk, and I was at the mercy of his wrath last time, but I don’t care,” he says honestly. “I don’t. I need you to know that you’re not safe and it’s not because of some invisible maybe, there are real forces at play here. The sooner you move, the better. I know,” —he lowers his voice— “it’s a massive change, and you haven’t had time to catch your breath, but you can’t get comfortable now. And hey, you can keep the flat, yeah? You don’t have to give it away, but things aren’t safe here.” 

“But why not?” 

“It’s the Baron,” Sirius says, serious, quick, glancing at the door, “he’s not just cruel, he’s evil. He’s done things you’d never think he’d get away with, not now. It’s like the dark ages in his courts, the pure bloods–”

“Sirius, what the fuck?” Marlene says, pushing the door until it hits the wall. “Enough. She fucking broke her hand.” 

“And I’m telling her why.” 

“She broke it because she punched someone the wrong way,” the unknown woman says, warm but disapproving at once. “Who taught you to fight?” 

“Uh, it’s self defense,” you say uselessly. 

“James,” she tuts. 

Marlene appraises the nurse where she’s lingering at the counter, putting away her things. “Are you staying for dinner?” she asks, which is mostly sincere, just a tad pushy. 

The nurse says, “No, thank you,” and makes herself scarce. 

“This is Dorcas,” Marlene introduces as the door closes. No explanation to who she is follows as they settle against the counter tops. 

“Hi,” you say softly. 

“Hello.” Dorcas smiles, all signs of her disapproval wiped clean. “How’s the hand?” 

“Hurting.” 

“It’s nothing some rigatoni arrabbiata won’t fix, I’m sure.” 

“Sorry, Dorcas, but why the fuck are you here?” Sirius asks pleasantly. 

“Why do you think?” she asks sweetly back. 

“Usually to fuck me off.” 

“Enough,” Marlene says. “If you’re going to argue, you have two options. You can do it while pulling the tendons from these chicken fillets, or you can do it outside.” 

“Pass,” Sirius says. “I’ll go on as usual, as long as the snake stays quiet.” 

“You’re as bad as.” Dorcas crosses her arms over her chest. 

Sirius doesn’t rise to the bait, despite himself, and Marlene opens your fridge to begin cooking. He doesn’t mention the evil forces in play again, leaving you in your agony to brush it away. You’ll think of it later, or never, whichever comes first. 

“You can go to bed, if you like.” 

“Remus is in there.” 

“He won’t care. Pretty sure he had one of us in bed with him from first year to last,” Sirius says, taking one of your biscuits and eating it in two quick bites. 

You remember your own and put it down next to your cup of tea. Tea is fine, but these boys are constantly plying you with it and you’ve had enough to last a while. And the biscuits —who thought you could ever be sick of biscuits? 

“I’m not tired,” you say. “Maybe I’ll… finish some school work.” 

“Sure. Gonna be okay typing without your hand?” 

You wince. “Fuck. It’s my dominant hand, too.” 

“You’ll be out of commission for a while. Sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” You look down at your twinging hand, a slice of shadow banding across it under the table. “I’d rather have a broken hand than be dead.” 

“No one was going to kill you. Is that what Sirius has been telling you?” Marlene asks, glaring at Sirius from over her shoulder, her eyes like blue fire. 

“No,” you say. “He didn’t have to say anything about it to me for me to know I was in danger.” 

Marlene isn’t chastened. “You’re okay. James protected you, and he will again. You don’t need to worry about it, about any of that stuff.” 

“That’s willfully ignorant,” Dorcas says. 

Sirius takes another biscuit. “I actually agree.” 

They’re friendly from then on. You don’t have it in you to be surprised. 

—

James cannot stand London much longer. The police officers are knobs, the roads are shit, and now you’re getting attacked by freaks outside of the loneliest cinema he could find. He’s spent three hours in an interrogation room with a prick and one of the guys who tried to attack you, asking their intentions, who they work for, who they are, and it hasn’t mattered, when he could’ve been making sure you were alright. He gave strict instructions on how you were supposed to be treated and by who, but Sirius doesn’t always listen. What James realised somewhere between leaving you on the side of the road and the police station, is that he has sorely underestimated what needs to be done here to keep you safe. Dorcas might go a ways of helping that along, but he needs advice. 

He needs Mary. Maybe Lily and Emmeline full time. He needs anyone willing to help him. Dearborn, the twins. Reinforcements are necessary. 

He needs to breathe. He can’t believe you broke your hand doing something he should’ve done first. 

“Fucking winded me,” he says to himself, rolling his sore shoulder as he takes the stairs to your flat two at a time. “Wanker.” 

“Kiss your mum with that mouth?” Remus asks lightly. 

He’s sitting at the end of the hallway away from your flat with the window wide open, a cigarette wobbling between his lips. It’s not lit yet. 

“You should stay in bed,” James says, crossing the hall to stand by him. He finds a zippo lighter in Remus’ pocket and flicks it open, holding the flame to the cig, letting the end smoulder. “How is it?” 

“It’s not that bad. Didn’t make me sick.” 

“Wobbly?” James asks, closing the zippo to tuck away in his own pocket. 

Remus takes a deep inhale, hand on the window ledge to steady himself. “Only when I breathe,” he says on the exhale. 

They stand together for a bit. James sort of wants to smoke, it’s not like he didn’t do his fair share in school, but he was lucky it never caught him like Remus and Sirius, who both consider themselves casual smokers. I smoke to celebrate, Sirius said once, and to commiserate. So that’s a few a day, at least. 

Remus is less inclined. James can’t blame him either way. Isn’t he owed a vice while his head rears to implode? 

“How is the princess?” James asks eventually. 

“I can’t confess to seeing much of her,” Remus says, voice light enough to imply that you’re fine. “But she’s spent the afternoon with a fracture and Sirius. I dare say she’s miserable.” 

“Her hand is broken?” 

“Yep. But it’s a boxer’s fracture, it’ll heal in a month.” Remus gets about halfway down his cigarette before he squints at James with suspicion. “You were in a rush.” 

“Just checking you’re okay.” 

“Mm.” He takes another drag before pulling the cigarette from his mouth, flicking a tall line of ash out of the window. “She’s not upset with you.” 

“She should be.” 

“James, you’re such a martyr.”  

He shrugs. “I’m here to protect her and at the very first hurdle I’ve let her down. Actually, the second hurdle, because I’ve already hit her once, so hard she could barely keep her eyes open.” 

“You didn’t hit her, don’t say that.” 

“I did hit her.” 

“With a door.” 

“Yes, with a heavy object.” 

“By accident!” Remus laughs and snuffs his cigarette on the wall outside the window, drawing the butt inside a curled fist. It makes James wince. “You’re alright. Truthfully I think she just wants to see you ‘cos you’re nice to her.” 

“You’re nice to her.” 

“Yes, but I’m not in the best working order right now.” He smiles. “And I’m not like you, I won’t put my arm around her.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“I won’t. I would if she was upset, but she doesn’t seem upset. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

“Don’t say it like that!” 

Remus laughs again. “Like what? Stop making me laugh, my head is throbbing.”  

Sirius once made Remus laugh so hard it prompted a migraine, or at least it was conveniently timed. He swore off jokes and being witty for a good two weeks. “Shall I never joke again?” James asks. 

He sounds tired, even to himself. 

“It’s a start,” Remus says. 

“Time is it?” 

“Time to stop being a coward, I think. Little after seven. You’re done?” 

“Done. Too tired to make better decisions.” 

“You know that song by the Rolling Stones, Miss You?” Remus presses his hand to an eye. “Stuck in my head.” 

James loves how much Remus loves to talk to him. It’s stupid. “Guess I’m lying to myself, it’s just you and no one else,” James sing-songs quietly, with an eyebrow wiggle.

“I like your voice more than his.” 

“Charmer.”

They follow one another down the hall to your door, where Mikkelson couldn’t look more bored keeping guard. Poor Mickey with the shit jobs and no company. At least he’s well paid. In the living room, there’s little evidence of the work he’s thought would be done here. No medical waste or mess, each pillow cleanly placed and each trinket of yours where you left it. There’s not much sound, but James cocks a trained ear and listens for everything. A rustle in the bathroom. A breath taken in the kitchen, then another. There’s definitely kissing, he thinks, heaving a horrendous sigh to let the lovebirds know they have company. 

Could’ve been you and Sirius, but he can’t see it happening. 

Marlene appears around the kitchen doorway, ever so slightly pink. “Hullo. Dinner?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

“Sure. Remus, you want something? Chicken soup?” 

Marlene will make chicken soup as most Genovian would, with pastina or acini de pepe, fresh rosemary, thyme, and Parmesan rind shredded over the top. It’s no less delicious than any other dish in her arsenal, but it’s so, so homely that Remus sighs wistfully and James can’t not ask, “Soup for me, too?” 

“Sure. It’s what I made for the princess, poor girl.” 

“She’s in the bathroom?” 

“For a while.” Marlene has the decency to smile apologetically. “You boys like red pepper, yeah?” 

“And Sirius?”

“I don’t know, James, I’m not a psychic.” 

“Right. Hi, Dorcas, how are you?” 

Dorcas appears in the door. James might think she was reluctant if he didn’t know better; Dorcas doesn’t ever do anything she doesn’t want to do. Her smile says something unreadable. “Fine,” she says concisely. 

James trudges away. In the bedroom, Sirius is curled up on your bed asleep. He shakes his head in wonderment and carries on to the bathroom. There’s water running behind the door, accompanied by the soft sounds of under-the-breath cursing. 

“Angel,” he says before he can stop himself, “are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

“James?” 

“Yeah, are you okay?”

“James, I… have a long sleeve top on, and it’s hurting more than I thought with the cast. Can you… do you think Marlene would come help me?”

He shouldn’t — “I can help, angel. Is it hurting? You’re stuck, aren’t you?” 

“Just a bit.” 

Your hesitant voice echoing off the walls makes him chuckle. “I can get Marlene,” he says. 

He’s already turning when you say, “Uh, no, that’s fine. Can you get me out?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I want it to be you,” you say quietly. 

James doesn’t know what to do with that. He opens the bathroom door and finds you uncomfortably twisted. You’ve tried to take off the sleeve on your injured arm first and ended up with the back of your shirt pulled away from you, pulled up, tight against your neck, a little gap between your chest and the fabric. You aren’t scandalous, barely undressed, but James knows you’re shy about how you look from fittings and intuition alike. He quickly encourages your uninjured hand into the air to loosen the band of fabric from behind your neck, and then easily tugs the entirety of it up your arms and off of you, more careful at your dominant hand. The moment you’re released, he takes the soft sleep shirt you’ve put on the laundry basket and ruches the sleeves. He sews your injured hand tentatively though one sleeve, then the other, before slipping it over your head and pulling it down. His knuckles skim your naked back, and he’s careful not to touch bare skin again. When he’s neatened you up, he holds your side in one hand. “Are you alright?” he asks, frowning. 

“I know it’s just a fracture, but I feel like I can’t use it. Hurts.” 

“There’s no such thing as just a fracture,” he says. “Fractures hurt. Your hand is broken, it’s alright if you can’t move it. Do you need any more help?” 

You shake your head. “I managed the trousers by myself, thankfully.” 

James looks you over and finds himself softening swiftly. He does feel sorry for you. He thinks you’re allowed an allotment of pity. But he also just likes you, and doesn’t want to see you in pain. His colossal guilt doesn’t help. 

The darkness from outside is creeping in. You’ve a shadow on your cheek, another stretching out to your side. Your pajamas are worn —well-loved— a simple black t-shirt with a teddy bear on the chest and blue pajama trousers to match the teddy’s bow tie. You’ve the appearance of somebody who cried for a good hour or two, not so much splotchy or sore looking as simply coloured by the after effects of distress, a tiredness to your eyes that has nothing to do with sleep. You look small, but not in the sense of proportions. Just small. 

“How’s your pain?” he asks you quietly. 

“It’s not bad if I don’t move it.” 

“Try not to, then.” 

“Is everything okay?” you ask. 

“It’s all fine. I don’t have any more answers for you. Please, forgive me.” 

He knows a grudge hasn't crossed your mind. Still, he’s surprised again by your endless goodness, whether you might see it that way or not, your propensity for leniency and how it can be a brave, kind thing, “It wasn’t your fault, it just happened. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you weren’t there… Well, I can imagine. I can. And it really scares me.” You press your splinted hand to your abdomen. “Thank you for keeping me safe, James.” 

I didn’t keep you safe, I barely got to you in time, he thinks. He’s in over his head. He’s practically drowning in shame and responsibility and self-obsessed inner turmoil. 

He wants to be his best, for you. He wants to do this well. 

James has no idea how he’s going to do this. 

“You’re welcome,” he says, hiding everything but a stitch of breathlessness from his tone. 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

In over his head. Drowning, maybe. “No. Did you?” 

“I don’t have much appetite.” 

“Marl’s made chicken soup with little pasta stars,” he says, nodding toward the door. “You’ll love it. Promise.”

“You’ll eat too?” you ask. 

James feels a tightening in his stomach that he wisely ignores. Without answering aloud, he encourages you out of the bathroom to the kitchen, and you both eat.

He’s helping Marlene clear the plates away when you hesitate by the door. Sirius has unceremoniously tumbled from your bed to the sofa when Remus tried to rouse him, begging tiredly to be allowed to stay. You’d said yes without problem. You trust Sirius, and if you didn’t, James thinks you might trust him enough to know who you can be left alone with. Remus and Dorcas have been ferried back to the accommodation by one of the others. Marlene and James are set to leave together as soon as the kitchen is squared. 

And yet you hesitate. 

Haunting the door, James recognises the way one hand flutters, almost squeezes the air, wanting to wring the other but unable.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, trying to use his body as a wall to offer you some privacy.

“Nothing.”

“You can go to bed if you need to, you don’t have to wait for us.” He manages a smirk. “You want me to change the sheets, don’t you? That Sirius Black character is a real heathen, isn't he? I don’t think a day went by when we were kids where his bed wasn’t inundated with crumbs.” 

“He ate in bed?” you ask. 

“Small rebellions.” 

“Remus says you guys shared a lot.” 

“We did. I don’t really know why. I know boys aren’t ‘supposed’ to love each other like that, but we never grew out of it.” James lonely without his mum and dad’s bed to climb into, Sirius realising he could have comfort whenever he wanted, even if he didn’t need it, and Remus, usually unwilling, occasionally doing the work himself if it was what was necessary to sleep again after a bad dream. (And the other, who didn’t often share, but leaves a bad taste in James’ mouth to recall.) 

“And it helped?” 

“Sometimes.” 

You squirm on the spot, but you force it out. “James, will you stay?” You’re apologetic. “I don’t think I can sleep if you go. I’m not scared, I promise, but…” 

James’ voice gets caught behind his teeth. 

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine. But if you don’t mind, you can stay, you can have my bed, if you want, I’d just feel better if it was you.” 

“Of course I’ll stay.” 

You smile. 

“It’s my job to look after you. If you feel better knowing I’m out here on the sofa, then I’ll stay.” He offers a smile usually saved for his friends.

“Okay.” Something in you has gone slack. You’re warmed from the inside out, and so suddenly tired. “You won’t go in the bed?” 

“I won’t take it from you, no. I quite like how you make the sofa up, I’ll just shove Sirius over. I want the pillowcase with flowers and the blanket with fleece underneath, please.” 

You leave to get his provisions. He follows your gaze. It’s why he knows you look back at him as you cross the threshold to your room. 

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood

(Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 10

______________________________

Present

"This is so unfair" Percy says as he scrubs the pots and pans

It would be fine if it was normal dirty dishes and normal water...

But it's magical dirty dishes and you have to wash them with molten magic iron...

Great.

Percy sighs "I have been getting dreams... Of Grover, he tells me he's trapped on an island being held hostage by a... Cyclops, and the thing we need to save Thalia's tree is there as well- golden poncho or something"

"golden fleece. Percy, it's a fleece" you smile

"right. Fleece"

"so this calls for a quest" Annabeth says with a hint of excitement in her voice

"but..." She says

"but?" Percy questions

You grumble and scrub harshly "Tantalus won't allow it, he wants Thalia's tree to die so the barrier breaks completely, thus putting all of us at risk"

Annabeth smirks as she places the last of the dirty pot "Then we have to propose the quest to him in a way he can't say no"

______________________________

Past

"it's not (Name), maybe they switched them out, or cloned them, I just don't believe it" Damian says as he glares as the sitting figure in the garden of their house

The office is dark and a bit humid, Jason speaks up "When 'it' got out, they couldn't remember anything and 'it' only started to remember after a few minutes, like it was processing memories, 'it' could be a clone"

"Even if it is a clone, it doesn't matter, same DNA, same memories, 'its' a carbon copy, if it keeps Bruce from crashing out, 'it' can stay" Stephanie says

A "mission gone wrong", that's all it was, reports of people going missing after entering a certain hotel

We investigated, Batman sent (Name) inside the hotel to see the area, but comms were cut the moment they entered

Tim tried to hack, but there was no gadget to hack, not one inside the Hotel, Damian got so fed up, he threw a grenade at a window, but the hotel didn't budge, (Name) still hasn't come out of the building

Then they saw it, through a window, hundreds maybe even thousands of people, in one hotel, some were wearing ball gowns from like the 1700's, some were in punk 80's style, some were dressed in ancient Greek clothing, like time was mixed in the hotel

The problem was workers, no one paid them any mind as they just stood at a rooftop from a building near the hotel

Tim went to the entrance and was greeted by workers "Sir! Would you like to come in? We have a spa, a bar, a golf course, a race track, a pool, a climbing area, an arcade-" the worker continued to ramble

"Hello sir, would you like to try some of our lotus candies? They're complementary" another one smiled

It was creepy.

He immediately went back to report "It's like they want people to go inside, and none of the evidence shows that everyone who went missing was forcefully shoved in the hotel, they went in willingly, I think it's best to not enter, there's this weird vibe to it, like the hotel itself is the problem"

The silence was deafening, and Batman whispered "So you're telling me I sent my kid to a trap?"

They tried everything, they went back almost everyday, bombing the hotel, shooting it, the hotel would remain pristine, the only way was to enter

And it was after two years that passed that (Name) walked out of the hotel, they were out of their bat costume, instead they were in some clothes you'd wear to go gambling

Their minds were fuzzy at first, it didn't matter to Bruce, all he saw was his kid that he sent to hell and god knows what happened in that hotel

'it' would try to make inside jokes that (Name) made during missions

Batsibs were all happy when Bruce laid 'it' off from the vigilante job

Cassandra couldn't bring herself to talk to (Name), avoiding 'it' by closing her eyes

(Name) didn't act differently, no signs of trauma, in fact they testified the hotel was awesome, (Name) claimed that the hotel was so breathtaking they forgot about the mission, but it was fine, (Name) claimed they were only gone for 20 minutes

This was not (Name), no way...

______________________________

Present

"We know how to heal Thalia's tree! We know the place to go and everything!" Percy announced at the dinner table

Everyone murmured and Percy continued "Me and a select group of friends will go on a quest"

Tantalus roared "I didn't approve of this! I'd rather you all die in this wretched camp than- I mean..." He stopped yelling

But now the campers were yelling as well

"You already went on a quest, give others a chance!"

"You just want all the glory again!"

"Greedy Poseidon child"

With the new uproar Tantalus smirked "Well... The quest shall be approved, if! I choose who's going, and I choose you! Clarisse Daughter of Ares! You may choose two selective friends to go with you"

"But I was the one who-" Percy tried to reason

Tantalus glared "Do you all know a story? Where stupid children, anger the Great and smart and beloved me? Do you know what happened to that kid? You want it to happen to you?"

With that Percy shut up

I leaned in and whispered to Annabeth, Percy and Tyson, "So we are still going right?"

"Oh definitely" Percy said

______________________________

Okayss man there's this hurricane in our city and it hit yesterday, while I was outside, literally got the storm warning at school, so school was dismissed early but it was too late, it was flooded, then we had to parkour on some of the cars (not a joke, the car owners were like so understanding and let a bunch of students step on their hoods so we can pass) to get to higher ground

It was fun ngl

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar

[m1sa-w1sa]

hay so I was just wondering if you would do a sahsrau where all the PC's (playable characters) are obsessed with reader but when reader gets inside of hsr they are Immediately captured and sold as a slave and the PC's (maybe topaz or himko) fine the reader recognize the reader and all hell breaks lose for who idk

Also if I can can I be a emoji anon (if yes then I'll be 👹 anon)

Forgive us!

Sahsrau x Reader

Tw: Yandere themes, Mentioning ofAbuse ( not going in depth ), NOT PROOFREAD Death/Lil Describing of gore, I am aware that there might be two more mew characters, but they won’t be included becuase I don’t know them all to well at the moment!

I do not support people that think they are ‘ real yanderes ‘ or act on any of the things mentioned, if you do or think about these things please get professional help

A/N: Ty for requesting! I have a lot so they are a little slow but they are still all going to get to! And I’m happy to call you👹 Annon!

•You started playing Hsr when it first came out, you loved the designs and a characters! •But they certainly loved you back! I mean why wouldn’t they? Your just a sweetheart to them! •Kafka and Silver wolf the first ones knowing feeling your presence, hearing your soft voice complimenting them •Next, The Trailblazer, March 17, and Dan Heng knew next then Hiyoko and welt then so and so on •The characters you gotten is when they knew you were there, they KNEW you were with them •They heard your worried voice when one of them is low on health, apologizing over and over •Gepard and March 17 always try to make their shields better, Bailu and Natasha try’s to heal as much as they could, Hiyoko and welt trying to make you proud •Huohuo try’s to be more brave for you, Dr. Ratio always does harder in his studies •Serval playing her best at concerts in your honor, Clara makes sure she prays to you every day •They worshiped you like no other, every place had this one single law ‘ Don’t hurt the divine one.. ‘ •Simple, right? Wrong. When you got transferred to the game you were about to walk around, until a cloth was over your mouth •You woke up in a cage, weak, scrunched up like a dog curled in its own bed as you groaned ‘ She will make us a whole lot of money… ‘ We just can’t get caught.. ‘ ‘ You worry to much… ‘ •2 Women and one Man you heard, one of them pulling you out, throwing you at the wall as you fall down with a loud ‘THUMP!’ •They burned you, cut you, broke bones hardly fed you, blood all over your body •You were hosted at one of the prizes at a auction, Himiko and Welt was there as she looked around, her eyes spotted you, weak, legs shaking (Not what YOU think…) your body bruised, burned, painted with cuts and scratches •Welt quickly saw aswell, his eyes widened, Their grace… Abused like an object..? Slowly golden blood leaked from your forehead, you gotten more dizzy last thing you heard was a stern voice

‘ 1 Million Credits! ‘ •They took you back, not even paying the fee, but, your their god, their CREATOR, your more than just some stupid credits.. •March 17 stayed at the astral express with you, word got out about what happened… everyone was FURIOUS •Bailu, Loucha, and Natasha going to the express to try to help heal your wounds and to keep watch •Clara and Savorog keeping watch outside the room, Argenti, Archeon, Blade, Dr. Raito going to hunt the people down •Jing Yuan and Imbibitor Lunae, Figuring out the gruesomeness ways to make the people suffer •Kafka and Jingilu doing most of the dirty work, blood splattered everywhere •You woke up at so many people by your side it was overwhelming, Being able to talk to your characters made you smile, something you didn’t do in a long while •They are so sorry for not being there for your proper descent, they will do any for your forgiveness your grace

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 6

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: You and Matt discuss baby names and the future. Despite how happy you are with all the romance and support he's giving you, he struggles to open up about the difficult things in his past.

warnings: AFAB Reader. No use of Y/N. Pregnancy and discussion of having a baby.

Notes: Thank you for the patience, I'm back from hiatus for now. It's really frustrating to see this story keep going down in notes from week to week and people not respecting my rules about having their age in their bio. It's also frustrating when people asked to be tagged and then never hearing from them again. And people stealing the gifs I make for each chapter and posting on their own writing with no credit and not taking them down when I ask. It's all made me burn out and not want to participate in this fandom space anymore. So I needed the break. I'll keep writing for now, but if things don't get better, I don't know how much more I wanna do. Fandom spaces aren't ai content mills where you can just take and take and take and expect to not give anything more than a silly heart button that takes you less than a second to push. The things you love are made by real people who take real time to create this free thing that you get to enjoy. Creation takes time and if you want the blogs and writers and artists you love to keep making it, then you need to do better. Rant over.

w/c: 3,575

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks!*

“How about Helen?” Matt suggested

“Ew, no. That was my freshman roommate’s name and she was not a nice person.”

Matt chuckled warmly as he continued to run his hand softly against your back. You were draped across his lap, face down, with your growing bump between his spread legs as he lulled you into relaxation. Just ten days into trimester #2, you had begun to “pop”; bulging belly only able to hide under baggy clothes now.

Colleen reacted exactly as you’d expected when you finally shared the news, smugly declaring she knew you and Matt were compatible but also overwhelmingly happy for you. All of Matt’s friends were ecstatic too. Kirsten immediately set up an appointment with her finance guy so you could figure out getting a college fund started. Karen dropped off a bag full of baby clothes to the apartment twice already and Foggy declared himself the baby’s godfather, Marlon Brando impersonation and all.

“Krystal?”

“Stripper name.” you replied with an eye roll

Matt scoffed, feigning offense at the implication of his suggestion of a name for your sweet unborn baby would certainly lead her to a future career of debauchery.

“How about Amelia?” you countered

Your face was pressed into the sofa but you didn’t need to see him to know that Matt scrunched his face up in disgust above you.

“I’ll consider it only because I love you.” he replied

I love you.

You could practically hear, and you’re pretty sure Matt could too, the real time stop of your blood flowing through your veins. You sat upright to face him, still a little stunned. Matt blankly stared at you with pitiful eyes like a sad abandoned puppy begging at your stoop to come inside from the rain. His mouth was quirked up to one side and his shoulders were practically at his ears with how tense he was. It was painted all across his face that he was clinging on to every clue your body was giving, hoping that just maybe if he listened a little harder, he’d be able to read your thoughts.

“You love me?”

“I— I thought it was obvious. Yeah?”

Say it back, you idiot! You already thought it! At least a dozen times! Why can’t you just say it back?! Damnit!

The sofa underneath you suddenly felt too lumpy, the air in the room too stifling. You felt like your throat was going to close up until oxygen couldn’t pass through and when you tried to swallow and clear it, it just felt drier than a desert. You hoped Matt couldn’t sense the way your palms had been getting more and more sweaty and how your heart sped up as soon as he said those words. Panicked, all you could think to do was lunge forward and kiss him fiercely, feeling him relax into your kiss as he brought his hands up to card through your hair.

“But you still hate Amelia?” you joked

“I really do, yeah.” he chuckled, dejection painted across his face at the fact you had made a joke of what he thought should be a romantic milestone in your relationship

You shifted to sit beside him and leaned your head into his strong bicep, unable to handle looking at his lugubrious expression any longer.

“Any other suggestions?” you asked softly, hoping that if you just ignored it, the awkwardness would go away

“I still like Margaret best. After my mother?”

“Still a no from me, considering I haven’t even met the woman yet. And I don’t love the little you’ve told me about her.”

Matt sighed.

“We’ll get there.”

“What’s the hold up?”

Maybe the hold up was you couldn’t even bare to tell him out loud how you were feeling yet, doofus.

“I told you about how my relationship with her is still complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“I just don’t know if this,” he reached across your body to rub at your bump “will make it better or worse.”

“You— have you even told her about me? Or the baby?”

Now it was your turn to be hurt. Was Matt really that ashamed of you and this life you were building that he couldn’t tell his mom? He rubbed at his temple and sighed again.

“No, I’ve been avoiding seeing her lately.” he replied

“Oh yeah, that’ll fix all your issues.”

Matt’s eyes practically rolled out of his head at your sarcasm.

“Sweetheart, she’s a nun. I just know I’m going to be told how ‘children are a blessing’ and what not. Which is always what she says about all the kids she works with in the orphanage. Meanwhile, she couldn’t even walk five blocks to be a parent to me.”

Your heart broke for Matt, knowing how becoming a father was bringing up all this harm from his past. Would his mom want any relationship with your child? Seeing her possibly love this baby in the way she couldn’t love Matt might devastate him. You didn’t want to put him through that pain, but you wanted your child to know her grandmother.

“Plus, I know how she feels about unwed mothers, considering that’s the only reason she left the church and married my dad. I was an oopsie which is a huge no-no for Catholics,” he continued “She will absolutely bring up us getting married and I do not want to get into it.”

“Oh yeah? I assume she’ll want us to have a big ol��� Catholic wedding too?” you teased, trying to snap Matt out of his rant

“Yeah, but I— wait. Do you? I mean, would you ever want to?”

“Have a three hour wedding with 300 people I barely know watching in a stuffy old building? Um, no.”

“I meant marry me.”

You didn’t quite tense up as much at this mention of marrying Matt like you did at the doctor’s. Warming up to the idea that you and Matt were indeed a serious thing and with the baby on the way, in it for the long haul. It felt too good to be true still. A life, an actual stable and committed life from a man who was proving to you every day he would be there for you.

Mostly.

Except when he missed the gender appointment. You still hadn’t forgiven him for that. But even so, he made you feel seen, special, and even sometimes like you were worthy of the romance and attention he gave you.

You nervously plucked at a pilling spot on the upholstery beneath you, contemplating how to respond.

“Ma- Maybe? I don’t know?” you stammered “I’ve never considered it. Marriage that is! Not about you, specifically. Or anyone for that matter…”

The clacking of his tongue and the way his brows furrowed together let you know that was not the answer he wanted to hear. Wow, you were really winning in the ‘breaking Matt’s heart’ category today.

“Let’s maybe focus on the baby and getting her here and settled.” you offered taking Matt’s hand in yours and placing it on your bump.

You hoped it helped Matt to know it wasn’t a no, but just not something you were ready to think about yet.

“Right.” he agreed “And pick a name that doesn’t suck.”

Matt cowered as you picked up a throw pillow and swung it at him, smacking it away with a giggle.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Your picks don’t suck!” he plead, taking the pillow from you and tossing it aside “But really sweetie, have you looked over the stuff the doctor gave you? We should be thinking about our birth plan.”

“Our!? You’re not the one squeezing a watermelon out of a straw.”

Matt held his hands up in surrender.

“The plan is,” you continued “Go to hospital. Give birth. Fin.”

Matt rolled his eyes, leaning back on the couch and casually throwing his arm back around you.

“Har, har.” he replied sarcastically

“We’ve got time and right now I’m craving pretzels and peanut butter from that German deli in Midtown, so I can’t exactly think straight.”

“What about a home birth? In a birthing pool? Wouldn’t you be more comfortable here?”

“Drugs. Matthew. I need drugs.”

“Yeah? You don’t want to try a natural—”

“Watermelon. Straw.” you said firmly

“Right.”

He kissed the top of your head, pulling you in to a calming hug. Any reservations you gave him tonight clearly weren’t going to hold him back from still giving you his all.

“Whatever happens, I just want you and the baby healthy.”

“Me too.” you agreed

Those three little words you could feel were growing inside you and dancing in the wings ready to make their debut. Even with talk of marriage and him confessing it first, you couldn’t find the strength to say them yet.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you for a few minutes as he continued to hold you.

“Matt?” you asked sheepishly, cutting through the peacefulness

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt nodded, standing up and grabbing his keys and wallet to head up to the German deli.

Another perk of dating a successful and popular lawyer was all the former clients he’d built relationships with, many of whom were happy to welcome Matt into their homes and lives as a thank you for all he did for them. Which is how you ended up at a prime table in the Upper West Side’s most popular restaurant on a busy Saturday night, with a complimentary appetizer and dinner already in your stomach. You were currently staring down an enormous slice of cake sitting on the plate in front of you that the waitress just dropped off. The head chef was a former client of Matt’s who he’d helped in a workers comp case and told him to ‘swing by any time’ for the best meal in town. Boy was he right.

“Hnnggg” the sounds you were making were downright pornographic, pregnancy hormones amplifying the taste of every thing. And right now, this chocolate cake was beyond indulgent.

“Am I at least going to get a bite?” Matt asked with a chuckle

You threateningly waved your fork in his direction as you ran your tongue along your teeth inside your mouth to ensure you tasted every single crumb.

The restaurant was cozy and down to earth, despite how decadent their dishes were. A South American and Italian infusion spot with moody lighting and enough nooks and crannies that your booth was incredibly private. Matt had been nursing a whiskey (also comped by the kitchen) all night and was more laid back than you’d seen him in a while.

You took another sip of your mocktail, preparing for another bite of the heaven-sent dessert.

“You never finished your story. What happened to Foggy and the girl from Punjabi 101?”

“Oh, she moved back to California and married her cousin.”

“You’re joking!”

You loved when Matt laughed, crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes behind his glasses and his damn adorable smile beaming through the dark room.

“Nope. Broke Foggy’s heart. But it was for the best. He never would have gotten with Marcy if she’d stayed.”

“Did he take it the next term? Or drop it since she wasn’t around?”

“Oh no, he took it all 3 years of law school.”

“Has it ever once come in handy?”

“Nope.”

Your threw your head back in laughter, unable to control how amusing you found the story. Matt shook his head as if he was remembering many more stories he wasn’t saying out loud from his and Foggy’s yesteryears.

“Wow, so you and Foggy have been friends since law school?” you inquired

“Yeah, it’s why we started our firm together. He’s the best of the best and there’s no one I’d rather work with.”

“And he’s the reason you stopped, you know, your night job?”

Matt scowled at your question, fidgeting in his seat as he thought of his response. There was a look of melancholy on his face and it reminded you of how he looked when you’d had the conversation about his mother.

“Yes. He— he never liked that part of me. But he’d grown to accept it over the years.”

“And then?”

A despondent sigh left Matt’s lips as he brought his glass to his perfectly pouty lips and downed the rest of his whiskey. You regretted dampening the mood with such a sore subject. But you were curious. There was still so much about his life he hadn’t shared.

“He got hurt. He nearly died. His heart even stopped, I heard it. And it was my fault. Being Daredevil put the people I care about the most at risk.”

“What happened?”

Matt shook his head, waving his hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll ruin the evening. Foggy’s mostly fine now. And I’m not him anymore.”

“And you’re happy about that? To not be him anymore?”

“I’m happy to not complicate my life any more than it already is.”

You stared at your now empty plate, wondering if Matt would ever want to go back to his vigilante life. It was compelling to you when you first discovered his secret, already finding Matt appealing just as the lawyer who bantered with you at work. But the danger of it all made him even sexier in your eyes; the double life, the rumors you’d heard about the type of people he hurt, the outfit. Now you just worried if there were people out there who still wanted revenge for all the years he spent keeping the city safe. Would they ever come after you or the baby?

“I can tell you why I started though.” Matt offered, a tinge of positivity in his voice as he leaned back in his chair

“Yeah?”

“When the accident happened, I was overwhelmed with it all. My hearing, sense of smell, all of it became sharper. I used to just lay awake in bed at night hearing so many sirens throughout the city. Then right after law school, I was in my first apartment. It was a real shit hole of a place. They don’t pay law interns well.”

You smiled at the thought of Matt in his early 20s, probably just as handsome but also adorable and awkward.

“Anyway, I heard it from down the block. A little girl. Her father was coming into her room at night after her mother had gone to bed.”

“Jesus. And you went right over to beat the shit out of the guy?”

“No, no. I did what you’re supposed to do; called the cops, filed a CPS report. But the asshole was clever, he did it in a way that didn’t leave a mark. I had spent the last 7 years in school and studying for the bar to use the system to help people. But then when it wasn’t working, I felt helpless. The law couldn't do anything to help that little girl. But I could. I knew his routine. Waited till he was alone.”

“Please tell me you killed the bastard.”

“No. I don’t kill. Catholic, remember?”

That fact surprised you a little. The stories throughout the city only told of Daredevil’s rage. You admired that Matt could keep it under control enough to not end a life.

“But last I heard” he continued “he’s still eating through a straw.”

Staring over at Matt quietly for a moment, you reached across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. The way he had a sort of moral code made you proud and confirmed all that he had shown you so far; that he was a good man and would help raise your child to be a decent human. But the faltering in his voice when he said it made you think it might not be that simple.

“I didn’t realize it was an accident either.” you remarked “I just kind of assumed you’d always been blind.”

“No. I was 9 when it happened. The last thing I saw was my Dad.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of his father. From hints and passing comments in previous conversations, you knew Jack was very important to Matt. While you respected that he viewed him as a hero, you held a little bit of resentment towards the man for how he left this world. His stupid pride robbed Matt of a life with his dad in it and made much of his son’s life more difficult than it needed to be. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the aftermath of loosing him and the effects of it on a poor child. How the tragedy reverberated through Matt to this day and shaped nearly everything about him. All the more reason you were happy that Matt was not going out as Daredevil anymore. He told you he didn’t want to repeat his parents mistakes. He didn’t want this baby to loose her father.

“Is he who taught you to fight?” you asked “I mean, you didn’t just go out as the Devil one night with no skills. He was a boxer right?”

“Yeah. But he didn’t teach me. My dad wanted me to stay out of the ring, get my education and make something of myself. Stick taught me to fight.”

“Stick? Was that like a video game or?”

“Stick was a person. A person who I’m very glad is not around to force his way into our baby’s life.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“That’s also a conversation for another time.”

You rolled your eyes. You really didn’t appreciate all the stonewalling from Matt tonight. He had demons, who didn’t? But trusting you with that information would only improve your ability to raise this baby together.

“We should head home, it’s getting late.”

The air was crisp as you walked arm and arm down the side walk, taking your time to saunter home and enjoy this cozy date night. You couldn’t help but glance over at Matt, his muscular figure and handsome face accentuated by the harsh shadows cast over him from the streetlights and general city glow.

“What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

He must have felt you staring.

“No.” you answered sheepishly

“Then what is it?”

“You just look really handsome tonight, that’s all.”

“Ah, so you’re ogling me?” he teased

“Oh stop. I can’t admire how attractive my boyfriend is?”

“Only if we talk about how beautiful you are tonight.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. The dress you’re wearing is silky, hugs your body close. I liked the way it felt when I helped you zip it up; cool against your soft skin. And I can tell you feel great in it cause you’re walking a little firmer, a little more confident than normal.”

“Yeah, but that’s not—”

“You smell great too,” he cut you off “I really like the new perfume you got.”

“Matt, I—”

“And your laugh — God! I could listen to it on a loop and not get tired of it.”

You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks. Was that really how Matt ‘saw’ you? Sure, you’d allow him touch your face from time to time, content to let him memorize every curve under his finger tips to get an idea of what you looked like. But he really payed attention to all the little details that you didn’t even think about to paint a picture of you.

“And I know it not just me, baby. There were a lot of hearts that sped up when we walked through the restaurant.”

“I’m 15 weeks pregnant, they were probably just thinking about what a whale I look like.”

The way he pursed his lips at your comment distracted you from how his hand was creeping up, reaching under your jacket to give you a tickle.

“Hey!” you giggled “Matty!”

He relented, broad grin clearly delighted by your reaction. His hand found yours, pulling you close to kiss you, still laughing into your lips as he did.

"I love you." he affirmed

"I know."

"Ah, the Han Solo. Classic." he teased, happy to still give you the space you needed until you were ready to say it back

“You’re trouble, Murdock.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause all I wanted to do was go home and groan about how full I am from dinner. But now you’re making me want to go home and be full of something else.”

Matt quirked up his eyebrows at your forwardness, mind running through all the possibilities you had in mind.

“I guess I’m the good kind of trouble then?”

You rolled your eyes as you kissed him again. Matt’s arm slipped around your waist, holding you close. Though you flinched a little at the movement, worried he might tickle you again. His other hand roamed down your curves, coming to rest on your bottom and giving it a flirty squeeze.

“Matthew! We’re in public.”

“Oh come on sweetheart, I’m listening closely and no one’s on the block right now. We could hide in that door way and—”

Matt paused suddenly, eyes darting back and forth behind his glasses. He did that thing when he heard something, tilting his head like a dog to a whistle. You hated when he did that, your anxiety rising wondering if he just heard a car honk or something more sinister.

“What? Matt, what is it?”

Matt didn’t answer, keeping both hands on your waist as he stepped back and squatted down.

“I can hear it.” he finally spoke, barely above a whisper.

“Hear what?”

“The baby. I can hear her heartbeat. It’s faint. And fast. But it’s there.”

NEXT CHAPTER

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[allmightstoehair]

— ➔﹒ { ㅤ꒰ — No Idea ꒱ }.’ㅤ ۪ ୧, Katsuki Bakugo—

GENRE: established relationship | slice of life oneshot | post-timeskip. PAIRING: timeskip!bakugo x fem!reader

SUMMARY: After a long, grueling mission, Pro Hero Katsuki Bakugo returns home to find chaos—his kids running wild and his exhausted spouse barely holding it together.

❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵ ﹏﹏﹏❵

“Mori! Stop using your Quirk on your brother!—“ you say with a high tone as you try to keep the kids from literally killing each other. They’re scrambling to get to each other and you have your hands grasping their shirts to keep them apart. Your hair is messy, clothes filled with food that went everywhere when Kaisuo, your son, got upset with you over having to eat his whole plate. Mori was trying to use her Quirk to get back at Kaisuo for shoving her in the gut. You would’ve expected they’d be more behaved since Katsuki was their dad, but when he was at home, they ran the household.

Heavy boots thudded against the hardwood as Katsuki Bakugo trudged into the kitchen. You didn’t hear him. Sweat matted his forehead and his blonde hair stuck to it. His uniform was torn at the edge, soot smudged down the side of his face, and his gauntlets hung loosely at his sides. Sweat clung to his skin, hair matted to his forehead.

“The hell is going on?” You looked at him with deadpan exhaustion, arms still extended, hands still clutching your children by the shirts like unruly shopping bags.

“Hey,” you said, breathless. “You’re home.”

You dropped your arms, finally releasing them as they sat on the floor with defeated little plops. “They were trying to kill each other. Kaisuo threw mashed potatoes at me. Mori almost electrocuted the dog. There’s something growing in the corner of the kitchen that may or may not be alive now.”

Katsuki tilted his head. “…Mashed potatoes?”

“Don’t ask.”

A beat of silence passed. You let your hands fall to your sides, the shake in your breath more emotional than physical. “I really tried today, Kats.”

He walked up to you without a word and cupped the back of your head, pulling you into his chest. You didn’t fight it. You just sagged into him like your bones had been waiting for permission. The kids just stared up at you both, lips parted as they saw the interaction. Katsuki kissed your head and let you go. “Lemme handle it,” he murmured.

“You just came from work, baby, I got—“

“Go sit’own,” he put his hand on your waist and moved you to the side.

You nodded, finally letting go of whatever thread you were still holding on to. Your knees carried you to the couch before your brain caught up. The moment your body hit the cushions, it was like someone flipped a switch—you melted.

Katsuki turned to the children, arms crossing, the familiar burn of a scowl settling over his face. “So you brats wanna explain to me why you were actin’ like jerks all day? What, does my leaving give you the right to disrespect your mom?” He asks. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to, but it was enough to make the children’s legs buckle under pressure.

Mori’s spark fizzled our instantly and she deflated. They both looked solemn, like they felt bad almost immediately. Their eyes darted to the floor in shame and Kaisuo kicked his foot to scrape the floor. “So you’re not gonna talk.” Katsuki said, more of an obvious statement than a question. He shifted his weight and dropped his arms, his tone sharpening just enough to dig in. “You think keepin’ quiet’s gonna fix what you did? That silence counts as sorry?”

“No,” Mori said softly, almost a whisper.

“We just didn’t think—” Kaisuo started, but Katsuki cut him off with a raised hand. “You didn’t think. You acted. Like punks,” he said, voice even but edged. “Your mom’s been run ragged all damn day tryin’ to keep you alive and fed and happy. You treated her like crap. And I don’t give a damn how ‘bored’ or ‘mad’ you were—you don’t treat her like that.“

He let the words sit for a moment, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Start cleaning the mess you made. Then you go say sorry to your mom like you mean it. You don’t fix this, we’re training until your arms fall off.” He wasn’t serious about the extensive training, however it was an effective way to get them to do what they were told.

It wasn’t long before the shuffling footsteps of hesitant children made their way back into the living room. Mori clung to the hem of her oversized shirt, fingers twisting it nervously, and Kaisuo stood behind her like he was hoping her apology would cover them both.

Katsuki didn’t say anything as he made his way over. He just tilted his head toward you, giving them the space to make it right. Mori stepped forward first, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m sorry for treating you bad, mama. It wasn’t nice and you should be treated better.” She murmured. Kaisuo’s brows furrowed, a familiar expression you’d seen on his father. He was reluctant, and the most stubborn so it was hard for him to apologize.

“Sorry, mom. We shouldn’t have yelled—or used our Quirks on each other—or threw food—“ his sniffled, holding his arm in shame as he cried with an angry expression.

Your heart ached and almost immediately, you kicked yourself off of the couch, crouching to their height to wrap them both in a gentle embrace. They shuffled over carefully and sat down on either side of you, heads ducked low.

A kiss to each of their heads. “I know you’re still learning. And I know sometimes it’s hard. But you two have to understand—when you act wild like that, and you don’t listen, it wears me down. I love you, but I need you to help me too.”

They both nodded. “We’ll do better.” The kids said simultaneously. You smiled and looked at Katsuki who huffed and made his way out of the living room because he knew you had it handled.

“Thank you. Now, both of you go brush your teeth and get into bed. You have that playdate at the Kaminari’s.” You say as your grip on them loosens. They both kiss your cheek and run off to their bedroom. With Katsuki’s absence, you wander off into the house looking for your spouse. After finding him in your bedroom, you smile. He was in the middle of pulling his briefs up and following them with a pair of black shorts, seemingly fresh out the shower. His chest adorned with scars he’s had since he was a teen. The sight always tugged at your heart. You trudge lightly into the room and he doesn’t look up at you. He knows you’re there.

“How was the mission?” You ask him. Katsuki shrugs and rolls his shoulders.

“It was fine.” He responded flatly. You could understand his exhaustion, and something weighing him down that he probably wasn’t saying. You move to sit on your knees on the bed, and see him sit beside you. Shifting yourself closer, you watch as he leans on the headboard, looking at a packet of paperwork in his hands. His glasses are on and you look up, biting your lip stupidly at the sexy sight.

“You’re so handsome when you wear those,” he looks at your expression and snorts. “So I’m ugly when I don’t, huh?”

You blink. “No! Shut up you know what I mean!” He chuckled, low and gravelly in his chest, his fingers still holding onto the packet but his attention now fully on you. “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, adjusting the glasses on his face with one hand.

You rolled your eyes and leaned forward, resting your chin on his shoulder, peering down at the paperwork like it was a forbidden mystery. “What’s that for?” you asked, your voice soft, more curious than anything else.

He let out a slow breath, the kind that came from long days and longer thoughts. “Just some agency crap. Assessments. Scheduling. Bullshit about partnerships.”

You hummed, your fingers brushing along his bicep absentmindedly. You turn your face to press your lips onto the smooth skin. “Mm. Sounds exciting.” You tease sarcastically.

He sighs and tosses the packet aside on the nightstand. He glances in your direction again and smirks.

Katsuki smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching up with that familiar cocky ease. “Y’know, I should’ve known you weren’t actually interested in the paperwork. You just wanted an excuse to touch up on me, you little shit.”

You scoffed, dragging your lips along his arm again with exaggerated slowness. “Can’t I show appreciation for my husband’s hard-earned muscles without being accused of something?”

“You’re such a dumbass,” he cooed, leaning towards you to catch your lips in a passionate kiss. He grunted, moving his hands to grab your waist as you pulled yourself up and onto his lap. Katsuki groaned, your weight pressing down on him further relieving the tension he felt from the hard labor of today.

Katsuki’s fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused palms dragging up the soft skin of your back as he let out another low groan. “Damn it… you have no idea how much I needed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and frayed at the edges. He was awfully touchy, and as long as as you’ve known him, he’s never this needy.

“‘Missed me, hm?” You mumble against his lips and he furrows his brows.

“You have no idea.”

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 8

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

⚠️Caution before reading⚠️

There's some deep conversations in this chapter so I advise to read with caution. A warning is there's heavy talk of Woojin, please remember the names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters are based after. The actions, views, personalities and characteristics of these characters do not in any way shape or form reflect their real selves. This story is all for fun so please keep it that way. No hate. It took me a good two days to write this chapter with many breaks in between. I wasn't sure how I should write Y/n's backstory and had decided on trying to make it more relatable. For anyone who's used to reading my stories either on here or other platforms know I write a lot of things based on my own personal experiences so I can write better endings especially with comfort characters. This series is no different. Please know that I did exaggerate parts of it and everything that happened was years ago and I have gotten away from it. Thank you now please enjoy.

Chapter 8

Y/n’s dry heat lasted four days. Four days of them all taking turns cuddling with her in the nest keeping her fed and hydrated. Every morning and night Minho would kick everyone out of the den and apply the creams to her now mostly healed wounds and make sure she takes her medicine before helping her change into new clothes having been sweating through the previous ones each time. 

The worst day had to have been the second when she became super emotionless and just seemed to be a shell of a person. Her scent even became almost nonexistent. But they stayed with her especially when it caused her to sub-drop that night and they barely got any sleep trying to make sure she didn’t drop too deeply. 

They all slept in the nest with her every night, well except for Hyunjin. He didn’t come home the first night and snuck in the second night when they were all dealing with Y/n’s sub-drop. It was the third morning when her scent went back to normal from it that his beta started telling him she’s his fated mate causing his stomach to drop and his heart to ache. 

He would go downstairs occasionally, pretending to grab a drink or food and would subtly check in on her. That night he silently cried himself to sleep on the couch wanting to be close to her but knew he had fucked up. The fourth night after he cried himself to sleep again Changbin grabbed him from the couch and carried him to join everyone else in the nest. 

Hyunjin woke up the fifth morning in the nest with Jeongin hovering over him curiously. “Hi Innie.” 

“You better apologize to her.” The alpha tries to act dominant but it doesn’t last long as he pounces on him. “I’ve missed you, I hate when you act like that.” 

“I’ll apologize, I promise.” Hyunjin pulls the pup closer to him, happy to be with his mates again. 

“Mins going to kick us out soon to do what he needs to.” Jeongin whispers nuzzling into the betas neck.

And the youngest was right, as soon after Minho kicked them all out and moved to the omega to wake her up. “Come on kitten.”

“Let me sleep, Min.” She rolls over.

“Look at me, omega.” He places a hand in her hair and rubs gently as she whines and looks up at him.

The alpha sighs in relief when he sees her eyes are no longer foggy as they have been.

“You okay baby?”

“My body aches a bit.” She yawns and stretches. “And I need a shower.”

He smiles down at her, happy the dry heat is over. “How about a bubble bath instead? I don’t think any of us are ready for you to be alone quite yet.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve established already that you need to take me on a date first before you can get my clothes off.” She smirks causing him to give an evil grin.

“Kitten, I’ve been taking your clothes off for the last four days.”

“Yah!” She blushes in embarrassment and quickly covers her face with one of the nearby blankets. “I’m sorry you guys had to do all of that.” She whimpers and Minho grabs the top of the blanket pulling it down to see her face.

“You don’t have to apologize for that, baby.” His hand finds its way back into her hair. “You never have to apologize for things like this. We’ll take care of you, always, no matter what. It’s what packs do, especially for their mates.”

“But I’m not even pack.” She frowns. “And I’m not mated to you guys.”

“You are pack, no one can say otherwise.” He smiles at her. “And we’ll get you mated to us soon enough.”

She blushes again and he can’t help but fawn over how cute she is as he moves his hands down to her sides and starts tickling her.

“No, Min, stop.” She laughs trying to wiggle away from him.

“Only if you promise to stop frowning so much.”

“Okay, okay, I give.” She giggles, he stops and smiles down at her.

“There’s that beautiful smile.” 

Chan pokes his head in the door. “I heard her laughing, I’m guessing it’s over?”

“Yeah.” Y/n sits up properly and the alpha sighs walking into the room moving to the nest. 

“You scared us a little, baby girl.” He pulls her to his chest. “But you’re good now and that’s what matters. How are you feeling?”

“A bit achy and in need of a shower.”

Chan frowns a little at this. “How about a bubble bath?”

“That’s what I told her too.” Minho smiles.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need all of you sitting in the bathroom while I take a bath. I think I’ll be okay alone.” 

“For our sanity, please just let one of us sit in there with you.” Chan tries to negotiate. 

“Fine.” The omega crosses her arms. “But it’s going to be Felix who does.”

“Deal.” Both alphas agree.

“I’ll go start it and let Lix know.” Minho stands up.

“Make sure to use Hyunjins expensive bath salts and bubbles.” Chan smirks. “He deserves it after how he was acting.”

Minho nods with a smirk and leaves the den and Chan turns back to the girl.

“My memories are a bit hazy from the last few days but I remember Seungmin helping me when it first started.” She whispers. “But I don’t remember Hyunjin ever being around. Is he still not happy?”

“Well I’ll tell you this.” The alpha coos at her. “Jinnie cried himself to sleep on the couch the last two nights and Bin had to bring him to the nest last night. He hasn’t said anything about you being her for the last two days and considering that and the fact that he was not so subtly trying to check on you, I think he’s realized how badly he fucked up. Just like Minnie did.” 

Y/n nods but also feels guilty for being the reason the oldest beta was crying himself to sleep.

“Sooo…” she rings her fingers together. “What’s going to happen now?” 

“You’re gonna get washed up and it’s the last day you need to take the antibiotics and do the creams.” He explained. “And then we’re gonna sit down as a pack and discuss everything.” 

She nods and starts to overthink about how the pack meeting will go but doesn’t get to worry for long as Felix rushes in tackling her into the nest.

“Hi sunshine.” He purrs. “I’m so glad to see you’re better now.” 

“Hi Lixie.” She nuzzles into him.

The older omega turns to Chan. “Can I take her now?” 

The alpha can’t help but smile at the two. “Yes baby, you can take her.” 

Felix grabs her hand, dragging her out of the nest and into the large bathroom on the first floor where Minho is just turning the taps off for the bath. The room smells of bath salts and the tub is full of bubbles. 

“I put your clothes on the counter.” Minho motions. “And I’ll be back afterwards to help you apply the creams. Lix keep an eye on her. Shout if you guys need anything.”

 Felix turns away as she strips and gets into the bath and once she tells him he’s good he sits against the wall next to the tub and talks with her as she soaks. He helps her wash her back then her hair and once she was ready to get out he left to get Minho again as she dried off and changed into shorts and a bra for the alpha to help her with the creams one last time and after getting her shirt on they head into the dining room.

“Y/n.” Seungmin comes over to her. “I’m really sorry…”

The omega hugs him tightly, surprising him. “It’s okay.” He relaxes and hugs her back. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Of course pup.” He buries his nose into her neck.

“I’m also really sorry for how I acted.” Hyunjin stands nearby. “I know it’s going to take some time with everything I said but I’ll work on it as I know now that you are our omega.”

Y/n smiles at him and nods as Seungmin lets her go and everyone moves to sit around the table to discuss everything. 

“So first things first Y/n.” Chan starts, sitting across from her. “You wanted to tell us about what happened before we found you. If you’re not ready yet that’s okay, just let us know when you are.”

“Hyunjin and Seungmin also wanted to explain themselves for how they acted.” Changbin explains, sitting between the two betas. “It will also help give you some understanding about the pack's history.”

Seungmin sighs, leaning back against the chair. “As you saw in the pictures in the tenth bedroom upstairs, we had another pack member, another alpha. That was his room.”

“His name was Woojin.” Hyunjin crosses his arms. “It was back before all of us officially became each other's mates but we had all been discussing it as we understood we were each other's fated mates. We had also all agreed we would be looking for you, our fated omega.”

“But Woojin had other ideas.” Felix growls which was the first time she’s ever heard something like that from him.

“Woojin didn’t see omegas the same way as we do.” Hyunjin watches the omega like beta. “He was very much not accepting of how Felix is when he finally had the confidence to explain his omega tendencies to us.”

Y/n grabs the other omega’s hand for both his and hers comfort. 

“We also saw it very quickly as he had started treating Lix poorly.” Jeongin grits his teeth. “Was treating him as though he wasn’t a person and we couldn’t accept that.”

“I understand that.” She whispers looking down at her and Felix’s intertwined hands. 

All of their hearts break hearing her words. 

“Innie was a late presenter and was a pretty fresh alpha at the time.” Minho pulls the youngest to him. “Because of it he was still learning but he knew to be protective of Lix as though he was his omega and it caused a nasty fight to break out.”

“We knew we couldn’t keep someone like him around.” Chan’s fist is clenched on the table. “We told him he had to leave which caused an even worse fight.”

“There was blood.” Jisung shudders. “And later we found out he had assaulted someone in town.”

“That’s why we keep his room off limits.” Seungmin motions upstairs. “Whatever he left and any photos with him in it the alphas packed up in boxes and left them in there.”

“After that we all agreed for our sake that eight is fate.” Hyunjin whispers. “Why Minnie and I weren’t happy about your presence here. We were afraid of something like that again. Getting attached just for you to do something to hurt us and leave.”

Y/n nods in understanding, unsure what to even say after hearing all of that as she’s still looking down at hers and Felix’s hands. She tried to speak a few times, opening her mouth only for nothing to be said.

Chan gets up and walks over to her chair pulling it out a bit so he can kneel in front of her. “What’s going on in that head of yours, baby girl?”

“A lot.” She mumbles looking at him. “Everything you guys had said as well as me trying to figure out how to tell you my situation.”

“You don’t have to tell us yet if you aren’t ready.” 

“No.” She shakes her head. “You guys need to know.”

“Are you sure?” Felix squeezes her hand. 

She nods and Jisung scoots over to the empty chair on his other side so Chan can take his seat to be next to the omega. 

“Like Innie, I presented late.” She sighs. “My family consists of mostly betas. The only alphas being my grandfather, uncle and youngest cousin. I’m the only omega in several generations in the whole pack. Both my parents, older brother and four younger siblings are all betas. As well as the rest of my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. Most other pack members are betas with the occasional alpha.We all originally thought I was one too until I was seventeen and had my first heat. Even before then though I was treated differently.”

“My grandfather is the pack alpha. I was the oldest girl so there were a lot of expectations put on me that I was never able to meet. From a young age, every family or pack event I was the one to do everything. Clean, help cook, set everything up while all the other kids got to play. They would tell me to do several things at the same time and if I didn’t get something done in the time they wanted because I was doing the other stuff first I was reprimanded and punished. If my older brother tried to help me I was reprimanded or punished for putting my load on him instead of just doing it myself.”

“What would they do?” Jisung asks, leaning his head on Chan's arm. 

“At first it was just more chores that would just get stupider, like dust underneath of the dining table or not let me play with the other kids at all or say I didn’t deserve presents on Christmas and my birthday.” She sighs. “As I got older it became I wasn’t allowed to eat or no one was to talk to me for the whole day. Then it was all of that and I was locked in the basement away from everyone for a few hours. Nothing to really physically harm me as my grandfather wanted to look good as the pack alpha.”

Chan looks down at her still slightly bruised wrist with a raised brow. “I’ll get to that.” She whispers. “Everyone in our pack lived in the neighborhood so we were to always put on an act that we were the perfect family.” Y/n couldn’t help but to chuckle as she shook her head. “But we were far from that. My older brother never wanted to come around so my family would use the excuse of how hardworking he is, being busy with school and work. My parents separated and my dad left the pack and mated with an alpha female ten years younger than him and had my four younger siblings. My mom was a verbally, emotionally and mentally abusive alcoholic and anytime she fucked up, pissing her parents off they took it out on me. Would ignore me for weeks or months until I apologized, for I never even knew what, just for it to happen again not long after. Would “forget” to pick me up from school, leaving me there after they’d get my cousins. Prioritized everything my cousins had over anything I had. The worst having been the first time she went to rehab when I was fourteen.”

The omega takes in a deep breath as Felix pulls her closer to him for comfort and Chan places a hand on her thigh. “When I presented my family’s first reaction was to find a doctor who would administer the suppressant injections. The pack didn’t know and they were gonna make sure it stayed that way so every month, on the first, I was taken to that doctor to get the injection done. Wasn’t pleasant, it was painful, felt like it was burning in my veins for the first twenty four hours. I still went to school and graduated high school, even took a year of college. My mom was the main one who kept my food intake restricted to protein shakes and salads. Said that if I ate anything other than that then I would start to become curvier like an omega and they couldn’t have that. She got worse and she went to rehab for the second time when I was nineteen. Then again when I was twenty, then twenty two.”

“And again last week.” The boys were all shocked by this as their eyes widened. “My grandparents said I should stay with them while she's there since my older brother is nowhere to be found. Well at least that’s what they think, he was fed up with them and our mom that he moved to the northern side of Seoul and cut contact with all of them, but I’m the only one who knows that as he’s only kept in contact with me for the last year. He had tried to stay around as long as he could for my sake but he just couldn’t. I don't blame him. I should have realized that staying with my grandparents was a bad idea… They treated me as their maid and slave. I was fed up after the first day and told them I was going back to my house, that I’d be fine by myself. My grandfather said I don’t get to talk to them like that and how I’m a spoiled little bitch that they’ve been going easy on. How they’ve been so nice to me to help keep the illusion that I’m a beta but what they were telling me to do was how an actual omega is to be treated and I should act like one. I yelled at them about how they hate me being an omega and won’t let me be my true self so why would they treat me as such now?”

“That really pissed my grandfather off since he grabbed my wrist as hard as he could, dragging me across the house before… throwing me down the basement stairs. He continued to yell at me as I had gotten up trying to run up the stairs and maybe get past him but he blocked my exit causing me to run into him. After I fell back onto the top step he kicked me in the ribs pushing me down the concrete stairs again, hitting every step on the way down to the bottom. He shut and locked the door and turned the power off down there.” Y/n could feel how angry they all are at this point, the alphas growling softly, the betas clenching their fists, jaws locked, and Felix is now holding her protectively. “Even though I couldn’t see I could feel the bruising and the gash on my arm bleeding. I was kept down there for three days in complete darkness, with nothing to eat or drink. The day you found me was my aunt's birthday so they were letting me out to set up and prepare for it. It was the only opportunity I had so as soon as I was let upstairs I ran for it out the door, only able to grab my car keys on my way out. They yelled at me that if I leave then to never come back, saying that the family and pack would be better off without me. I drove as far as I could with what gas I had left. I thought about going to my brothers but I knew I didn’t even have enough gas to make it to the city or any money to get more. So when my car dinged in need of gas I pulled over as the first public place I saw.”

“The park.” Jisung is in tears as he clings onto Chan and Y/n nodes as she can feel Felix shaking as he holds her, knowing he’s also crying as he buries his face in her neck.

“What would you have done if we hadn’t been there?” Chan grips her thigh. 

“I honestly don’t know.” She whispers and grabs his hand trying to hold back her own tears.

“What do you wanna do now?” Minho hugs Jisung from behind as he leans over to look at her. “If you wish, we can take you to your brother's place.”

“Minho?” Jeongin lowly growls. 

“No Innie, he’s right.” Changbin sighs. “We said it was up to you, pretty girl. If you want to stay you’re welcome to but we aren’t going to force you. So we can take you to your brother if that’s what you want.”

“But you have to promise to keep in touch with us if you do.” Hyunjin smiles at her.

“You guys truly want me to stay?” She looks at each of them in hope. “All of you?”

They all nod in agreement giving a course of ‘yes’s’.

“Then I’d like to please stay.” She whispers and they all sigh in relief. “Is there any chance I’d be able to call my brother though, so I can tell him what happened and that I’m alright?”

“Of course, baby girl.” Chan lifts her chin to look at him. “Just let one of us know when and you can use our phones to do so.”

“We need to take you to get clothes here soon, while we do that we can get you a new phone set up too.” Jeongin stands up and comes around to pull her from Felix to hug her. “That way you will be able to stay in contact with him. You’re safe now, we promise that you’ll never have to go back to your grandparents again. You’re a part of our pack now.”

“Thank you.” She tears up.

Tag list: @pixie0627 @sinfulfic @estella-novella @mbioooo0000 @ms-flowergirl

@blindspot143 @ihrtlix @arishoriasims @fic-for-readers @motheraiya55

@hwangrfrnd @lxvxchxrlxttxbxrsx22-blog @juskz @borahae-reads @dreamerwasfound

@galaxy4489 @kayleefriedchicken @lostgirlinthewoodss @catkight @royal-shinigami

@notevenheretbh1 @passionandsuga @m00njinnie @sukss

[avifaunaa]

Omg I NEED a Drabble of how Jackie reacted/treated Shauna and Lottie after the ending of Share Your Soul With Me it was so good ❤️ 😭

Authors Note: because i needed to know too

Masterlist

SYSWM: 1, 2

Summary: What happens when three dominant Alphas in a limited space are displeased at one another? Well.

Content Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, pack dynamics, possessive behavior, some brief smut, dominance posturing, Jackie, Shauna, and Lottie being stupid, angst, fluff

You were going to commit an atrocity.

Granted being a newly mated Omega may make that somewhat difficult and there weren't many things you could do that could be worse than what you had to do to survive.

It had been around three months since your heat and it was better -- sort of. You had noticed a change in the dynamics of the pack considerably; you were fed the meatiest parts of foods, and given water first once it was cooled after being boiled.

It was discontenting for a number of reasons. You were used to pulling your weight and doing as much as everyone else in the cabin and now they seemed to come to an agreement that you do less. You ignored these comments and instead did your duties as normal, but agreed to allow everyone their little slip ins of extra items if it soothed their Alpha and Beta hindbrains.

Snow had melted and the warmth had returned -- making being outside ten times more bearable and the lake once again usable.

The first time you bathed in the lake on the warmest day since winter's end, Shauna and Lottie took you into the forest and fucked their scents back into you.

When you wore something of Van's while your clothes dried after being washed, Shauna ripped it off of you and had you suck her off until she came all over your face and tits then proceeded to keep you knotted in the attic for at least three hours while Lottie did her chores.

Jackie hated it -- all of it. Her need to protect you as an Alpha and your sister were nearly overflowing and you hating seeing her unable to do what her instincts told her to do. She knew in truth, you were in no danger -- none. She trusted Shauna and Lottie with her life, and by extension, yours.

But she hadn't looked at them in the eyes properly for those three long months even aft er they'd made the effort both on their parts and because they knew how it pained you.

You split time between their nest and Jackie's. Every two days going back and forth to curl up next to the three Alphas that meant the entire world to you. This would have happened whether or not Jackie was taking it badly, as Jackie would not have been welcomed in another Alpha's nests.

Still you did not like doing it while these emotions were severe.

Dinner was a horrid affair these days. Jackie had decided the pack could do with eating dinner outside by the lake where the fire cracked under the stars. Mari had made a soup from forest garlic and rabbit that Shauna had caught. Your bowl was filled first, and the most, as usual.

"Here -- just --" Jackie was trying to fill your bowl again with more of hers once yours was empty at the same time as Shaunamoved to do the same and both Alphas on either side of you froze, meeting gazes.

"Do not fight," you said without turning to look at either of them.

"Fight?" Jackie repeated lightly as she tilted her bowl just slightly so some of her soup poured into your bowl. "We won't do that, Watson."

You closed your eyes as Shauna's scent started swirling around you.

"She's our mate, Jackie," Shauna told the redhead in a low, warning tone. "I know you're not happy with how it turned out --"

Jackie laughed lowly. "I trusted you with her safety and comfort, and she comes back with a mating mark on her neck."

Lottie's emotions were spiraling too, though she physically showed no change. "And yet, Jackie, she seems to enjoy being our mate -- our partner. We do more than fuck."

Mari choked just as Jackie broke out in a cold snarl, standing up at the same time Shauna did.

This was a fight that would take a good old shouting match to fix. But Jackie was never able to drop people -- and she would not drop Shauna over this.

Even when Shauna through the first punch, and the pack shuffled around and yelped in shock as the two pack leaders broke into a fight.

Misty met your eyes from across the fire and rested her chin on her fist.

"Can you kill them for me?" you mouthed across the flame.

She only smirked.

[sirxlla]

Fresh Air & Wheat Fields

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

Warnings: Fluff, Long

Prompt: How you met Clark

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts. (Tagged @preciouslilmonster )

-With that said, it's all under the cut-

You are the daughter of Poison Ivy, kidnapped at a young age, and taken to Stagg Labs in the middle of buttfck nowhere Kansas. They treated you like a lab rat, gave you a number, and kept you out of the sun so the chlorophyll in your skin couldn't photosynthesis into power.

Recently some new security guard left the cell door open after your daily shot. Such an idiot, you waited til shift change, which was about a ten-minute amount of time where no one was there. You stood in the sunlight through the window, your skin turning a beautiful green color. It's now or never, so you shattered the window and ran.

The shift change took much longer than usual, which gave you extra time to get off the lab property, but where would you go? You don't even know where you ar-

"I can't think about that right now." You reminded yourself as you continued to run, you took in the little water that formed into dew on the grass you ran through. You ran until exhaustion, falling down face-first in the middle of a wheat field.

Clark's father called him down to investigate something he saw out of the corner of his eye on the edge of the property while sitting on the porch swing. Clark approached the spot with cautiousness; he could hear breathing from even where he stood on the porch with his father. He knows there's something there, but what is it is the question.

Clark got closer and pushed through the wheat, a sick-looking green woman. His eyes narrowed with confusion as his heart filled with compassion. He shrugged off his tee shirt and wrapped it around you, picking you up with ease.

Once Clark got into the house he set you on the couch, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and laying it over your naked body. Jonathan saw the numbers on your green skin and freaked out. He wanted to reach for the phone to call the police. Martha gently grabbed his wrist as she saw Clark's worried expression.

"Does she not deserve a chance? The same one you once gave me, Father?" His crystal gaze met his father's with compassion and worry. He already knew Clark had made up his mind. "Please, I will take care of her myself."

Martha and Jonathan nodded their heads. He was definitely Martha's son, maybe not by blood but in compassion and love. Clark raced up to his room to get some of his own clothes, and he swiftly put them on you, keeping his eyes closed the entire time but brief glances to make sure he wasn't hurting you.

Your forehead is burning up, and he gently blew on it to help lower your temperature. He waited on you hand and foot for three days until he saw you begin to wake.

Clark saw you shoot up, and he very quickly held up his hands to show you he wasn't a threat. The air was clean, it smelt of different plants, it smelt full of life, even rain, maybe a few miles away. Your eyes filled with wonder as you got used to the new feelings filling your senses.

"Ca- Can you talk?" Clark asked quietly so as not to overwhelm you, slowly lowering his hands as he saw you nod. "Are you hungry?"

"I can eat?" You asked with pure happiness. The lab only fed you on "special" occasions, but for the most part, they just let your body photosynthesize the minuscule amount of light you would get. Clark's face filled with pity; he could tell there was a lot more about you that he didn't know, but none of it felt like it might be dangerous.

"Yeah, you can eat. Are eggs okay? I can get you some juice or water or something." He asked as he moved over to the kitchen, still watching you from across the room.

"Eggs and water?!" You asked with pure excitement, very quickly getting up to go over to him, not even really noticing the clothes or the fact that you got up too quickly. Your vision started to black, and before you knew it, like in the blink of an eye, he was holding you up so you didn't fall to the floor. He helped you to your seat, and slowly let go of you with a kind smile, you're adorable to him.

"Stay here, you're weak." He rounded the table to make you breakfast, grabbing you a glass of water which you downed within almost a second of him giving it to you.

"Woah, okay. I guess you really need a lot more water." He grabbed a gallon jug of water and a bendy straw and pushed it over to you.

"Drink it slowly; you don't wanna throw up." He said before you nodded in compliance and he moved to crack the eggs into a bowl, all twelve in the carton. He was sure you'd definitely eat them all, and if you didn't eat them all, then he would eat what was left.

"What's your name?" You asked whilst taking a breath away from drinking the water. You noticed his curly black hair and blue eyes, he was definitely prettier than the men Stagg hired to experiment on you or keep you in line.

"My name's Clark. What's yours?" He asks as he makes sure not to get any shell in the egg before he whisks them, adding salt and pepper.

"They call me my number or Project Dalia...I think I remember my mom calling me Y/N, but I don't remember it very well. I've been in a lab for so long." Your brows furrowed as you try to remember your past. Clark tenses his jaw as he hears how they'd call you a number, how inhumane.

"You aren't ever going back there if I can help it. I promise." He said with a certainty that made your heart leap, no one had ever advocated for you, and his unnecessary kindness made you feel safe.

You silently watched him as you slipped your water slowly like he had requested, your chin resting on your palm as you watched him cook the eggs. He plated the food and told you to eat slow but take as much as you want. You started eating before suddenly someone knocked on the farmhouse's front door...

Who is it? Vote here. 🫶🏻.

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

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[strnilolo]

“i’ll do it”

summary: just chris sturniolo taking off your makeup after a night out together :)

word count: 650

warnings: use of y/n & n/n (nickname), lots of dialogue, pure fluff, established relationship, chris x reader, lowercase intentional.

an; two posts in one day?? also i will be posting from this account from now on, i sacrificed my old account for this, so be happy haha.

||masterlist coming soon||

coming home for the night, you place your bag onto the couch and sit down to take off your heels. you and chris had been out, without nick and matt, to a small get together with friends.

“i’m so hungry, do you want anything n/n?” chris is in the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat.

“im okay, thank you. i had some of the chicken at brodies house.” “im so tired i dont even want to take off my clothes” you groan, falling backwards over the arm of the couch.

“put your legs down goofy, you’re in a dress” nick comes out of his room, pushing your legs back down.

“i didn’t know you were awake” you smile at nick, slowly pushing yourself off the boys’ couch.

“i'm always lurking, y/n. always” nick joked in an odd voice. the boys always seemed to make weird voices when they were excited, must be a triplet thing.

“nick what are you saying, dude, and quit breathing down my neck” chris shoved his brother off, spatula in hand as he flipped the grilled cheese in the pan.

“where were you guys even at? you missed me and matt on instagram live.”

“you know my friend brodie right? she invited me to a little get together but i didn’t really know anyone so i made chris come” you explain, hopping onto the counter next to the stove. chris puts a hand over the hot eye, ensuring you don’t touch it by accident.

“you guys are sickening” nick scoffs, walking out of the kitchen to his room.

“goodnight!” you call jokingly, knowing he really finds the two of you cute.

finishing his dinner, chris taps your leg, silently signaling you to jump down off of the kitchen counter.

“let’s go to bed, i’ll eat in my room” chris begins to walk up the stairs to his room, you following in suit.

entering his room, chris sets the plate down onto his desk. before you sit on the bed yourself, he stops you.

“don’t sit on my bed in your outside clothes, nasty. change first, then you can sleep in my bed.” groaning loudly, you comply. changing into a tank top and halloween pajama pants, you finally are allowed to get into bed next to your boyfriend. however, that’s still not enough for him. just as you start to get comfortable, chris objects, interupting you again.

“WAIT! don’t you have to take off your makeup?” chris eyes you before you place your head on the pillow.

“chris i really don’t want to tonight, please, can we just go to bed” exhausted and fed up with his antics, you fold the blaket over your legs, beginning to get up.

“hold on” you sigh, what more could he possibly want. “i’ll do it” chris pushes your shoulders, sitting you back onto the bed. completely worn out for the day, you allow chris to gather the supplies to remove your makeup himself.

sitting back down next to you, chris opens the micellar water, pouring the contents onto a cotton round you kept in his bathroom. you jerk back, the temperature taking you by surprise, as he begins at your cheek bones, wiping the cotton round over your face. chris lightly grabs your chin, turning your face towards him so that he can continue his work.

“thank you” you whisper as he finishes taking off your mascara, lightly kissing his cheek.

“anything to keep you from getting makeup all over my pillows” he smirks, putting the makeup remover onto the bedside table, and the cotton rounds into the trash.

“oh whatever, you were being nice to me, admit it” you scoff, waiting for him to come back to bed before you get comfortable.

“never” he smiles, placing a kiss onto your hairline before getting into bed and finally allowing the two of you to rest.

|| likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated :)

🏷️ @bananabread-nana ||

[watermelonlovershigh]

Baby Fever /blurb/ (housemate!harry series)

AN: i now wish i would have made this blurb into a regular chapter with more details, making it longer, but i can't go back now. so this will be the first blurb in my series. i wrote this because i was having issues coming up with something to write for part 16. but after this, i'll get on top of starting part 16. i hope you enjoy and feel free to send in blurb ideas for this series.

This story contains: pure fluff, baby fever

{ housemate!harry - boyfriendrry - soft!harry - uncle!harry }

word count- 1,076

Harry has to babysit his niece for the day unexpectedly, and you get to watch Harry interact with a baby for the first time, which gives you baby fever.

It's evident that Harry was great with children, given his profession as a teacher. However, you were unaware of the extent of his skills with young children and infants until he was given the responsibility of caring for his sister's baby for the day. This situation arose when his sister urgently called him at four in the morning, explaining that her husband was facing a family emergency and needed someone to watch their daughter, Juniper, for a few hours.

Being the wonderful uncle that he is, Harry told his sister he'd be happy to spend his Saturday babysitting his niece. You had not yet met his sister or niece prior to this morning. But after meeting in Harry's entrance way at half past five in the morning, his sister was incredibly kind to you, even in the midst of her hurried departure after leaving little Juniper in her uncles care. As for Juniper, although she's just a baby, 8 months to be exact, she graciously allowed you to hold her, which you regard as a positive first greeting.

Since it was very early in the morning, Harry encouraged you to return to bed for a few hours while he kept Juniper entertained. Knowing he's an early bird anyways and you liked your sleep. You were hesitant at first but ultimately chose to follow his suggestion. You fell asleep again until around seven, when the delightful sounds of giggling stirred you awake. Rubbing your eyes, you got out of bed to see where all the laughter was coming from.

As you made your way down the hallway, the cheerful giggles intensified. Upon your arrival in the kitchen, you found yourself captivated by the sight. Juniper was comfortably seated on Harry's lap at the kitchen table, one of his arms providing her with support to ensure she remained steady, while his other hand carefully held a tiny spoon containing what seemed to be mashed peas from a jar of baby food.

Given that you've only been dating Harry for three months, you've not yet explored his views on the idea of having children one day. However, you're curious about whether he envisions a future with kids. You would be thrilled to give him as many children as he desired, especially if it meant starting each day with this delightful view.

Before long, Harry noticed your presence as he's feeding his niece and smiled gently at you. You walked over and took a seat at the table, continuing to observe him as he fed her the unappealing mushy peas until her tummy was completely satisfied. Harry then rose with Juniper in his arms and headed to the sink to get a damp paper towel, which he used to clean the green food that had smeared around her little mouth.

As soon as you heard the rumble of Harry's stomach, you decided to prepare breakfast for the two of you while he carried Juniper into the living room. You made avocado toast and served yourself a cup of coffee, aware that Harry had already enjoyed two cups since being awake.

Based on your background in waitressing during your teenage years, you skillfully transported two plates of avocado toast and one cup of coffee to the living room. As you stepped inside, you observed Harry gesturing to keep quiet with a finger pressed to his mouth, and then you understood the reason for his request.

Likely in a food coma, little baby Juniper rested soundly against his clothed chest. The sight brings a tingle to your ovaries. He slowly rose and made his way to the baby swing in the corner provided by his sister, gently setting a sleeping Juniper inside before activating the motor, which caused the swing to move softly while playing a calming melody.

Harry walked back over to the couch where you handed him his plate of avocado toast, saying, "Thank you, baby." before leaning in to peck a kiss to your lips.

"You're welcome." you replied sweetly, then begun silently eating your toast and sipping your coffees, being mindful of the sleeping baby. Once you're finished eating, you turned to Harry and can't help but blurt out the question you've thought all morning. "Do you want kids one day?"

Harry looked taken back at your question before a warm smile spread over his features. "Yeah, I would love to have kids in the future."

Keeping a quiet tone, you continued to prod, "You've always wanted kids?"

"Um yeah, I think so. I mean, after comin' to terms with my sexuality, I knew there may be a chance I can't have any biological kids. I would've been okay with that because there's adoption and stuff of the sorts. But havin' biological kids would be just as great. So yeah, I want kids one day. What about you?"

"Yeah, I want kids, but only if I'm with the right person." you answered and Harry gets a cheeky smile on his face, knowing you're dating. So if the answer doesn't describe him, then he must be doing something wrong.

Just to tease you, he asked, "Oh yeah, and what does the right person look like to you?"

You repositioned yourself on the couch, settling into a position that allowed you to straddle Harry's lap. In this close proximity, you explained, "I donno. Someone who is kind and gentle. A person who's responsible and smart. Someone who would always encourage our children to be themselves. And someone who may or may not pass on the charming trait of dimples to our kids."

Smiling, Harry cupped the sides of your face in his large hands and cooed in a mere whisper, "Does this person have a name by chance?"

You nod, "Mhm, his name is Harry." Right as his name rolled off your tongue, Harry leaned forward to capture your lips with his. The kiss is gentle yet passionate. It lasted a total of ten seconds before you pulled away. "We better stop before we start something we can't finish right now. There's a baby asleep in the corner."

With a fake pout, Harry commented, "Fine, but just so you know, in the future, when we're hopefully married, or not yet married because things happen, I'd love to be the father of your children. And I'd love you to mother our children. You'll be the best mother in the world."

Yep, it was the right decision to start dating your housemate.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! )

tag list: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[daenysx]

can i request an reader insecure with her body with modern aemond after she gave birth to their baby, just pure fluffy!! 💕

i hope you enjoy ♡

cw; brief mentions of pregnancy and giving birth, breastfeeding but nothing too descriptive

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

giving birth was actually harder than how you first thought about it. you can still remember everything, aemond's hand in yours as you try to bring your baby into world. it was painful and you were nervous as hell, thinking something bad would happen to your baby. you managed somehow, though. it's all okay now.

except the fact that your remaining aches and a still swollen belly. not as swollen as when you were pregnant of course but still, your body doesn't feel like it's your own. you see yourself in the mirror and think of what you used to look like.

"i think she's hungry again." aemond says, holding baby alyssa in his arms. she's only two weeks old, still so tiny against his chest. everything was worth it. you got your girl at the end.

you sit on your comfiest couch as you open the top buttons of your pyjamas. "i can take her." you say, extending your arms. aemond carefully places her, he gets on his knees in front of the couch to watch her.

alyssa has been an easy baby so far. she sleeps too much, she likes being fed, and she's cheerful when one of her parents kiss her soft belly. you help her take your nipple in her mouth, supporting her the way you learned the best. aemond rubs a gentle hand on your thigh as you watch your baby.

"she's okay, right?" you ask with a quiet voice. the worry still lingers, she's just so tiny. "she's been sleeping well."

"mother says she's the calmest baby she's ever seen." aemond says with a subtle smile. "including me."

"i can't imagine you being a calm baby, my love." you smile back. "but she looks a lot like you."

"does she?" aemond cannot believe a little human looks like him, and the way you seem so happy about it. "i guess she does."

alyssa keeps staying in your arms after she finishes. she falls into a deep slumber, you think it's because last night she couldn't sleep well. aemond offers to take her to her little bed and you accept.

you stand up, fixing your clothes. the mirror at your room catches your eyes again and you stare at yourself. you don't look bad, no, it's not that. you gave birth two weeks ago, you know it's normal to not being in your best self. your gaze lingers. you can't stop yourself.

your hair is messy. you are wearing a comfy top and a comfier pyjama pants. your eyes look a bit distant and tired, your undereye bags prominent on your face. you don't want to look like this. you want your body to reflect your happiness of having a baby.

aemond walks in. he takes a few steps to reach you. his hand finds yours as he pulls you towards him. "i smell like milk." you say when he kisses your neck. "aemond-"

"you smell so good." he says. "i love seeing you with her."

the way you keep your baby in your arms, how you take care of her- it all messes with aemond's head. he loves watching you all the time, staying at home with his girls, helping you and giving you a kiss when you feel tired. you both try to arrange your lives for a baby, making new routines. aemond needs to be there for everything.

you kiss his lips when he turns his head. his hand finds your swollen belly. "do you want to get some rest? i can watch over alyssa."

"i'm not sure." you say. "i mean, i'm not so tired. i don't want to fall asleep."

"you're not hurting, right?"

"no, i'm not." you tell him. "i just-"

"what?"

"i look different." you say, putting your head on his chest.

"you look lovely." aemond holds you close. "you're different, of course, but that's normal. we just had her, sweetheart."

you exhale. "i know." you look at him with a small pout. "it's just- i don't know. everything feels too much right now. i wanna feel comfortable in my own skin, i guess."

it's hard to keep your tears when aemond is so close, you can share his warmth, and it's too much all of a sudden. the rational part of your mind leaves its place to disliking thoughts, you are sad and tired, just so exhausted. you feel like you can't take care of yourself, or your body.

saying he's worried would definitely undermine aemond's feelings. he gets what's happening and he hates your tears with his entire being. no, you only deserve to be content with what you have been through, and the fact that his words do nothing to bring you comfort makes his eyebrows meet. the long gone wrinkles on his forehead appear.

"is it okay if i hold you closer?" he asks, instead of sulking in his own thoughts.

you nod. he quickly wraps his long arms around your shoulders, you can hide your face to his neck. you try to stop crying but slow drops fall down on your cheeks when you feel his hand on your back.

"i know you feel uncomfortable, my love." he says with the soft tone he only uses with two people in this world. "i know nothing i say will make you feel better. it's only a phase we need to get through. we just gotta be patient."

"it's hard." you say with the saddest voice he's heard since the birth of your girl.

"it is." he agrees. "it is hard to convince you how beautiful you look, how good you're being to me and our baby. i know it. i promise i know how you feel."

you dry your tears by yourself. aemond presses his lips to the side of your head, he keeps them there until you take a nice breath. crying helps no matter how much you dislike the feeling of it. at least you get it out of your chest.

"is she sleeping?" you ask him. it's a poor attempt to change the subject but aemond understands. he nods. "we can check her." he says.

"okay." you hold his hand. "it's only been ten minutes away from her and i missed her terribly. she's just in the other room."

aemond squeezes your fingers. he brushes a kiss on the back of your hand. "now you know how i feel when you leave the room."

you laugh genuinely. he's not a romantic, not in the slightest. he's just pretending like he's in a romcom just to make you smile, and it works. you pull him to yourself, give him a kiss that he deserves. he accepts it greedily, his hands on you makes everything better. it's a familiar touch, and it helps a lot more than aemond thinks.

[whateverloomis]

"Scream meets X" || Billy Loomis x Stu Macher x GN!AFAB reader 🔪🔞

PART 4

As requested, part 3! Any suggestions are welcome. My ask box is open!

Warnings: 3some, ffm, AFAB reader (no pronouns used,) oral (male receiving,) scratching (once,) pre-determined clothes, voyeurism, Billy is grumpy (lol,) unedited

Once you walked outside you crashed into Stu's lean figure; "You guys had fun in there?" he asked, sticking his tongue out at you and you sighed; "Not now Stu, Tatum saw the creepy old lady too. She was standing outside the window, staring at us!" You nearly shouted and Billy walked towards you quickly; "Hey, what's going on baby?" he asked, concerned; "Tatum and I saw..." You trailed off, tears escaping your eyes.

Something didn't feel right since the moment you set foot in that cabin and Billy quickly caught on to your concern. "C'mon, let's go'" Billy whispered and glared at Stu before walking you into the bedroom.

"What did I do?!" Stu shouted and scoffed, walking into his own room.

In your room, Billy sat down with you on the edge of the bed and cupped your cheek with his left hand; "Talk to me baby, what's going on? You've been on edge since we got here," he spoke softly and you sighed, closing your eyes to try and make sense of your thoughts and feelings; "I don't know, Billy. Things have been strange since day one. First the owner being hostile and nearly killing Stu, then his sudden change of mind..." you trailed off and Billy scanned your face.

"Nothing bad happened, okay? We just had a talk with him. Straightened some things up, that's a-" - "Did you threaten him?" You interrupted and Billy went quiet. He grabbed your hand and looked into your eyes; "We did what had to be done-" - "Billy! Stop avoiding the question! You threatened him, didn't you?" You interrupted once again and Billy sighed; "I wouldn't necessarily say threatened. It was more like a warning, really..." he explained, but you knew him better than that. You knew he manipulated that old fuck and threatened his life in order to get what he wanted. What you wanted. He did it for you but you had a feeling that the lady stalker was a consequence of whatever he and Stu said or did.

"Billy... Did you know about... The owners wife, I assume?" You asked. You were testing him and his trust. You needed to know if he truly cared about your safety; "...Yes. I did." Billy answered and looked down in slight shame. You cupped his face and looked him straight in the eyes. He might've lied then, but you understood why. He was trying to protect you.

"Look, it wasn't a big deal ok? We got what we wanted and now you're going to be a hit baby. You're it." He told you and placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down.

You couldn't help but reveal a subtle smile. Billy was selfish, but he was selfish for you. You fed from his attention and praise. He loved getting his way while keeping you happy. It was a perfectly fucked up mix of emotions that kept you together.

"Do you think Tatum's okay?" You asked, concern lacing your voice. Billy didn't care much about the girl but he knew Stu would comfort her in his own moronic way.

"I'm sure she's fine, baby. Stop worrying so much, okay? I'm right here." Billy reassured and you visibly relaxed.

"You did so good for me today, hm?" The boy said and pulled you towards him so you could straddle his lap.

"You think so?" You asked teasingly.

"Oh, I know so. Wait until you see yourself," Billy said and squeezed your sides, his cock half hard between your legs just by thinking about your scene.

You smirked and started to grind against his length, it getting fully hard and stimulating your clit perfectly. Moaning at the feeling, you pulled Billy's hair and crashed your lips against his. He placed his hands on your ass and moved your hips against his quicker.

"Fuck... I need to taste you." Your lover said as he laid you on the bed and kneeled down in front of the edge, placing your legs over his shoulders. He teased your pussy by licking your lips softly at first and slowly making his way to your center.

He sucked on your clit very softly but just enough to send a bolt of pleasure up your body. You loved the way he took his time with you while eating you out. His soft movements and teasing drove you mad and he wasn't even getting started.

Billy rested his head against your inner thigh, giving him the perfect angle to lick a stripe up your most sensitive spot. You moaned at his actions and ran your hands through his hair. As he licked at sucked you throbbed uncontrollably and he couldn't help but chuckle against you.

"Ugh, you're such a tease," you moaned out and he pulled back, looking at you from between your legs and smirking. He said nothing and you knew he was going to keep devouring you all night if you let him. And that he did.

•

You woke you from a small ray of light hitting your face. The day was beautiful. Clear blue skies and barely any clouds in sight.

Billy was spooning you, you could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest with every breath he took. You didn't want to get out of bed. The peacefulness was all you needed after last night's stress.

You closed your eyes and smiled softly, enjoying every second of the moment before you heard the door open slowly and felt the bed dip behind you.

It was Stu.

He came over to wake you guys up, and he obviously chose the most obnoxious way to do so.

Stu laid down behind Billy and spooned him. He brushed his friends hair behind his ear and whispered; "Rise and shine Billy boy."

You turned around to look at Stu who had the biggest grin on his face.

Billy opened his eyes, instant annoyance taking over him before he pushed Stu off the bed; "Fuck off asshole," he said and turned around, pulling you towards him once again, snuggling with you.

You giggled at their interaction and wiggled against Billy.

Tatum laid next to you a few seconds later and played with your hair; "C'mon babe, we have a scene to shoot later."

You looked at her in confusion; "You and me?," you asked and she nodded; "And Billy too. Stu wants to do some double blowjob action."

You gasped and craned your neck, locking eyes with Stu. You told him it would be fun to do a scene like that but you didn't think he'd actually go through with it.

"Hell yeah I do, I bet our Billy over here isn't going to mind," Stu said while sticking his tongue out.

Billy might've had his eyes closed but he was half awake and able to hear everything you guys were saying. Stu was already getting on his nerves. The boy threw his pillow at Stu and the blonde ran out of the room giggling like a little girl.

"Ugh, he's so annoying," Tatum said, followed by a smile; "Go get pretty, we're starting in a few hours," she continued and left your room, allowing you and Billy to wake up without anymore interruptions.

•

After midday and discussing what the scene would consist of, everything was set up in the living room space. You were wearing a similar farm girl style dress with Tatum. The skirts barely covered your ass and you and your best friends tits were threatening to rip the buttons of your dress open because of the tight fit.

Billy was sitting on the couch feeling a bit more excited than he thought he'd be, but of course he wasn't gonna let it show so he had a straight face while Stu explained to Randy how he wanted the camera to be angled.

The boys ended up arguing like two idiots about it and Tatum was starting to get impatient; "Guys, get on with it! My tits can't breathe over here!," She complained and Randy rolled his eyes.

"Stu, it's literally fine let's just film this shit already!," Randy argued and Stu sighed; "Fine! If this movie doesn't win an Oscar it's your fault," the boy said and Billy chuckled, disbelief written all over his face. His friend was being delusional with this whole thing at this point.

"Okay, let's do this!," Stu yelled and clapped his hands, making everyone jump at the sudden sound; "Action!"

The camera started rolling and you crawled on the couch from the right next to Billy, kissing his neck softly. You knew that was one of his weak spots and his cock started to get hard instantly.

Tatum crawled next to him from the left and started to rub him over his jeans while you kissed your way to his lips, making out slowly.

You played with each others tongues and moaned softly. His cock was growing impossibly hard and he was starting to get impatient.

Billy ran his hand through Tatum's hair which surprised her, but she didn't break character. He pulled her hair enough to lead her between his legs. The girl smirked in disbelief and started to unbutton your lovers jeans.

You gave Billy one last kiss before sliding down between his legs next to Tatum and helped her finish pulling his pants down to reveal his rock hard cock.

Both of you gasped in unison at the sight.

You took the lead and licked a stripe up his length, kissing the tip softly.

Billy threw his head back and hissed. He was really sensitive and desperate to feel his cock getting sucked and licked by two people. Greedy as ever.

You grabbed his length after teasing him and started to stroke him.

Tatum kissed your cheek to signal you that she was ready to feel your lips against hers. Without hesitating you made out with her. Both of you exaggerated your moans and whines for the camera and started to play with each others tits.

Randy couldn't believe he was experiencing this. He couldn't help but get hard at the sight and whisper; "fuck" once you and Tatum started to continue making out with Billy's cock between yours and her lips.

Billy had his hands between yours and Tatum's hair, but he was focusing on you the whole time.

You looked so fucking gorgeous with his cock pressed against your lips. The way you shared him fed his ego and he loved every second of it. The way you made out with your friend like that around him was pure bliss and he couldn't get enough of your tongue brushing against his length expertly.

You looked like a total slut and felt like one too. You took pride in it, enjoyed every second of sharing his dick like you were, yet it felt like an experience only both of you shared. Selfish as ever.

Billy wasn't going to last any longer with both you and Tatum working magic on his cock and you knew as much, so you placed your hand on one of his thighs and scratched down the flesh to elicit more pleasure from the pain you were inflicting.

"Fuck, baby..." He whispered for you only.

You locked eyes with him and smirked while you licked his length and that just about did it for him.

You and Tatum opened your mouths for Billy and he came all over your faces. You two looked so pretty giggling and sticking your tongues out to collect his seed.

"And that's a wrap!" Stu said and sighed; "That was incredibly hot. I nearly jizzed my pants just looking at ya," he continued and earned glares and smirks from all of you.

Randy locked himself in the bathroom, having to take care of himself and you felt incredible with your work.

•

After a very long shower and dinner you were walking outside admiring the sunset. The orange and pink clouds combined with the dark blue sky. The cool wind brushed against your skin and you felt relaxed.

As you walked along the field the main house of the farm caught your attention.

Curiosity took the best of you and you walked over, circling the structure before climbing up the front porch. The door was open and you peeked inside to see if anyone was home.

Since nobody was in sight you stepped inside and looked at all the old photos lining the wall all the way up the stairs. There was a young couple in most of them, you assumed it was the owner and his wife.

It seemed like the woman was a dancer or some kind of performer. She was very beautiful with her long flowy dresses and brunette hair.

You continued to admire the pictures when all of a sudden you saw a shadow behind you. It startled you and made you turn around quickly, and there she was. The old lady. She had white hair that looked like it was going to fall off her head any second. Her skin was extremely wrinkled and she wore a pink house dress.

"Lemonade?," she said slowly and you nodded, following the woman into the kitchen.

As she poured the juice into the glass it elicited a refreshing sound that made your mouth water. You sat down and drank the whole thing in one go.

"Good?," the lady asked and you nodded, observing her quietly for what seemed like minutes.

"Well, I should go... Thanks for the lemonade," you said as you stood up from the chair and walked towards the door slowly.

The whole exchange was quick yet it seemed like it all happened in slow motion. Something was definitely off but you couldn't quite grasp what it was.

As you approached the front door you felt the lady grab your hand.

You turned around, confusion and slight disgust showing on your face; "He'll kill you first," the woman said and you removed your hand from hers quickly.

"W-What?," you asked, not sure if you heard her right.

"He'll kill you first," she repeated herself and you gasped in fear as the lady grabbed your hand again with force.

"Let me go!," you screamed and ran out of the house as quickly as you could.

As you were approaching the cabin you were staying in you crashed into someone. They steadied you and when you looked up it was Billy. Randy and Stu were looking for you along with him; "Where the fuck were you?!," Billy screamed and all you could do was hold onto him and cry.

"C'mon," he said and pulled you inside the cabin, walking into your room and closing the door behind him.

"YN, what the fuck was that?!," he questioned and you sobbed.

Billy closed his eyes and sighed, calming himself down just enough to hug you and comfort you.

"She... She said he'll kill me first," you managed to say and Billy pulled back, a confused expression on his face.

"What? Who said that?," he asked while studying your face.

"The old lady."

[judesmoonbeauty]

Summary: Jude recalls a moment from his childhood in the middle of the night. Note: I would not read this unless you've read Jude's Past Records, his route, or major spoilers about his route. Also, this is canon lore mixed with suppositions of things I think could've happened. WC: 944 Tags: Regret, Angst, Childhood, Memories, Family, No romance, SFW Pairing: None

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The seconds stretched slowly into the quiet darkness of early morning as Jude laid in bed at Crown, wrestling with tedious thoughts he’d willingly forget if he could. However, with an insufferable memory like his there was nothing he could do but bite down on the end of his unlit cigarette, as the past gnawed on his mind. While tapping his tongue on the filter, a distant afternoon from his childhood curled around his heart like a warped, thorny vine.

Jude’s jaw tightened as his mind traveled back to that old, dusty attic where light poured into the window upon he and his younger sister.

“Heehe, yay! Let’s go, Jude.”

His little sister wiggled on their wobbly, wooden stool, ready to go out for their next treatment session. She liked going to visit Oswald because he always made her laugh, and prior to starting each treatment session, he made sure they were fed so they didn't fall ill from the medication.

Although Jude was annoyed by her bounciness as he attempted to comb out her hair with his small fingers, he understood why she was happy. After all, it was nice having a full stomach with healthy food rather than moldy scraps from trash bins. Better still, was the fact that Jude had already earned all those meals as part of their treatment thanks to his diligence and incredible memory.

[Cough! Cough!]

However, they still had a long way to go before they were considered fully recovered, and as soon as his younger sister started coughing due to her overexcitement, Jude scolded her.

“Oi, stop gigglin' o' yer gonna hack up a lung, 'n keep still o’ I’m gonna mess up yer hair.”

“Sowwwy,” she sulked while quickly sitting still.

The tiny, soot covered scowl he tried to maintain as he refocused on combing and plaiting her hair, soon melted away into an exasperated smile when he saw her pouty expression in the window. Afterwards, he tied off the raven braid with a piece of thin twine he happened to find when he was searching for food the day prior.

He was quite practiced at it now, since he helped his mother care for her as she started growing weaker. In fact, when she was still alive, he used to watch his mother’s frail fingers weave his sibling’s hair, and committed her movement’s to memory.

"'Kay, done."

Looking at her reflection in the grimy, cracked window, she beamed, “Wow, I look just like a pwincess!”

“A princess?" He asked with a mixture of shock and disgust.

"Yeah, don't I?"

Looking at the piddly scrap that held her hair together, Jude sighed. It wasn’t lace or even a modest hairbow, just a tiny thread, one that could be used to tie a parcel with. It wasn’t anything to get excited over.

His mother did have one ribbon that she had kept while she was alive, but his bastard of a father sold it and the rest of his mother’s belongings after her death in order to buy more liquor, before she was even cold in her grave. Just thinking about it made the little boy sick to his stomach.

Wanting to forget such thoughts that filled him with hatred and ignoring her question, Jude took the sleeve of his shirt and wiped away a smudge on her face.

If anything, Jude only wanted to be a proper big brother, just like his mother believed him to be. So, while he thought it was a silly for her to say that she looked like a princess, when their clothes were practically paper thin rags and people looked down on them, he didn’t say anything else.

In any case, she had said far sillier things before, like wanting to go to the moon. He watched her play with the end of her braid, her smile as bright and pure as starlight…..Like a balm to his sensitive, ever-hardening heart.

Well, if yer happy with it, then it’s ‘nough fer me....princess.

He was determined to protect that smile no matter what, just like he promised his mother.

With the phony pocket watch that he had stolen a short time ago clinking against the stool, Jude placed his hand gently on top of her raven hair.

“Ready?”

“Weady!” Jude’s sister hopped down from the stool and quickly headed for the door.

“Tch, walk o’ yer hair'll get manky again!”

He yelled after her as he followed her swishing braid out of the cramped attic they were forced to stay in, the attic that would soon be one person short in just a few days time.

The memory’s thorn pricked Jude’s heart, calling him back to the empty bleakness of the present.

A whirl of smoke lifted to the ceiling as Jude lit the cigarette he’d been playing with, wishing to burn the memory of his failed promises along with the ashes. Then a regret that he’d been stifling for years finally emerged under the pressure of the briar-like memory that had been squeezing his festering heart. What he should've said...

"....Yeah, ya looked like a princess."

His glassy eyes shook for a moment before closing them, burying the rotting memory of that distant afternoon again, burying one of the last times he ever saw her smile. All he could do now was endure the hellish life that bored him to death as the seconds continue to tick by for him mercilessly.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick….

Tags:@ichigostellaglynn @atelierquinn @mrslelouch @missaengg

So, um....this wasn't suppose to be angst. This was supposed to be a 200 words or less familial valentine's day drabble. Clearly, that is not what ended up being written.

Well, I think about Jude and his past a lot.....Like I can't tell you how much and I wanted something sweet and precious, but it's Jude. So, of course, it's going to be angsty when it comes to his sister.

In any case, I just kept thinking of Jude making up his sister's hair and taking care of her as best he could after their mom passed. I'm the oldest sibling of a very large family, and taking care of my much younger siblings was just what I did growing up. I feel like it's why I get super emotional when I translate about his sister too, because if something had ever happened to my siblings.... Any way, thanks for reading. It's been since what.....October of last year??

And thanks to Missaengg for her lovely feedback!

If you want to be added to my tags list just let me know!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Dangerous Pursuit // Chapter One

Captain John Price x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): alcohol, club atmosphere & dynamics, suggestive themes, language, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 6k

At your place of employment, a customer delivers a bloody blow. Captain John Price makes you an offer.

Chapter Two

ao3 // main masterlist // dangerous pursuit masterlist

The booming bass of the music filters through the wall and greets you like a familiar companion. This is how your Friday nights always begin. And your Saturdays. Like clockwork, you can always rely on the pulsing, thudding beat to keep your rent paid.

It’s a necessary evil, because your day job just doesn’t fucking cut it. You were told as a child that if you just “worked hard” and “went to college” you’d have a good, happy, healthy life.

What a goddamn fucking lie.

Your student loans from grad school are shackles dragging you deeper into the muck of the earth. There are bills piling up on your kitchen counter, and you’re fairly certain your electric is about to be switched off in a few days. Not to mention all the unpaid medical bills. None of them are yours.

Even in death, your mother haunts you still. Your entire life is full of ghosts.

No one tells you that this is the reality of life. It is just one beatdown after another until you’re nothing but bloody pulp on the pavement baking in the sun.

In the moments upon waking, and the spaces right before you dream, your mind drifts to those places in your life that you wish were different. If this one thing didn’t happen, maybe you wouldn’t be staring at yourself in a dirty backroom mirror.

You always come in early to your weekend job.

Thirst is not all it appears to be. Out front, there is always a show. Sometimes it’s drag, and sometimes it’s burlesque. Other times—usually later in the night—there are dancers on poles wearing clothing that makes it seem like they’re in nothing at all. The main floor is where the public dwells. That is where they stay.

In the back—in private VIP rooms—is where the real money rolls in. Booking a private room starts at $10,000, and it’s worth every penny—at least to the customers who book them. It’s a mini-Thirst within Thirst. The walls are soundproof, the seating is spacious and comfortable, and certain illicit services are widely available. The public doesn’t have access to these services, and to even secure a room, a vetting process is required.

No one wants the Feds at the door.

You’re not one of the dancers or performers, and you certainly aren’t one of the workers who fornicate in the VIP lounges. That is not your job, and you purposefully keep it that way. The money you earn by simply making sure the liquor keeps flowing in the VIP lounges is the only thing preventing you from drowning.

It’s not like you haven’t considered it, but you’re not desperate enough to take the leap. The detachment is what appeals to you. You’re not interested in doing something that would put you into intimate proximity with the private clientele. Some of them make your skin crawl and the distance is your safety net.

The dirty mirror is doing nothing for you. Placing your belongings in your designated locker, you seek out one of the tall mirrors next to the various vanities. They’re technically for the performers, dancers, and companions, yet none of them care that you use it.

You twist and turn, checking every angle and curve. While your black cocktail dress is revealing, it’s mostly for appearances sake. You’re not on the menu, but you need to look like you are to a certain extent. The black dress is mostly to mark you as service staff, and while you’ve never had a direct problem, there have been customers in the VIP areas who know they’re not supposed to but blatantly ignore the rules anyway.

“You’re here. Thank God.” At the sound of Holly’s voice, you turn toward the blonde, dabbing off the excess red lipstick you just applied. She plops down in the chair next to you and sighs, her elbow resting against one of the many vanities. “Your regular is here.”

“Already?” you ask in surprise, and Holly grimaces. It’s a pained expression, one that says your regular is already on a rampage. “Is everything okay?” This time you speak slowly, knowing what her answer might be.

“Peachy,” she grins, but the smile is strained, and doesn’t reach her eyes.

You frown. “Tell him I’m here and I’ll be with him shortly. Maybe that’ll smooth over whatever it is he said to you.” This doesn’t seem to relax Holly at all. Her exhalation involves the heave of her shoulders as she slowly pushes herself to standing.

“On second thought,” you interject before Holly can leave. “Have one of the boys do it. Wait. No. Have security tell him.”

The relief that oozes off Holly is palpable. “I will,” she replies, her step lighter as she exits. The pounding bass smashes into your face the moment she opens the door to enter Thirst’s main floor.

Holly shouldn’t have to deal with assholes. She’s too sweet and gentle for that. The smallest emotion can send her right into tears.

And this regular of yours is particular about who serves him drinks, and which people are allowed in his VIP room. He always comes on Friday. He always books the same private lounge. He only ever wants the same girls to cater to him and his friends’ needs. And he only wants you to serve and make his drinks.

You only know him by his first name, Dimitri. His last name is completely unknown to you, and you don’t dare ask around or try to find out. Is it possible to learn that information? Yes. VIP clients are always vetted, but the owners of Thirst keep that information close.

Dimitri bleeds violence. Every action and word are laced with the threat of brutality. This man is attached to you, has been since your first day serving him. While Dimitri has never been cruel or touched you inappropriately, his gaze is a heated one, and never welcome.

He sounds American, but over the course of several months, you’ve noticed little nuances to the way he speaks. There is a slant to his vowels that leans toward a Russian accent, but you can’t be sure even if his name gives that impression.

But it’s also none of your business.

You tell yourself that every shift you work at Thirst. The things you see and hear stay. They don’t follow you out the door. They don’t follow you home.

Maybe that’s why Dimitri always asks for you. You’re consistent and you don’t ask questions. But you also know better. There is no reason for you to stick your face somewhere it isn’t wanted.

Smoothing out the front of your cocktail dress, you inhale deeply, attempting to soothe your nerves. Closing your eyes, you hone in on your heart, counting the beats until they don’t seem so loud in your head. When you open your eyes, you curve the corner of your lips upward, pasting on that customer service smile.

You just need to fake it for a few hours, and then you’ll be walking out of this place with a stack of cash in hand.

The thudding bass of the main room swells in volume when you open the door. You don’t even glance at the main stage to see if anyone is performing. Instead, you keep your gaze sweeping over the tables. Most of them are full, which is a good sign. Walking right by all of it, you aim for the bar, slipping behind it to snag a clean cocktail tray.

Chase, Bree, and Damon all man the bar, working with and around each other in a fluid dance that’s as natural as breathing. Chase notices you grabbing a tray and waves while topping off a beer.

With tray secured, you head for the VIP door. It’s not clearly marked, and that’s on purpose. It blends in with the dark, giving guests an extra layer of privacy. Greg, one of several security personnel working tonight, opens the door with a nod. When it shuts behind you, the thudding bass becomes a low hum.

Just like the VIP rooms, the main hallway that connects them all is also soundproofed. The lights overhead are evenly spaced, but are low, creating long shadows all the way to another door with a glowing red “EXIT” sign above it.

Dimitri always books the room down at the very end on the left, like he wants to by close to the emergency exit in case he needs to use it.

Approaching the correct door, you punch in the code to unlock it. Each door has its own code, and the code is reset with each new guest. The owners thought of everything, but it’s not surprising given some of the fuckery you’ve seen go down in these spaces.

You hear the whirl of the lock disengaging, and then you enter into a small server station. It’s a tiny space, extending out along the wall with a storage room at the end. It’s blocked off by a curtain that separates the two spaces. As of now, Dimitri has no idea you’ve entered the room.

You set the tray down and mentally prepare yourself. Deep down, you know Dimitri is a dangerous man, and you always tiptoe around him because of it. You never do anything that might upset him, and you always take careful measure of his demeanor.

The moaning greets your ears even before you push back the curtain.

The VIP room starts as flat flooring. As you walk across its shiny surface, it rises, requiring you to step up onto a large platform. There are three sofas in total, all angled around a flat table that comes up to your knees. Sitting on the sofas are Dimitri and his four guests. Of the four, you only recognize three. They’re the trio who always tag along.

Abram. Nikola. Lev.

You never asked them their names. You never cared on wanting to know. Dimitri is the paying customer. They simply cruise by, consuming the women and booze Dimitri supplies.

The fourth is a new face, and you immediately pick up on his nervousness. He’s older, perhaps in his late fifties, with a balding head, and slight belly. He’s not wearing a nice black suit like Dimitri and his crew. This man looks like a professor or even a stereotypical watchmaker.

He is completely out of place.

There are three women in the room as well. Olivia dances against a pole behind the sofas on a raised platform, Addie is on her knees between Lev’s spread legs, and Megan is perched in Dimitri’s lap. You deliberately keep your gaze on Dimitri’s face instead of Megan’s bouncing body.

Club music pumps from the speakers but it’s not overly loud. The lighting on the stage is red, and you never get used to it. Dimitri likes it like this. It reminds you of dark, congealing blood.

Dimitri’s gaze immediately draws to you the moment you walk up to the stage. He never breaks away once. His arms splay out over the back of the couch even as Megan writhes on him. He doesn’t touch her. Doesn’t even glance her way.

You have his full attention, and it’s awful. Degrading, like he wants you to watch Megan fuck him.

“Dimitri,” you say in greeting, keeping your tone cool and neutral.

“Sparrow,” he replies cooly, the corner of his mouth twitching as it turns upward.

Sparrow. The pet name Dimitri always uses with you is affectionate and yet sounds like a threat when it rolls off his tongue.

“Do I need to ask?”

“You know what I like,” he says slowly. It’s nearly a croon, like he’s attempting to seduce you.

Indeed, you do know what he likes. Dimitri is specific, and he always orders the exact same thing. He never waivers.

“We don’t need to do this dance every time, Dimitri.”

You’re playing into your role, but the words taste sour in your mouth. It makes you appear flirtatious and interested when you’re the exact opposite.

“But I enjoy our dance, Sparrow. Don’t you?”

No, Dimitri. I fucking hate it.

Your face hurts from smiling. “I’ll be back soon.”

Dimitri’s gaze is smoldering. “I look forward to your return.”

The entire walk to the curtain is like slowly melting ice. You feel Dimitri’s gaze latched on your back. It’s a wet horror of a sensation, like the slimy texture of a slug sliding up your spine.

When you stand on the other side of the curtain, you have to take a moment, inhaling sharply and exhaling slowly in repetitions until your heart ceases its insistent hammering. Dimitri always does this to you. It’s like he has completely control over you even when he doesn’t.

Calmness seeps in, and you step out into the quiet hall, heading for the main room. You’re not exactly peaceful, but you’re not shaking anymore which is better than nothing.

At the bar, you enter in the same order you do every Friday. It’s a waste of time for you to go to Dimitri and then back again. It’s a fucking power trip. He indulges himself, and you’re only option is to give in.

Once everything is in the system, you start pulling bottles. It’s a habit to prep these things in advance. It’s mostly to bring Dimitri what he wants quickly and then making yourself scare.

Behind the bar, Chase grabs several slightly chilled bottles of vodka. They’re top shelf and Russian-distilled, selections Dimitri made himself on the first night. He’s never strayed from it. There are also several bottles of champagne and tequila you pull, along with salt and lime for shots.

Chase deposits the vodka next to the champagne and says your name over the music. You glance up at him and immediately noticed his “I’m sorry I have to tell you this” smile.

“What it is?” you ask.

“Sara called out. Sick kid.”

“I’m guessing we need coverage?”

“Booth section in the back.”

You glance over and frown. They’re all full. Some already have drinks in front of them while others have nothing at all.

“VIP comes first,” you shrug, hating that you have to say it at all.

Chase waves away your words as if it doesn’t bother him. “No rush.” He winks. “I’ll keep an eye on the tables.”

The last items you collect are Dimitri’s cigarettes. Thirst provides a plethora of services, and one of those is freshly rolled cigarettes served tableside. There are cigars as well, but those are not done in house. In the back room where the wine is stored, you carefully weigh out and divide the tobacco and flavor additives, collect the correct sized rolling papers and two crystal ashtrays.

Once you have everything, Chase steps out from behind the bar and follows you back to Dimitri’s private room, carrying the things you can’t. Usually, you only bring yourself because it’s what Dimitri prefers, but if you have to cover for Sara, this entire affair needs to be done quickly so you can go to the floor.

Under the blood lights, you notice the way Chase awkwardly stares at the wall to avoid the pumping movement of Megan’s hand. She is no longer in Dimitri’s lap but next to him. While this is nothing new for you, it is Dimitri’s harsh gaze that gives you pause.

Chase seems oblivious to Dimitri’s fury. Those dark, cold eyes are like spikes on knuckles, meant to shred skin. Dimitri is a walking threat, and you need to get Chase out of here fast.

Clearing your throat to snag Dimitri’s attention, you roll his cigarettes quickly, presenting them to him with a soft sway of your hips. It’s a diversion, and Dimitri appears to seize it, placing a cigarette between his lips.

You strike a match and light it for him. When he inhales, Megan takes the liberty to remove it as he releases the smoke. The exhale is slow, but it’s clear that her action upsets him by the soft curl of his lip and the way his hand forms a fist.

“Thank you.”

“Do you need anything else from me before I return?” you ask, keeping your professional demeanor intact.

Dimitri inhales and then exhales a rolling cloud of smoke. “I always need you, Sparrow. But I can wait until you come back to me again.”

The fact that you keep it together at all is a miracle. Dimitri’s behavior tonight is…odd. And even Chase notices because the moment you’re out of the room, he comments on it.

“That guy is fucking weird. How do you do it?”

“I think about the money,” you reply flatly, because it’s the truth. The money is the only reason you put up with Dimitri’s bullshit.

As the two of you enter the main you, you take stock of Sara’s section along the wall. Booth seating is one step down from VIP. They are relatively private and can be closed up if the people in them so wish it, but they’re also incredibly comfortable and have the best views of the stage. People always think that front row is the best row, but it’s not. Not at Thirst.

You begin at the far end, checking in with each table, making sure that all the items they currently have are in the system while also taking additional orders. Just like VIP, booth seating requires a flat fee for the space, and then a minimum monetary order to keep the booth for the evening.

Everything is fine. Everything is great. Everything is usual.

Until it’s not.

The final table closest to the VIP door brings you to a dead halt.

It’s three men. No. Scratch that. Four? They all have drinks in front of them but there is a fourth drink—whiskey—with no companion. This trio are also severely underdressed. They’re not dirty or unkempt, but lean toward the casual side like they’re at their local dive bar.

The drinks in front of them aren’t nearly enough to cover the minimum. They will need to order more or you’ll have to ask them to leave. It’s one of your least favorite things to do.

“Evening, gentlemen.”

To your left, the one with a short mohawk grins. It’s disarming how handsome his smile is. He looks like trouble. “Evening,” he replies, the Scottish accent startling you for a brief second.

Next to him is a man with dark eyes and hair. He smiles too but it’s much softer. Cozy is the word you’d use to describe him, like he’d be the boyfriend who does things for you because he wants to and not because he has to.

The other man, the one to your right, is an older gentleman. He isn’t nearly old enough to be your father. He may have ten to twelve years on you at the max. Of the trio, he is the most relaxed, with one arm draped over the back of the booth cushion while he nurses a beer.

He’s wearing a black windbreaker and beanie. His facial hair is neatly trimmed, starting at the sides of his face only to stop near his lips, coming up over his top lip to form a mustache. There is a small spot beneath his bottom lip that isn’t touched. It’s…a statement, but you like it. It’s unique and suits him.

The other two are dressed similar to him but neither of them wears beanies. Their casualness throws you off, makes you question their intentions. The people who frequent Thirst do not show up in windbreakers, jeans, and boots.

The older gentleman turns to look up at you, and your heart momentarily flutters. His eyes are a lovely shade of blue that draw you in to their depths. You feel yourself falling, moving toward them, only realizing what you’re doing when he speaks.

 “Evening,” he answers, and the roughness of his voice is like sugar on the tongue.

You want to fall into him, to hear him speak soft nothings into your ear. But that momentary desire is quickly squashed.

Instead, you keep a professional tone, presenting one of the menus. “Booth seating requires a minimum purchase amount. You have not met the requirement.” Using just the hand you hold the menu with, you open it up, revealing the lists within.

Those blue eyes slowly draw away from your face, glance down at the words on the paper, and then promptly return to you. “Can you make an exception?”

Fuck. His voice is lovely.

“I’m very sorry, but I cannot.” You shift on your feet, turning your body toward him without thinking about it. “But I am more than happy to help you make a few selections to get you there.”

The corners of his mouth pull back as he glances at his companions. “On me.”

“Would you like me to go over your options?”

“I didn’t catch your name,” he replies.

You give it, and apologize for not stating it earlier. That’s something you always do when you greet new guests. That’s common sense, but apparently all that went right out the door when you came to their table.

He says your name, and you immediately form a core memory. The sound of it rolling off his tongue is luscious. Sinful. There is no reason for him to say your name like that. And why do you like it so much?

“Along with our extensive selection of alcohol, we offer food, freshly rolled cigarettes, as well as the finest cigars.”

Mohawk whistles lowly. “Simon is gonna hate missing those smokes.” He nods and then looks up at you. “Get me a scotch.”

“Preference?” you ask.

“Nah. You pick it for me. Meet that minimum.” He winks. “Isn’t that right, John?”

John grins. “Careful, Soap.” He turns that smile on you and you feel your cheeks heat. “I’ll have the same. And a cigar. Pick for me.”

Soap snorts and then leans in to whisper something to the man next him. John’s gaze is still fixed on you as you start to walk away from the booth, but you notice a small flicker, a quick snap to the VIP door before looking back at you.

Odd.

You return with the two glasses of scotch and the cigar on a silver tray. You trim and prep the cigar in front of John, and then present it to him. “Would you like me to light it?”

“Is it extra?” he asks.

“I can certainly make it so.”

Along with other things.

“Do it,” he says, taking the cigar from the tray and placing the end between his lips.

Lifting the matches, you remove one and strike it sharply, the little flame igniting in the dark of the club. You hold it out and John leans in. The movement is like two lovers meeting in wanton anticipation.

He puffs on the end until the cigar glows red and smoke seeps out from around it. John leans back, and removes the cigar from his mouth, the smoke curling upward slowly.

“Thanks, love,”

“My pleasure,” you reply, and it takes all your control to make it sound like that one word—love—didn’t just turn you on.

His gaze flick upward and lock with yours. They’re heated, almost interested, but you must be mistaken. You’re the one acting like an idiot. This is all in your head.

You gently dismiss yourself and move away, preparing to go back to Dimitri’s VIP room. On the way back, your heart is thudding and your palms are sweaty.

What the actual fuck is wrong with you? This behavior is absurd. You’re like a goddamn teenager swooning over their crush. This is unlike you, and you want the feeling gone.

As you enter Dimitri’s private room, you head for the table, removing the empty bottles and glassware, taking them back to the small service area. When you return to empty the ashtrays, Dimitri’s demeaner is entirely different.

This man has always been terrifying but this is horrific. It is not a lurking darkness but a present threat. Dimitri’s gaze is fixated on the man who appeared so nervous earlier. All of the women look fearful and on edge, their bodies rigid with tension. Even Olvia who dances on the stage isn’t really working anymore. She stands behind the pole as if that thin metal will protect her.

You’re immediately alert. Vigilant.

“Say that again,” snarls Dimitri. The man mutters something and Dimitri’s lips curl back to show his teeth. “Louder!”

The man looks down at his feet, shaking. Dimitri sneers and then leans back against the couch, shaking his head. “Can’t even admit when he’s a snitch. How am I supposed to trust you then?”

“I didn’t. I promise. I—”

“Shut up!” screams Dimitri. He smashes a half-empty vodka bottle against the table. The glass shatters, and little shards of crystal go flying, chilled vodka splattering everywhere. Megan and Addie shriek, shooting out of their seats and congregating near you. On stage, Olivia looks stricken.

Her eyes are wide, and she cowers behind the pole. You try to coax her with your gaze, silently imploring her to come to you.

“You’re a liar, Legasov. A fucking liar!” Dimitri wields the broken bottle top like a weapon, slashing at the man’s face.

It strikes true, and even under the red lighting, you notice the arc of blood. That is when Olivia moves, nearly tripping off the stage as she runs to you, Addie, and Megan.

“Go,” you whisper at them, pushing at their arms toward the door. “Go.”

They start to move, and you with them.

“Stay here, Sparrow!”

Dimitri’s shout is a blow. You are facedown in the dirt and dragged back over gravel. Slowly, you turn on your heel, facing this demon.

He places his hand on the sofa next to him. “Sit.”

You shake your head.

“I wasn’t asking,” he says, and his voice is almost light, airy. Like he isn’t mad at all. And that is fucking terrifying.

On shaky legs, you go to him, sinking down on the sofa. Dimitri leans in with a gentle smile that is so at odds with his body language. The backs of his knuckles hover just shy of your cheek. “I have a question for you, Sparrow. I’m seeking some advice.”

“What sort of advice,” you murmur, swallowing. The salvia sticks in your throat.

“How should disloyalty be rewarded?” Dimitri points at the cowering man. His hands cradle his face, and blood pools between his fingers, dripping.

When you don’t answer, Dimitri’s head tips to the side, his lips pursed in thought. “What’s the saying you Americans love to use?” Dimitri’s wrist snaps back and forth like he’s knocking on a door. The broken vodka bottle moves with it. “About getting stitches.”

“Snitches get stitches?”

Dimitri laughs. “That’s the one! It sounds so cute when you say it, Sparrow.” His hand hovers just shy of your skin and you don’t dare move. You don’t want him to touch you or even to close the distance.

“But they don’t always get stitches, do they?”

That’s when you notice the gun on the table.

“Go, my Sparrow” murmurs Dimitri. “Don’t come back to this room unless someone fetches you.”

You bolt up so fast you almost knock your knees against the table. You don’t even glance at the cowering man as Lev reaches over and grabs the man by the throat. You don’t glance back even as he starts begging for his life.

As you stride up to the door, the fear starts to give. It starts to melt like ice in the sun. Deep down, you understand that Dimitri has made you an accomplice in this. You step back, let the door slam loudly, and then you turn on your heel, moving to the edge of the curtain, watching through the small break between the curtain and the wall.

The man in question is on his knees before Dimitri. Dimitri presses the barrel of the gun to the man’s head.

“Stitches aren’t nearly enough.”

But there is no loud shot. No slumping of the man’s body as the bullet exits the chamber.

Behind the man, Nikola steps from the shadows, holding a baseball bat. He swings it round and round in slow sweeps until he doesn’t.

Until he brings it up over his head only to bring it down in a powerful blow.

You hear the crunch.

See the head of the bat return to it’s peak. See it come right back down again.

You bear witness. Watching Dimitri and the others observe Nikola’s brutal beating.

You taste blood in your mouth, and you realize you’ve bitten the inside of your cheek.

When Nikola stops swinging the bat, that is when Dimitri steps forward, and uses the toe of his boot to kick the dead man’s shoulder.

“Clean up this mess.”

He steps off the raised platform and you bolt for a dark corner, sliding down until you make yourself small. You hear his heavy footsteps before you see him. Dimitri throws back the curtain and strides out the door without a backward glance.

The three men beyond the curtain talk in another language, but their voices are distant. Slowly, you unfurl, checking to see where they are in the room. They’re still on stage, surrounding the bloody mess on the floor.

Fingers shaking, you silently slip through the door, nearly sprinting to the main room.

When you emerge, you aim for the employee door, needing to isolate until you can calm yourself. Glancing up, John is looking right at you, face grim. Your gazes lock, and his eyes widen slightly as if he’s recognizing the terror on your face.

You promptly look away, bursting through the door, collapsing onto one of the stools. Your breathing becomes a beast, all hulking gasps and harsh tears. Everything comes roaring forward like a monsoon, and you are bending like the trees to its emotional battering.

The door opens and you whirl around, tears stinging your cheeks.

“Get out!” you bark through the tears, not really seeing who is standing in the open doorway. You blink rapidly, some of the tears giving, clearing your vision.

It’s John and a man in a fucking skull mask.

“Watch the door, Simon,” says John over his shoulder.

The masked man only nods, slipping out like a shadow, closing the door behind him. You’re instantly on alert. A frozen deer sensing danger.

“Are you with them?” you mange to say through a hiccup. You’ve shifted on the stool, poised to run out to the back parking lot if you need to.

John takes a step forward. “With who, love?”

You want to like it when he calls you love. Really, you do. But right now, all you can think of is Dimitri calling you sparrow.

“Get out. Get. Out.” He doesn’t budge. “This is an employee area and you—”

“—You’re shaking.” He strides forward with purposeful intent, his gaze focused on your hands. Instinct kicks in, and you draw back. John immediately stops and puts his hands up. “I won’t touch you. Promise.”

“What do you want?”

John places one hand on his chest, keeping the other up. “My name is Captain John Price. I work for the Special Air Service of the British Army. I’m here wanting—”

You shake your head. “Oh, fuck,” you mutter, rising from the stool, backing away from him. “Fuck—just…leave me alone. Whatever it is, I’m not involved.”

He’s on American soil, which likely means he and the people sitting at that booth are together. Is the federal government involved? They have to be. Why else would he be here.

John matches your steps. “I simply want information. That’s all. I’m not after you.”

“Respectfully, go away.” Whatever heated thoughts you had about John Price are quickly flushed from your head. Survival is the most important thing. Him being in this room with you puts a target on your back.

“Just talking. That’s it. Talk to me and I’ll go.”

“About what?”

“About the man in your VIP room.”

“Which one,” you snap. “There are several.”

“Dimitri Radovic.”

Of course, it is. You know it is. Why would it be anyone else?

“I don’t know what kind of information I can offer you,” you reply, extending your arms. “Dimitri and I don’t talk, and you need to leave.”

John’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline. “But you’re on a first name basis?”

“Fuck you,” you snap, anger replacing everything you’re feeling.

“Not until I get what I came for.” Is he flirting you with? Or is he simply trying to rile you up? John’s tone softens. “Did he do something to you? Is that why you look so frightened?”

You look at the ground, unable to form the words as a lump forms in your throat. “Get out,” you whisper.

“I’m not your enemy.”

When you glance up, John is right there. He is so close and yet you don’t feel threatened. “But you can’t help me. And I don’t want it.”

John reaches into his jacket and presents a small piece of paper. It’s not a business card. You unfold it, revealing a phone number.

“If you realize you need my help, call me.” He retracts his hand and your gaze locks with his. Those blue eyes drill into your soul, swallow you up until all you can think about is him. “Paid out by the way. Left you a generous tip. Have a good night, love.”

John walks backward, knocking on the door once he reaches it. The skull-masked man appears, and John exits through the opening.

With his leaving comes a wave. The force of it slams into you. You sink to the floor, cradling your face in your hands, the tears welling quickly. At some point, you manage to scrape yourself off the linoleum, dragging yourself to a mirror to fix your disheveled appearance.

The rest of the night is a dull drone of noise. You hardly hear anything or anyone, moving through the motions just to stay sane.

By the end of the night, you’re ready to collapse.

“Walk you to your car?” asks Chase, tossing a rag into the linen bin.

“Please,” you sigh, wanting the familiar. Chase is someone you’ve known for a while. You trust him.

“Everything okay? You seem off?” he asks.

You open your mouth, a vague reply forming on your lips, but when the two of you exit through the side door into employee parking, you come to a halt.

Chase nudges your arm with his elbow, noticing your abrupt shift. “What is it?”

“The van,” you answer. It’s black with tinted windows. There are no markings and no signs of a license plate.

Chase squints and shrugs. “What of it?”

It’s parked right next to your car. Chase starts walking in that direction, and while your feet don’t want to move, you force them anyway. You purposefully stay to Chase’s left, keeping him between you and the black van.

When you reach your car, Chase leans against the trunk as you fumble with your keys. “You know,” he says. “If you ever want to grab a drink—”

You glance up at him and your mouth falls open. “—Chase!”

The metal pipe comes down fast and Chase doesn’t see it coming. He drops like a stone and his assailant is on you, placing a sack over your head. You lash out but this person is so much stronger. When you hit something on their body, you hear a grunt before they strike you. You whimper, staggering slightly, as their large hand grips your upper arm.

They shove and pull. There is no light. There is only hard metal as you’re half-pushed half-thrown into the back of the van.

This is not John Price’s doing. This is someone else.

With the world dark around you, and the sound of the van roaring to life, all you can think about is John’s offer. If you had said yes to him, if you had talked to him, would you be in this van right now?

Or, would you be safe?