#went digging through your tag to find this if you were wondering

[viennakarma]

Something you paid for

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Two years into the best relationship of your life, you find out that Fernando thinks you don't love him. But it get worse and you realize the whole world think of you as gold digger.

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, slut shaming, reader is confused, fernando is even more confused, miscommunication, cursing, a bit angsty, hurt/comfort, soft smut (almost not there), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: I'm honestly not 100% sure about this story, a had another ending planned but I wanted it to be HEA. I don't know. :(

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

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It was supposed to be just a pause in your studies. Something quick since your brain was already mushy from studying and writing your research for too long.

So when you picked up your phone, to aimlessly scroll through social media, you didn’t expect to see a new, sudden rush of comments on your instagram page. There were thousands of comments in your last post, calling you a gold digger, and much, much worse. Ever since you started dating Fernando, you had been getting these comments, and in the beginning they were worse but slowed down with time. Now they were on a new high again. Confused more than anything, you went on to try and find out what happened for this to happen all of a sudden. You and Fernando hadn’t gone out together for more than two weeks and you hadn’t been to a race week for a month.

After digging you eventually found out what happened. Deuxmoi posted something that made everyone quickly think it was you.

A lady who’s 12 years younger than her famous Spanish Formula One driver boyfriend, is known for being with him for his money. Many tried to warn him, but it seems like he doesn’t believe or doesn’t care.

Confused, you stared at the post, scrolling through hundreds of nasty, poisonous comments. That wasn’t true. Fernando did give you lots of presents and spoiled you a lot but he did this out of his own want, not because you asked for or demanded it. He was constantly giving you things, especially clothes, shoes and bags, and loved seeing you wearing them. He also gave you an Aston Martin car on your last birthday. He even went as far as getting you a credit card attached to his, for whenever you needed to buy books or go on a shopping spree. You never minded it because you knew he liked it, instead of refusing you were just grateful for his generosity.

You wondered if you should talk about it with him, but deep down you knew Fernando was never one to care for gossip of any kind. And this probably wasn’t even true to begin with, just someone trying to stir the pot. So you just limited the comments in your posts and went on about your day.

A week later you went to the race, it was Silverstone, and the last before summer break. You decided to dress your best, wearing clothes that were pretty and elegant and had been given to you by Fernando.

He always treated you like a princess, he was kind and patient, and always found a way to align your schedules to spend time together. He liked taking you on trips during summer break and to ski trips during winter break. Fernando adored having you around in race weeks, you could see in his face that he was radiant with your presence. And you loved all the gifts and the trips but you especially loved staying home with him, lazing around, making love on the sofa and taking walks hand in hand in his hometown. You loved helping him cook, trying your best to follow his orders and not mess up his recipes. 

You walked into the paddock hand in hand, and you kept him company whenever you could. He would keep you around the most, only letting you go when he had meetings or media duties. During that time, you would go back to his room and do a little more of your research, writing your thesis.

You left his room so you could grab a snack and a coffee at the hospitality, but as you passed by a hallway, you heard someone saying your name in conversation. You stopped, leaning against the wall to hear, with a glance, you saw two mechanics talking.

“Seems like everyone tried to warn him, man. But it’s like he doesn’t mind dating a gold digger.”

“Is she a gold digger, really?”

“Man, she doesn’t do anything! She doesn't even work.”

“Has anyone warned Fernando?”

“Everyone.”

You went back inside his driver’s room, sitting down, completely shocked. So that’s what people thought of you? You knew people on the internet talked about it, but they were strangers so you wouldn’t allow yourself to mind because those people didn’t know you. But the people in the garage? They’ve known you for almost two years now, you were always kind and polite to them, even going as far as bringing them cookies and donuts as thank you for welcoming you so well.

You avoided crying, it would ruin your makeup, and Fernando would notice it very quickly. So you just sat there, numb. Thinking about how everyone believed you were with Fernando because of his money and nothing else.

When Fernando found you again, before he had to go get ready for the race, he noticed you were a little down.

“You should not study so hard on the weekends, princesa.” He muttered, hugging you from behind and leaving a gentle kiss to your neck. Of course, he would think you were just tired.

“You are absolutely right, mi amor,” you smiled a little, turning around so you could hug him properly, “do you have time for a little kiss?”

“Even two,” he joked.

You ended up sitting on his lap, making out like two teenagers, until someone knocked on the door, calling Fernando to go get ready.

“Hey, good luck, yeah?” You said, kissing him one more time then kissing the back of his hand, “I love you.”

You watched the race from the garage, feeling self conscious now that it seemed like everyone thought you were leeching off of Fernando.

In the end, Fernando got P3 which was a great result and you celebrated wildly, proudly watching him get on the podium.

After his post race meetings, you met him in his room.

“Let’s go out to celebrate! Dinner is on me!” You hugged him, mood better now than before.

You and him ended up going out for dinner, at a high end restaurant, dressed to the nines. It was fun, you listened to Fernando talking about the race, then he asked you what you thought about the race.

Before dessert, you went into the bathroom to retouch your makeup and freshen up. When you came back, your tiramisu was already there. You and Fernando shared the dessert, laughing to each other.

When the waitress came, you picked the opportunity.

“Dear, can we get the tab please?”

“It’s already taken care of, Madam.”

Your smile faltered, and you looked at Fernando as she left. He was smiling like he couldn’t hold it in.

“Fernando! I said dinner was on me!”

“Why would I let you pay, princesa?”

“Because you got a podium today! As a celebration!” You whined, upset. Fernando pulled your chair, until you were right beside him and he kissed your cheek.

“I like paying for you, Hermosa,” Fernando stood up, offering you a hand, “come on, you can treat me right in our hotel room, what about that?”

You smiled as he pulled you away, but something still nagged at your brain.

You and Fernando took the private plane back to Madrid after the date, because he had sponsor meetings over the week, and you honestly wanted to sleep in your bed. The trip was quick, and while Fernando took a nap, you tried studying, but your mind kept going back to being called a gold digger.

Deep down, you really wanted to talk to Fernando about it, but you were unsure if he could fix this in any way. What could he do? Make a post on instagram saying hey, my girlfriend isn’t leeching off of me as most you think!? You did live with Fernando, for six months now, and he paid all the bills and the house was his. But he also gave you many many gifts.

When you got home, putting your bags inside the closet, you two just changed into sleepwear, ready to doze off.

Then Fernando opened his bag and grabbed a small box.

“Oh, I had forgotten! Got you a present last week in Austria!”

He handed you the box, and with your heart beating fast, you opened it to a beautiful vintage watch. It was gold, delicate with a beautiful bracelet. There was a lump in your throat as you stared at the piece.

“You didn’t like it? It’s ok, princesa, I’ll get you another one,” he said, with a gentle smile.

“I don’t need another watch, Nando. You gave me this one not even a month ago,” you raised your wrist, showing him the brand new one he gave you.

“I want to give it to you. It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“And I don’t want it,” god, you didn’t want to sound so ungrateful, but how could you tell him that his presents felt like something else now? “You have to stop giving me so many presents,” you said, trying to put into words what you were feeling.

“But that’s how I won you over, why would you refuse my presents now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his voice made you stop, stomach dropping. That’s how I won you over? That’s how he believed your relationship came to be? That’s why he thought you were together?

“What did you say?” You paused, suddenly turning to him, it felt like a punch to the throat, “You- you believe I’m a gold digger? You believe it?”

Fernando walked up to you, putting both hands on your waist, a soft smile gracing his face.

“Amor, you know I don’t mind spending my money on you. Quite the opposite, I love to spoil you.”

You stood there, speechless for a couple of seconds. Then you snapped out of it, pushing his hands off you.

“That’s not what I asked!” Your voice sounded louder, you tried to regain your composure, “people talk a lot, the press too, but you know the truth, right?!”

“I’m a rich man, I like providing you with the luxurious lifestyle you lead. I don’t care that you enjoy my money.”

His words made it so much worse. It made you nauseous, the idea that all this time, he’s been thinking of you as a gold digger, as someone who’s only with him for his money and for what he could provide for you.

“No, Fernando- no!” Your voice wavered, “that’s not true! I love you, you know that right?”

“Why are you so caught up in some silly rumor?

“You know right? You know I love you.” You pressed further waiting for an answer. Hoping against hope that he knew it deep down, that he could acknowledge that you harbored love for him.

“Amor, we have such a great dynamic like this. I don’t need your love, just your loyalty and for you to be my pretty girl.”

He was so calm and reassuring, like he had made peace with the fact that you didn’t love him. Like he wasn’t bothered at all by the fact that you were supposedly a gold digger. His dismissal broke something inside you.

“So you don’t- you don’t believe I love you?”

You felt pathetic and helpless, repeating the same words again and again, hoping and praying for a different answer from Fernando.

“Come on, I’m really tired, can we go to sleep?

“Fernando.”

“I’m going to wait for you in bed,” was all he said, dismissing you completely.

You walked out of the room at the same time he went into the bathroom, you held your head up until you softly closed the door behind you, then finally the tears spilled. You went to the bathroom downstairs, the farthest you could go away from him as the sobs broke from your throat violently.

Sliding down on the floor you wondered if everything was lie. You knew it wasn’t but the fact that he thought you were only there for the money was completely wrong. How long had he been thinking that? How many times had he heard you say “I love you” and thought it wasn’t true? You didn’t even know what to do or what to feel. How could you feel if this whole time while you were pouring your heart into this relationship he thought you were just leeching off of him? How can you love someone so deeply and still live with the fact they think of you as a freeloader? Did he joke with his friends like yeah, she’s a gold digger but at least she’s loyal and fucks me well? 

Your chest hurt and you felt repulsive, making your way to the living room, opening a bottle of his whiskey, not bothering with a glass, just sipping it straight from the bottle.

What could you do now? Talk to him? Tell him you’re not with him for his money? After two whole years accepting his every gift with open arms? After getting a fortune worth of presents? After letting him pay for your books, textbooks, new laptop? After letting him pay for dates, trips, clothes, accessories, shoes and jewelry?

You hated yourself for it now. For taking it just because you thought it was his love language, not because deep down he was trying to keep you, buying your affection.

After spending the whole night awake, nursing a bottle and with only your repulsive thoughts as company, you watched as the sun rose from the big living room window.

It was time to fix it.

Fernando was an early riser almost every morning, so after the sun fully rose in the sky, you went in the kitchen and prepared coffee, to cut the effect of the alcohol. You weren’t drunk, really.

“Morning, bebé! You woke up earlier than me today?” He said, passing you with a kiss to your cheek, then going to the cabinet for a mug. He was so unbothered by your argument last night it was pissing you off.

“I didn’t sleep.”

He paused, looking at your face.

“We should talk.” You readied yourself. Fernando stopped in front of you, attentive. “I’ve been hearing a lot this past week that I’m a gold digger, this has been making me feel some kind of way, and I wanted to address this with you. Last night you were tired and we probably misunderstood each other…”

“Where are you going with this, corazón?” He asked, confused.

“I’m not with you for your money, Fernando. Do you understand that?”

He stood silent, which only made you feel worse.

“I want you to stop giving me presents without a proper occasion. And I want you to stop paying stuff for me. And we’re going to share house bills.” You laid it all out, after thinking hard all throughout the night.

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t accept it.” He frowned, “that wasn’t the deal when we moved in together.”

“Because I didn’t know everything back then. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, and I don’t live at your cost like this.”

“No, Y/N.” He took a step back, shaking his head as if you had said the most stupid thing he had ever heard.

“I’m serious, Fernando.”

“No, I’m not negotiating this. I pay for everything. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it will be.”

“I just want to show you that I’m not with you for the money! I’m not what they’re calling me! No more presents, Fernando.”

“You took them.”

“Because I thought you wanted me to have them!”

“I wanted you to have them so you would want to stay with me!”

You gasped, hearing it from his mouth finally. The tears finally started flowing, and you swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady even with the tempest happening inside your chest, staining the beautiful story of your relationship. Well, what you thought was a beautiful relationship.

“You’re just like them, right?” You said, defeated, “you think of me as a gold digging whore. You probably never defended me when they called me that.”

“I gave you all this stuff because I didn’t want you to leave!”

“It was never about the fucking money! And guess what? You lost me anyway!” You marched to the bedroom, Fernando hot on your heels.

“Don’t. Don’t leave.” He said, following you. “I did everything for you to never leave!”

“Everything but loving me! I don’t fucking care!” You unlatched your necklace, putting it on the table, “I don’t care about your money and the jewelry and the clothes and the bags!” You put down your watch and earrings too. Everything he had given you not because he wanted you or loved you, but because he thought they were the price to pay to keep you around.

“Fuck, I love you!” You shouted, feeling desperate and lost, “And all you see me as is something you paid for. A toy you can parade around and look pretty in your arm! You don’t even love me, Fernando. I could write a list about everything I love about you, and none of it would be your stupid money!”

In the closet, you picked a bag, and started putting your clothes inside. Then you noticed how most of them were gifts from him. So you put it back, taking only what you had bought yourself. Fernando stood there, helpless as you packed, putting clothes and a few shoes in a couple of baggage. You also took your study material and laptop, which he had gifted you, but you knew you’d refund him.

“Stop, no,” Fernando tried to stop you as went into the garage, “I do, I love you.”

“You don’t, Fernando. You’re not even sure of that.” You shook your head, putting the bags inside the car. The Aston Martin he had given you, “you have to think. If you really love me as you say, then why do you love me? Because I’m eye candy you can take to galas? Because I’m a good fuck? Because I stand there and look pretty when you have to kiss those old men’s asses?”

You didn’t give him a second, getting in the car and starting the engine.

“This is so messed up, oh my god, how could I let myself believe this for two entire years?” You whispered to yourself, accelerating the car and driving off. 

Through the rear view, you could see Fernando standing there, doing nothing.

You drove and wiped the tears away, breathing in. When you moved in with Fernando, you hadn’t been able to get out of the lease of your flat because you still had a few months on your renting contract. Now it felt like luck that you had a place to stay. Despite getting your doctorate degree, you didn’t have any friends in the city, only a few acquaintances here and there.

You got to the apartament, not bothering to unpack your bags, only leaving it on the bedroom floor. You took your study material and with your phone in hand, you sent Fernando via transfer a total 4000 euros, for what you hoped covered the “laptop and books expenses” as you wrote in the little note.

Then you laid on the bed, crying yourself to sleep.

You woke up and it was getting dark, the sun setting outside. Checking your phone, there were fourteen missed calls from Fernando, and a notification, showing that he had returned the money to you, with additional 30000 euros and only “no” written on the little note. Huffing, you sent the whole amount back and blocked him, so he couldn’t transfer any more money to you.

He still had not realized what was wrong, he was still thinking money was your motivation.

The next few days felt like a haze, you were barely getting any sleep, only eating and writing your research, which ultimately reminded you of Fernando, since it was a study on aerodynamics. You couldn’t lie to yourself, thinking of how many times you stared at the door, waiting and hoping he would understand and come after you.

-

Fernando had work commitments in England, and going back to Madrid, he ended up giving George and his girlfriend a lift. Fernando was visibly not himself as soon as George saw him.

“How’s Y/N doing?” George asked, casually. But from the way Fernando’s face dropped, he could tell something was wrong, “trouble with the missus?” He joked, tried to lighten the mood.

“She- uh, she left.” Fernando muttered.

“What do you mean, she left?” Carmen joined the conversation, “She’s traveling?”

“No- no- I guess we broke up.”

“You guess?!” George’s voice went a little high pitched out of nervousness.

“Fernando, what happened?” Carmen tried to understand. 

Despite not being exactly best friends, you and her were pretty close, always spending time together whenever both of you were on race weekends. The fact that you’re both engaged academics was also a common topic between you.

“You know about the rumors, right?” Fernando started, hesitating.

“What rumors?” George paused.

“That she’s only with me for the money,” Fernando muttered.

“All girlfriends of drivers are accused of that at some point, what’s new?” George pushed.

“I might have implied that I agree with that.”

“Oh, my god,” Carmen covered her mouth, absolutely shocked, “What?”

“Fernando, respectfully- Are you fucking insane?!” George exclaimed, jaw slack, “she looks at you all lovey-dovey, like- like- you’re the only person in the entire earth and you think she’s with you for the money?”

“She would never be like that! She’s so smart and kind,” Carmen added.

“I know- I just- I don’t know! Maybe I let the rumors get to my head!” he ran both hands over his face, exasperated, “And she always lets me pay, and she always takes the presents, I don’t know!”

Then, Fernando explained about how you tried to pay for dinner, and you refused his gift, he told them about the argument and how you wanted to set boundaries about money and gifts.

“She was trying to prove to you that she’s not a freeloader. She was trying to show that the money didn’t matter, and what did you do? You pushed more money on her!” George practically spat the words in Fernando’s face.

“Eres muy estúpido, Fernando. Te lo digo como tu amiga.” Carmen muttered.

“I don’t know what she said but I heard the word stupid, and I agree.” George backed her up, “Go talk to her, apologize and fix it.”

“That is,” Carmen interrupted, face serious, “If you really love her. Otherwise, better let her go find someone who can really love her, it’s what she deserves. Love and happiness.”

Fernando swallowed, his chest constricting with the mere thought of you moving on, of someone else having you in their arms.

Getting back home without you there felt like a thick fog day, cold and empty and he missed you, he missed his sun. He missed you jumping into his arms as soon as he opened the door. He missed the smell of the candles you always lit while studying. He even missed the little mess of textbooks, colorful highlighters and notes scattered around.

Home didn’t feel like home without you.

In the middle of the living room, there were big cardboard boxes, as he opened, he noticed they were full of clothes, shoes and bags he had gifted you throughout your relationship. In a smaller box, all the jewelry he had given you, even anniversary gifts. Even the beauty products he had given you like perfumes, makeup products, and face creams.

You had returned every single thing.

And on the coffee table, your keys to the house and the keys of your Aston Martin DB12.

It seemed like you had returned everything that could tie you to him, everything that made him wrongly call you a gold digger. And it felt painfully like a goodbye.

-

While mixing your homemade coffee, your eyes flicked to the door, then to your phone on the table, facing up. Despite the searing pain in your chest, and the sorrowful hole in your heart, maybe it was time to start to move on. It had been more than a week, if he wanted to come back to you, he would’ve come by now.

You got ready to meet with your advisor, and she brought up a topic that had been common now, about you taking a position as a professor for a couple of Engineering subjects. She said it’d be good for you to work in your area while on the last few months before getting your doctorate degree. You had mostly denied the other times she offered the position, because you wanted more time with Fernando, because you wanted the freedom to fly around the world following him to his races.

Now- now you had more bills to pay and no boyfriend to follow. You also had more free time, a broken heart and a vacant mind. 

“I’m considering the position. I believe it could do me good right now.” You said to her, thoughtful, “can I confirm with you tomorrow?”

After going through the meeting and getting a review on your thesis, you went back to your flat, taking a long shower. You had just dressed in pajamas when the doorbell rang. With long strides, you were faced with Carmen, and not Fernando as you expected.

“From your face I take it he hasn’t spoken to you, yes?” Carmen muttered, seeing the visible disappointment in your face.

“I’m sorry, please come in,” you opened the door wider, forcing a smile. Carmen had a couple of bags that she set on a nearby table.

“He told us what happened, I’m so sorry,” Carmen hugged you and you immediately started crying, since you had no one to talk about the past few days, “I brought chocolates and wine, so we can talk.”

Over chocolates and a bottle of Merlot, you told her everything, starting at the deuxmoi rumor. She looked horrified when you said word for word what had transpired the last time you spoke with him.

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t come talk to you yet,” Carmen added, at some point.

“Because he won’t, at all.” You say with your voice shaky from crying so much the past hour.

“Don’t say that. He loves you.” Carmen said.

“I’m not entirely sure about that,” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did, “He’ll find another one, someone who can enjoy his money since it seems like it’s all that matters to him.”

Carmen didn’t say anything to that and you knew she couldn’t argue with the facts. Later, George dropped by to get her, going up to your flat so he could hug you quickly and mutter “I’m sorry”.

With a heavy heart, you slowly rebuild a healthy routine again, doing grocery shopping, cooking meals, going to the gym, studying and everything.

One day, you went back home after going on a shopping spree, and as you got into the hall, Fernando was there, standing in your hall, waiting by the door. You stopped, almost losing the timing to leave the elevator. When you walked closer, he noticed you. Meeting his eyes was different this time, uncertain and a little distant.

“What do you want?” You asked, you hoped your voice would come out harsh, but it only sounded defeated.

“Can we talk?” He asked, and you nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you put the shopping bags down. After doing that, you crossed your arms and stood against a side table, waiting quietly.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, for not fully believing your love, I guess I was so focused in protecting myself, that I ended up hurting you, and it was never my intention,” Fernando stood just two steps away from you, his eyes holding such pain and fear, that it made you crumble, he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping well, “I love you, I really do. For who you are and nothing else.”

You wanted to give in so bad, you wanted to run into his arms and never let go, but you also didn’t want to suffer again.

“How do you know? You never knew that for two years, how would you know it now?” You shook your head, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Because it is hard being without you,” he said, like he was trying to find the right words, “I can’t sleep without you. My life is miserable without you around.”

You only nodded, covering your lips with a hand. You wanted to tell him that you had not gotten proper sleep without him, that your life feels empty, that not knowing about him everyday was painful. But you needed more. You needed something you could hold onto, and maybe, just maybe take another chance at the two of you.

“I- I made a list. Like you said,” his voice failed, and you noticed his hand was shaking a little as he held the paper, “I love you. I love coming home to you every time and feel our house so lived in. I love how you always hug me first thing after I’m back home. I love the silly texts you send me randomly throughout the day talking about your day. I love the selfies with your tongue out too,” that made you two chuckle, and the movement made your tears fall, so you wiped them, staring at him intently, “I love that you’re always the smartest person in any room we’re in. I love that you’re humble, never showing off or being a smartass. I love how cheeky and witty you are. I love that you talk in your sleep. I love that scar in your knee, because it shows you were always a little naughty, even as a kid. I love that there’s always fresh flowers at home. I love that you love kids. I love that you get along well with my family. I love that you-”

He didn’t finish, as you closed the distance and launched yourself at him, hugging him tight. Fernando held you close, pressing you into him, inhaling your perfume, feeling like he was at home again.

“I’m so sorry, princesa. So so sorry. I missed you so much,” he whispered against your cheek, kissing it softly.

“I missed you too, Nando” you said, eyes closed and allowing yourself to just feel him again, “I love you so much.”

You let go, holding his face with both hands, looking into his eyes before kissing him softly. He, on the other hand, held the back of your neck firmly, licking your mouth open, until he had tasted your mouth, leaving you breathless.

“Come back home with me, princesa.”

At that, you took a step back.

“I- I can’t, Nando. I got a new job at the university.”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t coming back to me,” you muttered, and your words made him wince, “I needed something to hold on to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he ran a hand over his face, looking embarrassed for taking so long to come after you.

“I believe we should- we should take a step back, rethink a bit about our dynamic,” you told him, hesitant of his reaction.

“Are you unsure about us?” He asked, visibly worried.

“No, no- I love you- I do-” You started, taking his hand, holding it firmly against yours, “I just think we should rewind a bit. Have my own place and pay my own bills, I just don’t want to feel like that again, I need to regain my dignity in this.”

He kept quiet, because he knew deep down you were right. He felt awful about all the misunderstandings, but he knew you probably felt much, much worse. He should just get on his knees and be thankful you still loved him and still wanted him. He’d take all your conditions to get back with him.

And deep down both of you knew it was for the best. Moving out and living alone, working and seeing him occasionally as a boyfriend. 

Holding your face, he kissed you, leaving little pecks on your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss you, and he muttered how much loved you and how much he missed you, kissing down the side of your neck. He walked you inside and let him, feeling his hands quickly peeling your clothes off, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to your bedroom.

You parted so you could undress him, pulling at his jacket and the t-shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he mumbled into a kiss, laying you down in bed.

You laid on the bed and he hugged him, making space for him between your legs. He held you, touching your nose with his gently.

“I missed you, princesa,” he kissed your cheek, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

“I know you will, baby.” You kissed him again, running your hand down his back, “make love to me now.”

He filled you up at once, and you groaned into his mouth, scratching your nails down his back as you cunt welcomed him. As he fucked into you, slowly at first then picking up pace, he muttered how much he loved you and how sorry he was, over and over.

As you cuddled after, quietly enjoying each other’s company. 

“What do we do about all your gifts?”

“Give them away,” you shrugged.

“Can I convince you to take it back?”

“Not if you still want me in your life,” you muttered. He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“You know how I know I love you?” Fernando asked, drawing invisible patterns on your back, “there’s an engagement ring in the third drawer of my bedside table.”

You hesitated for a second, but he knew you well. Better than anyone else.

“I know what you said, I just wanted to let you know. I bought it a week after you moved in with me. I know we’re rewinding a little bit for now, but you’ll be my wife one day.”

“And what if I refuse when you propose?” You smirked, and he pulled your leg over his waist.

“You won’t.”

Note: UGH IDK GUYS :(

[battymommastuff]

The One I was Meant to Find

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

You can swallow fire, you've practically flown through the hair....You've performed in front of millions from age eighteen. You felt like you could handle anything the world threw at you....

Until you entered the Upper district of Gotham City a week after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The part of the city full of the most lavish, and expensive stores. So many name brands that you only ever dreamed of wearing. Not even Haly himself could afford such luxuries, and he owned the circus. Bruce insisted that he bring you to this part of the city to shop for your new wardrobe. He planned on buying outfits, dresses, shoes, jewelry, perfumes, and anything else you could never need. You tried to convince him to just take you to a thrift shop or some random outlet, but he only looked at you as if you spat on his shoes. 

So here you were, standing in front of a store that you had no business being in. Little did you know, you would be walking into these stores as if you were walking through your home in the future. All in due time...

Bruce enjoyed a cheap glass of champagne while you were given dress after dress to wear. Since your method of employment was no longer safe, he planned on hiring you as his assistant until you were safe to find your own career path. You stepped out in a dark blue dress that fit a little big on you, "Bruce, you really don't have to do this...I mean a thousand dollars for a dress? I'm sure we can find something similar for a cheaper price." You said while holding the price tag. He frowned, standing up from his seat. He walked over to you and inspected the price tag for himself. 

He turned you around so you were facing the mirror, "I think it looks wonderful on you." Bruce said with a smile. He moved your hair to the side so he could zip up the rest of the dress and rested his hand on your hip. You both decided to put off the facade of being a couple while in public. Subtle touches like this were going to happen, but he didn't go too far with it, "I could buy this entire store if I wanted to." He whispered into your ear. A shiver went down your spine, and you bit your lip softly. You knew Bruce Wayne was rich, but just how rich was he? Obviously he was rich enough to keep up his lifestyle as Batman. You turned around, not realizing just how close the two of you were. 

Have you ever had that feeling? That feeling that you were looking at someone you knew? As if you'd been with them a thousand life times. That's what you felt when you looked into his eyes. It was as if your souls found each other once again. You knew the theory of the multiverse from one of the clowns in the circus, he loved conspiracy. The thought of you and Bruce being together in different universes made you giggle a bit, "What's so funny?" He asked, his hand still resting on your waist. 

"Nothing at all, Mr. Wayne." Bruce rolled his eyes then back away from you. You only called him that to be a tease. You two often found yourselves teasing one another. Which is why Alfred was very happy to have the both of you out of the house...so he can be free of the thick tension for a few hours. Now you were walking downstairs to the batcave, dressed in one of your new nightgowns. Tonight was one of those nights where you felt unsafe. Truly, you never felt safe. You knew there were eyes on you outside of Wayne Manor. The only place you felt safe was right by Bruce's side...or Batman's at this time of night. 

"You should be asleep." Batman said as he typed away on the batcomputer. It made you think of the night he rescued you, "You have a busy day tomorrow, and I'm sure your boss wouldn't be happy with you being tardy." He joked then turned to look at you. He could tell instantly that you were scared. He understood the fear. After his parents were murdered, he would be up all night in fear of their murderer coming back to finish him off. Living life having to constantly look over your shoulder was no life to live. Without a word, he stood up while removing his cape. The surprisingly light material was draped over your shoulders to keep you warm. He wasn't going to make you leave. If you felt safe around him, then you could stay. Still in silence, you sat down on a stool next to a table lined with gadgets. You hadn't the faintest clue of what any of them were, but they looked very dangerous. 

Was it strange? That you could picture your life like this? By his side, helping him on his quest for Justice. The Manor already felt like home. More so than the circus ever did. That feeling came back again. The one where you felt as if you've been through this before. As if every choice you've ever made led to this very moment. Led you to Bruce. 

"Do you believe in soulmates?" 

"No." 

Your mouth formed an O shape and you awkwardly nodded. That might have been a question for Bruce Wayne not Batman. You learned quickly that the two were vastly different people. Bruce almost felt like the mask while Batman was truly who he was. Sometimes you saw a mix of the two...which you favored. 

"Y/N. I'm not someone you can love. My life and what I do will only bring you more danger, you will never live the happy life you deserve to live. I can never make you happy, and can never give myself to you fully. I'm sorry." 

Being rejected before the first move was ever made never felt good. You felt your heart shatter at the same time that your eyes began to water, "R-Right...I was dumb to ever think otherwise." You said while sliding down from the stool, "Goodnight...Batman." You whispered and swiftly left the batcave, passing Alfred who instantly noticed the tears falling from your eyes.  He could only shake his head as he made his way down the stone steps. 

"Lying to yourself and to her will only make it worse, Master Wayne." Alfred said as he set down a fresh cup of tea next to Batman. Nothing was ever openly spoken, but it was obvious that Bruce and Batman both had feelings for you. Everything about you just drove him insane. He never believed in soulmates until he met you. He never thought that there could be anyone in this world made for him. Yet there you were, and it terrified him. How could he ever keep you safe? Once his enemies knew of you, you were going to be the target. The Court was already going after you, but he had so many more that would love to watch him hurt. He knew if he let himself care for you, it would only end with him losing you. 

And he couldn't lose you....

TAGLIST

@maxinehufflepuffprincess @tayswhp @rainycloud858 @luna-zendra-star @starlets-things @simpfourmarvel @kawaistrawberry21 @js-favnanadoongi @kodzukenmaaa @xxrougefangxx @pixviee @discocactus-world @b4tm4nn @minimoxha @crutoyu @nightw-izhu @legendarylearner18 @mangegeek17 @pixiedust0604 @that-one-fangirl69 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @irelanrose @asterelz @angelxx7 @millies0bsimp @marie0v @starmansirius @amberpanda99 @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @inutheangel @chaoticevilbakugo @mellowdiy @luvly-writer @enretrogue @zanzie @backyardfolklore

[pedrospatch]

lean on me

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: It's been three months since you and Joel left your baby daughter with Bill and Frank in Lincoln; you aren't coping well and Joel tries to help you get through it.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA ((TW)) though it is not explicitly stated, it is implied reader is suffering from postpartum depression. mentions of being unable to breastfeed. angst, hurt, comfort, tiniest hint of fluff at the end.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: this was only meant to be a short drabble, but it ended up getting longer than i anticipated. sorry for more angst.

September, 2020

Joel had known things would get bad.

But he hadn’t expected for them to get this fucking bad.

He glanced across the table at Tess, quietly asking, “She eat today?”

Tess let out a small sigh, shaking her head. “Nope.” She picked up her chipped, ceramic mug and took a sip of crappy, two decades old dark roast coffee and stated, “She didn’t eat anything yesterday, either. Or the day before that or the one before that. I can barely get her to take a fucking sip of water these days.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Tess! We can’t just sit around watchin’ her starve herself,” he hissed at her, his hands curling into fists on the table. 

She shot him an irritated look. “You think I don’t know that already?”

“Tess—”

“What are we going to do, Joel? Pin her down and force feed her?”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in a tight, thin line. He glanced over at you with a heavy, sinking feeling inside of his chest at the mere sight of your current state. 

You were sitting on the bed in the same pair of gray sweatpants you’d been wearing for the last couple of days, your knees pulled up to your chest as you stared blankly, vacantly, out of the window beside you at absolutely nothing. You were beginning to appear frail—the current tone of your skin was so dull, so washed out that anybody who took one glance at you would probably think that you had spent your entire life locked away in some basement, never having seen the fucking sunshine before. The pallor of your skin was only emphasized by the dark, bruise-like circles underneath your eyes, courtesy of the long and sleepless nights you’d been having, especially lately. 

You had fallen deep into a sadness, a darkness—one so deep that you had become nothing but a mere shadow of your former self. You were an empty shell of a human being and it was starting to scare the fucking shit out of Joel. 

“Maybe if we took her to see the baby?” Tess suggested, quietly. She took another sip of her coffee and then set her mug down. “Frank has been wondering why you two haven’t been over there to see her. Hell, even Bill is curious why I’ve been going over there alone.” After having done some digging around, Tess managed to find someone in the QZ who had helped her get her hands on homemade infant formula; it was worth gold and only ever went to officials of a higher ranking who could actually afford it. Somehow, she’d pulled a few strings and the next thing Joel knew, Tess was loading a pack full of cans to take over to Lincoln. She’d made a couple more trips since then, and each time, she had gone alone. “It’s been over three months, Joel. Maybe it’s finally time—maybe it would help her.”

“In her condition?” Joel shook his head, adamantly. “No. For one, she wouldn’t fuckin’ make it a mile down the road before collapsing—from exhaustion, from starvation, you name it. And even if she could make the trip somehow, the truth is, she’s not ready to see her.” He lowered his voice to keep you from overhearing him, although at this point, he was certain that you were too zoned out to even pay attention. Every word was probably going in through one ear and out the other. “I hate to say it, but she’s just not strong enough to see her yet, Tess.”

“And what about you, Texas? What’s your excuse?”

He glared at her. “You really think I can leave her here alone in a state like this while we go skippin’ off to Lincoln together?”

“Good point.” Tess paused and peered curiously at him. “You haven’t even told her what they named her, have you?”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea right now, either.” Joel held back a heavy sigh as he looked down into his own mug of shitty coffee. A huge part of him wished that she hadn’t told him what Bill and Frank ended up naming the baby. Since then, his daughter’s name echoed in the back of his mind, over and over again, damn near constantly.

“Joel, if we don’t do something, she’s going to wind up—” Tess could see his jaw clench again and she stopped herself, choosing her words more carefully. “She’s walking on thin ice. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. She’s already been in lockup twice this week alone because she can’t even keep up with work detail anymore. I know this is hard for you to hear, but if something doesn’t change soon, things are only going to get worse from here—she’ll get worse. You’re the only one of the two of us who actually has a chance of getting through to her and you need to fucking do something.”

“Tess, I’ve tried—”

“Well fucking try harder, Joel. If you don’t, you’ll fucking lose her. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Joel rubbed his face tiredly with both of his hands. He knew it was nothing but the truth that she was speaking, but goddamn the truth fell onto his shoulders heavy, almost too heavy. It felt as though he were carrying the weight of the entire fucking planet. But she was right. If something wasn’t done, he was going to lose you. “Tess, you mind if I have a minute alone with her?”

She nodded and took one last gulp of coffee before standing up from the table. “Yeah. I have to go see Robert and a couple of his buffoons about something anyway.” As she walked past him towards the door, she stopped and tossed him a pointed look. “Maybe today is the day that you finally decide to give her that thing that you’ve been carrying around in your pocket,” she suggested. “We went through a lot of shit for it, Joel. It’s the reason we have been drinking crappier coffee than usual for the last two weeks.”

He nodded, watching her as she grabbed her jacket and left.

After a minute or two, Joel finally pushed himself away from the table and rose to his feet. He made his way over to you, and he wasn’t even the slightest bit surprised at how you didn’t turn to acknowledge him despite the sound of his heavy boots on the creaking hardwood floor. He said your name as he came closer to you, but you remained as still as a stone statue, your eyes still fixed outside of the window.

“Alright,” he said, standing next to you at the side of the bed, both of his hands placed firmly on his hips. “Enough is fuckin’ enough. I can’t and I won’t let you keep carryin’ on like this. Either you get up and get your ass over to that table and eat somethin’ or I’m going to pick you up off of this bed, take you over there, and feed you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’ll tie you down to the chair if that’s what I’ve gotta do.”

Finally, you turned to look at him. You spoke, your voice sounding just as fragile as you looked. “I’m not hungry.”

Joel’s expression immediately softened.

Fuck. 

He couldn’t be tough on you, not in the state you were in—he thought being hard on you would be the way to get through to you, but he just didn’t have it in him to be stern with you, not when you were like this.

“Baby. Please.” He knelt down beside you, reaching for your hand. He winced at how frigid your hand felt in his palm, as if he were holding a block of ice. He brought his other hand up and placed it on top, doing his best to warm it up with both of his. “Look, I get it. I know that you miss her. I know that you’re hurtin’ over her. You might not think I get it, but I do.” He paused, feeling sick to his stomach upon noticing the lifelessness in your eyes. He almost wished that he could see you cry, because at least he would know for certain that you were still in there somewhere—but Joel hadn’t seen you shed a single tear since you’d broken down sobbing in his arms that night in Lincoln. “You just can’t keep goin’ on like this. You don’t eat, you’ve barely slept in weeks. You keep fallin’ behind with all your work assignments and you’ve landed yourself in lockup more times than I can fuckin’ count because of it.”

You simply shrugged, as if you couldn’t give two shits about any of it.

Joel managed to bite back his sigh of frustration. He knew that losing his temper would do nothing more than sink you further into the hole you were currently in. But he was angry. He was just so fucking angry about about everything. Here you were, just slipping right through his fucking fingers, slowly fading away right before his own two eyes and he didn’t know what to do to stop it from happening. He felt lost. He felt hopeless—useless. 

He squeezed your hand out of desperation. He would fucking plead if he had to. “I need you to fuckin’ snap out of it. Please,” he begged, as he continued holding your hand tightly, holding onto it as if he were holding onto dear life itself. “Please, for the love of fuckin’ god, I need you to just snap out of it. If not for yourself, fuckin’ do it for me—do it for her.”

“Snap out of it?” You repeated. “You want me to just snap out of it?”

“Baby, please just listen to me for one goddamn second—”

You snatched your hand out of both of his. “I can’t just fucking snap out of it, Joel!” You nearly shouted at him, speaking the loudest he’d heard you speak in several weeks. “Alright? I can’t snap out of it! My heart is shattered into pieces, don’t you fucking understand that?”

“‘Course I do. Givin’ her up was hard for me too,” he reminded you quietly, resisting the urge to match your tone. 

“And I don’t deny that,” You prefaced yourself. “I know it was hard on you too, Joel. But you’re not the one who came this close, this damn fucking close to aborting her.” You held up your index finger and your thumb close together. You’d started trembling as everything seemed to catch up to you all at once—sleep deprivation, malnourishment and of course, the emotions you had been bottling up inside of you for the last three months. “You’re not the one who carried her inside of your womb for almost nine months, who felt every one of her flutters and her kicks. You’re not the one who had to go through the excruciating pain of giving birth to her in this crumbling apartment, only to have to place her in someone else’s arms and leave her behind three days later. You’re not the one who had to deal with the aftermath, Joel. Do you know how much it fucking hurt not to be able to feed her? How much it fucking sucked to have to wait for your milk supply to dry up because you no longer had a baby to feed?”

For the first time in a long time, Joel was left speechless. 

He didn’t know what to say. Hell, there was nothing he could say.

Because you were absolutely fucking right.

None of what you’d just said to him was a lie. Of course he knew that giving the baby up had been a hundred times harder on you than it’d been on him—mentally, emotionally, and even physically. He thought back to the nights when he would see you sitting there with your own arms wrapped around your chest, knowing you were aching, knowing that although you said nothing about it, you were in unbearable pain from being unable to breastfeed. 

And what could he do about it?

Not a goddamn fucking thing.

Still, Joel had tried. He always made the attempt to comfort you, only to be shot down time and time again. He’d been so used to being the one who rejected any kind of support that, when the tables had been turned on him, he hadn’t known how to handle it. Joel could feel the guilt slowly creeping in as he wondered if perhaps he just hadn’t tried hard enough for you. He was your partner—it was his duty to take care of you, to look out for you, to protect you, and yet here he was, failing to do any of that. 

He could have done more. 

He should have done more.

Especially after all the friction he’d caused from the beginning of your pregnancy. From letting you go to those crooked motherfuckers for a procedure that could have cost you your life, down to the way he had treated you the night you’d brought up Sarah, it seemed as though all Joel had been doing was fucking up, time after time. 

Seeing the expression on Joel’s face, you immediately knew what he must have been thinking. Your eyes widened and you quickly uttered a nearly breathless apology. “Joel, I’m so fucking sorry—”

He stopped you, tightly shaking his head. “No, don’t be. It’s true, it’s all fuckin’ true.”

Finally, after three months of bone-dry eyes, a warm tear slipped out, falling down the side of your face. Your entire body shuddered as the flood gates opened and more followed in suit, each one falling faster, harder than the last. The next thing you knew, Joel had pulled himself up onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his arms just as you had started sobbing. With one hand, he delicately cradled the back of your head as you cried and cried into his shoulder. The other rubbed a soothing circle into your back over and over again. 

And just like that night in Lincoln, Joel just held you, waiting patiently as you finally allowed yourself to release each and every single one of your emotions out into the open. He didn’t say a word to you, nor did he attempt to stop the tears—he just held you close, merely using his touch to silently let you know that he would wait as long as he had to until you were finished.

“Joel,” You sniffed his name, your hands clutching fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m right here, baby,” he assured you, holding you even closer against him, as close as humanly possible. His heartbeat was right in your ear and you closed your eyes, listening to it and letting it calm you. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you carry this pain alone, darlin’. You remember that?”

You nodded against his chest, whispering, “I remember.”

“Well then, you’ve gotta let me help you,” Joel said into your hair. “For three months, I’ve been tryin’ but you just keep pushin’ me away. It doesn’t work like that. I need you to lean on me. I need for you to let me back in and help you because the road you’re headin’ down right now is a dangerous one.” 

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from him slightly, just far enough to meet his worried gaze. You could see the absolute fucking hell that you had been putting him through and felt your heart clench painfully inside of your chest. “I know I can’t keep going on like this, Joel,” You admitted softly to him. “Believe me, I know that. I tried so hard to get a fucking grip. There have been so many days where I think to myself, today is the day that I’m going to get my shit together. But then I just think of her sweet and innocent little face and I just fall apart all over again.” You muffled another sob with the palm of your hand.

“Oh, baby.” He gave your body a gentle, but firm squeeze. If he could take your pain away, all of it, and carry it along with his own, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat. 

You swallowed harshly. “I know she is far better off where she is, Joel, I know that she is. I never want her falling into the hands of FEDRA. It kills me to think of her being here in this shitty fucking place, going to their shitty fucking school.” Your voice broke at the mere thought of it all. “We know what would happen, Joel. As soon as she comes of age and meets their requirement, they will put her through their recruiting program. After her training, they either deem her worthy of becoming a fucking ruthless officer or they will give her the shittiest civilian jobs making her work for scraps of nothing, the same way they do to us.”

Joel sighed, rubbing your back again. “I know, baby. I know. It’s why we did what we did. We did what we had to do to spare her from that shit.”

“But then there’s this selfish part of me that wants her back so badly, so fucking badly that it makes me fucking ache,” You confessed, guilt lacing your tone of voice. “I just want the hurt to stop. I want to be at peace with the decision that we made, but the way I miss her, it feels almost impossible. I feel like I’ll never be able to accept that this is the way things have to be.”

“You have to accept it—we have to accept it. We ain’t got a choice,” Joel spoke the truth to you as gently as he could, though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference.

“I know,” You whispered, your eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He stared at you for a moment and then pressed his lips against your forehead. Deciding it was time to show you what he’d been keeping a secret from you, Joel reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small, crumpled up wad of brown tissue paper. With one of his arms still around you, he used both of his hands to unwrap the tissue paper only to reveal a delicate silver chain—a bit too old to be shiny, but still in good shape nonetheless. Joel picked it up and tossed the tissue off to the side. He held it up in front of you to give you a better look at it. 

A single white pearl hung from the chain. 

“Joel, where did you get this?” You gasped lightly, taking it from him with trembling fingers. You didn’t even want to know what the hell he must have had to do or trade for it. Sure, jewelry was one of the most useless items that anyone could possess in this world because it no longer had any monetary value, but if someone wanted something bad enough and another person had it, then advantage was going to be taken somewhere, somehow. 

“Don’t you worry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

You glanced up at him, an incredulous look in your eyes. “Joel.”

He almost chuckled, knowing you wouldn't let him off that easy. “I’d mentioned to Tess that I wanted to get you somethin’ special to carry around with you, somethin’ that would remind you of her. Tess said a pearl was the birthstone for June, and so I asked her to help me find one a few weeks ago. She found some guy and I cut a deal for it. But that’s all I’m tellin’ you.”

Joel took the necklace from you and beckoned for you to turn around for him. Moving your hair aside, he reached around you and clasped it at the back of your neck. “I’d rather only you wear it when you’re here in the apartment. Once you go outside, it stays hidden in your pocket so no one sees it, alright?”

You turned back around to face him. “I don’t even know what to say. I can’t believe you did this for me, Joel.” You reached for his hands and held them tightly in your own as you shot him a sincere, grateful look. “Thank you.”

He leaned forward, lightly brushing his mouth against yours. “Baby?”

“Yes?” You murmured against his lips.

Joel squeezed your hands, hesitating for a moment before he said, “I know I’ve only ever said it to you once—that night. Outside of Bill and Frank’s place. But I need you to know that I love you. The truth is, I’ve been lovin’ you for a long time now. Never had it in me to admit it, not even to myself.” His eyes met yours in such a tender way that you felt a part of your broken heart begin to heal itself. It was just a small part, and you knew that unless you had your daughter back, it would never mend itself completely. Still, it was enough to give you a sense of hope. It was just enough to remind you that you would be able to find the strength in you to survive this pain. If you had any reason to keep going, it was right there it front of you. It was Joel. “I love you. I’m gonna do everythin’ that I can to help you through this. All you’ve gotta do is lean on me, alright?”

“I love you, Joel.” Though you’d said it to him once before, it still felt a bit foreign to say out loud.

It felt right, though. And it felt right hearing him say it to you. 

Reaching up, you lightly clasped the pearl in your hand. You leaned into Joel’s chest and felt him wrap his arms around you. 

“Y’know,” Joel said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over you, “Tess said Frank’s been wondering why we haven’t been over to see her yet. I know it might still be a bit too soon for you, but—” He let his sentence trail.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, you could hear it in his voice.

He wanted to see the baby.

“I’m not ready for that just yet,” You admitted. “I want to see her more than anything, but look at me. I’m a fucking mess.” You paused, clutching onto the pearl a little tighter. “Maybe we can try in a few weeks? What do you think?”

Joel kissed the top of your head. “Soon as you’re ready, say the word and we’ll go.”

[madschiavelique]

hii i love your work!

i was wondering if you could write a sensitive fem!reader x Miguel O’Hara x Peter B smut? peter is like a soft dom and miguel is a hard dom?

miguel of course says something a little to mean while fucking her from behind, and she starts to cry and peter is all like “miguel, you made her cry”

thank you 🙏🏼

OMG anon you don't know what this did to me

you just provoked my new addiction : i want to write so much more miguel x reader x peter now i'm OBSESSED (also tumblr was kinda bugging while i tried doing this post so i hope things will be alright fdvfbsef - and this is not proofread :D)

summary : miguel made you cry because he was mean as you were eiffel towered by him and Peter B.

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, hard dom!miguel o'hara, soft dom!peter b. parker, reader being eiffel towered (i'm french and feeling very patriotic on this one🥖), miguel being a bit too mean, overstimulation, pnv sex, sodomy, no use of Y/N word count : 1,2k

tag list : @fandom-ash

You whimpered once more, your whole body feeling electric and tired at the same time as you sank down shakily. Miguel was behind you, his warm breath landing on your ear as you felt his torso bulge against your back. Peter was facing you, kissing your shoulder as your breasts pressed against his chest.

You couldn't tell the time any more, whether it had been an hour or more that they were fucking you without stopping. Many orgasms had been reached, and your body was floating in this cloud of overstimulation. You were exhausted, at the end of your rope, with barely enough energy to lift your body and sink on both of their dicks buried in you.

Needing to regain your strength and rest both your thighs and your whole body, which had been in orgasmic succession, you rested for a moment, not moving as their two cocks stayed all warm in you.

"Did I say you could stop?" Miguel grunted against your back, his teeth grazing your skin as his hand rested on your thighs and squeezed your flesh between his massive fingers.

You let out a moan, your head falling back to rest in the crook of Miguel's neck.

"I can't," you breathed shakily, "it's too much."

You could feel the electricity coursing through your thighs, your body on fire, absolutely exhausted by the effort that had been required of you from the start.

"Come on sweetheart," Peter encouraged, caressing your cheek as he waited for you to continue. "You can do this."

You inhaled harshly, pressing down on your trembling thighs to rise again and continue. The knot forming in your body stretched from your lower stomach to the small of your back. The overload of sensation was heightening your sensitivity to the limit, both physically and mentally.

Your legs were tired, trying to bury yourself properly on them. One of your hands had found its place on Peter's shoulder, the other holding Miguel's thigh and allowing you to hold on better as you went back and forth.

"Is that the best you can do?" Miguel grumbled against your ear, both your faces covered in a light sheen of sweat.

One of his hands went to your hip, digging his fingers into your skin as he pushed even deeper and you let out a moan. The fatigue was getting hard to handle, all the sensations mixed together, their breaths, their voices, their words...

"If you can't do it right, I'll find someone who can".

This sentence stung you in the chest. All you were doing was trying to do your best for them, to make them feel good and have your share in it too. Were you really that incapable? Were you so incompetent that you didn't do anything for them? Were you really that useless?

"Watch your mouth," Peter warned, not necessarily condoning the crude words his partner had just uttered.

But it was too late, your heart clenched, your throat constricted as a ball formed in it. Your eyes burned, you would have preferred not to cry, but your nose stung so much in your abstinence that you ended up breaking. When the tears came, you lowered your head against Peter's shoulder, and they flowed hard and committed.

"Hey what's that," he said, feeling beads running down his skin that he knew wasn't sweat.

You didn't dare look at them, your hips still moving, your shame and discouragement oppressing your chest.

"Look at me," he asked softly as his hand came to rest on your cheek.

You looked up, your eyes unable to find his. But he placed his index finger like a hook under your chin to raise it, and your wet eyes met his.

"Oh no," he said, mouth half open, "bunny, are you crying?"

You immediately felt Miguel tense up, his hand suddenly much softer against your skin.

"What?" he asked, gently sliding his hand over your jaw in the hope of turning you towards him and seeing your face.

But you pulled away from his touch and buried your face in Peter's shoulder, not feeling strong enough to face Miguel's gaze.

"Miguel, you made her cry," Peter said, stroking your hair gently as Miguel's mouth fell open in surprise.

He hadn't realised the impact words like that could have on you, especially in this context. You had been so good to them, and you still are, their absolute dream. You are perfection itself, and Miguel would obviously never want to replace you with anyone else.

"Muñeca..." he murmured against your back as he came to kiss you tenderly, his hand caressing your hip.

Your tears were still flowing, your back shaking with little jolts of heartache and pleasure.

"Mírame," he asked gently, kissing the back of your neck.

You breathed in, lifting your wet cheeks from Peter's shoulder and turning to meet Miguel's face.

His eyes instantly became pained, pained to have been the one to cause this state. He would never, ever wish for anyone but you. He caressed your cheek, kissing the corner of your eyes and licking your wet skin.

"Please forgive me, amor," he whispered against your skin, "you know I never meant these words, right?"

Your chin trembled and Peter put his hand on your other cheek to wipe it clean.

"You're the only one we want," Miguel assured you, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're the most perfect thing that ever happened to us, and we would never want anybody else than you."

You sniffled, the sweet words he gave you pressing into your heart like a comforting balm. You loved them both so dearly, and it felt good to know that they did too.

"How are you feeling right now?" Peter asked, kissing your cheek softly.

You breathed in, still feeling the exhaustion weighing on your thighs and body.

"Like everything's too much," you managed to whisper, sniffing and swallowing.

"Do you think you can come just once more for us, nena?" Miguel asked, kissing your shoulder gently and stroking your thigh with his thumb.

The knot in your stomach was still tight, and it was almost painful not to get any relief from it.

"Mhm," you nodded as you pushed on your thighs again to raise them up.

Miguel's hands both came to grip your hip to guide you, helping you to sink and rise much more easily and sparing you a little pain in your thighs.

"You're so good for us," Peter breathed, kissing the crook of your neck lovingly, "you're doing such a good job, taking us like that."

Miguel kept pace with your hips, neither urging you on nor slowing you down. Both their warm breaths landed on your skin, whispering sweet, soft words that softened your heart and enveloped it in adoration.

Your moans began to multiply, vibrating in your throat a little more as you finally approached orgasm.

"Come for us, muñeca" encouraged Miguel.

And you came, your whole body shaking as if a bolt of lightning had struck your core and spread seismic waves of pleasure throughout its entirety.

You let your head rest against Miguel's chest, and he kissed your forehead gently.

"I knew you could do it," he whispered.

"You're our angel," Peter confirmed as he kissed your cheek.

[carlsangel]

TERRIFIED

carl grimes x reader

(carl comforts you during Terminus.)

tags: hurt to comfort, Terminus and mentions of The Claimers.

masterlist here!

During Terminus, you couldn’t remember a time when you felt more terrified than you were in that moment. You traveled long and far, originally you were from Woodbury. You remember being scared when you were told you’d have to move to the Prison, especially after your parents had left with the Governor one day and never returned.

You never got full answers, you heard they were attacked but not about what attacked them. You wondered about it everyday. But even in that moment, you don’t think we’re as scared as you were in the large crate marked with a big “A.” You hoped this place would be your savior, your new home.

On the walk to Terminus, you were nervous and for valid reason but Carl tried to make you feel better. He held your hand and ran his thumb over the back of it, occasionally squeezing when he noticed you breathing a bit deeper. He talked to you about a bunch of different things, a book he’d read, his old dog from before, he even asked you a ton of questions to distract you.

It worked, even though he probably was the one who needed comforting. Especially after your groups’ ordeal with the Claimers.

Right, the Claimers. The only other time you’ve been genuinely terrified.

You arrived to the wire fence surrounding Terminus. Rick asks Carl if he wanted to stick with him and he said no and he’d continue walking away with Michonne. You knew they would talk, he’s been pretty avoidant towards Michonne since that night with the Claimers. You went to walk in the opposite direction when Rick stopped you. “You’re with me.” He tells you, immediately getting to work on a dirt hole. You stood there awkwardly watching him when you realized you’d finally been alone with Rick, meaning you could gather details.

“What happened to my parents?” You inquired, not even minding the fact that it was a very blunt way to ask. It was your right to know. He looked up at you before continuing to shovel out some dirt. “We told you, they were attacked.” This made you roll your eyes. “You never told me what by. I know what kind of a world we live in, I’m not just gonna assume it was walkers.” You retort, Rick stops for a moment before you continue. “It was the Governor, wasn’t it?”

He remains still for a moment, eventually nodding while still looking at the floor. “He shot a lot of his people that day.” He explains, going back to digging the hole. Eventually the hole is big enough to stuff the duffle bag inside and he does so. He stands up and looks at you intently. “Sorry we didn’t tell you. I didn’t realize you’d be a larger part of our lives here.” He gestures to Carl, insinuating he was the reason your around. Which was entirely true.

“I just…don’t like secrets.” Rick nods and looks down at his hands as he wipes them off. “Well as long as you’re family…we won’t be keepin anythin from you.” He puts his hand on your shoulder like he tends to do to Carl. He smiles at you, and you return one as well. He goes back to the ground to cover up the bag and you walk to find Carl and Michonne. You notice they’re having a moment and you smile a little. You’re called back over as it was time to actually enter Terminus.

You enter the large factory building, noticing a woman repeating the same sentence over and over into a microphone(?) . Eventually you reveal yourselves and you’re lined up to be patted down. You’re led through what you thought would be your new home and you and Carl were both offered some food. You held the plate in your hands, looking at it curiously wondering what kind of meat it was, you wanted to assume it was venison.

Before you could ask, Rick had suddenly had a man in a headlock, causing you to drop the plate and arming yourself with the gun in your holster. You looked around and noticed everything that was familiar, the poncho, the bag, the riot gear. It was all a trap and you all fell for it. Surely you’d make it out alive, right? You always did.

Shots were fired and you started running. There were no thoughts going through your head other than escape. You’d recklessly shot at a man standing on a roof, somehow you’d actually hit him. His leg gave out and you could see him fall off the roof before Rick pulled you in the direction where you needed to run.

It felt like they were hunting you like animals. Upon running you’d see what looked like cages filled with human bones and blood all over the floors. You passed tons of crates with people screaming from the inside and you realized that would soon be you if you didn’t keep running. You were then cornered. Forced to drop your weapons, herded into the crate like, once again, like animals.

You were reunited with the people you saw as family. While that gave you a glimpse of hope, you still were still extremely worried. What would they do to you for shooting that man’s leg? You began to overthink when the group simultaneously decided that you would try to escape. You weren’t sure how to help, someone handed you a chunk of wood they’d cut off of the door with the pocket watch chain to shave down into a blade.

You looked over to Carl and he looked fine. How could he be acting so normal? Usually he had a front when in situations like this; he had one during the fall of the prison. What’s so different?

“What?” He noticed your staring. You shake it of and return to shaving down your wood against the ground. “It’s nothing.” You reply, your voice a tad shaky and he goes back to what he’s doing. You were warned that there were men arriving and you all began to prepare to storm through the large crate door. Then the roof opened.

Before you knew it you were huddled to the floor and you were extremely panicked, worried they’d take you first considering you shot one of their people. You felt someone grab you and you tried to resist. “It’s me, it’s me.” The person grabbing you was Carl, he took you to a corner to so you could catch your breath even with the smoke that flooded the room. He rubbed your back despite the fact that he was also coughing.

The room eventually aired out and you’d calmed down. You were now just sitting in the corner, your eyes still watery. Carl was checking up on everyone and you took a head count. They’d taken Bob, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn. Rick. You just talked to him, he just welcomed you to the family. Now he’s probably gone. Tears begin to form in your eyes, and you begin to sob quietly. Carl notices and he returns back to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees.

“Hey we’re gonna make it out.” He reached his hand out to your face and he gently wipes away your tears, brushing your hair behind your ear. You lift your hands up to cover your face while you sobbed and his heart begin to shatter into millions of pieces. “Cmon.” He pulled your wrists from your face and pulls your hands to his lips to place kisses on the both of them. “Just breathe okay?” He says softly, continuously kissing your hands to calm you down.

Your breath slows down and you nod. Your sobs had turned into small sniffles and you looked around to see if anyone was watching and they weren’t, thank god. “But y-your dad-” He immediately starts to shake his head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s gonna handle it. I know it.” He squeezes your hand twice and looks at you intently. “You promise?” You ask, your voice still quivering. “You know I can’t.” He responds. You give him a small okay, understanding he could never really promise anything.

“Cmon.” He smiles and stands back up, sticking his hand out to you. As soon as you go to grab his hand, boom.

Maybe you would make it out.

a/n: everyone thank mama carol for saving everyone’s asses! i hope this was okay, it honestly didn’t take me too long to write so i’m happy about that. i tried to incorporate a new sort of storyline for the reader since i feel like i use the same shit every time LMAO okay bye love u

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @evilnight07 @ilikestrawberriesandwomen

[burnednotburied]

Chapter 7: Lost Haven

AO3 Link | Masterlist

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; mutual pining; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas; character deaths (canon AND non-canon)

Note: The last chapter was short and (mostly) sweet. This one... not so much.

Enjoy!

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

This was your fault.

You knew Lev was upset. You knew Yara was having trouble getting through to him. But instead of talking to him – making sure he understood exactly why none of you could go back to the island, handling the situation that was yours to handle – you’d been too busy worrying about your clothes and almost kissing Wolves.

As you raced after Yara through the dimly lit hallways of the aquarium, you silently berated yourself for getting so distracted. For losing sight of what was important. For failing to predict that Lev would do something reckless if you didn’t keep him in your sight. 

If anything happened to him, you would never forgive yourself. 

A strong gust of wind hit your face as you made it into open air, looking out on the makeshift dock where Owen’s boat floated idly. He was already out there, standing near Mel as the two of them looked out at the open water. 

Ominous dark clouds and another punishing current of air told you a storm was coming.

“Are we sure he’s heading to the island? Maybe he’s just blowing off steam,” Abby offered, attempting a comforting tone.

“No,” Yara said. The three of you joined the two others, and Yara pointed out in the same direction Owen and Mel had been looking. “That’s him. He’s definitely going to the island.”

You could just barely make out a small boat in the distance. 

“Shit,” Abby breathed out.

“What’s he doing?” Mel asked.

“He’s going after her.” Yara’s hand grasped onto the metal fence in front of her desperately.

“After who?”

“His mom,” Abby supplied.

“She’s going to kill him, Prophet! You know that,” Yara turned to you, looking devastated. Your fingers curled into tight fists, nails digging into your palms. It was true. You would have to go after him.

“Woah, wait. What? Prophet?” And then it occurred to you that that was something Owen and Mel were not aware of.

But that didn’t matter right now. 

“Your boat.” You turned to meet Owen’s wide eyes. “Does it work?”

There was a brief moment where he seemed to battle with whether or not to push about the Prophet thing, but he chose to let it go. He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“How much time do you need?” Abby asked.

“Uhhh,” he looked away, thinking. “A few hours. At least.”

“Fuck.” Abby turned to you. You were about to ask if there was somewhere else you could get a boat – and you had begun to wonder if you shouldn’t just run off by yourself and hope you came across one quickly by chance – but Abby was already thinking the same thing, already moving, already prepared to jump back into danger for you and your friends. “We’ll head him off. We’ll grab a boat from the marina–”

“Hey! She just had surgery.” Mel threw an arm out in front of Yara, who had begun to follow you, Abby, and Owen.

“I’m fine,” Yara insisted, pushing past the woman.

You paused, reaching blindly behind you to pull Abby back. 

“No, she’s right,” you said. You needed to stop and think about this before you went forward. There was no good way to go about this, but one option was definitely better than the rest. You found Abby’s eyes and realized that you had somehow gone from pulling her by her wrist to holding her hand.

You didn’t let go.

“I could use your help to find a boat, but then I need to do the rest by myself.”

Abby pulled away in shock, and her and Yara’s responses came immediately and simultaneously.

“Fuck that!”

“What? No! You can’t!”

You nodded, doubling down. This was the right thing to do. You were sure of it. “Going to the island would be deadly for anyone here except me.” Again they both tried to protest as you went on. “I know the island better than almost anyone else. On my own, there’s a good chance I could stay undetected. And even if they were to catch me, it would be fine. They don’t know that I deserted. And even if they suspected as much, I’m confident that I can convince them otherwise. Worst case scenario, they won’t kill me immediately like they would the rest of you.”

“You’re not going by yourself,” Abby said, and it was your turn to protest, but she cut you off. “Yara should stay here, but I’m going with you.”

“I’m coming too,” Owen stated matter-of-factly, just as Yara said, “I am going!”

Mel and Abby both jumped to argue with Owen. You left them to figure that out and pulled your friend to the side to talk privately.

“Yara,” you began, “stay here. Please. Help them get ready to leave for Santa Barabara. I promise I’ll bring Lev back.”

“I just–”

“Lev wouldn’t want you to get hurt. Especially not because of him.” 

Yara’s eyes went back out to the water, as if she could make him come back through sheer force of will. You wished the same. You didn’t want to go back to the island, and you really didn’t want Lev to be in danger. 

“I’ll get him. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Yara was silent for a moment as the first rolls of thunder rumbled loudly.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “But you have to agree to take Abby with you.”

“You already trust her more than me, don’t you?” Your words took on a lightly teasing tone.

“Of course not.” She gave you a small smile as, you assumed, her eyes found Abby somewhere behind you. “But you need someone to watch your back. Lev wouldn’t want you to get hurt either. And neither do I.” She stepped forward and hugged you. It was a bit awkward on your end – with you having to be careful to avoid her healing wound – but it was the first time anyone had embraced you in years. In fact, you were pretty sure the last time had been when Yara hugged you on the morning of your scarring ceremony. 

You cleared your throat. Even if emotions hadn’t already been running high, you would’ve had to swallow down some tears in that moment.

“Yara?” you said, still holding her.

“Yes?”

“When we get back, I’m really going to need you and Lev to stop calling me Prophet.” 

She let out a little laugh at that as you parted. “Deal.”

When you looked back at the other three, you found them standing in the same place you’d left them, watching you and Yara, apparently having already come to an agreement themselves. By the look on Owen’s face, it hadn’t gone the way he wanted it to.

So it would be just the two of you then.

You looked to Abby.

“Ready?”

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

The process of getting a boat wasn’t nearly as straightforward as Abby thought it would be. And it had taken a lot longer than she would’ve liked.

At the marina, the two of you were greeted by the sound of gunshots. She asked you to stay there, hidden near the dock, while she grabbed a boat. 

If there were WLF soldiers nearby, being spotted with you would be a problem. Your lack of facial scars meant you weren’t recognizable as a Seraphite at a glance, but you were still a stranger. She didn’t know how to explain you being with her in a way that wouldn’t bring up too many questions. All in all, it would be easier and faster for her to go alone.

You surprisingly didn’t argue with her, willing to hang back for a bit if it meant getting to the island – getting to Lev – quicker.

Abby almost immediately ran into Manny and found that the gunshots were coming from one of the trespassers who’d come out of nowhere and been hitting WLF hard the last few days. 

She didn’t get the chance to ask Manny what he meant by that. 

The trespasser shot him in the head.

But she got close enough to see him. Close enough to fight with him hand-to-hand.

It was Tommy Miller, Joel’s brother – a realization that made her worry about what these trespassers were here for and what they meant to do.

But Abby was great at setting things aside for later for the sake of focusing on one problem at a time.

And right now, she needed to get you and get to Lev. 

By that point, you’d already caught up to her – because of course you hadn’t actually stayed very far behind at all – but you still needed a boat. 

Abby found a small motorboat tied to one of the docks that proved to be in working order. She got it going, sat behind the wheel, and headed out toward the island, quickly reaching the boat’s top speed, trying to make up for lost time.

You had been silent since you got on the boat, looking out at the water. She cleared her throat, speaking loudly over the combined roar of the motor, the wind, and the water. “So how do we get to that village in one piece?”

Your eyes remained focused ahead. “There are blind spots along the coast we can boat into. From there, we’ll follow back roads.”

“They’re safe?”

“It’s the safest option we have.”

You wore the same expression you’d had since you found out Lev had run off, eyebrows drawn together, a storm in your eyes just as strong as the one in the sky. You were worried, but it was more than that. 

Abby had to call your name twice before you turned to her, reluctant to meet her eyes. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

You shook your head once and looked back out towards the island, pointing as you began to direct her to the best entrypoint.

The island was weirdly exactly what Abby expected, given what she knew about the Seraphites, and yet seeing it with her own eyes was still shocking.  

The Washington Liberation Front used existing buildings from the Old World. SoundView Stadium and the Lakehill Seattle Hospital. Schools and office buildings. They didn’t build so much as clean, repair, and repurpose.

The Seraphites had built a whole new world on the island. Wooden structures, villages, homes, farmlands. 

It was honestly impressive.

As promised, you had been leading the way through the woods, using backroads. You had yet to run into any other people, but Lev and Yara’s village was further inland, and it was only a matter of time before it became unavoidable.

Abby wondered if you were prepared to kill your own people. And if you would hold it against her when she did, to keep you safe and to get to Lev.

You had been quiet for a while, deftly navigating through a thick stretch of forest with her following close behind. If you didn’t want to talk, she wasn’t going to force the issue.

It had begun raining a while ago, although the worst of the storm hadn’t hit yet. The outfit Mel gave you hadn’t included a jacket, and you’d left your cloak behind with the dress.

Would you be offended if she offered you her jacket? Abby wasn’t sure, but you didn’t seem to be bothered by the rain or the cold. 

At a point of higher elevation, you came to a stop, looking out onto a huge settlement in the distance along the western coast.

“Woah. Is that the village?” she asked, using one hand to shield her eyes from the rain to get a better look.

“No,” you said. “That’s Haven, our capital. And that–” You stepped closer to Abby, placing a hand on her shoulder as you shifted your weight to the tips of your toes so your eyelines were level. She leaned into the touch, bringing your faces even closer, cheeks nearly brushing. You pointed to a specific building just north of the large town. It was bigger than the rest and even from that distance, Abby could tell that it was nicer. More carefully and intentionally made and maintained.  “–That is Sanctuary. It was the first Prophet’s home and a sacred place of worship. And it’s where I lived after my scarring ceremony.”

You let several moments pass before your hand fell and you dropped back down to your heels, taking a step to the side.

Sometimes it seemed that you touched her without realizing, without meaning to. And then there’d be a moment when you’d become aware of your actions and pull away. 

She wished you wouldn’t. But now wasn’t the time for that conversation.

“The village is further east.” You turned to go, continuing back into the forest. Abby stood there for a second longer, looking out at the place you’d spent much of your life, being literally worshiped and yet entirely controlled, and she wondered how strange it must feel for you to come back now. 

“Don’t linger,” you said, turning back to find that she hadn’t moved. “They have scouts. They might see you.”

She glanced back one more time before following.

“Are you sure the Wolves are attacking tonight?” you asked, breaking several minutes of silence, both of you having been lost in thought.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, that’s what my friend told me. They’ll use this storm as a cover for the attack. Unless Isaac changes his mind.”

“Will he change his mind?”

Abby’s gaze was locked onto the ground in front of her. “...I doubt it.”

You stopped abruptly, a gasp leaving your throat. Her eyes shot up, hand flying to her gun at her side.

“Fuck,” she breathed. 

Two WLF soldiers were dead, disemboweled in typical Seraphite fashion, one hanging from an old road sign and the other discarded on the ground like trash. They had clearly been dead for several days, but Abby pulled the gun from the holster on her right thigh anyway. Just in case.

“Did you know them?” you asked, turning to her.

“I’ve seen them around.” Abby brushed it off and kept walking, taking the lead.

“I’m sorry,” you said, running to catch up, voice sincere despite the fact that you hadn’t been the one to do it.

It’s not your fault, she wanted to say.

“It is what it is,” she said instead. And then, because she was curious, “Have you ever–?”

“No,” you said quickly and definitively. “You were supposed to be my first.” Abby felt her cheeks warm. You hadn’t meant it that way at all of course, but that’s where her mind went. She let out a weird, strangled, kind-of-coughing noise that only aided in deepening her blush. 

You went on, unaware, “It was supposed to be a big deal. They were calling it my first kill.” You sounded put off by the whole thing, like very nearly killing Abby had been so beneath you. “That’s why they were letting me off the island for the first time. Things… obviously didn’t go as the Elders planned.”

“Well I feel… weirdly honored,” she said, an attempt at lightening the mood.

“Honored that you were chosen to be my first kill? Or honored that I didn’t actually kill you?” you asked, brows slightly raised but playing along.

“Both I guess.” She shrugged as you sped up a bit so you could walk side-by-side instead of one after the other.

“Yeah well.” You bumped her gently with your shoulder. “I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

Abby scoffed. “You were never actually going to do it.”

“Yes I was!”

She scoffed again. “Sure. If you say so, princess.”

“I absolutely was going to kill you,” you said, feigning offense. “Abby, if Lev and Yara hadn’t shown up exactly when they did, you would be so dead right now.”

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. To anyone else, this might’ve been a weird thing to joke about, but between the two of you it worked.

“You really don’t think I could’ve done it.” Your eyes were wide in realization, and now you looked like maybe you were truly offended.

“All I’m saying is,” Abby said, smiling to herself, “there seemed to be a whole lot of hesitation on your end of things.”

“Well I’m not saying that I wanted to do it,” you insisted, watching her as you walked. “I’m just saying that I could’ve.”

“Uh huh. Whatever you say.” She knew she was goading you, but it was the first time she’d seen you get anywhere close to a smile since you left the aquarium. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled harshly, whipping your head back around to face forward. 

That made Abby really laugh. She’d never heard you say anything like that before.

You were biting your tongue, trying to suppress a smile of your own.

A loud, low groaning alarm sounded out over the island, and your face instantly fell.

“What is that?”

“It’s our warning signal,” you said, pulling Lev’s bow over your shoulder and grabbing an arrow. “Your people are here. The whole island will be on alert now.”

“God damn it, Isaac,” Abby muttered to herself.

“We’ll cut through the logging camp. This way,” you took a left, leaving the path you’d been on. “We no longer have the luxury of taking the long way to stay hidden. We need to hurry.”

Abby nodded, even though you weren’t looking at her. “How many people live here?”

“Around a thousand.”

“How many soldiers?”

“More than half are trained in combat.”

“What are the other half going to do when my people get here?”

“Some will hide. Most will fight,” you said, leading the way into the nearest village.

It was empty. No one around, ready to attack.

“Where is everyone?”

“The children will have been taken to shelters as soon as the signal went off. Everyone else is probably moving towards the coast to face the Wolves.” 

The second small village you passed through was still being evacuated. As expected, when they caught sight of Abby, they attacked. In the chaos, no one seemed to get a close enough look at you to recognize who you were.

Abby fought. And killed.

You fired more than a few arrows.

And then you moved on to the next village, making a near-straight shot to where you knew Lev would be.

Abby paused just within the treeline.

In the trunk of a tree, someone had painstakingly sculpted a life-sized, hyper-realistic statue of you. Just above your head, the words “May Her light guide us” were carved. 

You stopped next to Abby, regarding the figure in your likeness for a moment.

“‘When you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light,’” she said quietly. 

“What’s that?”

“Just… something my dad used to say.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, glancing down to where the trunk met the earth.

“Those are new,” you said, referring to the mass of flowers that were carefully placed around the tree.

It reminded Abby of the flowers people put near the graves and memorials of their dead loved ones. 

“It’s like they’re mourning you,” she said.

“They think I’m dead?” you asked, knowing she couldn’t have an answer. 

Abby pulled her eyes away from the intricate carving to look at the real, living, breathing version of you beside her. “Where are we going?”

Without looking away from the flowers, you said, “See that tall tower?”

“The Space Needle?”

“The what?”

“The – never mind. Yeah. I see it.”

“Head towards it.”

You knelt down, letting the fingers of your left hand graze over some of the flowers. When they landed on a daisy, you picked it up, stood, and carefully pushed it into your pocket.

She waited patiently before following you onward.

You had to get through a few more villages – and the few Scars who had been left behind to defend them – before you got to the right one.

At least Abby thought it must be the right one. Because you had come to a full stop and were staring at one specific house.

“Is that it?” she asked, putting a hand on your shoulder to bring you back down to earth.

“No,” you whispered absentmindedly. “It’s this one.” You walked towards the house across from the one you’d been staring at, bow drawn, arrow nocked.

Abby moved ahead of you and slid the door open. 

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

A lit fire pit in the center of the large, open room illuminated the space in an orange glow. You stepped inside, letting your weapon fall when you saw the lifeless body in front of the fire.

It was Lev and Yara’s mother.

Blood ran from a wound in her skull, pooling on the floor beneath her.

You let out a shaky breath.

And whipped around when you heard your name uttered from an even shakier voice coming from the corner of the room.

“Lev!” He was sitting, knees up, arms wrapped around them, curled in on himself, eyes locked on his mom. “Oh thank god,” you breathed out, rushing over. You were on your knees in front of him before you saw the damage that had been done. Cuts all across his face and arms. Your heart sank even deeper. “Did she do this to you?”

Lev let out a few hiccupping breaths, still staring past you at the body. “I just tried talking to her. I tried to make her understand, but she… she just kept yelling. She started chasing me. I tried to make her stop. I was just pushing her off of me…” His volume grew, voice becoming more desperate as he tried to explain.

“Hey hey hey,” you whispered, trying to soothe, wanting to fix.

“–Then she hit the table,” he sobbed.

“Listen to me.” Your hand was on his elbow, thumb gently circling. “You were defending yourself. You did nothing wrong.” When he finally met your eyes, you wrapped your arms around him and held him as he cried, grasping onto you so tightly it took your breath away. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

You stayed there for several minutes, holding him against you, rubbing his back as he kept his face buried where your shoulder met your neck. You held him until his sobbing subsided and his breathing slowed. You remembered how Yara used to hug you when you were kids, never being the first to let go, and you hugged her little brother – your little brother – in just the same way.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head and squeezed a little tighter.

“I wanna leave,” he said, voice muffled against you.

“Yeah, me too.” When he lifted his head, you stood, offering him a hand up. He took it and kept holding on, even once he was standing too. “Come on,” you said, motioning to the door.

Abby was there – she had been there the whole time – and her eyes looked soft and sad when they met yours.

“Hey, kid,” she said to Lev, offering him one of her handguns. You squeezed his hand one last time before letting it go so he could grab it, glad that Abby had the forethought to make sure he was armed.

He wiped his face with his shirt sleeve before taking the weapon from her. “I’m sorry. I never should’ve–”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just glad we found you. Let’s go.”

He nodded as she turned to push the door back open. The three of you stepped back out into the rain.

“What’s happening? Wolves?” Lev asked.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the lead. “All over the island.” Your eyes caught again on the house across the way, making you pause. 

Lev stopped next to you, immediately understanding. “She’s not there.”

“I figured.”

“Do you want to go in?” he asked.

“We don’t have time,” you said, but you couldn’t turn away.

“We’re never coming back here, right?”

“God, I hope not.”

“Then let’s make time,” he said, making the decision for you as he walked over and opened the door. You followed behind him, and Abby followed behind you, not asking any questions.

The inside of your mother’s house was much the same as Lev’s and Yara’s. One large, open room on the first floor. Fire pit in the center. A ladder leading up to a loft.

It looked nearly the same as you remembered it, though you hadn’t stepped foot in there in eight years. There was the stool in front of the mirror where you’d tried not to cry while your mom fixed your hair over and over again until she deemed it ‘as close to perfect as imperfect people can be’ on your last morning here. There was the table where you did your lessons and learned to read the scripture, and where you’d sit and have meals as a family, back before your dad died. The little wooden animals your dad used to carve in his rare, precious spare time. The bed where your mother slept.

Everything was the same. Except for the far wall. 

Where there was once a painting of the first Prophet, your own face now stared back at you. And next to the painting, in neat lettering:

“The world is not in balance,

But I have done my part to right it.

You have led me through the storm.

May the current be calm.

May you guide me home.”

“What’s that?” Abby asked, speaking for the first time since you entered the house.

“The Prophet’s prayer,” you said quietly, turning away from the wall entirely. 

“She prays to it,” Lev said matter-of-factly. ��The painting,” he clarified. 

“I could’ve gone without knowing that, Lev,” you said, sounding cross despite your efforts not to.

“Your mom?” Abby asked. “This is her house, right?”

“Yep,” Lev answered for you.

You felt sick to your stomach.

“It’s like the Elders decided you were the new Prophet and then everyone lost their minds,” he went on as you made your way over to the ladder and climbed up to the loft. “Your mom stopped calling you her daughter. Suddenly your face was everywhere, but we weren’t allowed to go see you or talk to you. We weren’t even supposed to talk about you, you know, before. Someone overheard Yara using your real name, and they… The punishment was severe.”

You listened as you stood alone in the loft, looking around at what used to be your bedroom. This, your mother had left completely untouched. It seemed like no one had even been up here in the eight years you’d been gone. “I’m listening,” you reassured Lev as you began searching for something. The one thing you wanted to take with you before you left forever. 

“After that, it was hard to even think of you as the same person we knew. The girl who used to braid little flowers into crowns for us. Who came up with the best games and told the wildest stories and broke the rules but only in ways that didn’t really matter and only when you knew you wouldn’t get caught… The girl who carried me back home, all the way across the island, when I fell and broke my foot, singing the whole way because you knew it would make me feel better.” He paused for a second before continuing, “You were the first person who I told I didn’t like my name – I didn’t like the way it made me feel – so, without asking me a single question, without asking me to explain myself or justify anything, you just… never called me that name again.” Lev’s voice broke just a little, and you wiped away a few of your own tears as you continued looking. You knew this was everything he’d needed to get off his chest, probably since long before you were reunited a few days ago, and you didn’t want to interrupt. “You were our sister and then one day they took you away from us. And no one but me and Yara seemed upset about it. Our mom was weird. Your mom was even weirder. Everyone acted like you were a god. The God. Not even a person. And like everything else, everything before, didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t real. They made us believe it.”

You finally found what you’d been looking for, and you could sense that Lev had run out of things to say, at least for the time being, so you shoved it in your pocket with the daisy, climbed back down the ladder, walked over to him, and hugged him tightly again.

“They’re good at that,” you said quietly. “At making us forget… But it’s okay. We’re together now. Let’s get out of here.” He sniffled and nodded as you pulled away. “I’m surprised you remember all of that. You were so young.”

He said your name, eyebrows drawing together like he shouldn’t have to say this, “You were my favorite person. Of course I remember.”

“Really?” you asked, smiling. “Not Yara?”

“Don’t feel bad for her,” he said, heading to the door. “You were her favorite too.”

Abby brushed past you as she followed Lev out, letting her hand brush against yours as she went. You met her eyes and smiled apologetically, grateful to her for being here. For helping with this.

You took up the back of the line, taking one final look around before shutting that door behind you forever. 

Outside, the rain had picked up and daylight was slipping away. By the sounds of it, the fighting had grown closer on all sides, although it hadn’t yet reached the village you were in.

“This way,” you said, taking the lead again.

“Shouldn’t we head back for our boat?” Abby asked when you didn’t start going back the way you’d come.

“No, I hear fighting back there.” 

“I hear fighting everywhere,” Abby argued.

Lev stopped next to you. “There are lots of boats in Haven.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” you said. “We’re closer to Haven now than to where we came from anyway. We can cut through Old Town. Avoid the main roads.”

Abby looked unsure, but relented to the two who knew the island. “Alright, princess. Lead the way.”

Your group managed to avoid conflict for a while, from both the Wolves and the Seraphites, staying hidden in the trees and avoiding areas where the fighting was the loudest.

You moved in near silence, keeping the talking to a minimum.

Old Town referred to an area of old buildings, left completely unused by the anti-Old World Seraphites. The thing that had surprised you the most about the mainland was that it looked like Old Town, only much much bigger. The Wolves hadn’t carved out their own place in the world in the same way the Seraphites did. 

You wondered if the rest of the world was like that. Just people making the best of what already was instead of building something new.

The three of you moved carefully and quickly through the streets of Old Town, cutting through alleyways and relying mostly on side streets. 

“We’re leaving so many people behind,” Lev said as you passed by a few dead Seraphites on the road.

“We can’t help them,” you said. That’s what you had to tell yourself.

“I know.”

“Stay close to me,” you whispered.

“Okay.”

“We need to get off the street,” Abby said, leading you into one of the nearby buildings as the sound of gunshots grew closer.

You lost count of how many buildings you passed through, each of them equally derelict and damp. It took longer, traveling that way, but it meant you were much less likely to be seen.

“This way,” Lev said, pulling himself up and out of a large window that appeared to lead out to a side road. His feet hit the street before either you or Abby had even made it to the window. She was the first to follow after him. 

From inside, you couldn’t see what was happening, but you heard a struggle. Someone yelled, “I got one!” And then there was a gunshot.

Your heart lurched.

Abby yelled – no, screamed – Lev’s name.

You pulled yourself up as fast as you could.

But you were too late.

Lev was already on the ground.

He was already gone.

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

“Abby?” The WLF soldier gasped as she knocked him out with his own gun.

The one he’d used to kill Lev.

By the time she had taken the man out, you were out the window and on your knees next to Lev. Silent. Staring. Your hands frozen, shaking, hovering just above his body like you wanted to touch him but didn’t know if you should.

Your whole body shook with a sob.

“Gunshots! Over here!” More Wolves were just down the street. You were seconds away from being within their sights.

Abby rushed to you, grabbing your arm. “Hey, we need to move.” She wished more than anything that this wasn’t happening right now. She wanted to give you time, wanted to sit beside you and cry too, but that wasn’t an option right now.

“No!” You pushed her away. Abby didn’t have a choice. If you didn’t move now, you’d be dead too. She hooked her arms under yours and lifted you, trying to carry you away. “No!” you cried out, grabbing for Lev, fighting against her. “I can’t leave him here!”

“We have to!” she insisted, not letting you go.

The Wolves were closing in. “I see someone!”

There was no point. You wouldn’t be able to get away in time. Abby put you down and pushed you behind her, raising her gun. “Stay back!” she shouted as the soldiers came into view.

“Drop it! Now!” one of them demanded while two others said, “Holy shit!” and “It’s Abby!”

“I said stay back!” She held firm, ready to fire at any one of them at a moment's notice.

“Stand down,” came another voice. One Abby recognized.

The man stepped out of the treeline and into view. 

“Isaac,” she said.

When he came upon Lev’s body on the ground, he regarded it for a moment before shaking his head and slowly stepping over it.

Abby held her gun to the side, not putting it away but showing that she wasn’t aiming at him. She was, like he’d instructed, standing down.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

She slowly bent down, fingers raised away from the trigger, as she dropped her gun on the ground a few feet in front of her. “I need you to hear me out.”

Isaac took a beat before he responded. “What’s that behind you?”

Abby held a hand up and kept her voice calm, like she was trying to reason with a wild animal instead of a man and a handful of his soldiers. She took a couple steps back, bumping into you, making sure you were close without ever looking away from him. “She saved my life, Isaac.”

“Move out of the way. We’ll deal with you back home.”

He wasn’t listening.

“She’s not one of them. Please,” Abby said, desperation in her voice. 

“Abby, move.” He was firm and expected to be obeyed, just as he always did.

But she couldn’t obey this time. She knew what would happen to you if she did. “No. She’s–”

“–The Prophet,” he finished. And then his gaze slid from hers to yours. “Yeah. I recognize you. They’ve got your face plastered all over this island.”

You said nothing, and Abby wanted his attention back on her, away from you. She tried again. “Isaac–”

He cut her off again, this time with a sudden laugh. “I tried to warn you, Abby. Didn’t I?” And then he turned dramatically, to the surrounding Wolves, gesticulating theatrically in her direction. “BEHOLD the power of the Great Scar Prophet!” His eyes landed back on her. “Able to pull my best soldier right out from under me. Make her turn her back on everything she believes in. And everyone she cares about.”

“That’s not– She’s not–” Abby didn’t know how to make him understand. “She’s not part of this.”

“That is correct. She’s not a part of this,” Isaac seethed. “She. Is. This.”

“What–”

“Every time they attack us – every time they slaughter one of our people – it is done in her name. Every new martyr of theirs dies with her face at the forefront of their mind. Every life lost here today is because of her, along with every life that has been lost in the last decade of this war. All of this death and destruction – all of the blood — is on her hands.”

“Isaac, you can’t seriously think–”

And then, for the first time, Isaac pointed his gun directly at Abby, leveling it at her face. “You have three seconds to get away from that Scar,” he said. “One.”

“You’re really gonna shoot me?” Abby reached a hand out behind her, finding you, making sure you were still behind her, still shielded.

“Two.”

“I’m not fucking moving.”

Isaac paused. And Abby thought, for just a second, that he might’ve changed his mind. That he might back down.

And then there was a gunshot. 

She flinched, but it wasn’t her who had been shot.

It was Isaac. Shot by–

“Lev!” you shouted, surging forward.

“No!” “What the fuck?” “Shoot him!” The soldiers all turned their guns on Lev and fired.

You screamed.

Abby grabbed your hand and booked it to the nearest building, taking advantage of the chaos. You were too shocked to fight her this time, so you allowed yourself to be pulled away.

“Shit!” “Stop them!” “Don’t let them get away!”

Abby slammed the door closed behind you and pushed a filing cabinet in front of it, grabbing your hand and dragging you further into the building, through another door. Once that one was secure, she reached for you again. If she had to drag you all the way back to the aquarium, she would.

But this time, you ripped your hand away. That’s when you seemed to notice the blood on your hands. 

Lev’s blood.

“We need to move.” She wanted you to have time, for you to be able to fully react and process this, but it needed to be later. When you were safe.

You didn’t hear her. Or didn’t care. “He’s gone. Oh my god. He’s gone.”

She said your name, forcefully, trying to draw your eyes to her. “Come on.” She reached for you again, but you yanked your whole body in the opposite direction.

“Those were your fucking people!” you lashed out, much angrier than she’d ever seen you, and for good reason.

“Hey! You’re my people!” she said, matching your volume and intensity. Abby didn’t know where that came from, but she knew that it was true. She took a breath, stepped closer, and tried to touch you again, this time putting her hands on your shoulders. You let her, looking up at her with wide eyes. “Listen to me. We’re gonna have to fight to get out of this, okay? And then I need you to show us to those boats.” You nodded, and she moved her hands from your shoulders to either side of your face, holding your gaze. “We won’t let anybody stop us, yeah?”

“Okay,” you said, barely a whisper.

“Okay.” She stepped back, letting her hands fall to her sides. “Follow me.”

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

Haven was burning.

You were on a boat, floating off to safety, while your whole island went up in flames.

Lev was there. Your mother was there. Everything and everyone you knew was there.

But you were here.

In a rowboat.

And you weren’t even helping to row it.

You hadn’t even thought to offer. 

The phantom heat of the now distant fires that consumed Haven seemed to lick at the back of your skull as you finally pulled your eyes away, turning to face Abby.

She was rowing slowly, now that you weren’t in imminent danger, her strong arms engaged, face focused. She had to be tired. She’d done so much.

You were only alive because of her.

“I can row,” you said, voice weaker than you meant for it to be. 

Abby slowed a bit more, looking you over. “You’re shaking.”

You hadn’t noticed. You clenched your fists tightly, trying to stop the tremors. But it wasn’t just your hands that were shaking. It was your whole body. 

Were you cold? 

For how long?

You steeled yourself. “I can help.” 

She stopped rowing entirely and started to shift. You prepared yourself to switch seats with her, but she wasn’t actually moving. She was only taking off her jacket.

You felt like you should protest, that you should insist you were fine and that she should keep her jacket, but you didn’t have it in you. 

When she went to drape it over your shoulders, you let her. 

The jacket was soaked, just like everything else in Seattle, but it helped.

You put your arms in the sleeves properly and pulled it tighter around yourself, staring at the floor of the boat. 

What you wanted was for your mind to go blank. Thinking about anything was dangerous. You didn’t want to spiral, not right now. You couldn’t create more problems for Abby to deal with. You needed to just get back to the aquarium, get dry, and then–

Yara.

You had to tell Yara what happened. 

How could you tell Yara about this? You promised her you’d bring Lev back safe.

Lev.

Images came rushing back to you. You tried to blink them away, but they were stubborn. They lingered.

You swallowed back tears and let your head fall into your hands, trying desperately to focus on your breathing and nothing else. Nothing else. Nothing. Else.

Abby brought the boat right up to a small dock right next to the aquarium. She got out first and tied it off with deft fingers. Then she offered you a hand and pulled you out, stabilizing you as you found balance on embarrassingly shaky legs.

“Got it?” she asked, a hand pressed to your mid-back.

“Yeah.”

She stepped away. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

Someone had barricaded the aquarium door from the inside.

That was the first indication that something was wrong.

The second came soon after, when you found the dog – Alice – dead. 

You and Abby were both on high alert, moving through the dark hallways with your weapons drawn.

Then there was the blood. So much of it that there was a pool of it gathering on the other side of the door. Whatever happened – whatever went so terribly wrong here in the time that you were gone today – was through that doorway.

You forgot to breathe.

Abby pressed on. 

You really didn’t want to, but you followed.

Into the room with whales on the ceiling and Mel, Owen, and Yara lifeless and bleeding on the floor.

You went numb in a way that had nothing at all to do with the cold. You felt the switch flipping inside of you, the failsafe going into effect. You detached. Walls went up in your mind. 

This was good. It meant that maybe, just maybe, you’d make it through this day. 

You were somewhat aware of Abby, to your left, as she let out a terrible sound. You thought she was saying “oh,” but no. That didn’t make sense. She was saying “no.” Over and over again as she crumpled to her knees near Owen.

Your eyes locked onto something on the floor by your feet. To get it, you had to step through a pool of blood that had certainly come from one of the three bodies.

But it was just blood, you told yourself. And these were just bodies. Nothing to be done. Nothing to worry about.

Numbly, you bent to pick up what you now realized was a map of Seattle. Someone had written on it, covering it in notes and shapes and names.

After studying it for a minute, your eyes went to Abby. She was on her hands and knees, heaving after having been sick.

You’d give her a moment more if you thought it would help, but you knew it wouldn’t.

This. This map. That would help.

“Abby…” You approached her slowly, letting her make an attempt at pulling herself together. When you were close enough, you held out the map.

She took it, and then she stood slowly, examining it.

When she turned to you, you could tell. She knew the same thing you did.

Someone had been tracking Abby – hunting her – for a while.

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

“The trespassers,” she said.

They killed Manny. 

They killed Owen and Mel.

And, according to the map, they’d gotten to Nora, Jordan, Leah, and Nick too.

All in pursuit of Abby. 

Because of something she had done.

But they fucked up.

They left the map.

And now she knew exactly where to find them.

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

Note: As always, thank you for reading! I'm not the best at responding to comments, but I want you to know that I love and cherish them more than words can say! So if you're leaving them, thank you <3

I'm really excited about the turn the story takes in the next chapter, and I think it'll be really enjoyable to read for anyone who's rooting for Abby and the Prophet! (which is, I assume, everyone who reads this fic lol)

Taglist: @4-atsu @h0meb0dyi @lmaoo-spiderman @quinnsadilla @rew1nds @sapphicontherun @stickynachomaker

[mattluvsmarni]

Fanfiction Truth

Summary: You knew Matt for as long as you can remember, but what you didn't know is how he'd react after catching you reading fanfiction about him.

Warnings: smut with a plot, p in v, making out, slight humiliation, swearing, unprotected sex.

A/N: This is my first fic on here. Idk how i came up with this i just thought imagine if his s/o in the future were to see the things that are written about him and ofc my mind went to filthy places. anyways i hope this fulfils ur expectations, enjoy lovlies!!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You lay on your stomach aimlessly scrolling through Pinterest for the last 3 hours, you adjust yourself, sitting upright , and shaking your arms to let the blood flow again. you and Matt were supposed to hangout but he's running late. you pick up your phone to check if matt has texted– nothing. You find yourself thumbing through posts trying to stay busy.

You come across a post reminding you of a comment section about matts fanfictions. You drop your phone to pick your laptop up again, search his name in tags, and scroll judging by titles until you find one. 

as you read, you can feel your eyes slightly watering and the light coming from the screen suddenly being a bother, 

Her and Matt are in a club. 

The lights are low, they’re intoxicated, his hands on her hips, not an inch of space between they’re bodies, they’re moulded into one.

 her head thrown back, he's breathing in her ear. 

his hands running up and down her body. 

you sit back, your thighs pressed together. this is matt, your matt, the matt on his way to innocently hang out with you right now. and this is what you’re doing? You stare at the screen for another minute contemplating your choices , but you're already wondering what's going to happen next. 

he snakes his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. 

she can feel him growing in his pants. 

she can feel her arousal soaking her panties, as she tries to squeeze her thighs together while continuing to grind and sway, 

 He's teasing, toying with the hem of her skirt. She tightens her grip on the material around his biceps, as her nails dig into the skin of his around her waist.“Matt, please” she breathes.

“Please what” he teases

“I need you, please.” 

‘“In any situation your manners are still in use, such a good girl aren't you?” he coos.

“For you? Always.” she admits, spinning around to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Yeah?”, He chuckles, “you’re going to have to hold out for me until we’re home though.” he mockingly pouts, smoothing his hand down your back to lightly squeeze your ass.

This was getting you all hot and bothered. you’d be lying if you said you weren't imagining present day you and Matt. 

Matt and you unintentionally ended up at the same college, after he made your early school years more horrible than it already was. Now being ‘older and wiser’ which he claims to be he finally grew a pair leaving him with a want to rectify his history with you . This includes hanging out from time to time, trying to form a healthy friendship, and seeing where it goes from there. 

but reading that and always having nothing other than your fingers to help you get off. Makes everything you just read sound so perfect. You’ve had your fair share of fantasies when it comes to Matt. Seeing it all spelt out and in front of you made you in need of something real. You just wanted to drop to your knees in front of him, and beg to please him. Have him laugh in your face, call you pathetic, and shove his dick down your throat. 

"Fuck" you whisper shout, running a hand through your hair, your thoughts were out of control. You slam your laptop shut. pacing around your room, up till your movements are interrupted by a notification on your phone. 

Matt:

I just pulled in 

You:

omw!

After taking a minute to exercise your breathing. You slip on your slippers running down the stairs, the buzzer goes off right before you can hit the button.

Letting him in, you notice the bag of snacks in his hands before looking up at him to see that small, but genuine smile. He pulls you in for a quick hug. "Sorry Chris needed me to take him to eat before I came over."

You can't even look him in the eye and he's apologising for running late. "no, no you’re good, come on up." you exclaim, shaking your head of all unwanted thoughts.

-

lying on your backs facing each other. you guys fell into a chain of laughs and good conversations with your playlist playing in the background. "I'm glad to finally have you sitting here listening to my music."

"Stop acting like I hog." he gasps, "I let you play music."

 With a quirk of your eyebrow, he quickly adds, "sometimes."

"name one time." you insisted.

Turning his head in the other direction. He tries to pretend he's in thought when really, he's trying to hold back a smile. 

"Mhm exactly" you strongly emphasise, "I'll never understand why though my taste is significantly better than yours."

"yeah?" He argued

and that one word took you back 2hrs, reminding you of what you read earlier.

You sat up clearing your throat, "yeah."

"Let's not lie to ourselves."

"Denial is the sickest disease" rolling his eyes at your comment. He goes to gather all the trash into a single bag, Brushing you off with a distasteful grumble.

-

"Can we start looking for a movie to watch?" He asks

"Of course! start looking." you call out on your way out to grab a soda for the two of you.

You walk back into the room to Matt and inch away from the computer screen, his eyes quickly moving from one side to another. 

"Here" you chuckle, handing him his drink

"Who needs movies when we could just read these" he suggests.

Every bone in your body goes rigid. You completely forgot to clear the tab. "Wait, hold on, give me a second." you frantically try to reason, lunging forward in an attempt to take it out of his hands.

But he’s quick to drive it out of your reach.

"No, you wait, and give me a second, I'm almost done." he says, bringing a finger up before your face to punctuate his words. 

A wave of embarrassment washes over your entire body, you sit back trying not to look anymore suspicious. Your pursuit at trying to stay unbothered fails the minute you start to think about what part he's reading. 

Matt seems so invested and you’d give a million bucks to know what was going on in his head right now. The only sound between the two of you was the music now lightly playing. He continues his scrolling, smirking for a split second, now you’d also kill to know what drove that reaction out of him.

You can hear the pounding of your heart, as he finishes up closing the object of your demise to look up at you. You avert your eyes, taking sudden interest in your feet. 

“I've always heard of these but never got around to actually reading one though.” he says finally breaking the silence 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth not knowing how to respond.

"Why were you reading them anyway?" he questions, inching closer to your place at the edge of the bed.

"I saw a comment section on it the other day" you're 100% sure it's visible how hard you’re breathing.

"There's no need to be embarrassed. I'm just surprised. It's not something I expected from you." he assures. 

"What’d you think of it?" he asks, placing a hand on your unclothed thigh, and smiling triumphantly when he hears your breath hitch. 

"I didn't get to really read it" you say lying through your teeth.

"Come on we both know that's a lie he says with a look of disbelief. ‘It's written all over your face, you’re telling me you didn't imagine me and you in that club." He asks, trailing his hands up your thigh . 

"Because I did. It was you who I imagined wearing a flimsy little black dress. Under colourful lights. It was your body that was backed up against mine." he says, and you can feel his breath on year neck.

Your eyes flutter closed as you angle just right for him to mark. 

He brings his lips to your neck leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses.

You couldn't bring yourself to care how evident your need for him was anymore. Not with that confession of his. Not when he was touching you the way you’d only dreamed of in the company of yourself.

"I want you to let me have my way with you, have you under me. For you to be begging me to let you finish." he says, his hand now almost right where my body needs him the most.

"Or I could just back off completely. And continue to be your plain old buddy Matt."

"Your pick sweetheart." He threatens, removing himself from you. 

"Matt!" you instantly whine at the loss of warmth. Quickly reaching for his hand to place it back on your thigh, 

"the first option" you huff out. 

He chuckles, slowly bringing his hand up to your clothed clit pressing his finger to it tracing along the wet patch that's gathered and I forgot how to breathe. 

His touch is light and barely there but i still can't will myself to breathe. I wish he'd give more and as careless as it makes me, I want it. 

"tell me. What exactly was the first choice again?’"He begins moving in a slow and tangible circular motion. 

you open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a jumbled cross of a gasp and a hum.  

He slows down his movements even more. coming up to pinch your nipple through your shirt. "I asked a question."

"Have your way with me until I'm begging you to let me finish." you rush out, throwing your head back, and bucking up your hips looking for more friction. It was embarrassing that you were already losing it and he’s done nothing.

“You don't have to tell me twice” picking back up his speed. A barely there whimper escapes my lips.

He's leaving more kisses all down to where his teeth skim the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. Marking all along your skin.

 he finally dips a finger inside your underwear. Seeing for himself how much of an effect he’s actually had on you. 

“So fucking wet like I knew you’d be.” His cock twitched against the constricting material of his pants as you audibly moan at his words

Inserting a finger. You throw your head back from the sudden relief as he works you perfectly. Your body had a mind of its own in this moment, moving with his fingers.

“Yeah go ahead and ride my fingers. Show me how good I make you feel.” He growled into your ear

Pressing his thumb to your clit as he curled his fingers in you, and that was all you needed to come undone all over his fingers.

Watching you try to catch you breath and the way your lips were still parted had him bringing his fingers dragging them across your lips to spread your wetness along them

You made direct eye contact as you darted your tongue out to taste yourself, that small action alone did so many things for him

Tempted, he licked his own lips reflectively mirroring your actions. 

Overtaken by his temptation he smashes his lips against yours, your hands fly to his hair taking advantage of your surprise he’s quick to slip his tongue into your mouth tasting you like he was a starved man you moan into the kiss as he brings you up to straddle his lap.

The kiss was hungry and fast eager to satiate the want you both were obviously feeling he was gripping your hips to help you move in circular motions as you grinded down on him you’ve never felt so in need of something more than you were right now he felt the same it was written into his lips and the way it aggressively moved against your own. 

Your patience was wearing thin. And his dick was begging to be freed. Your fingers reached down to press on the button of his jeans then to look into his eyes for any signs of disagreement. There wasn’t any. “I don’t want to finish on anything other than your dick right now.” you admit as you go to unbutton his pants.

“Fuck” he curses, halting your movements by quickly flipping you both over so that his chain was now dangling over your face. He wasted no time reconnecting your lips, only pausing to pull your top off and making quick work of your bra. 

His lips moved down swirling his tongue around your hardened nipple “Matt” you breathed, as your body melted completely into his touch. “Please” moving over to give the other one the same attention “I know baby, I know” he assured

Leaving a path of kisses all the way down to the waistband of your shorts. “Up” he spoke. Lifting your hips so he could get rid of your shorts and panties. Next came his shirt and finally those cockblocking jeans.

His pants and boxers now a pile of nothing on the floor. He started slowly stroking his member, aligning it with your wet and ready entrance, amused at the moan you let out when he had barely pushed it in yet. “Quit the teasing.” you whined

 He pushes himself in “holy shit you're tight”, he grits out and you immediately clench around him causing a groan to escape his lips.

You felt light-headed by the amount of pleasure you were feeling at the moment.

Matt. Right here, was everything to you right now. It was something that was gonna be inked into your brain forever.

With a roll of his hips and the arching of your back he was buried deep in you, and it had you seeing stars.

Matt loved the position he had you in where he could see every single reaction he pulled out of you. "exactly where i wanted you" he says with each thrust. "and you're taking me so, so well."

The tip of his dick continuously meets the sweet spot inside you, sending you closer to the edge

"oH OH" you quietly moan

"Come on don't hold back, i wanna hear you" he grunts, "is this what you imagined when you were reading those filthy things about your friend?"

you moan in response. he continues his merciless pace, as he brings a thumb to your clit.

"Fuck, fuck matt i'm close." you warn just as you feel the nearing of your second orgasm.

"go ahead baby, cum for me" his thrusts and thumb both gaining speed

as if your body was waiting on his permission, your vision fades to black while you feel your body arch off the bed as you let yourself go

"fuck yeah" he moans, his movements getting sloppy as he paints your insides white

you both lay there after he collapses next to you and pulls you in after you've both caught your breaths

"so am i staying here tonight" he questions breaking the silence

you can feel his chin moving on top of your head as he speaks, "no we can't remember that was established."

"I think it's a little too late to be talking about not crossing lines, considering you just let me fuck you." you could just imagine that smug look of his right now feeling all proud knowing he's got you

"fine just this once" you sigh in defeat

"yup just this once" he mocks as he gets up to your bathroom looking for a towel to clean you both up.

"i'm serious" you demand loud enough for him to hear only smiling to yourself now that you're out of his sight.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A/N 2: That pic of Matt on the tour bus will always have me in a chokehold.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I'm looking for fics set in ancient history, preferably including extensive descriptions of the ancient cultures. I don't mind NSFW, but mainly I'm looking for a good story and interesting plot. The longer the fic, the better!

If it helps, I really enjoyed "Do You Know What Eternity Is?" by Elderly_Worm and the "Mistakes Were Made" series by eag

Thanks! 💕

Hello. You can check our #through the ages tag for fics. Here are some more to add that feature different cultures...

Camel-travel star-gazing by Sad_Wet_Bretzel (G)

Crowley had tilted his head back. His eyes were still covered by dark lenses and Aziraphale wished he would just take them off. It was night, and the nearest human was twenty metres away, their back turned to them. “See that one?” the demon said suddenly, pointing eastward. “S’ one of my favourites.” or Aziraphale and Crowley are assigned to the same caravan, travelling from the Ghana Empire to the Mediterranean Sea across the Saharan plains. The perfect cover to innocently spend time together.

some chocolate to sweeten the deal by Enelica, sevdrag (G)

“Heathens.” Crowley snorts. “Did you know they’ve already discovered four of the planets? Lot of work went into those, let me tell you, and these clever bastards have spotted four of them already. Britannia should weep.” Aziraphale’s smile softens in pleasure. The angel’s too soft over humanity, and unfortunately, it’s one of the things Crowley likes best about him. “Did you know they’re only eight hundred and ninety years off calculating when the earth began?” The angel glances away, and Crowley has to cover a sharp breath at Aziraphale’s profile, pale and happy. “That’s the closest anyone’s gotten, I believe.” (Written for the Days Of Their Lives zine with incredible art by Enelica!)

we'll get there fast, and then we'll take it slow by in_deepest_blue (T)

"Hurry over like a horse, but take your time like an ox laden with treasures." One summer in late 19th-century Japan, Aziraphale learns about a fascinating tradition during Obon, the festival to honor the deceased, which reminds him of his hopes for a future with Crowley. A look into four different stages in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship, all set in Japan during different seasons and time periods.

A Juhannus Night's Dream by kittygirl2210 (G)

Aziraphale is sent up to Finland to bless a Midsummer festival, Crowley goes with her on her own "assignment". The pair thus get roped into helping with the celebrations. Aziraphale and Crowley are fem presenting in this, and it takes place between Edinburgh and St. James' Park! (Note: contains some Finnish Fem!Aziracrow art!)

The snake of healing by Sad_Wet_Bretzel (G)

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, who stared back. The angel looked the same, if a little travel worn. His river coloured eyes crinkled slightly at the sides as he took in his friend’s appearance. Crowley tightened her trembling fists, nails digging into the skin. or After a particularly nasty punishment from Hell, Crowley retreats in the Chicama Valley and becomes an artisan. Aziraphale comes to find her.

Mistakes Were Made: The Book of Crowley by eag (M)

Based on the biblical Book of Tobit from the Apocrypha. Ephesus, 400 B.C. Commanded away from Aziraphale's side by an infernal master, Crowley is forced to use his time-stopping powers for Asmodeus' dirty work while Aziraphale is left wondering why Crowley has disappeared. As Crowley sinks ever deeper into despair, Aziraphale is sent on a journey accompanying a human from Nineveh to Ecbatana. Of course, mistakes were made...

- Mod D

[hey-august]

A Line from Me to You - Chapter 2

Description: Buggy finds a peculiar book on his ship. Enticed by the words contained on each page, the pirate opens up. Anonymity leads to vulnerability. What else will come from this? (Chapter 1, check out the story tag for more chapters) Word count: 1.9k Warnings: This chapter is SFW, but the story will eventually be NSFW - hopefully in the next chapter. Some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. A/N: Little more plot-building before we get to the spice. Hope yall enjoy!! Tag list: @lostfirefly @rorywritesjunk @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You read and re-read the bonus words written into your book until they flowed through your head like a real conversation. An unknown voice whispered in your ear, adding commentary, a few snide remarks and snarky responses, poignant questions, and narrative asides that you couldn’t get enough of. 

The mystery of your anonymous reading buddy sat with you. It was calm and inviting. You weren’t consumed with a desire to dig inside and pull out the truth, but to let the mystery be. To let it exist like this. Yes, you did want to know whose thoughts and memories you were reading, but it wasn’t a dire need. And more than that, you wanted to keep this secret. A shared secret.

Staring at the next chapter you needed to read, the novelty plummeted as you raised a pen. It felt heavy in your hand, weighed by an awkward feeling. The back of your neck prickled, as if someone was already reading your thoughts. You felt stifled by the odd sense of visibility. Unable to connect your desire to give the story your full attention with wanting to share the book with another reader, you tried to flip those feelings and see if they would fit another way.

It was like a game of leapfrog. You read the annotations added after yours, then jumped into the next chapter you hadn’t read yet and filled in the gaps left in the margins, and, finally, you landed in a new chapter. The puzzle pieces connected as you fell entirely into the story.

Traveling with the cloaked figure, Grey, on his journey, your musings were scribed each step of the way. Phrases and words circled, emotive faces drawn near touching moments, and your own personal tidbits littered the pages. The chapter ended with Grey winning over the sullen rock golem who had been living alone as an outcast. The golem accepted Grey’s invitation to join him on a journey to save the royal family.

A few days later, Buggy was surprised to see the book peeking out of its protective hidey-hole like a mollusk. He noted its disappearance and didn’t expect such a rapid reappearance. Although it wasn’t a long novel, completing the entire journey would have taken a sleepless night or two. A small voice questioned whether the owner was upset at the additional vandalism (even if they started it) and decided to abandon the book entirely. 

Filled with unease, Buggy ignored the book and went about his duties. The poisonous voice stayed quiet as the captain threw himself into work, wondering if he might avoid confronting the question and the book. A lifetime of rejection created a wide boundary of protection that the little voice hid behind, hissing unfounded fears.

The sour feelings were chased away with a mouthful of liquor later that night. While heading back to his quarters, Buggy retrieved the book and walked fast to outpace his own negativity. Although it was only the second time he had the novel, reading was easily incorporated into his evening routine. It felt familiar to him. 

Growing up, Buggy was a voracious reader. Sometimes, he wondered if that’s why he needed glasses now. Maybe his eyes were rebelling against all the words he forced them to absorb - short stories, long epics, newspapers, essays, letters, tiny print, large fonts, hand-written, transcribed. Anything he could get his hands on was devoured in his spare time. Sentences were crammed into the few seconds between duties, chapters read by dim moonlight, and pages became speckled with food as he pored over the books while eating.

Over time, Buggy read less and less. People poked fun at the bookworm. They said he should be careful always having his nose in a book, it might get caught in the pages. Even lighthearted remarks about how much he read began to sting. And as he grew up, Buggy had other things to occupy his time with.

Eventually, guilt took hold in his chest. Roots grew whenever he had time that could be filled by a book, his empty hands missed the feel of pages threading through the fingers, or when he looked at the forlorn stories waiting on his bookshelf. He tried to push through the ache by buying new books that remain untouched. He even bought glasses to try and turn a chore back into a hobby, but nothing relit the spark. It all turned into dirt and manure for his remorse to grow. 

The pirate never expected the pain of turning his back on something that brought comfort would be eased by a silly fantasy novel. Despite being a grown man with hair on his chest and alcohol on his breath, Buggy felt like a kid again as he sank under the covers with a good book. Instead of waiting for a tension headache, Buggy pulled out his glasses, swiped the lenses with a small cloth, and put them on. The first thing he read was a note tucked alongside his bookmark.

“Good notes! Although I disagree that the writer is a ‘self-indulgent asshat who sees the world through rose-colored glasses.’ I read ahead through the next chapter and left space for you. Please do the same and put this back in the ‘secret’ spot. I want to see if you change your mind.”

Buggy chuckled to himself. Of course you wouldn’t agree with him, you picked the book in the first place. Maybe if he pointed out more of the author’s blatant self-insert characters used to tout their poorly thought out ideals, you’d reconsider. He took a sip of alcohol and twirled a pen in his fingers. 

Towards the end of the newest chapter, two things caught Buggy’s attention. First, the fucking corner of the page was folded again. Second, was a comment about the golem and “found family.” You wrote about how nice it is to find a place you belong and people you feel at home with. You felt like the golem character when you joined this pirate crew. The rock golem, named Daisy Lee, had sprouted a flower when Grey extended his hand and companionship. The little heart next to that sentence was a punch to the gut.

Buggy the Clown knew first-hand how it felt to find someplace you belonged. In fact, he’s heard that from his crew countless times. After fights, successful raids, parties brimming with alcohol, any situation full of emotions were bound to be followed with freaks professing appreciation for their captain. But this was different. You didn’t know who was reading these words. You didn’t intend to share them with the captain himself. These weren’t words of performative devotion, honeyed sentiments, or feelings brought forth by adrenaline, but inner-thoughts shared during your own personal time.

It was late and his body was tired, which meant his emotions were delicate. That’s why tears collected in the corners of his eyes before slipping down his heated cheeks. Exhaustion and alcohol. Fingers attempted to fit under his glasses to wipe away the saltwater, but the legs tugged on his ears and the frames dug into his forehead. Buggy dabbed away what he could in the confined space and rubbed the back of his hands on his wet cheeks to dry them. With a face redder than it was moments ago, he swallowed the rest of the sober emotion with the alcohol in his glass.

---

The next time you found the book, there was another note for you. A short sentiment and a gift.

“Stop folding the goddamn pages. I don’t care if this is your book, I won’t give it back. Use the bookmark.”

The bookmark guarding the edge of your reading area wasn’t anything special. It was just a bit of paper that could have come from anywhere, but the edges were carefully torn into a long rectangle. The scrap used to mark the other reader’s progress was ripped haphazardly and shaped like a squashed kidney. Rolling your eyes, you folded the corner of your new gift. You’d use it, but on your terms.

You followed the same pattern as last time, reading the new notes, the next chapter, then a new chapter. And your reading partner followed suit. Bookmarks jumped over each other, like checkers. Stories were swapped, emotions unlocked, betrayals occurred (the first of which was you creasing the bookmark, which was acknowledged with a little angry face), foes defeated, heroes injured, feelings exposed, and so much more. You wrote about leaving your family and village behind, like some of the adventurers. The other person wrote about not really knowing their family. Not in a story, but as a passing comment to what you scribbled. Unsure how to respond, you simply wrote that you were glad their journey brought them here.

Weeks passed as the book exchanged hands. One night found you hunched over in bed, following your reading buddy as you raced through the final chapter. The sea was as restless as your beating heart, each wave and thump growing erratic through the climax.

Worn down and weary, Grey and his companions approached the castle. Moss and vines decorated the worn stone structure. An abnormal breeze carried the sweet stench of decay. The rustle of leathery wings and tell-tale stomping emitted from the courtyard ahead. Grey turned to Daisy Lee and Jack, readying himself to go ahead on his own. To his surprise, Jack clapped a hand on the man’s cloaked shoulder and nodded to their stone friend, who marched forwards, toward the dragon.

You silently cheered with each blow the heroes dealt and gasped with every set-back they sustained. The fight raged on in your white-knuckled grip, with Daisy Lee crumbling into a smaller version of themself, and Jack throwing himself in front of Grey, only to be knocked out.

Grey shouted in anguish and charged forwards. Landing a mighty blow on the dragon, the fierce beast collapsed with a pitiful roar. Smoke poured from it’s mouth and nostrils, filling the courtyard. Through the fog, Grey could just barely see the large shadow shrink. As the smoke cleared, a naked figure lay on the ground - the victim of a curse. It was Prince Shaia. Grey’s brother.

The rest of the story was wrapped up in two pages. There was a whirlwind of activity when Grey rescued the rest of the royal family, revealed his lineage to his companions who readily accepted the information, Grey’s rapid ascension to the throne, and the multitude of changes he immediately put into place across the kingdom to end every single plight, hardship, and minor inconvenience he encountered. The story ended with the sun setting on a utopia, with no mention of issues implementing new rules and systems or discourse about the kingdom changing hands to a previously unknown individual.

You sat silently for a moment, mulling over the ending. It was an enjoyable story full of adventure and whimsy, but the conclusion was rushed. Very rushed. The last paragraph had a bracket drawn on the side and an arrow pointing to a little face sticking it's tongue out and a note:

“I haven't changed my mind. This wouldn’t happen so easily, it’s so unbelievable-”

Frowning, you scribbled a retort before finishing the rest of the note. “It’s a fantasy book. Of course it’s not believable.”

“-I have a book we can read next. I guarantee it’ll be better than this.”

A buzzing filled your head and reverberated down to your chest. You kept reading the message, studying each individual letter constructing the words that warmed your body. The beating of your heart stopped using adrenaline as fuel and channeled the rushing endorphins instead. You hoped that this secret relationship would continue, and to see that feeling reciprocated filled you with so many fluttery feelings that you couldn’t tease them apart.

“Okay, I’m trusting you.”

[azureseacloud]

Hidden Messages

Ghost (band)

Part 2

Dewdrop x reader

Warnings: swearing, ✨more sexual tension✨

Words: 1,734

Hope you guys enjoy!! I am taking requests for the ghouls and ghoulettes so feel free to drop a request!!

Currently working on part 3 so stay tuned! :)

Tags: @gummy-dummy

@ghoulettess

You awoke slowly, not opening your eyes just yet—still trying to cling to the wisps of a dream. Even now it was slipping from your memory, but the feelings remained. It had been a happy dream. It left you feeling light.

There was a comfortable warmth along the front of your body that moved rhythmically. Breathing. Your mind went to Cirrus—you’d fallen asleep on her. You could feel an arm around your waist, holding you close, and legs entwined with yours. She was still wearing her boots—you’d never understood how they all seemed to be able to sleep in their uniforms. Cirrus had reassured you that they were exceptionally comfy when you had brought it up the first time you had fallen asleep in the ghoul quarters. You hadn’t wanted to leave them feeling trapped in their uniforms, especially in their own area, but Cirrus had brushed it off.

Soft puffs of warm air kissed your hair, and you smiled. It was comfortable—the ghouls had really become your lifeline. Not that you didn’t have other friends in the clergy, but you felt more at home with them, like you were a part of their family. Crazy, that you were closer to literal demons than you were to humans.

After a few more moments of enjoying the warmth and comfort, you decided that it was probably time for you to get up, although you loathed the thought of leaving the ghoulette’s arms. But staying here was risking the wrath of Sister Imperator, especially since you had a meeting with her today regarding the upcoming tour.

You reluctantly opened your eyes, blinking against the soft darkness of the room. You peered over the shoulder that your head was resting on, taking in the room.

Rain and Swiss were sprawled out on the floor still, the water ghoul using Swiss’s stomach as a pillow while Mountain was stretched out beside them. Aurora was draped across the couch beside you, Cirrus curled around her with Cumulus beside her. Phantom was—

Wait.

Your eyes darted back to Cirrus. Cirrus, who was further down on the same couch as you and the ghoulettes. Cirrus, who most definitely did not have you wrapped in her arms.

Confusion rushed through your foggy, half asleep mind as you wondered who you had been sleeping on. Then it clicked, and you felt the colour drain from your face as you did the math. There was only one ghoul who was unaccounted for. One ghoul who gave off heat and smelled like a mixture of ash and smoke.

Unholy Satan.

You were suddenly very awake, forcing yourself to remain as still as possible. Your eyes slowly traced the shoulder, your head tilting to get a glimpse at the white horns piercing through the helmet.

Oh. Oh.

One of your hands was wrapped around his back, the other resting between yours and his chest. Your legs were tangled. His arm was around your waist, gripping your hip, while the other was caught between your side and the couch, his hand resting on your shoulder blade. Right behind you was the arm rest, essentially boxing you in.

Sure, you’d woken up to strange positions before—one time you’d fallen asleep by yourself on one of the couches only to be woken in the middle of a ghoul pile on the floor, lying across Swiss and Phantom. Other times you’d woken up finding it hard to breathe, because Phantom had sprawled across your chest, his helmet digging into your stomach.

But you’d never woken up this close to Dewdrop.

Warmth was pooling in your stomach and blooming across your cheeks. Had he moved over here or had you moved onto him? You remembered falling asleep with Cirrus but how had you wound up in Dewdrop’s arms? And how, exactly, were you going to get out without waking him?

You shifted slightly, slowly manoeuvring a leg away from his, trying not to wake the ghoul. You got one leg out, but the other one was trapped between both of his. You slowly drew it out, listening carefully for any change in his even breaths. When your foot got caught on the top of his boot you cringed, but luckily you managed to slide it away without the ghoul stirring.

Okay, your legs were free. All you needed now was to get out of his arms. This was the hard part.

You sent a quick glance around the room again, your eyes meeting Cirrus, who seemed to have just woken up. She was watching you, an amused smile visible under her mask as she registered your predicament.

Was this you? You mouthed at her. She shook her head.

Then how the fuck?

Cirrus shrugged. You rolled your eyes, shooting her an ‘any help?’ look. Her shoulders shook as she laughed silently, mouthing back a no.

Friends were so very useful in times of need.

Maybe you should just wake Dewdrop up, ask him to move so you could get up and get going. Meetings with Sister Imperator were important, and surely you could act nonchalant about this whole thing? You’d had to wake up Rain and Aurora before so you could get up, and it wasn’t a problem. So why didn’t you do the same for Dewdrop?

Because you didn’t feel the same with Dew. This was completely different and you did not trust yourself to stay composed with him holding you like this. And it was plain embarrassing. But that meant you’d have to pull his hands off you.

Satan, this was mortifying.

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth through his clothing. A part of you wanted to remain in his arms and forget about the meeting. But unfortunately, your fear of Sister’s wrath won out.

You withdrew your arm from his back, reaching over to where his hand was on your hip, hovering for a moment as you hesitated. Reminding yourself of Sister Imperator’s stern voice, you placed your hand on top of his. You tried not to think of how many times you had stared at his hands, how many times you had pictured them laced with your own, or gripping your body.

Slowly, you slipped your fingers underneath his, inching his hand off of your hip. You guided his hand to rest on his leg, holding your breath. You let out a relieved sigh shooting Cirrus a thumbs up. She tilted her head in response.

Bracing your arm against the sliver of couch between the two of you, you began lifting yourself up, sliding your feet to the floor. You were almost standing when a hand pulled you back down.

“What the fuck.” You whisper yelled as you landed on the ghoul.

Your arms caught Dewdrop’s as you landed on top of him, his arms bracing you from fully falling into him. Your face was right in front of his mask, your eyes looking straight into his goggles. Your heart raced, partially from the fright and partially from how you had landed on a—very much awake—Dew.

Your chest was flush with his, his hands holding your wrists and supporting your weight. If he hadn’t, you would have crashed your head straight into his helmet. Although, a concussion sounded pretty good right now.

Something that sounded very much like a snicker came from beside you. You were going to kill Cirrus. Had Dew been awake this whole damn time?

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked simply, tilting his head. You swore you could almost glimpse the gleam of his eyes within the goggles.

“I have a meeting.” You replied surprisingly evenly, although it was definitely spoken a little too quickly to be casual. But then again, you would still be startled even if it wasn’t the ghoul that you were crushing on.

Dew huffed, twisting his grip on you so you slid sideways off him and back onto the couch, this time on his other side. Landing on your side with your back to him, you had a barely a moment before his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you into him. He leaned his chin on your shoulder, as your wide eyes caught on to Cirrus and Aurora, who were both sitting up now and watching you. Aurora’s mouth was open in a little ‘o’ that had you blushing furiously.

Cirrus was not going to stop teasing you about this for weeks.

“Dew,” you said exasperatedly, “I need to go now.” You tugged at his arms but he just clung on to you tighter.

“No.” His breath was warm on your ear—everything about him was comfortably warm. It was unfair, honestly. Wait, did he just say ‘no’?

“No, not ‘no’. Let me go you little gremlin.” He snorted at that, not letting go even as you tried twisting out of his grip. What had gotten into this damn fire ghoul?

Ceasing your fruitless efforts to escape, Dew hummed contentedly, thinking you had given up. You crossed your arms, scowling at Cirrus when she stuck her tongue out at you.

“Fine, you can explain to Sister Imperator why I missed her meeting.” At that, Dew tensed up. You knew he’d gotten into trouble with the Sister multiple times, and with her harsh demeanour and even harsher punishments, Dewdrop wasn’t keen on getting into more trouble with her.

“She’s got you there Dewdrop,” Cirrus said sweetly. She pointed at you, mouthing later. You flipped her off. Of course she couldn’t wait to tease you about this.

The fire ghoul growled lowly, bumping his head against the side of yours before reluctantly letting go of your waist. You closed your eyes in relief—maybe your heart would finally have a chance to slow down soon.

You climbed off the couch, avoiding looking at Dew as you flapped a small wave at Cirrus and Aurora. You stepped around Rain and Swiss, hopping over Mountain’s arm. As you reached the door, you couldn’t help yourself.

You glanced back at Dewdrop. The fire ghoul was still sitting on the couch, one leg pulled up on the couch, the other stretched out. He raised a hand to his masked mouth, blowing you a kiss that turned into flipping you off. You snapped back around, hurrying through the door.

That fucking fire ghoul would be the death of you.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

A Fine Line [part 3]

Summary: You've been with Aegon for a little over four years and the relationship just isn't the same. His brother isn't helping the situation, either. This is a Modern Day AU!

Pairing: Aegon x Reader / Aemond x Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Author’s Note: Sorry it was late! I don't know if my M,W,F schedule is going to work. I just want to say thank you all! I really hope you like this one and please, I would love to hear your thoughts & predictions! I basically screech like a pterodactyl whenever you guys leave comments! Tag list is open!

Warnings for the entire series: severe angst, cheating, unprotected sex, jealousy, lying, possessiveness, stalking, manipulation, and language, alcohol use, recreational drug use.

Masterlist & Playlist

The light from the early, Saturday morning sun filtered into your bedroom through half-opened blinds, illuminating tiny specks of dust in the air. It was warm with Aegon pressed against your back; his soft breaths fanning over your shoulder. You stirred softly, turning so that you were facing him, doing your absolute best to not disturb him so that he could continue to sleep in.

It broke your heart to look at him now, knowing that your relationship was hanging by a thread. Wondering how you got here, how you arrived at the platform of whatever these feelings were that you felt for him. Caught between the memories of what you had once before, and feeling as if you were in this bed alone, despite the fact that he was laying right next to you.

You moved, swinging your feet over the side of the bed as you stood up with a sigh. Aegon groaned, his arms reaching for you before turning back over on his stomach and going right back to sleep. His wavy, golden hair splayed out on the pillows as he shifted deeper into them. The duvet pulled down, exposing his freckled shoulders. It took everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

Even your fingers balled into a fist, nails digging into your palm to keep yourself from it. Why? You'd wind up disappointed, feeling unwanted, and he'd be annoyed that you woke him.

The thought made you want to cry.

It was around noon when he finally emerged from the bedroom. You had lost track of how long you'd been sitting at the kitchen table; a bagel untouched on the plate in front of you. You jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on the back of your neck, just briefly touching you as he made his way to the coffee maker. It was a fleeting moment, his fingertips leaving you just as quickly as they came.

He was in a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Despite his disheveled appearance, he looked close to angelic- even with the dark circles under his clouded, blue eyes. You could hear him inhale and exhale heavily with his first sip of coffee; shoulders rising and falling with his breath.

When did it become this way? This silence?

You used to look forward to Saturday mornings; knowing that you had two full days with him to yourself. You'd spend every weekend tangled on the couch or in the bed, not getting up unless you absolutely needed to. Weekends in the summer were always fun, too. He'd always find something for the two of you to do; getting high at the beach, spending your days at Coney eating corndogs and funnel cake until you wanted to throw up or throw yourselves right off the end of the pier. You missed his ice cream cone kisses and the way he would lay his head in your lap as you would read whatever novel you had brought with you that day.

"Colleen Hoover," you whispered to yourself as you absentmindedly stirred your lukewarm coffee; the last book you remember reading on a beach towel under the hot, July sun.

"What was that?" Aegon asked, turning to face you.

You were broken out of your trance and looked up at him. "What?"

"I think you went somewhere," a goofy smile replaced his signature pout. When you didn't say anything, his smile faltered. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mm," you hummed and took a sip of your coffee before making a face. It was definitely lukewarm- cold, even. "So, awards ceremony tonight, huh?"

Aegon rolled his eyes, "If I could just not, I would not."

You stood up and dumped your cold coffee down the drain and sat your cup in the sink. "But babe," you sighed softly and reached for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Look at everything you've accomplished, what you've become! You've worked so hard!"

His eyes were glued to the floor. "You're right," his lips turned up into a smile as he looked up at you through fair lashes. His hands caressed the skin on the back of your arms. "I've worked really hard, and soon it will all pay off and we'll buy a house and get a dog." His forehead pressed against yours as he sighed. His eyes fluttered shut. "A golden retriever, we'll name him Sunny."

"Sunny sounds like he's a really good boy," you whispered and moved to place a kiss on his lips.

"The best," his body became less tense.

You smiled as you stood like that for a moment, just swaying back and forth as he held you so close that you could feel his heartbeat. He was so warm in your arms that you felt like you were holding onto a piece of the sun. You turned your head to place a kiss on the side of his neck, lips brushing the soft skin under his ear, wanting nothing but to tell him that you loved him, that you missed him, that you wanted things to go back to the way they were. But your eyes fluttered open as you heard his phone vibrate on the counter, the moment instantly shattering to bring you back to the reality of your mediocre life. Aegon tensed, his head falling to your shoulder as he groaned in annoyance.

"And so it begins," he mumbled. He let the phone ring, knowing that Otto would call back immediately after it went to voicemail.

Before he could leave the kitchen, you stopped him.

"Hey, would you mind if I invited Aemond to go bowling with us tonight?" You asked, gnawing on the inside of your cheek.

"Not at all," he shrugged. "It'd probably be good for him to get out. Let me see what this fucker wants and then I'll text you his number."

Aegon left shortly after, having been summoned to some "pre-ceremony conference" just to finalize the details of the evening. He had sent over Aemond's contact information before he left, promising that he would see you later tonight. Suddenly you found yourself alone, the silence sitting with you like a friend that you'd run out of things to talk about with.

You stared at your phone for what felt like hours, thumbs hovering over the keyboard; not sure why 'hey, did you really want to go bowling' was such a hard thing to say, but you typed it and deleted it about one hundred times. The final time you typed the words, you quickly pressed the tiny, blue arrow, sending the message into the void before setting your phone face down on the table and standing up.

Before you had even turned to walk out of the kitchen and towards your bedroom, you heard a ding! The butterflies in your stomach, which shouldn't have been there, fluttered mercilessly almost making you nauseous. You inhaled at the sight of the words on the screen, your eyes scanning them over and over again: "Of course, I'll see you there." What was most likely an unambiguous winking emoji at the end of that sentence- because in your experience, men didn't know what emojis even were- was staring back at you with a strange tension that caused a knot to form in your throat.

It was wrong.

It was all so, so wrong.

You placed your phone back down on the kitchen table and shook your head; fighting an internal battle with the guilt and the excitement that you felt. Neither one was winning, but both were slowly tearing you in half.

The thought of cancelling crossed your mind as you showered, but only because you found yourself fantasizing about every possible scenario that would lead to this night ending with you on your back in Aemond's bed. You pictured a navy blue duvet and cold, cotton sheets; a wooden headboard tapping against dark colored walls. Your legs clenched together at the thought of his weight pressing down on you.

As you continued to get ready, the images were becoming ingrained on the back of your eyelids. Every time you closed your eyes small details would change; positions, locations, where his mouth was on your body, the lighting of the room, the scent of his cologne, if his hair was up or down. You had tried to reason with yourself, that this was a completely normal feeling, that you just hadn't been laid in a while.

It didn't make a difference.

You half-hoped that he wouldn't follow through with his plans to meet you at the bowling alley. However, when you turned the corner on to 9th Avenue, you noticed his lithe figure leaning against the outside of the building. You stopped for a few seconds, watching him as he stood there; his warm breath swirling in the frigid, January air as he checked his phone.

Seconds later you felt a vibration in your pocket: "I'm here."

"I have to ask, what is your haircare routine because I've yet to see you have a bad hair day." You texted back.

He looked up and around until his gaze caught you, a small smile tugged at his lips as he pushed himself off of the side of the building. You joined him at his side, your neck craned to see his face.

"It is surprisingly simple, but if I told you then I'd have to kill you," he said so smoothly he could have rehearsed it. "And I like you," he added as he opened the door into the bowling alley and gestured for you to go inside. "So, I'd rather not say."

You smirked at his words, eyes rolling slightly. "If you ever change your mind, here's my business card-" of course you had one with you. "My readers would love to know."

He chuckled at that, "I absolutely will," and tucked the card in his coat pocket. "So who's birthday is it?"

"My coworker, Jace," you replied as you scoured the lanes for Baela and Jace. "He's probably a few years younger than you, writes really thoughtful obituaries." You spotted Baela and waved. "Baela is here, too. You met her last night."

You weren't sure why you felt nervous. Aemond certainly didn't seem to be. He was so calm and collected, and cool, as if it was effortless to him; as if he didn't command every eye to look at him the moment he entered a room. The look on Baela's face couldn't have been further from calm, collected, and cool. Her white curls fell over furrowed brows and her lips were pushed to the side.

Jace just looked happy to be there.

"Hey guys," you greeted as you stepped down to the table they were sitting at. "Happy birthday, Jace!" You moved to give him a quick hug. "Jace this is Aegon's brother, Aemond. Aemond, this is Jace. Aegon couldn't make it, some work thing."

"Lucky me," Aemond smirked as he shook Jace's hand. "It's nice to meet you." He then turned his attention to Baela. "Lovely to see you again, Baela."

Despite her rigid expression earlier, you did see her cheeks turn just a shade darker as he kissed her knuckles. You smiled to yourself.

"You guys should go get shoes," Jace mentioned. "Unless you're afraid to lose."

Aemond's eye squinted as he looked at Jace and laughed, "In a hurry to get shown up on your birthday?"

"Go get the shoes!" You groaned at him, pushing him towards the rental counter. "I'm a size __." Your eyes followed Aemond as he disappeared through the crowd before you turned your attention back to Baela. "What?"

Her arms were crossed over her chest. "I'm just concerned," she says softly. "You've been here all of five minutes and I haven't seen you this happy in two years? I just don't want you to do something that you'll regret."

Your shoulders slump and you rolled your eyes dramatically. "Baela, I'm just-" you stopped when you saw Aemond making his way back over to the table. "Being nice! Two people can be just friends."

She gave you a look but dropped the subject as Aemond dropped your bowling shoes in front of your feet. Someone ordered a round of shots, and then a second round, and a third. It was starting to get warm, the music was loud, and you felt good. Aemond was surprisingly extroverted, despite the enigmatic aura he typically projected. He seemed so nonchalant, like he belonged there, like he was good at it.

The game was obviously competitive, with Jace and Aemond doing their best to one-up each other with every strike. They carried most of the score, while you and Baela joked around, not really caring. You stepped up to the line, getting ready to throw the swirly purple and teal ball down the lane.

"Wait, wait, wait!" You heard behind you. A flurry of pale blonde hair bounced towards your side. "I've watched you throw three straight gutter balls, please, allow me?"

"What?" You gasped. "I know we're behind, but I'm not going to cheat and let you take my shot for me!"

Aemond held a hand to his chest, "The fact that you would even insinuate that I'd allow you to cheat!" He scoffed. "Please, just-"

He turned you back to face the pins, the contact of his hands on your shoulders made you disoriented. You tried to breathe, but it was so warm in there. There was a slight rosy hue to his otherwise pale cheeks as he towered over you. His hands lingered still on your shoulders. You tried not to pay attention to the way his fingers pressed into your skin as your blouse shifted beneath his grip.

"Put your feet here," he instructed and pointed to where you should stand with his toe. One hand dropped to the small of your back, you swallowed thick. "Now," his lips were dangerously close to your ear. "Line your ball up with that pin and when you step up to throw, bring this leg back."

You felt the inside of your body clenching as his hands dropped to your waist. Your cheeks flushed as the hair on the back of your neck stood straight.

Following his instruction, you took a few steps up to the pine and released your ball. Within seconds it curved to the left, falling straight into the gutter once more. You turned to look at him with a disappointed frown. His lips couldn't help but begin to turn upwards at your failure.

“I thought you said you were good at this?” You say to Aemond, giving him a playful shove. "We're going to lose!"

"And you'd blame me?" He asked with a smile.

"You instructed me right into a gutter ball!" You threw your hands up.

"My instruction was flawless, as always," you could hear the double entendre in his voice. "Not my fault you couldn't focus."

"I beg to differ," you quipped under your breath, knowing that he was close enough to hear you.

On his next turn, Jace bowled a strike to win the game. The scores weren't even close, but it didn't matter. You'd had more fun tonight than you'd had in- well, since you could remember. For a moment, you'd wished Aegon had been here, but you shut the door on that thought as you checked your phone to see that he hadn't texted you- not even to check in- since he left the apartment earlier.

Your eyes connected with Aemond as you slipped your phone back into your pocket and you smiled softly. You hardly knew him, but you could tell he knew; Aegon was his brother, after all.

"Another game?" Jace asked.

"I don't think I have another game in me," you chuckled. "My shoulder is killing me after the three games we just played."

"The three games you lost, you mean?" Jace countered.

"Hey, I know it's your birthday, but I will still kick your ass!" You laughed as you slipped out of your bowling shoes.

"We'll have a rematch, soon." Aemond interjected, holding his hand out to Jace. "Good match."

"Girls versus guys next time, maybe?" Jace laughed and shook Aemond's hand.

"That wouldn't be fair," Aemond mentioned with a cocky smirk.

"I wouldn't underestimate us," Baela added as she slung her arm over your shoulder and began walking with you towards the counter to drop off your shoes.

The midnight air was numbing as you stepped out of the comforting warmth of the bowling alley. You were almost instantly sobered, feeling tiny flecks of snow fall to your face. The sidewalks were still buzzing and the traffic on 9th Avenue was still busy as car horns sounded in the distance; a reminder that you lived in a 24 hour city.

"Anyone want to go grab a slice of pizza?" You asked. One, because you needed something to soak up the alcohol in your stomach. And two, because you knew that once Jace and Baela left, you'd be alone with Aemond.

Baela hugged you tightly before holding you at arms length, she mentioned something about going to church with her parents tomorrow morning and promised to see you bright-and-early Monday morning. Jace was already flushed from having a few, too many drinks, and Baela urged that he needed to get home.

You weren't necessarily disappointed, just anxious.

"Thanks for coming," Jace smiled warmly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder in a side hug. He extended his fist out to Aemond, "it was good to meet you, man."

"Likewise, have a good night." His voice was soft through a tight-lipped smile.

You watched as Baela and Jace turned the corner, before turning your attention to Aemond. The headlights of passing by taxi cars shined in his crystalline eye, making him look as if he were unreal; a marble statue dressed in all back with his hands shoved into his pockets. You weren't sure what to say to him, if you should stay or go.

"Can I walk you to the train?" He asked and you exhaled with a smile.

"I'd like that," you replied.

The closest subway platform was two blocks down on 42nd. You did your best to keep up with his long strides, but it proved to be difficult. He had to stop a few times, turning to you with a smile while he waited for you to catch up. You mostly talked about work to keep the conversation going. The one thing you had noticed about Aemond was that he was a good listener, whether he actually cared about anything you were saying or not, he at least seemed to be interested.

He talked about himself, too, which you enjoyed. He talked about all of the places he had travelled to last year and how happy he was to be back home. He gushed about being able to see his family again, specifically his mother and his sister.

You'd never once heard Aegon speak about his family in such a way.

"Can I ask you something?" You said after the conversation had faded out. Your train was running late, but Aemond had been willing to wait with you so that you weren't alone.

"I can't guarantee I'll have an answer, but go for it."

"Why didn't you tell Aegon that we had met in the grocery store?"

He looked at you, his eye narrowed. "Honestly, it's just easier not to say anything sometimes." He spoke, a pensive expression across his pointed features. "Why didn't you?"

You dropped you gaze to the concrete floor. "Because it's just easier not to say anything, sometimes." You repeated his own words, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Hm," he hummed as he leaned up against a brick column. "You know," he said after a few moments of silence. You looked back up at him. "This can't happen." He motioned to the space between the two of you.

"What? Never!" You replied quickly. "I'm appalled that you're even assuming."

"I'm just making sure we're on the same page," he held his hands up defensively.

"We are," you agreed.

"We are?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, we're friends," you replied sternly. "That's all it can be."

"Good," he stuck his hand out for you to shake on it.

You shook his hand with a firm grip, but he turned your hand over in his, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. It made your heart flutter every time. The announcement that your train was arriving played on the overhead speakers.

"Thank you, Y/N. For tonight." His blue eye was piercing through you. "That was the most fun I've had in a while."

They way he said your name and the feeling of your hand in his made you wish he'd just take you home with him; to that navy blue duvet you were picturing earlier. But that was just a fantasy that lived in your mind only, and would never- could never come to fruition. He was right, Baela was right, this couldn't happen.

"You're welcome, I'm glad that you had a good time." You said softly, doing your best to hide your disappointment that the night was ending. "Thank you for coming with me."

As the train pulled up to the platform, you wished that he would pull you into him. The crisp air was thick with tension, and even though you had just agreed to the terms of this- you weren't even sure if you could call it a relationship- friendship, a look lingered in Aemond's eye that told you he didn't mean any of it.

"Friends," you repeated, reminding yourself and him of the deal that you had just made.

He nodded, "Friends."

"I hope you have a good night, Aemond." You pulled your hand from his slowly until it dropped to your side. The doors to the train opened and you found yourself a spot next to the window, forcing yourself not to look back.

Aegon isn't home when you step into your apartment. It's almost too dark and cold, and quiet, and you feel like you shouldn't even be there. You don't even care to hang up your bag and coat, you simply toss them over the arm of the couch. You've got a slight headache and you're starving, and all that you can think about is something you shouldn't be thinking about.

Your phone vibrated as you headed into the kitchen.

Aemond.

"Thanks again, I hope you made it home safe."

You found your thumbs typing a reply before you could even think if it was a good idea or not, "Anytime! I just walked through the door. We should have definitely gotten pizza, but I guess leftover lasagna will work."

Not even bothering to heat up your leftovers, you make your way back into the living room with a Tupperware of lasagna from last night and a fork. You click on the television, catching up on the news before flipping it over to one of your favorite shows.

"You've beaten me, I've got cereal."

You laughed and typed, "That kind of suits you."

Over the next two hours you had squeezed in three new episodes of your show and discussed everything from food, to movies, to philosophy with Aemond. He'd leave you the occasional voice note when he didn't feel like typing a reply, and you'd try not to think about how good his voice sounded at this ungodly hour. You'd try not to think of him sitting back, half-lidded on the couch, in a very comfortable sweater and a pair of joggers with a smile on his face because he was texting you.

It was almost 3:00 AM when you finally got a text from Aegon.

"Don't feel like you need to wait up for me. I love you."

Tagged: @tssf-imagines @gothicwidowsworld @itsabby15 @possiblyafangirl @namelesslosers@toodlesxcuddles @hiraethrhapsody @heavenly1927 @chainsawsangel @hanula18

[deathbxnny]

Alright, I've finally found the time to write the second part to "No Happy Endings" for my dear Flower Anon! This one is very dark, so please read the content tags, before reading the one-shot!!!

(Part one)

Content: CW!VAGUE SMALL MENTIONS OF MURDER, DECAPITATION, Potential ooc Arlecchino?, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, small mention of depression/suicidal ideation, blood, gaslighting

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

《And he imagined you with him. (Lyney x Reader)》

"Do you understand the point of this mission, Lyney?"

It was a simple question.

One, that on any other day, could've easily been answered with a single word. But ever since you've disappeared over two weeks ago, Lyney found himself at a loss for an answer. He shifted on his feet, tongue wetting his chapped lips, before he hummed weakly and nodded. None of his usual bravado or confidence in sight.

"Ofcourse, Father."

He winced ever so slightly at the absolute pathetic stutter in his tone. Why did he even bother replying at all? There was no point in hiding his true feelings, not that he could have. They were engraved in his sleep deprived and pale face.

But Arlecchino decided to play along with his lies. Something he'd come to regret until he took his last breath.

"I knew you did, ofcourse... but just in case you dared to forget one day, let me give you a reminder you'll forever remember."

Lyney raised his head for the first time since he and his siblings were asked to meet the Harbinger in this dim, dark room. He felt a slight shiver run up his spine at the cold and unimpressed gaze that met his unsure one, his body stiff and painfully tense. His siblings on each side of him didn't move a singular muscle, perhaps out of fear of getting her attention next. And for once, he deeply wished to be out of the spotlight.

Arlecchino slowly raised her hand, before placing it on top of a box. Had it always been there? He didn't remember, the room suddenly feeling so suffocating and warm. Sweat rolled down his forehead, as he chose to ignore the worried glances that Freminet and Lynette gave him.

He knew that it was painfully obvious that something was wrong with him, and yet, he still wanted to keep up the facade desperately. It was a matter of survival at this point. And it made him wonder in that moment what had brought him to this point again.

It was still you, ofcourse. It was always you. Ever since that night, he had ro regretfully reject you.

In the agony that filled him over the last few weeks without you, he had begun becoming very sloppy and clumsy with everything he did. He was completely out of it, practically spiraling head first into a deep hole he didn't want to crawl out of anymore. He just wished to know where you were.

He hadn't slept properly in forever. He couldn't keep food down. He saw you in every mirror, in every reflection. He heard your laughs in the sound of birds chirping in early mornings, heard your stories in his wild, hazy dreams of your ever fading figure.

Every was just you. But you were nowhere to be found.

He had tried finding you after that night, he really did. And yet, no one knew of your whereabouts. You had disappeared overnight, your home empty and vacant, no trace of you, despite everything still being in place. It's like you never even went home after the ball to begin with.

Deep down, especially now, he knew what had happened to you. He could see it replaying in his Father's eyes, perhaps even see the blood dripping off her sharp talons that seemed to dig into the lid of the box in silent anger that not even she could conceal. But he still chose to dream.

He chose to believe that you had simply left the country, like the rumors told him you did. He imagined you laying in the bright fields of Mondstadt, the wind blowing through your clothes and hair, as you sung beautiful memories. He imagined you traversing through the vast and empty Sahara of Sumeru, eyes squinting against the scorching sun. He imagined you drinking tea in Liyue harbor, your eyes gazing out longingly into the distance as the sun set over the ocean. He imagined you visiting a Shrine in Inazuma, the Sakura trees swaying in the wind as you rested against them.

And finally, he imagined you in Snezhnaya with him, your hands intertwined, a golden band on each of your fingers. He imagined you doing all of those things with him, just like you always told him you wanted to. He loved it when he heard you speak of your future with him always in mind. It gave him the feeling of having a choice for once.

Even if it was all crushed under the Knaves heel now.

"Father, I-" "-Open the box, Lyney." Arlecchino slid it towards him, uncaring now if the blood that poured through the thin cardboard drenched the wood below. Said young man felt Freminet step behind him ever so slightly, Lynette practically not breathing anymore once she realised what was going on. The terror and disbelief that filled the air was palpable.

"Father, you didn't..." Lynette was at a loss for words, not knowing what exactly she was accusing the woman of. Or perhaps she didn't want to believe it. Freminet gripped onto Lyney's vest, his hand shaking as he gulped weakly, when Arlecchino sighed and shook her head in utter disappointment from where she sat.

"I can't believe that such a simple distraction made you all stray so far from what you are really here for. Especially you, Lyney. Didn't you want to take my place one day?" No. No, he didn't. Not anymore. He wanted to die more than anything. Melt into a puddle at her feet and hopefully merge with the blood that dripped off the table onto the floor. "Prove to me that you meant it. Prove to me that you understood our mission. Because this-" She tapped a sharp claw against the lid, her head resting against her palm as though she was bored. As though she wasn't completely destroying whatever was left of his heart and soul. "-should've never made me have to do this. It's your fault, and you have to fix this now."

He hated the way she spoke to him. He felt like a child being scolded. He knew she was trying to twist his mind and reattach the strings you had cut with your love for him. And yet, he realised that it didn't even matter anymore. The quicker he got done with all of this, the quicker he could see you again. He despised how that actually filled him with slight relief. He had truly completely and utterly given up on everything. And Lynette was the first to notice, as she shook her head and whispered for him to not do it. To not do this to them, to himself.

But Lyney just pried himself free from their grasp, stepping forward, a calm smile finding his face. "Ofcourse, you're right, Father. As always." "Lyney, no, please-" "-We've angered Father enough already." The young man uttered nearly sternly before his hand took Arlecchino's place, his thumb pressing against the underside of the box's lid. And then he paused. His hand was trembling, giving him away. But he couldn't let his last show end like this. His smile stretched wide and painfully when he flipped it open at last, his body taking in a deep, shaky breath.

He had found you at last. And it broke all his dreams with it.

Freminet gagged and turned away, a hand clasping over his mouth. Lynette blinked rapidly, nearly stumbling into a seat behind her, practically close to passing out. And Lyney? Oh, how he crumbled. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take the sight of your head resting in this small box, the disrespect making him sick with anger and disbelief. His hands slapped against the table, as he leaned over it, shoulders trembling when he finally began crying pathetically. It hurt. Everything hurt.

And the malice and spite became even clearer when he noticed the rainbow rose that was placed behind your ear. Just the way he used to do it.

He burned with fury, the flames reaching high and wide, spreading into every part of his body, until he met his Father's unimpressed gaze at last through his blurry sight. He hated her. He hated everything. Why did she do this to him? Why couldn't she just have threatened you to leave the country? Why? He had so much to say, so much to scream at her, but all that came out of him were gasps for air and uncontrollable sobs.

Arlecchino hummed in approval at the broken state of all of her dear children, before she stood up, having achieved her disciplinary goals for the night. She didn't spare them a glance anymore, as she passed by them, knowing she had gotten the point across loud and clear. Lyney slid to his knees, unable to bear any of it anymore.

"I hope, my reminder will be enough to return you all to the right path. Fountaine will thank you for your pain." She said, closing the door behind her on her way out of the room, a satisfied smile on her lips at the sound of well-deserved agony.

It was all for the greater good in the end, after all.

Okay! This one was admittedly a bit difficult to write, but I hope you liked it anyway, Flower Anon! I'm always super thankful for your great request!!!<33

[jamminlocks]

Birthday Night {Akaashi x Reader}

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Tags: F/M, post time-skip, established relationship, birthday fic, soft Akaashi, afab reader, soft reader, Fluff, tooth aching fluff, Domestic Fluff, kissing, sfw, no smut, slightly suggestive in the end Word count: 1,135 Summary: though it's his birthday, a wonderful and acceptable reason to drink with friends, Akaashi made the active choice to just go home to simply get some rest and spend the night with you. A/N: a little something with the birthday boy :) [ao3]

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Exiting the station greets Keiji with early December weather. He makes his way to his apartment alone on his birthday. It's nothing to be sad about. His co-workers invited him to head out drinking, the drinks being on them. Bokuto invited hangout as well though there was no date for it. But, given that it's so early in the week and he still has Udai-sensei's chapter for the following weeks to be concerned about, with a lot of convincing, His gift of free drinks will be given on Saturday instead. While Bokuto's offer, on the other hand, had to be postponed for some time in the near future to at least before the year ends.

He left work and went his way home early, a rare occasion. Much like anyone else exhausted mentally and physically, Keiji tries to hurry home. Hurrying home not only to finally relax, but he has actual plans for tonight.

From the opposite direction of the street, he sees someone in a white coat and scarf, carrying a box by the ribbon on one hand and two big bags on the other. Their walk is familiar to him. The closer they got it he recognizes who it was and it warmed his cheeks.

Its you.

The moment you see him, you smile and the stiffness on your face is gone in an instant. Keiji gets to the edge of the street first and watches you speedily, yet carefully walk to him.

"Good Evening," you said with the energy of a sunny morning.

"Good Evening," he returned. Although not matching your energy, your gladness is contagious to him. "Aren't you early from what you said?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise that I was early," you said, the smile not leaving your face. It seems to radiate even more with the different make up you have today, You show off the box. "See, I bought cake! Happy birthday!"

He smiles softly. "and the other bags?"

"your gift and food. I'll cook us dinner. I've got dishes in mind." You nodded to the street In front of you, a sign to start heading to his apartment. Before he started walking, Keiji took one bag from your hand.

"here, let me. Give me the other one too."

"you'll open the door, though."

"fare enough. Then hand me the heavier bag." And so you did.

Walking together on the way to his apartment, you both talk about how the day was. Keiji speaking of work and his co-workers, comparing Kuroo's enthusiastic birthday greeting from Kenma's normal one, and Bokuto's invite to hangout yet not having a scheduled date for it. The weight of exhaustion leaves him as he listens to your day, how exciting it was to choose the cake, how lucky you were to finally get the scarf you wanted. The distance between you two never grows wider, even while walking up the stairs in the case of his apartment.

Keiji digs through the pocket of his pants for his keys. "Why don't you go in first and set everything down?" He said.

You hum in agreement. After a click in the knob, Keiji swings the door and keeps it open for you then enters himself. Once inside, the tension in his head and back he didn't know he had disappeared. The comfort of his space is a relief. All he hears of you as he strips his scarf, coat and shoes are your foot steps and the crackling of the bag being opened. Keiji takes in the atmosphere you give his home, hoping that it will be the beginning of a peaceful evening with you.

He fixes his coat onto the wrack, or he tries. The change of temperature in the air left his glasses misty. As he tries to find his cloth for his lenses in one of his coat pockets. The weight of a body presses on to his back and a pair of arms wraps around his torso.

"Keiji~" you said in that low and playful tone you do when wanting his attention. You were patient with him, keeping your grim on him loose as he fixed his glasses.

One he was done and Keiji placed them back on his face, he turned and you adjusted with him, placing yourselves chest to chest with each other. Your coat and scarf were already gone.

"yes?" He asked. It's rhetorical, really. In that he knows you aren't really asking for anything that can't be answered with his affection. wrapping he own arms around, he brings you in tighter. A kiss to your forehead was his 'thank you' for the hug. But before he could pull away, you lean in to peck on his cheeks. It's gentle and teasing, making Keiji hum, a bit tickled.

Then, you kiss him on his lips, light and fleeting. He thought you were done but one kiss led to another. From the way your arms are firmly on him, it was clear you had no intentions on letting him go just yet. Basically trapping him. So he mirrors your affection, kissing you back with the same gentleness, maybe a little more, but nothing too much.

The sensation of your lipstick is slightly sticky, but it doesn't take away from the warmth and softness of your lips with each little kiss. Slowly, his hand reaches to trace up your back. You, in turn, finally let go of him from your embrace, only to slither your hand up and cup his face.

Its warm, intoxicating. His cheeks being caressed by your finger as kiss and nip on and on the side of his lips. relaxing to his tired nerves. So relaxing in fact that he didn't even realize he was falling a little bit backwards until his back is against the door. Nice as this is, if this keeps up, he knows the rest of the night won't go as he and you planned. The food will be neglected as well.

He takes over a little, nipping and sucking on your bottom lip before firmly placing his hands on your hips and politely pushing you off him. With the way you look at him with a half-lidded gaze, it was clear you don't want it to be over, neither did he.

"don't get too carried away. We just got here," he reminds you.

"I know," you said. Despite saying this, you lean on him again, wrapping his waist once more and kissing his cheek, moving slowly down his neck. It heats Keiji up all over. "I missed you. Happy birthday, Keiji," you said, not entirely sultry, your earnestness showing more. He'd almost laugh, given he last saw you a few days ago. Still he understands your sentiment. It's hard for him to ask you stop, especially when your kisses feel so nice. But, really, the two of you won't leave each other's touch all night if this keeps going.

Keiji takes your arms and pushes them away. You are quick to understand that he is serious, so you pull back. He cups your cheek for you to face him. Seeing that your lipstick smudged to the side, he tries to wipe it with his thumb. The attempt makes you smile.

He smiles too. "Thank you, really," he said kissing you one last time before he is done for now. "We should get dinner ready."

"okay," you head off first, returning to the kitchen.

"I'll help you," he calls

"okay, I'll season the meat first!"

Keiji walks in front of the mirror close to the main door, about to fix his shirt to some capacity, though he doesn't think you did too much to wrinkle it more. What he first sees is his lipstick stains you left, from his neck, cheeks, and especially his lips, practically tinted its shade. He wipes the ones on his neck and it comes off quite easily, to his surprise and disappointment. His laugh is mixed in with a blissful sigh. He considers if he'll leave marks of his own on you later.

•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~°~•~

a/n: it's bad enough that I don't post fics anymore. But here is something for you all since it's akaashi's bday. I won't be able to complete a whole fic again in a while because I have a thesis to write!! Please pray for me and my thesis everyone!! It will help in the quality of my fics, I promise

[avocado-writing]

not your fault, but mine

tangerine x single mother!reader (with tangerine being paternal, I know y’all love that)

2.1k words

cw: kidnapping, brief child endangerment, a lot of swears for the wordcount

tag list:  @honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot​ @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy​ @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta @rxcently @skrrten @nightmarefeast @lost-lila​ @hardcore-flower @mrsdanieljackson

a/n: thank you to @lady-jane3​ for being my beta! if you enjoy this fic you will probably enjoy this one by @whatstruthgottodowithit​!

Tangerine has been a little bit in love with you since the two of you first met. 

Sometimes it’s pertinent for handlers to be sent on missions with their agents in the field. Insider intel and all that jazz, overseeing what’s going on. When he saw you in the hotel lobby waiting for him and his brother he was smitten with the smart black dress and look of professional interest you wore; but he was fucked when he heard you laugh at one of his jokes. 

It was enchanting. You were enchanting. 

You wriggled your way into his affections without even meaning to. You worked well with them both, and you were easy on the eyes and on the soul. Strong and capable in your own right, too. The job was easy because you were there; and when you all went out to celebrate that night it didn’t hurt that you were so receptive to Tangerine’s advances you’d ended up shagging him by the recycling bins round the back of the pub.  

The fact that you’d exchanged private numbers afterwards was a welcome surprise though. Tangerine isn’t usually the sort of bloke people are interested in having a long term relationship with, so he’d expected it to be a one-and-done sort of night. But then there you were the next week, getting coffee back in London. Like the two of you were civilised people, not involved in the business of murder for hire. 

It became a weekly thing. No more fucking, not yet anyway; just sitting there and chatting. He found himself looking forward to it each Friday. Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh again. It was a few macchiatos later you dropped the bomb. 

“If this is going to be a thing, you’d better know I have a daughter.”

He peered at you from over the ceramic rim of his coffee cup. 

“Right.”

“If it’s a problem, we call it here. She’s the most important thing to me. I like you a lot, Tangerine, but if a single parent is too much for you to handle I need to know now. So you don’t break my heart.”

You were upfront about it and he respected that. Maybe if you were anyone else he’d turn tail and run at that announcement. 

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you. Gorgeous, wonderful you. 

“That’s alright with me.”

The grin you gave him made him know he’d made the right choice. 

Then the moment he’d been bricking it over came. After a few evening dates and a couple of dalliances with you in local hotels, he was introduced to your daughter. She was a shy, quiet girl of six, who hid behind you and peeked out at him from the safety of her mum as a shield. 

“This is my friend Tangerine, love. Are you going to say hello?”

When she shook her head and hid her face in your shirt, Tangerine knew he was in for an uphill battle. But he’d fight it, for you. 

It was like trying to dig a tunnel through an iceberg with a spoon. The process was long and tiring. But he always made sure to be thankful whenever he was invited along to one of your days out with your daughter, to be given a chance to be part of the family. 

Your daughter is cautious. It sounds like you had a nasty breakup with her dad, and you never discuss it much - but your little one has trouble trusting new men because of it, it seems. But as the ice starts to melt around her he finds himself loving her as much as he loves you. 

He knows he can’t buy someone’s affections. But when he shells out an eye-watering amount for a stuffed dinosaur at the Natural History Museum and your daughter beams at him, he thinks it might be alright to cheat a bit. 

She might be quiet, but she’s concise when she speaks; pithy and never using more words than she needs to. Still she has that same intensity many young children do. She reminds him of Lemon, actually, back when they were kids: sincere to a fault, but affectionate in her own way. 

When she first held his hand in a crowd out in public, Tangerine grinned harder than when he heard West Ham got into the FA Cup final (didn’t win though, did they? Fucking Liverpool). Maybe he didn’t sign on to have a kid in his life, but he can’t help but feel incredibly lucky it ended up happening. And sitting with you cozied up on one side of him and your daughter falling asleep on his arm on the other, he’s even more surprised that he’s genuinely happy.

He heads to your house with a bouquet of flowers for you and a toy in garish packaging for your daughter. Oh, he’s going to earn points for this one - she never asked for it outright, but he’s seen the way she lights up whenever the advert comes on the telly. He’s not Lemon, but he’s still smart enough to pick up on these things.

And you’ll be pleased she’s happy, of course. And when you’re pleased it usually leads to him being pleased later that night.

But the blood in Tangerine’s veins freezes when he sees your door is ajar. You don’t leave it open, ever, and he can hear his heartbeat thunder when he nudges it and sees broken glass behind.

He drops the toy, and the flowers burst into petals on the concrete as he runs inside. 

It’s a mess. The coffee table is shattered, furniture has been overturned - and, fuck, there’s blood on the carpet. Signs of a struggle.

He shouts for you at the top of his lungs, for your daughter, sweeping the house and checking anywhere someone could be hiding. He comes up empty. Fuck. Fuck! How could he let this happen? 

Dazed, he heads into your bedroom. Sits on the bed. Fishes his phone out of his pocket, numbly taps your number to dial it. 

He doesn’t hear your phone go in the house. It rings off to voicemail. 

Right. Okay. Right. You must have it with you. That’s something.

Adrenaline surging through his body, he checks to see if your location is turned on. It is. Whatever happened, you made sure to know you could be found.

He stands up, clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white, and starts to call Lemon as he leaves.

You wake up to the taste of metal in your mouth. Christ, your head hurts. It’s a sharp ache that reverberates around your skull. Something sticky is running down from your forehead and has gummed your left eye shut, but you look around with your right the best that you can.

Some sort of warehouse. Of course. How original. Things begin to come back to you: the men smashing your door in, the couple you managed to deal with before you were overwhelmed. Your hand still hurts from the punch you delivered to someone’s nose, and you remember the satisfying crunch it made. Oh, god - and your daughter trying to run away but getting caught -

You call her name and you feel a shuffling against your back; you try to move before you realise you’ve been restrained. Hands bound behind you, ankles tied to chair legs. With a groan you crane your neck as far as it will go to take a look.

Your daughter comes to, groggy. You can just about make out her familiar shape in your periphery. If they’ve harmed a single hair on her head, you’re going to set this fucking building alight with every cunt who did this still inside. 

“Love?”

She lets out a little sob of terror. 

“Mum, what happened?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

She takes a moment to answer, her voice shaking.

“I’m… I’m okay, I think.”

You hope she’s telling the truth, and not just lying to seem brave for you. It’s not like you can turn around and check, is it?

Alright, one thing at a time. You test the restraints. No luck, shit. They’re done tight. With multiple zip ties it feels like. It’s a chore to steady your breathing but you manage to do it, and talk yourself through what you remember.

They burst in, attacked you mostly in silence, but they were talking as they choked you out - about what? Focus, focus. 

Oh, fuck. A sentence comes back to you.

‘Let’s see how he likes it when he finds out we have his bird.’

Tangerine. This is all about Tangerine.

You hold back stupid tears. Crying isn’t going to solve anything, is it? But you want to, though. You want to cry over being weak enough to get fucking kidnapped, at being enough of a vulnerability to Tangerine that they’d take you to hurt him, that you got your daughter mixed up in all of this.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The door at the end of the warehouse space swings open. A man crosses over, a balaclava obscuring his face. Despite it all you can’t help but let out a little laugh - how fucking old school, you half expect him to whip out an Anonymous mask.

“Not sure what you’re having a giggle at, love. Seems to me there’s not anything funny about the situation you’re in.”

“Oh, what do you fucking want?” you snap, squaring up the best you can under the circumstances. Keep a brave face for her. The man rolls his eyes. 

“Well, darling, a very nasty man likes to get his end away with you. So we figured you’d be a useful bargaining chip when dealing with him. See, he’s pissed off the wrong person, and they’re interested in making sure he pays dearly for it. And the fact you arrange his little missions means this is a two-for-the-price-of-one deal.”

Your daughter whimpers. You bare your teeth at him.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do for me, but let her go. She didn’t do anything, she’s a child.”

The man rolls his eyes.

“What, so she can go running straight to him to tell him where you are? Don’t think so, sweetheart. No, much better to make sure she’s here. Safe. With us.”

He grins and it makes you feel sick. You open your mouth to lay into him, but a beeping from the walkie-talkie at his belt stops you. He grabs it and turns his back to you. 

“What?”

There’s the unmistakable sound of gunfire on the other end.

“Oh, fuck, they’re -” is as far as the speaker gets, before he’s cut off with a bloody gargle. The man freezes for a moment, but he’s been distracted long enough - you’ve managed to wiggle one foot free from your restraints and you bring it up as hard as you can between his legs. The man screeches in agony and drops to the floor.

You call for your daughter and tell her to work on her bindings. You feel her struggle behind you. She’s small, maybe she’ll be nimble enough to get free…

The man gets back up all too quickly. 

“You bitch,” he spits, and pulls out a knife from around his back. You feel the blood leave you.

Please don’t kill me in front of my daughter.

Any further action he was going to take, however, is somewhat interrupted by the fact a quarter of his head explodes all over you as a bullet flies through it. He looks shocked for a moment before collapsing for the last time.

They’re here. Tangerine and Lemon are dishevelled, covered in blood, and looking worse for wear - but they’re here. Tangerine lowers his gun and runs over to you, dropping to his knees to check you over.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, get her!” you say, motioning back towards your daughter. Tangerine doesn’t need telling twice. He picks up the abandoned knife and starts working on freeing the little girl behind you, as Lemon finishes closing the distance to help you.

You hear your daughter sob in relief and see Tangerine stagger back as she launches herself into his arms.

“Dad!” she cries, burying her little face in his neck. Tangerine doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him properly dumbstruck: standing there, covered in blood and holding your child with wide eyes. 

“That’s a lot to unpack,” Lemon mutters with a smile as he finishes letting you go. You stand up and give him a tight hug.

“Am I glad to see your ugly mugs,” you sigh. 

“Oi, easy! If you want to keep kissing this ugly mug,” Tangerine says, and it makes your daughter giggle even if she doesn’t loosen her grip.

A bubble of laughter escapes from your lips. Pure relief. Oh, fuck, this could have been bad. It wasn’t though.

Not when you’ve got your boys around to watch your back.

[mamamittens]

Oh, Sweet Child of Mine (Pt. 12)

Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Crew (and others) & Reader-Insert

Main|First|Previous

Warnings: Yandere behavior, excessive use of force/fire, light injuries, and character death. At this point, need I remind ya'll to not tolerate possessive/toxic behavior in real life? Or murder/violence for that matter. If yandere content makes you uncomfortable, please do block the tag 'oh sweet child of mine' as well as any variation of 'one piece yandere' that you feel is necessary.

Ya'll about to lose your damn minds and I'm not sorry.

(also, this gif is baller)

Word Count: 2,439

Ace leaned back a little as Striker sped off across the water. Ocean spray erupting in his wake as he veered towards the shoreline. Marco was checking the other nearby island while he checked this one. Discreetly.

Well… as discreetly as he could manage.

After several months of riding Teach’s ass, he knew they were close. Several times they went into a port only to find out that Teach had left only days before. Whatever crew he managed to get on such short notice was competent, Ace would admit that much. But everything he heard only made his fire burn hotter in his chest. He’d been practically spitting sparks for weeks now.

Particularly what he’d heard from Luffy.

‘They look cool. Though really tired!’

Thatch had woken up a couple of months back, though he was still strictly on bedrest. He was able to provide a better picture of what happened. As they had all suspected, you didn’t have anything to do with it. As far as Thatch could remember while bleeding out, Teach had kidnapped you with a sack. Not exactly ‘accomplice’ behavior. Thatch had also been devastated to learn that you’d been taken when he was right there.

Ace promised to bring you back home. At this point, the only reason for Teach to return was so Oyaji could personally punt him into the sea.

Ace ran Striker onto the shore and leapt out, boots digging into the sand as he jogged up the slight incline. Shards of glass breaking under his heel as he took a moment to control his temper.

He just wanted to go home already. He wanted all of this to be over with. To go back to teasing you for dodging parties and Thatch’s attempts to befriend you. Hell, he’d even take your awkward, concerned smiles for when someone tried really hard to talk to you about joining. Like they were confessing their plans to marry a sea king—actually, you’d probably be offended they thought they were worthy of Mao.

Ace sucked in a deep breath and steadied himself. Stalking through the shadows towards the center of the town. Ears primed for gossip.

“—they think I’d pay for that! Ugh!”

“—get ahold of your sister after last week? What she say?”

“—Did you see those pirates? Dragging around a slave, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised—” Ace jerked towards the voice with narrowed eyes. An older lady gossiped with someone just a little bit younger, the two engrossed with their conversation. “—That Blackbeard fellow has no shame! All those rings! And his crew were just obnoxious! I feel so bad for that slave. I wonder if calling the marines would help or if they’d just be sold again?”

“I thought slaves just had the collar and brand. I didn’t even see a brand anywhere… do you think it’s a ransom?”

“Well, you’d think he wouldn’t be carting them around if that was the case! Poor dear looked exhausted!”

Ace grit his teeth, hissing as steam curled between his lips. After a moment, he put on his best, charming smile and stepped out.

“Excuse me, ma’am? I couldn’t help but overhear you… are they still here? My friend was taken by pirates and I’ve been trying to find them for months! Thick glasses, blue bandana around their wrist?” Ace asked with wide, sad eyes. The older ladies tittered at him as expected.

“Oh! Yes, actually, though it looked like they’re using it as a bandage now. That brute doesn’t look very gentle to me, you know. Last I heard they were readying for departure on the other side of town.” She replied. Ace bowed low.

“Thank you, very much, ma’am! Ah.” Ace looked up with a wry smile. “I suggest you ladies get a bit of distance. I’m afraid I’m going to make a bit of a mess soon.”

The ladies nodded and hurried off, warning others as they went.

Ace kept his smile for a few moments longer before settling his gaze in the direction they indicated.

Ace huffed, running up a wall and grabbing onto a rooftile. Hoisting himself up to run atop the buildings for a better vantage point. The colorful clay roofing blurring as he rushed.

He leapt on top of a house, crouched down low as he sneered.

Teach stood with his crew around him, organizing barrels. You swaying on your feet a little beside him. A dull, iron bracelet connected to a chain that ran all the way to Teach’s own wrist.

Luffy was right.

You looked fucking exhausted.

Ace cupped his hand, fire pooling between his fingers as he threw it down at Teach’s feet where it exploded. More light and noise than damage.

He didn’t want to hurt you.

It would be tricky to immolate Teach with you next to him, but Ace was clever. He’d figure something out. At the very least he could keep fighting until Marco arrives.

“TEACH YOU BASTARD!”

--*--

You yelped, startled by the sudden explosion just feet from you. Teach instantly backing up with his hand gripping your arm. His face turned up towards a roof.

You followed his gaze in shock as the figure stood up. Ace screaming furiously across the distance.

“TEACH YOU BASTARD!” Rather than be intimidated in the least, Teach laughed.

“Commander! Should have known it would be you.” Teach grinned, pulling you forward a bit. “Here for something? Why not join my crew? I’m going to be a warlord soon, you know. After I turn in Straw Hat, they’ll gladly give me the position.”

You couldn’t quite see Ace well, but he seemed more furious at the suggestion than before. His fruit flaring enough that even with your exhaustion you noticed. He’d clearly been burning so hot for a while now—your obliviousness to him was just further evidence for how weak you’d gotten over the past few months.

Teach had been getting a tad… desperate to outrun his pursuers until he could manage to get the warlord title. And it seems as though his luck had run out.

“I. Would. Never.” Ace spat, launching off the room in a hail of fire and landing several feet away. “Luffy is my little brother, Teach. You’re not hurting anymore of my family.”

Teach made a surprised sound and you couldn’t blame him. They didn’t quite resemble each other, nor did they share a last name. And seeing Ace now, face etched with fury, he looked about as far from the goofy, beaming Luffy as possible.

Teach clicked his tongue.

“What a shame. You’re pretty strong, commander. We could have done great together.” Teach bemoaned playfully, like they were still crewmates having a small argument over pie flavors.

“I’m not your commander, Teach. Not after what you’ve done.” Ace’s body lit up like a bonfire, flaring high into the sky and making you look away or risk blinding yourself.

The shadows beneath your feet writhed as the light flickered over them, powered by your fruit as a cold spot developed around you. Around Teach.

“Go. None of you are strong enough to fight him—” Teach warned before one of them shot a gun at Ace. The bullets flying through harmlessly, leaving only temporary holes in the blazing fire that constituted his body. Ace’s eyes were fixed on you like dying stars. “Now!”

The crew ran as a flashover spilled out across the area, scorching the earth and singing your lungs.

You wished you had the opportunity to run yourself. Never, have you ever, wanted to fight Ace. For a lot of reasons.

Mostly a lack of desire to know what being a burned marshmallow felt like.

Teach’s free fist was coated in smoke and shadows, curling around his fingers eagerly.

Ace reeled back his fiery arm, fist clenched tight as Teach mirrored him.

Fire and living darkness rushed across the space, suddenly not nearly enough space as they collided violently. Friction lighting where they clashed as it raced upwards and out, attempting to find a weak point. You felt your body being blown back, only held in place by Teach’s firm grip as his boots dug into the earth. Despite only being connected to Teach, you could feel how hungry the fire was. Eating away the oxygen as it exploded again and again, trying to outmatch the shadows.

The final detonation was high above your head and the shockwave took you down to your knees as you gasped for air. Shaking almost as violently as their first blow, your head ringing, skin tingling with light burns. You blinked hard, eyes crying out at the relief as you looked up.

Teach’s grip on your arm was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the ground. Dust and debris clinging to your body.

You were horrified. Only realizing now that Teach fully intended to keep you right next to him for this fight.

And you genuinely wasn’t sure you could handle being this close to any of it.

Teach grunted, bending down to wrap his arm around your middle like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t even really have time to consider how painful the position was before Ace leapt forward with a feral howl of anger.

Sparks and flame erupting around you as you could do nothing but hold onto Teach’s arm and close your eyes. Your body jerking around as the two traded blows. Teach handicapped by you, as was Ace, who clearly wasn’t quite going all out like he wanted. The air was stiflingly hot and heavy as they clashed. Fire burning through your eyelids as you tried to focus on anything but the fight.

“Zehahahaha~! What’s wrong, commander? You don’t seem to be invested!” Teach cackled before he was cut off with a pained grunt. “I was hit!?” He mumbled just over the rippling sound of fire tearing through the atmosphere.

“You’re a fucking COWARD, TEACH! PUT! THEM! DOWN!” Ace screamed like he was possessed, explosions scorching you as Teach jerked around a touch desperately.

You gasped for air, lungs burning from heat and exertion. Exhaustion filling your head with cotton as tears slipped through your closed eyes.

You… you were so fucking sick and tired of this.

All of it.

Every last fucking thing.

Sick of the fucking pirates!

Sick of your fucking devil fruit!

Sick of the clammy, creepy shadows curling around your ankles every fucking second of the day!

Your senses focused on that sensation. How much you hated it.

Fire and shadows tearing up the earth as Teach occasionally pulled in debris to single-handedly hurl at Ace. Pulled in nearly the whole town only to eject it violently at Ace.

Every move taunting and teasing your senses as it pulled on your lingering energy.

“TEEEAAAACCHH!” Ace roared, the sound distant and dull in your ears.

Your heart beat in your chest. A distant drum that steadily grew closer. Louder until it vibrated in your blood and bones.

Ba-thump!

A mirage formed behind your eyelids. Less wavering and unsteady with every beat.

Ba-thump!

A dial. Almost like a pressure gauge. The needle vibrating near the red and jumping with every attack.

Ba-thump!

You felt a foreign vibration build in your chest. Your feet digging into the broken cobblestone, muscles screaming out as you forced yourself to uncurl from around Teach’s arm.

BA-THUMP!

Your nails dug into his skin as you pivoted. One hand curled around the illusionary dial before twisting. To. Zero.

“Dial DOWN!” You screamed, the pressure of his fruit on yours reversing.

Teach spun in your bloodied grip, body flying around as you threw him over your shoulder with more strength than you thought you’d ever have. Fueled by rage and desperation to make it stop.

The chain pulled taut. Yanking you with him as you screamed, the joint popping out of place from the force of your throw.

The electric pain made your hand spasm as you ‘let go’. Body pulled across the ground and nearly slamming your face into the ruined street beneath you. Your only free hand scrapping across the broken rock, leaving a trail of blood that was shared underneath your knees and side of your ribs.

You gasped, body jerking uncontrollably away from the taut chain but only abusing your dislocated shoulder further.

It was dead silent aside from your pained gasp and a low, startled moan from Teach.

He coughed.

“…zehahahahaha—"

Then he laughed. Shadows erupting around you both as he slowly sat up.

“HAHAHAHA! ZEHAHAHAHAHA! ZEHA—”

A burning, oozing hand slammed into his head, shoving him back down with a barely registered scream. The smell of burning flesh erupting as you looked up in shock.

Teach was dead in less than a second.

Admiral Akainu kneeling over him, one arm shoved to the ground where Teach’s head used to be. His foot burning through Teach’s arm, melting him slowly as lava pooled around him. The heat waving over you at a much greater temperature than all but the most devastating of Ace’s attacks. And he was several feet away.

“…S-Sir?!” You rasped, throat burning as you tried to sit up.

Admiral Akainu jerked at the sound of your voice. His stern features flickering for a moment.

“You did well, Ensign. We only have one last thing to take care of.” Admiral Akainu stated with cold eyes. Slowly standing before walking towards you. Deliberately stepping on the chain and melting it under his shoe.

“HEY! GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Ace screamed, throwing a fireball high. Admiral Akainu flicked his hand, batting it away as he moved to kneel before you. Gently helping you up.

Still in shock, you couldn’t say anything as he braced your back and shoved your shoulder into place. You screamed, startled as pins and needles went down your arm, though otherwise the relief was immense.

You panted, utterly confused as he picked you up with one arm under your thighs, pinning your face into his suit as he sneered.

“I haven’t forgotten about you, Fire Fist.”

You trembled as the air grew hazy with an overwhelming amount of heat. The edge taken off due to your devil fruit connecting with Admiral Akainu’s.

You were so tired.

You managed to look back at Ace, worry dragging you from the edge of consciousness. He looked horrified and infuriated all at once.

You felt the tears slip down your face, almost ice cold in the heat.

There was no way Ace could survive against Admiral Akainu with his devil fruit.

Even before you got involved, it simply didn’t burn hot enough.

[grievedeeply]

the less time, the better. pt 6.

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pairing: heimdall x gn!reader

summary: seeing your face in asgard once more is enough to send heimdall careening over the edge, running face first into the feelings he harbors for you. your mission to find the last mask piece takes you to nilfheim, where you share a heart to heart with the aesir god of foresight.

notes: it's been five months. i'm so sorry. i genuinely had no idea where to take this story and i still don't but.. this is a thank you to everyone who decided to stick around. it means a lot to me that you all still support me and my silly little fic <3 i also forgot about the entire muspelheim section.. so pretend that happened already with thor. and this is where the story really diverges from the plot, as heimdall would be dead by this point in the game's story, so ignore any plot holes i might have made (i do not plan i just write). lastly, if you have been tagged for this and don't want to be anymore, send me a pm!

you'd ran into ratatoskr on your way out of sindri's place, and he greeted you with a warm grin and a gentle hug (as much of a hug as a squirrel could give, anyway), and sent you on your way. you couldn't remember what he said to you as you passed through the mystic gateway and onto the yggdrasil, but still, you smiled at it. you wondered if he ever got tired of your family's presence there. how had sindri come to own his home in the first place? you'd have to ask him another time.. if you even managed to get back in one piece.

you wondered if people in asgard even noticed your absence at all. you were almost sure they did, seeing as you were running errands for the allfather and spending time with his lapdog. you were nearly impossible to miss and the attention was something you weren't exactly used to, but you had learned to adjust as time went on.

you kicked at the wood beneath your feet. how many times had father walked these branches before you? would he be proud of you? was he proud?

before you could think on it any further and dig yourself into an ever deeper sadness, the gateway opened and you stepped into the cold with a sigh. you loved midgard. it was your home, but the weather was something you never thought you'd get used to. all it did was remind you of your past. you pushed the door to your home ajar and your eyes met huginn's. you swore he could read your mind as he called the ravens into the room, ready to take you back to asgard.

you landed in your room— well, modi's— and looked around at the familiar yet strange surroundings that formed in your vision. this room would never be yours. it belonged to modi, and you felt guilty for taking it away from him even if he wasn't around to occupy it anymore. still, you gathered yourself and your thoughts in this room, and you were grateful. it was the only place in all of asgard where you felt at peace, but you also knew it was the only place where you had some sort of privacy. as soon as you opened the door, your mind was open to all who surrounded you.

you took in a deep, shuttering breath. it had been some time since you'd last been in asgard, and you knew you'd become a topic of conversation. it was better to face it now than to delay it any further. you pressed your shoulder against the door, pushing it open with a sigh. you came face to face with thrúd, who wore a smile. her hair was still unruly and wild, her weapons hanging from her hip and onto her backside as they always did. it was good to see something remained constant in an ever changing environment.

you'd come to like thrúd, she reminded you of atreus. even though they didn't act very similarly at all, she was young and bright— clever and courageous— and all of those things always brought your thoughts to your younger brother. you greeted her with a grin, and she turned on her heel, heading off in the direction of the mess hall. she'd come to welcome you. even without saying anything at all to each other, the smile you'd shared was enough to make your chest feel warm. she cared for you, and that was more than you ever would've expected from any of the aesir.

you stood there for a few moments, brushing the thought of her out of your mind for a few moments before you made your way down to odin's study. you didn't exactly want to see him, but you knew he would be expecting you to meet him upon your return.

the doors were much heavier than you remembered, but you forced them open despite the strange amount of weight. the room was empty, and you immediately knew where he would be. you noticed huginn and muninn in this room, and you nodded over at them in greeting. even if they couldn't speak to you, they were both somewhat intimidating. bounded to odin forever.. the idea was a horrible one. you made your way down to the rift, passing odin's desk in the process. it still felt uncomfortable for you to walk around as though you belonged.. but you tried to keep your head up about those things. if anyone were to know about your feelings in that regard, especially heimdall, he would rub it in your face.

heimdall. you grimaced at even the thought of him. odin seemed to love sending you out with him. you had only went out once with thor when finding the first piece of the mask, and you had distracted him so easily with the trials to take a peak into surtur's shrine. you'd unpack whatever you saw then another time, but you knew it was important. despite that, you'd been out with no one else except for the aesir god of foresight. heimdall was easily manipulated by his father for a man with abilities like his own. you could only assume his lack of perception stemmed from his need for validation from him. you sighed. you felt poorly for him and the way he'd been treated, but it still didn't mean you enjoyed his company.

"ah," odin greeted you once you reached the bottom of the steps, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders as they always seemed to do. it reminded you of your father, but his touch was vastly different from odin's. his hands were gentle, as though if he were to squeeze you any tighter you would break in his grip, but his.. you couldn't begin to describe it. it felt foreign, even after how common this was. you'd never get used to it. "i knew you'd come back." he said, his voice going in one ear and out the other. the man was practically insufferable, but you smiled up at him regardless, keeping your façade up that you knew he could see right through.

"next is niflheim, isn't it?" he asked, and you nodded in response. "heimdall will be joining you. it seems the two of you get along quite well." he told you, and you swore heimdall appeared out of thin air right next to you.

he stood behind you, his hands resting on both of your shoulders. his thumbs dug into your collarbone, but your back pressed against his chest. you were.. close. "we do get along, don't we?" he asked, leaning his head over your shoulder to look you in the eyes. he had gotten bolder in your absence, almost as if he had forgotten that his powers did nothing on you, which was something that still confused you. you didn't think on it too much. it was nice that he couldn't read you with his abilities, but he was still smart enough to figure it all out eventually. "we do." you grinned over at him, meeting his eyes. at this, he pulled back from you and let his grip on you loosen, but he didn't take his hands away.

"let's get it taken care of then, shall we?" odin said, gesturing for the his ravens to surround you with a flick of his wrist. "good luck." he whispered through the flock, and he disappeared from your vision. heimdall's hands finally fell from your shoulders, and he moved away from you.

being in your presence again made him feel uneasy. you were still a giant, an enemy of his people, someone he was supposed to despise no matter how helpful you may prove yourself to be. though, his heart ached whenever he heard your name. you'd wiggled your way into his heart and he hated it, but he had finally brought himself to admitting it. he practically lived by, 'the less time, the better' when it came to you. the less time he spent around you, the better it would be for him and his growing feelings, but the allfather was always intent on sending him out with you. he would try to brush it away as him being trusted. watching you was a priority, making sure you didn't sneak away to do whatever it is you do.

with this piece crossed off, there was nothing left to be done. in a different world, you'd look through the crack in the basement and see whatever odin was talking about, but you couldn't let him have this mask. you'd take it back to sindri's, away from his grasp forever. whatever this thing was.. it was no good.

the cold wind pulled you out of your thoughts, and you thanked yourself for putting on a coat before you left. you put your hand into your jacket pocket, feeling the yggdrasil key in your grasp. if things were to go wrong, sindri gave you an escape. he'd approached you right before you saw ratatoskr on the steps of his home. sindri.. all he ever did was give. he was far too good for a world as cruel as this one.

you glanced over at heimdall, who stood in front of you with crossed arms. "the mask?" he asked sarcastically, eyebrows raised in annoyance. you said nothing in response, only rolling your eyes before you held the mask out in front of you. "this way." you muttered, moving down the pathway and towards its pull. this mission was different from the one to helheim. it was quiet. you didn't have much energy to talk, but he wasn't exactly the best person to talk to, anyways. you were feeling guilty about leaving your family once again. knowing that they worried for you.. it struck a chord in your heart, and it hurt. heimdall said nothing as you walked, but you could feel his eyes practically glued onto you.

you were unbelievably hard to read almost every other time he'd seen you. the time in the mess hall where you'd teased him and stared right into his eyes and into the depths of his soul was at the front of his mind. he memorized your features in that moment, much to his dismay. he never would've expected to feel this way for a giant. he had struggled with putting a word to the emotions he'd been feeling.. but your absence made it easier to realize. once you were gone, he felt normal again, but his mind was still plagued with thoughts of you as though you never left. these feelings.. they were love. admiration. all things he should never feel for a giant, but he did believe in fate. this was meant to happen. it had to be that way. if only he could seek out the norns for reassurance that this was the decision he should make, that he needed to make. he yearned to have solidity in his choices, but he was leaping off of the deep end with this.

heimdall struggled with reading you, but now.. it was incredibly easy. your shoulders slouched and your expression cast downwards towards the icy floor beneath your feet. he hated feeling as though he needed to help you, and he kept quiet for as long as he could. had you even realized you looked so upset? even if he were to point out how saddened you looked, what would he say to you? he was never the best at comforting, being the last person anyone would go to for any sort of advice in any sense.. so he had no experience in the emotional department. when he was feeling down, who did he have to do to? no one. he grew up bottling everything inside until he couldn't anymore. did you grow up that way? you couldn't, he told himself. your mother, laufey. she wouldn't have let you feel that way.

he sighed, but took a few quick steps to reach your side. "you are dampening the mood with your dour expression," heimdall muttered, sparing a glance over at you. he noticed you looked towards him, but that was all you did. he let out a dramatic breath and held his hands behind his back, lips pressed into a thin line. "i am serious." he spoke up once again. "you will speak of what ails you, or this will be the most counterproductive trip you have ever been on, and we will get nothing done."

suddenly, you stopped in your tracks and turned to him. "do you really want to know what's wrong, or do you want to find out and then use it against me?" you asked, brows furrowed as you took a step towards him, pressing an accusatory finger at his chest. "you.. you never liked me, you never wanted me here, why pretend to care about me now?" you inquired, tone filled with frustration. heimdall confused you to no end and you wondered if you would ever get to the bottom of whatever was going on with him. hopefully you wouldn't. the less time you spend around him, the better. was it too late for that mentality? you saw him nearly every day in asgard. he was practically impossible to escape. "you.. you hate me. you're supposed to hate me." you whispered.

he said nothing in response and you rolled your eyes. "left you speechless, huh?" you chuckled dryly. taking your emotions out on him wasn't a particularly kind thing to do, you knew that. normally, you weren't one to lose control of yourself to easily. was it the change in environment? the stress? the absence of your family once again? you took in a deep breath, staring down at the clothes you wore, brushing your hand down them to straighten yourself up. "i'm.. i'm sorry. that was mean." you whispered, shutting your eyes.

this was supposed to be a serious, professional mission. this was supposed to be an in and out, simple thing. why were you making it so difficult?

heimdall still remained silent. you looked at anything except for him, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. you weren't mad at him, not really. he had been an arrogant, bratty asshole in the past.. but he had asked if you were okay. did he care for you? in a real, genuine way?

you forced yourself to move your eyes to him. he was already looking at you, his eyes practically glued to your face. you felt tiny under his gaze, as though he could see right through you. "i am supposed to hate you." heimdall murmured, "and yet.. i don't." he told you, shrugging his shoulders. this was the most vulnerable he had ever been with you. "when you bested me the day we met.. i wanted nothing more than to prove myself better than you. i hated you for embarrassing me." he admitted to you what you knew was obvious, but you let him talk. his voice sounded less grating, now. almost like a warm birdsong in a sweet summer morning. reassuring. gentle.

"but now, i don't hate you. you are.. a giant." he lowered his voice, letting a sigh escape his lips. "i judged you based off of it. but you.. you are different. special."

you furrowed your brow. special? what was he talking about? his cheeks turned a soft pink but he didn't dare pull his eyes off of you. you were special. you made him see giants in a different light. you.. you were kind. you were beautiful in every way imaginable. if this was what love was, he was content with every bit of it.. even if you would never reciprocate.

he watched as you pursed your lips, leaning back against the balls of your feet. you bit at the inside of your cheek, sniffling. "thanks." you whispered out to him after a pause. all he could bring himself to do was nod. he kept his eyes on you. despite opening himself up to you, you stood in front of him, looking just as distressed as you did before. he knew his words of reassurance couldn't automatically cure you of your worries. he would be a fool to believe that would ever be the case. instead, he sat one hand on your shoulder, the other coming up to your cheek. he turned your head to face him and watched as your eyes met his.

"what ails you?" he repeated his words from before. now, with his hands grounding you into reality, you swallowed. his thumb caressed your skin as though you were a piece of glass or.. an expensive piece of artwork. he studied you and your expression, his eyes searching your face for anything he could make note of. like how your gaze flickered back and forth between his eyes, unable to focus on just one.

"i.. feel guilty." you admitted to him. he furrowed his brow. "guilty. what for?" he asked you. his hands still kept their hold on you. if he let go of you, would you go into that same spiral? "leaving again." you mumbled, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. he was grateful for his enhanced senses. "you should've.. you should've heard them. my brother." you said, atreus' face filling your mind. he was too sweet. he cared almost too much, sometimes. you would protect him, protect him from anything. isn't that why you came to asgard in the first place, to protect your family?

heimdall nearly froze. his brothers had never cared for him in the way you care for yours. thor was more of a colleague, working for the same man. baldur was hardly ever around when he was alive, always out tracking for the allfather. týr.. he was the only one who truly expressed any sort of love or kindness towards him, and then he was gone. he was ripped away from him, just like that. týr was his older brother. he wasn't a coworker. he was family. he pushed the thought of him out of his mind. this was about you.. not him.

"your brother. tell me of him." he told you, thumb running over your skin a few more times before he let go of you. instead, he took hold of your hand and led you to the side of the path, sitting down on a conveniently placed rock, big enough for both of you to share. even once you'd sat down, he didn't drop your hand.

"atreus.." you chuckled, turning your head to the sky. "he's so sweet. he loves animals. he loves the.. the realms for what they are. he finds the good in everyone, in everything. like.. baldur." you whispered his name. "i think of.. of baldur. of magni and modi." you turned your head to look at him. "i feel so guilty, sleeping in his room." you murmured. "it isn't mine, it's his." you swallowed. you'd been getting distracted from what he asked you to speak about, but.. had you ever spoken of them to anyone other than your father and your brother? have you even spoke of them recently at all? your father moved on from them easily, but you hung onto each of them, their memory.

"i'm sorry, i'm.. getting off topic." you chuckled breathlessly. "no," he murmured, "speak of what you wish." he told you. heimdall had never sounded so genuine, so kind. what was he trying to do? would he really use all of this as some type of leverage? your guilt, your worries and feelings? he couldn't. he wouldn't be that cruel. he had opened up to you. he liked you, you reassured yourself.

"atreus.. he has wolves. speki, svanna. fenrir."'you told him, a soft grin on your lips. heimdall found himself admiring each expression that formed on your face as you spoke, but he never let his attention drift away from your voice. "he loves those dogs. he loves.. archery, and art. he's so good at drawing. he has a- a journal. i've seen it. he fills it with anything and everything. he's so.. good." you continued, turning your head to look at him. "he deserves more than i could ever give him." you mumbled to yourself, glancing up towards the icy ceiling above you.

"he sounds.. like you." heimdall said. he sounded kindhearted, caring. loving and genuine. all things that reminded him of you. "he's better than me." you spoke through soft laughter, shaking your head nonchalantly. it was good to get these things off of your chest. you glanced over at him, your gaze soft and gentle. he found himself getting lost in you once again. your eyes held a warmth he never would've expected to see.

why did you have to be a giant? why did you have to be related to the man who killed his family? why had life dealt him a cruel hand of cards? even despite all of that, he kept his eyes on you. his feelings for you may never be accepted by asgard or even reciprocated by you at all, but that was for the best, wasn't it? this relationship you had with him was a strictly platonic one, he reminded himself. though, he turned his gaze down to look at your hands. as you were speaking, you'd entwined your fingers in his own. did you even realize you'd done it?

he squeezed your hand, and you squeezed back.

a weak grin formed on your lips and you lifted your free hand to your face, wiping away the salty tears that had begun to fall down your cheeks as you spoke. he kept his eyes on you, running his thumb across the back of your hand. realistically, he knew you would never work out. being with you was a dream.. but it was a nightmare. his family would never approve, he would be cast out and shunned by his father. could he handle that? as he looked at you, he had no doubt in his mind that he could.

you had mentioned your thoughts on his father to him before, only briefly, but it was enough for him to get an understanding of the relationship you thought he had with him. he wasn't a fool, either. even if he couldn't read your intentions he could read your expressions and your body language. you weren't his biggest fan, but you were still in asgard, helping him. for your family.

he knew you hated the allfather. why had he not killed you the moment he laid eyes upon you? he remembered the smile on your lips as you hung from the wall, the only thing keeping you up was his hand wrapped around your wrist. he should've killed you then. he shouldn't have let himself grow attached to you but you looked at him with such a soft gaze.. how could he help himself? you didn't put him up on a pedestal and that was different. it was unusual for him to be treated the same as everyone else but it felt almost decent when it came from you. he felt.. normal.

he blinked a few times. he was completely enamored with you from the moment he saw you. that was why he didn't kill you. even if he didn't realize it until now, you were the one he was meant for.

he let his mind wander for a moment. if you were to reciprocate, would that give an opportunity to mend the relationship between the giants and the aesir? he knew that you wouldn't be approved of by anyone in that sense but.. people would get used to it, right? he was his own person. he could make decisions for himself.

"i'm sorry," you muttered. heimdall furrowed his brow and shook his head. your hand remained in his own. you had to have noticed it by now. "you have nothing to apologize for." he whispered out to you. you chuckled, a small smile forming across your lips. he swore he would never get tired of seeing you happy. "never knew you could be such a softie," you told him, "but.. i like this. seeing you being genuine."

you pushed yourself to your feet, your hand falling out of his in the process. with a sigh, you grabbed the mask from your belt and spun in a circle until it turned that same familiar green color you'd seen so many times before. "let's get this done, yeah?" you peeked at him from over your shoulder, and he nodded wordlessly.

there was nothing left for him to say, anyway.

the last stretch of the trip was silent. heimdall felt as though his heart and emotions were on display to you after the conversation you'd had, but you moved on with the mission as though you barely noticed. did you notice it? were you just trying to make him feel better? he shrugged it off. he had to behave normally for the allfather, anyway. this was for the best, he told himself.

"here," you called out to him, your voice breaking the silence like a knife. "look." you held up the mask for him to look at, and he did so. it was glowing, shaking with every step you took towards the edge of the cliff. you looked down into the abyss below you with an uncomfortable expression on your features. if you were to fall, you would definitely die. before you could think on your fears any further, the mask nearly flew out of your hands. with a grunt, you tightened your grip on it, and the next mask piece flew up and attached itself onto what you held in your hands.

the force nearly knocked you over the edge, and he reached out for you, pulling you back up onto solid ground. "thanks," you mumbled, taking in a deep breath. he nodded, turning away from you. the screech of odin's ravens filled the air, and suddenly the allfather had appeared in front of you. he approached you, a grin on his lips that spread across his entire face. it was almost unsettling.

"you did it," he murmured, walking past heimdall to meet you. you noticed his expression fall. you knew odin was a professional at making his kids feel awfully about themselves, but seeing it firsthand was something you hated. no matter how horrible the things they'd done, they did it on his command. were they really to blame for it all? they yearned for his approval, after all. you pushed the thought away, focusing on the man that stood in front of you.

while you were lost in thought, thor and sif appeared in the same way odin had moments ago. they were accompanied by two valkyries who towered over you. you weren't really scared of them, though. not after you'd freed all of the corrupted ones all those years ago with your father and brother.

"they mean to kill you, allfather." sif said through pursed lips, and odin rolled his eyes, turning to face her. "i thought we were past all of this, sif." he spat her name out, fiery eyes meeting her gaze. "they are using you. they're using all of us. they're manipulating your son," she shot a glance at heimdall, and he furrowed his brow. manipulation? you wouldn't. you couldn't.

"their father killed our family." she said, turning her gaze towards you and away from her father in law. "our sons," she glanced up at thor, who gripped his hammer so hard his knuckles were turning white. "baldur." she whispered his name out, and you took in a shuddering breath. "and they get to live here, sleep in our sons room?" sif asked. "isn't it only fair they die, too?"

suddenly, thor took a few quick, bounding steps towards you. you swallowed, digging through your pocket to find your yggdrasil key. you shut your eyes, grabbing heimdall's arm with your free hand without even realizing it. "i hope this works," you whispered to yourself before throwing it down with all of your might, "hvergi!"

you felt yourself falling through the air, wind whipping past your ears until your back landed hard against the wood of the yggdrasil. you let out a breath, opening your eyes to look around at your surroundings. before you could pull yourself up on your own, you felt a hand wrapping around yours, bringing you to your feet. your father. you grinned up at him before you noticed him narrow his brow. you looked over your shoulder.

heimdall.

you'd taken him with you.

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