#ch. the lone wanderer

[druidgroves]

god loves you, but not enough to save you.

big thank to the incredible @kirnet for this wonderful commission of my dear flora <3 pls go check out mina's work when you can !!

#fallout #lone wanderer #ch: florence gallagher #commissions #going 2 stare at this forever im-- #q.

[thecosmicsleep]

night sky

#fallout 3 #the lone wanderer #art #mine art #ch: roz emerson

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 1

Future Emiy Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol consumption, v minor mention of s16 canon/violence. sexual situations talked about.

“Is everybody around here getting laid except me?”

The words rang through Emily’s head as she stared into her closet, even though she had been the one who said them. It wasn’t like someone else was poking fun at her, bringing up her somewhat embarrassing personal details around the work place for everyone to hear, she’d done it herself. But finally hearing the words out loud had made her brain linger on the fact that it was horrendously true. It was exhausting, she’d thought being back at the office would cure some of it, help with the boredom and be a welcome distraction but now she was witnessing everything in real time. JJ and Will, Tara and Rebecca, Penelope had found a romantic or sexual interest, and in a material witness, nonetheless. She rolled her eyes and turned away from the closet to pick up her wine instead, maybe she wouldn’t even bother going to the gala, it wasn’t like she enjoyed them anyway. Her phone lit up and she welcomed the distraction, swiping open the notification only to find a text from Bailey and she outwardly groaned at his reminder to not be late. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t skip out on tonight, that was part of the responsibility of being the Section Chief; she had to make appearances, shake hands, contribute to small talk to remind everyone that the BAU was an integral piece of the bureau, the politics of the job were the parts she loathed the most.

Downing the rest of her wine she wandered back to the kitchen, picking through the remains of her take out dinner for one. All the while she mourned the days where a bottle of wine would be split between two and take out meant dinner on the couch followed by getting handsy enough to move to the bedroom. Now dinner was consumed while standing in the kitchen, still in work clothes while procrastinating getting ready for bed because that meant doing it all over again sooner than if she stayed up. It was so casual that she’d caught herself getting even lazier, not bothering with plates, eating directly over the stove to save on time and dishes. There was no point in making things fancy and displayed if it was just for her, why not lean into the convenience?

Emily wouldn’t say that she was lonely, because she wasn’t, she was completely content with her friends, her job, being at peace during her alone time. But she would say that she was bored, a little under stimulated, there was a sense of something missing, an itch that she just couldn’t seem to scratch. While her mind drifted to that itch, her eyes wandered over to the clock on the stove, chewing on her lip as she figured out just how much time she had and she decided there was no harm in grabbing a toy to join her in the shower. At the very least it would help her be more relaxed and at ease for a night of ultimate boredom and annoyance around people she definitely didn’t want to spend her Friday night with.

Arriving at the Waldorf Astoria was simple enough, drop the car with the valet and head to the separate entrance to the hall that was hosting the event. No having to deal with concierge, hotel guests or anything else, straight to the point, she could start making the rounds directly after grabbing a drink, which she made a beeline to do.

There were two bars set up on opposite sides of the room, one larger, the smaller tucked away in the corner by the doors to the terrace. Lights were lowered, soft and mellow ambient beats playing through the room to bring the vibe away from one of professional life and lull everyone into the sense that tonight was actually fun. Tables, both regular and high top ones were scattered through the space, people lounging around the shorter ones or standing at the taller ones, captured in conversation ranging from work talk to gossip.

Emily caught eyes with a few people, giving fake smiles, small waves, or a little head tilt depending on how well she knew or liked them. There were a fair number of familiar faces tonight, but she could tell that the crowd was much higher brow than it would have been at an event she was invited to ten years ago. Tonight the room was filled with only the top contenders from the bureau, everyone stuck representing themselves and their departments among a room of benefactors, politicians and the like. She finally found Bailey in the crowd, raising her glass to him from across the room and said the silent thank you that she had now been seen and could start counting down the minutes until she could leave. The next couple of hours she spent circling through the room, slipping into conversations where she could while sipping on cocktails and entertaining herself. She made nice with as many acquaintances as possible, making sure to drop in wherever Bailey was more than a few times to make sure her dues were paid before she finally retreated to the bar, grabbing a refill of her drink and settling into one of the high tops.

Taking a sip of her drink she let out a tired sigh, gaze slowly sweeping through the room, stalling on a group of politicians, watching the interaction while her eyes narrowed. Everything seemed so genuine, so positive and like they were happy to talking to the other person, enthusiasm soothing through the room until one leant in to kiss the other on the cheek in a parting motion and promptly rolled their eyes once their back was turned. She let out a huff of a laugh at that, clearly no one wanted to go to these things.  There was no doubt that Senators had their favourites, but the one who stood out the most about being able to fake it and get everyone on her side was Heather Dunbar. Hoping for a distraction, Emily pulled out her phone, sighing at the utter lack of notifications before she dropped it on the table, swiping it open anyways in hopes that maybe she had a missed piece of junk mail. Just as she pinched at the bridge of her nose and let out a groan she could feel someone beside her, a small chuckle leaving their lips.

“Well you look about as thrilled to be here as I feel.” Heather muttered softly, sliding a shot of high end tequila across the table to her.

“You’ve got that right.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the shot glass, “thanks.” She clinked the glass with Heather’s before shooting the liquor back, not wincing at all. “Wow, that really is the good stuff.”

Heather laughed, “is there even a point in drinking anything less?”

Emily shook her head at the other woman’s antics, “you know, sometimes I wonder how you survived the basic college experience.”

“I had my ways.” She smirked back, pulling another laugh from Emily before switching subjects, “it’s nice to see someone I actually like at these things, I didn’t realize you’d get roped in to tonight.”

“Yeah, well, all things considered,” her eyes narrowed in on Bailey, “I don’t really think I had a choice tonight. Think I’m in a bit of hot water right now.”

“It’ll pass.” Heather murmured over the rim of her glass, “trust me. These brown nosing kids who think they’re special just because they’ve got a badge or an all access pass don’t know shit, they’ll get eaten alive before you even know it.” She nudged at Emily’s shoulder, “you’ve been running that unit for years and I haven’t heard any complaints.” She wavered for a second, “well, except for Senator Reeves but that bitch is dead now so who fucking cares.”

Emily barked out a laugh, “Jesus, tell me how you really feel.”

“I’ll tell you this, if you ever arrest either of my kids, don’t even bother calling me, whatever they’ve done, they deserve the punishment.”

“Seriously?” She laughed again, glancing over to the other woman.

“Well..” Heather paused, mulling over a sip of her drink, “call if it’s the girl, she probably got caught wrong place wrong time but the boy? He’s finally got what’s coming to him. Fucking men…”

“Now that, you don’t have to tell me twice.” Emily replied, taking another sip of her drink as she scanned through the ballroom, frowning when she couldn’t find Heather’s husband, “Rob not here tonight?”

“No.” She replied with an unbothered sigh, “he’s away for work.” She leant in closer to Emily, “but do you see the redhead talking to Sharp?”

“Mmhm.” She nodded over the rim of her glass, eyes raking over the woman’s frame and Heather smirked.

“She’s got one hell of a gorgeous blue lingerie set on underneath that dress that will look absolutely spectacular on my bedroom floor by tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t recognize her.”

“You shouldn’t.” Heather laughed, “she’s a bartender over at Salt Line.”

Emily’s brow furrowed for a moment at the other woman’s words, watching the interaction across the room for a bit. While the girl Heather was talking about clearly looked the part for tonight, there was almost too much of an eagerness coming off her, something that didn’t quite fit the vibe for the event. She was well put together, hair and make up pristine, dress and heels both designer while she sipped on top shelf champagne, but every time she glanced over to Heather she was almost nervous, a flush taking over her cheeks.

“Hey… how do you…manage all that?” Emily asked, her eyes still watching the girl across the room and Heather let out a small laugh.

“Well it’s considerably easier now that the kids are out of the house.” She took a sip of her drink, “and it’s technically not cheating, Rob and I made an official arrangement years ago. Lord knows he goes off and has his own fun too. Separate rooms for sex and sleep and if a guest stays over they stay in the guest room, if we want more privacy, a hotel gets booked.”

“Wait… official arrangement?” Emily’s brow furrowed as she looked over at the brunette who simply nodded.

“I mean, it’s not signed by a third party all things considered. But it is a binding document detailing out the parameters of what we agreed to. Clear communication, be safe, regular testing, keep everything behind closed doors, that the kids don’t get told, how to move forward if something was to become more than sex.”

“You’re losing me.” Emily laughed and Heather grinned.

“I believe there’s more you’d like to ask that would be better suited for the lounge. More privacy.” She glanced over to the redhead and gave the smallest tilt of her head and the girl quickly crossed the room. Emily watched curiously as Heather pinched the girl’s chin briefly before fixing a piece of loose hair, her voice dropping while she spoke, “mommy has to go take care of a few things. I’m calling the car but I want you waiting on your knees until I’m ready for you. Understood?” The girl nodded obediently before her eyes darted over to Emily, lingering while a concerned expression flashed across her face. Heather tsk’d, pinching at her arm, “oh don’t you worry your little head kitten, I’m not going to fuck her, it’s work talk. What did I tell you about being so insecure?”

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Good girl.” Leaning in, she pressed a kiss to her cheek, “I’ll be there in an hour or two.” With another nod, the girl was off in the direction of the entrance and Heather turned back to Emily, scooping her drink up off the table. “What?”

“Now that is what I’m talking about.” Emily gestured to the table as she followed Heather out of the room. “Direct and to the point.” She stalled in her steps when Heather stopped at the elevator, “isn’t the lounge on this floor?”

“Yes but my mini bar selection is superior.”

“Why send her home then?” She asked and Heather shrugged.

“Theatrics, toys are all at home, and she’s new, I didn’t want her listening in on this.” The elevator doors slid shut behind them and Heather used a key card to access one of the top floors, delivering them directly into her suite. “She’s waiting at her place, not mine. I don’t let them into my place until they’re fully trusted.”

“Where do you meet them?” Emily asked, letting out a sigh as she dropped into a plush arm chair, accepting a fresh drink from the other woman.

“Anywhere. You just have to know who to look for.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“That’s why I keep more than one girl on the go at once.” Heather laughed.

“There’s gotta be an app for that. Bailey… he was on one.. The Beltway Elite?” Emily found herself absentmindedly twirling her phone in her hand, as if her subconscious was teasing her into downloading it and Heather snorted, plucking her phone from her.

“Oh god sweetheart no. That one’s garbage and going to be full of all your coworkers who will suddenly know exactly what you’re into and looking for.”

Emily shuddered and Heather nodded.

“Exactly.”

“Between the job and life I just don’t know if I have the mental or physical energy to go through the dating stages. I certainly don’t have the time. I just want company probably a couple times a week, the obvious other benefits but without all the crap that comes with it.”

“Oh I know.” Heather smirked, “so make an arrangement.”

“What?”

“Emily come on. You know full well that girl only listened to what I said with no complaints because she’s going home to a condo I bought for her wearing Manolo’s that are way above her price range.”

“I’m sure that’s all she’s getting.” She deadpanned.

“She gets a weekly salary, a bonus if she’s good. You remember I’ve been to your mother’s parties, right? I know you come from money too, and that trust fund has barely been touched, just sitting there accumulating more and more money as the years have gone by. You live a somewhat modest lifestyle for your price bracket and I know it. Not you’ve got something you want, and you’ve got the money to get it.”

“Heather, I can’t just go around with a call girl, I’m a federal agent.”

“It’s not soliciting.” She replied with a laugh, “you meet a pretty girl, you bought her dinner, a nice necklace. In return you get to spend some time with her, your choice if you decide to fuck her brains out or not.” She reached out, handing Emily’s phone back to her, “here, I put in a couple of apps for you to try out, and don’t worry, they’re incredibly discreet.”

“You always use apps?”

“Sometimes. It depends on what kind of situation you’re looking for and what you’re willing to provide. The girl tonight? I’m a regular at her bar and happened to over hear her situation, she’s got massive student debt and was struggling to make a living. I gave her an offer; said I could help out and then read the room.”

“So she’s in it for the money?”

“I mean, most of them are. But for her specifically money is the number one thing she needs from me. It started out as companionship, the occasional plus one for my events, she’s helping tutor the kids when needed, then she got more curious about her sexuality. So you’d need to find someone not like her.”

“Am I really that tightly wound?”

“Sweetheart if you were my type I would have offered to help you out the moment we got up here.”

“Shame I’m not twenty years younger.” Emily teased back, earning a laugh from the other woman. “So you make up all the rules, they go along with it?”

“I draw up the initial contracts, I have one for platonic companionship, and one for sexual. There are girls who I call just so we can go for lunch a few times a month, so there’s someone else in the house when Rob’s out of town and others who are much different. Technically everything is up to them, I lay out what I’m interested in sexually and they’re free to veto anything they want, then I rework it into an official contract for that specific girl to be signed and agreed upon so we’re both very clear on everything.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“You have to when you’re someone like us. In the public eye, with jobs like ours, there’s reputations to uphold, all my girls sign NDA’s too.”

“How do you decide how much you pay them?”

“It can change per girl and salary is negotiable. Again, sometimes they just want you to buy them nice things, take them on a shopping trip once a month. I’ve had some girls who worked out of state, they’d get a lump sum per date instead of a weekly salary. You can start off playing it by ear too, start by buying a nice dinner, spending the night in a nice hotel with room service for breakfast. Next date you take them shopping, once you’ve established that you get along and have the chemistry, work out the fine print.”

“Is it always so high end and about designer brands?”

“Absolutely not.” She shook her head, “some of them just want you to pay for their groceries, put gas in the tank, help with bills or rent. Those ones are usually the better ones, there’s guilt associated with getting things they don’t really need, they just want to spend time with you and help with the necessities. The ones who are full designer all the time are the ones who are doing it to pretend their rich themselves, they’re usually brats.”

“God I do not have the patience for that.” Emily rolled her eyes with a groan and Heather laughed.

“Oh but they can be so fun.” She shot the other woman a wicked grin before glancing at her watch, “speaking of, I should get going.” She stood from her chair, “take the week, look through those apps. I’ll send over some copies of agreements so you can get a better idea of what I’m talking about, I know it can be confusing.”

“You’re just going to give up the names of your sugar babies?” Emily asked with a smirk and Heather laughed again.

“You know me better than that, all names and contact info is already redacted.” She pushed the elevator button, “it was good to see you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Emily laughed, giving the woman a wave as the elevator doors slid shut again.

With a small sigh she opened her phone, swiping through to discover that the apps were extremely discreet, the icons looking exactly like default ones that came with the phone. Then again, she shouldn’t have been surprised if someone like Heather was using them, she valued her privacy more than anything. Chewing on her lip she stared down at her phone, the two apps staring right back up at her, burning through her brain as she considered opening one, just to see what it was all about.

Her phone suddenly pinged and she nearly jumped, groaning at Bailey’s name staring back up at her, a text about how there was someone she needed to come chat with and he couldn’t find her. She was tempted to reply she’d already left but she needed to go through the ballroom to get back to her car so she sent back a thumbs up and grabbed the top shelf drink Heather had left her before calling the elevator.

Her experiment would have to wait.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss s @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #heather dunbar #decadent desires #emily prentiss series #emily prentiss fanfic

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 13

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Johanna thinks men are stupid and she doesn’t respect them (pls tell me someone gets this reference)

Content Warnings - your fave is an idiot (for now)

District 13 is lonely. They still won’t let you have any visitors and haven’t quite determined if you are safe yet. Their constant dismissal of your words reminds you of why you went mute all those years ago.

“Please,” you beg one of the doctors. “What do I have to do to prove I’m not a danger? You released Annie a week ago.”

“Miss Y/L/N I am not approved to clear you. That decision is made elsewhere,” the doctor responds.

“Then let me speak to whoever’s in charge!” you demand. “There has to be some way for me to show you all that I’m harmless.”

Ten minutes later you are sitting in front of a lady named President Coin. Your hands and feet are still cuffed but they gave you a jumpsuit to wear instead of your hospital gown. They wheeled you over here in a wheelchair despite your constant reminders that you could walk just fine.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Coin states. “What can I do for you?”

“I want to be released from the hospital,” you firmly state. “I’m of no danger to anyone here.”

“I’m afraid we cannot do that,” Coin replies.

“Why?” you ask.

“It was risky enough to bring you to thirteen,” Coin explains. “We can’t have someone as rogue as you wandering amongst the general population. It’s too dangerous.”

“How many times do I have to explain to you that I’m no longer a danger to anyone?” you practically shout. “They didn’t hurt me in the capital. They gave me some treatment that made me better. I’m not feral anymore.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” Coin asks.

“I didn’t talk to anyone for five years besides Finnick,” you snort. “You think I’d be talking to you if I wasn’t healed?”

“That is a fair point,” she sighed. “Maybe we could come to a compromise. I won’t permit your release yet but I will allow you to have pre-approved visitors on the condition that a soldier can monitor the visits and administer sedative if necessary. We can revisit this arrangement in two weeks and adjust based on results.”

“Fine,” you huff. “I just want to see Finnick.”

An hour later, Finnick comes to visit. You reach out to pull him onto the bed with you but he sticks to the edge of the room, sitting down in a chair in the opposite corner.

“Finn,” you whine. “Come here.”

“They told me I need to stay five feet away,” he states. “for my own safety.”

“Well that sounds a lot like a rule you ignored for the past five years,” you shrug. He just shakes his head in response.

“I can’t,” he states. “Not until I know you aren’t going to hurt me.”

You look at him dumbfounded. He thinks you would hurt him?

“You really think I’m going to hurt you?” you ask him.

“I,” he stutters. “I don’t know.”

“They fixed me,” you explain. “I can talk to everyone now. No more violent outbursts or breakdowns.”

He just shakes his head and puts his hands on his temples.

“If you’re just going to treat me like a feral animal, then leave,” you state, causing him to look up at you. What hurts the most is the fact that he actually does get up and leave.

He doesn’t trust you.

Three days later, Johanna comes to see you. Finnick hasn’t come back since you told him to leave so you’ve been all alone in your room.

“Hey Fiesty,” she mutters as she sits down on your bed. “What are you up to nowadays?”

“Nothing much,” you shrug. “I just got moved from one prison to another.” This answer gets a small laugh out of Johanna.

“Glad to see you’re talking again,” she states. “When are they letting you out?”

“They aren’t,” you respond.

“Oh come on,” she groans. “You’re harmless. Don’t tell me Finnick hasn’t tried convincing Coin to release you.”

“He hasn’t,” you reply, shaking your head. “He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m going to hurt him like how Peeta hurt Katniss.”

“Ugh. Men are so stupid,” Johanna groans. “I’ll talk some sense into him when he visits me this afternoon.”

“He visits you?” you ask. “Why doesn’t he visit me?”

“Because he’s stupid,” Johanna snorts. “Don’t worry. I’ll go fix your relationship.”

“It’s not a relationship!” you exclaim as she leaves your room.

“Shut up Fiesty!” she yells as she finally exits.

“Hey idiot,” Johanna states as Finnick enters her room. He looks like he didn’t sleep again.

“What did I do this time?” he groans.

“You’ve been avoiding Fiesty,” she replies. “She’s locked up in a room all by herself and I’m the only one who has visited her in days.”

“I can’t see her,” he responds, fiddling with the rope in his hands. “It isn’t safe.”

“Stop being an idiot,” Johanna states, causing Finnick to look up at her. “I don’t know exactly what her treatment entailed but it definitely wasn’t the same as mine or Peeta’s. She never screamed. She didn’t have a single cut or bruise on her body when they rescued her. They even polished the bite mark off her wrist. If they had done anything to her, I think someone would have noticed by now.”

“You said before that her room was near Peeta’s,” Finnick comments. “Did he see or hear anything?”

“Well I’m not allowed to see him so I haven’t been able to ask,” Johanna shrugs. “One of the soldiers, the one who is supposedly Katniss’ cousin, told me that Fiesty made a comment about Peeta being dangerous when she was brought in but he didn’t think much about it till he attacked Katniss. If she was also dangerous, I don’t think she would have tried to warn anyone.”

“I don’t know…” Finnick sighs.

“Look,” Johanna states firmly. “We will go visit her together, first thing tomorrow, and I will show you that she’s not dangerous.“

“Fine,” Finnick relents.

Taglist:

@randomgurl2326 @mystargirl-interlude @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @yourdailymemedelivery @americanprometheuss @l3xi3luv @noisyalmonddreamer @nordicvxid @teaganthemorningstar @samatokisunfinishedcigarette @justtrying2getby @heytherellala @notplutos @innercreationflower @nexxus13 @kachelleee @helluvafire @haymitchabernathyslover @memeorydotcom @frostsword @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @giverosespls @honethatty12 @just-levyy @dd122004dd @nekee-lilac02 @impeterporker @nox-the-gay-nerd @redsakura101 @hopefulatrocity @eddiemunson4ever @fangirlvibez @kittimbo @zucchinimalfoy @sleepy-roman @secretsicanthideanymore @writerofadream @vsnrly @mayonesavegana @lilifl0wer @finnickodaddy @abbersreads @fox-bee926 @ginger-swag-rapunzel

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#hunger games #finnick odair #hunger games fic #the hunger games #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #finnick odair angst #finnick #thg finnick #mockingjay #johanna mason #the feral one

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 1

Went a bit sideways yesterday with my wandering mind and started a TLOU fanfic. Here's chapter 1 of "Lavender," an age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: Not much yet! Whole fic will be very NSFW so minors DNI. This chapter is very basic. Mild violence, mention of masturbation.

Synopsis: You're a college student in Austin, Texas, who gets a summer job nannying Sarah Miller. It's not long before her dad sees you as more than a babysitter - or more than a friend.

Austin, Texas, April, 2000

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up toward the Texas night sky, air surprisingly cool for April in Austin, trying to keep the tears that were building in your eyes from actually falling. Like that would make a damn difference. You took a deep breath and looked down at your phone. 

You only had a few numbers saved. You hadn’t made many friends in college, the only girlfriend you had was in the frat house behind you, hanging out with her boyfriend. She was out. Your grandmother was across the country, so she was obviously out. The handsy guy who’d brought you to this damn party was a big hell no. Which pretty much left…. Joel Miller. Your boss. You winced, thumb hovering over the call button for a moment before pressing it. 

“Kid?” He answered quickly. That somehow made it worse. But at least he didn’t sound half asleep. “What’s going on, you OK?” 

“Hey Joel,” you sniffled a bit. “Sorry to bug ya, I know it’s real late…” 

“Kid,” his tone changed, almost warning you. “I told you you could call if you needed somethin’, what’s goin’ on?” 

His accent got stronger when he got keyed up. You’d noticed that over the year you’d known him. 

“Could you…” Shit, you were really going to have to do this. You sniffed again. “Could you come get me?” The words all started coming out of you in a rush then, you couldn’t really stop them. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late and I think I can walk it if you can’t but I went to this party with this guy and he’s not really what I thought he was and I just can’t stay here with him anymore and…” 

“Kid,” he cut you off. “I’m coming to get you right now, are you close to campus?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed again, looking back at the frat house and reading him the house number. 

“I know where that’s at,” he said. His voice was calm, soothing. “I’ll be there in less than 10, you safe?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to get out of here…” 

“Stay put,” he said. “I’m comin’ to get you.” 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

You flipped your phone shut and put it in your purse before smoothing the back of your sundress down and sitting on the curb, hoping the plethora of cars on the street blocked you from easy view. Your feet - in platform sandals that you’d been stupid enough to paint your toenails for earlier that day - were in a puddle, but it was hard to care. 

You were just finishing up your junior year of college and this was only the fourth guy you’d gone out with so of course he had to be a massive jerk. It was just your luck. 

You’d expected a bit better when you moved to the Lone Star State to go to school. It had been a change of pace from your small town in upstate New York where you’d lived with your grandmother all your life. You wanted something bigger, to actually get out of that little town and see some of the world before you settled into whatever life had in store for you. And the south was supposed to be nice. That’s what everyone said, southern hospitality and all that. But it hadn’t been very nice. 

You’d tried to make friends with your roommate freshman year and you kind of had. She wasn’t mean or anything, you just had very little in common. She was an athlete so the demands on her time were many. She was studying music when you’d rather jump off a bridge than try to perform anything for anyone. She had a lot of friends there already - she was from Houston, so plenty of her high school classmates were there, too. You’d probably spent a little too much time trying to fit in with her. By the time it was apparent that you were fine as roommates but not friends, everyone else seemed to have friends, too. 

Which wasn’t the end of the world. You’d only had two close friends back home, anyway. You’d never been very social, preferring to be on your own and quiet instead of with people. Too much time with anyone else exhausted you, unless it was the RIGHT person. 

But there was a difference between alone and lonely and you found yourself lonely here a lot. The dating scene was, somehow, worse. The first guy you’d gone out with since coming to school hadn’t even made it past date number one, he was so self absorbed it was like you had been taken to dinner just so he had someone to talk at. Number two ended up asking for your roommate’s number when he walked you back to your dorm that night. Number three had made it as far as date number three but got a little ticked that - when his hand traveled up your shirt to your bra - you’d asked him to stop. He left you at a gas station and you’d had to call a cab to get back to your apartment. 

The guy tonight had been looking a bit better. Or so you thought. He’d pressed you against the wall in the hall outside your front door and kissed you at the end of your last date, his hips against yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth. You’d liked it, for a moment, until he pinned your wrist to the wall and tried to put his hand down your pants. He’d stopped and apologized, though, when you asked him to stop. That, you’d thought, was a good sign. That he was respectful, kind. So when he’d asked you to go to a party with him tonight, you’d said yes. 

But when you actually got there, he kept trying to get you to drink whatever concoction had been mixed directly in coolers in the middle of the room, pressing red plastic cups into your hand at every opportunity and getting more and more frustrated when you insisted on sticking with bottled water instead. 

Eventually, his hand had gone up the back of your dress as you threw a ball in beer pong, his fingers brushing against your lower lips before sliding up and groping your ass. You whiffed the shot, practically jumping away from him. 

“What the fuck, Jeremy?” You asked, tugging your dress down on instinct. 

“C’mon baby,” he’d said, all but stalking after you. “You gotta give me something…” 

“No, I don’t,” you glanced around you. There wasn’t much help to be had here. “I’m going home.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, reaching for you. You stepped back again. Then there was a change in his face, like a switch flipped. He was no longer the nice boy who’d, for your first date, asked to take you to the art house movie theater in town. He was a hulking man, one who had six inches and at least 100 pounds on you, who felt he could take what he wanted by right. “I just want to make sure you have a good time, let’s get you a drink…” 

His hand closed around your wrist and he started pulling you toward him. 

“I don’t want a drink,” you curled the hand in his grip into a fist and covered it with you other hand, yanking it free. “I’m going home. Don’t call me again.” 

You stalked out of the party, trying to keep your cheeks from burning. 

The 10 minute wait for Joel seemed like an eternity. You kept glancing to your watch, feeling like ages had gone by when it had only been a minute or two. Only eight minutes had passed when you heard your name being called from behind you. You winced, hoping Jeremy wouldn’t find you where you’d tucked yourself away to wait. 

No such luck. 

“Hey!” He prowled over to you, his lips curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck do you think you are, embarrassing me like that?” 

You stood up, instinctively backing into the truck behind you before you realized that you probably should have fucking moved somewhere else before you were cornered. 

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you…” 

He grabbed your wrist again, firmer this time, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you sharply against his body. 

“Well, you did,” his breath smelled like liquor and cigarettes and his body was hard. You squirmed, trying to get away from him. “You really fucking embarrassed me…” 

“Hey!”

A car door slammed and your head whipped around. Joel was storming across the sidewalk toward you, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt - he hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes. 

“This isn’t your business,” Jeremy snapped before turning his attention back to you. “Stay out of it.” 

“The hell it ain’t,” one of Joel’s hands went over your shoulder, pulling you back from the other man’s grip and putting you behind him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave her alone.” 

Joel looked to you, his brown eyes wide as they looked you over. 

“You OK?” He asked. You nodded. “This the guy?” You nodded again. His jaw clenched but he nodded toward his truck. “C’mon Kid, let’s go.” 

“Nah man, I don’t know you,” Jeremy came around you, grabbing your wrist again and yanking on you. “You’re not just gonna take off with my date…” 

Joel punched him, hard, across the face before catching you around the waist so you stayed up while Jeremy fell to the ground, groaning and clutching his face. Joel set you down gently before standing over Jeremy. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” his voice was oddly calm. You just stood there, holding your sore wrist to your chest. You hadn’t realized when you’d started almost hyperventilating but you were almost gasping for breaths. Joel turned back to you. “You’re OK, Kid. You’re OK.” 

He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side and steering you to his truck. He helped you up into it, watching as you buckled yourself in before getting into the driver’s seat. 

“That asshole know where you live?” He ground his teeth a bit, flexing his hand he’d punched Jeremy with on the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, he picked me up,” you were still holding your wrist. “Is your hand OK?” 

Joel glanced over to you before looking down to his hand. 

“Been in worse fights than that,” he said. “How’s your wrist? Need to take you to the hospital?” 

“Oh God, please don’t,” you groaned. “It’s just going to be a little bruised…” 

“Should report it to the cops,” he muttered. “That fucking asshole…” 

“And, what, get you arrested for laying him out?” You asked, brows raised. “It’s fine, Joel, really…” 

“Well I’m not taking you to your place,” he growled. “Not safe, not with that… You can stay with us for a bit. You said you’re moving soon, anyway, right?” 

“I really don’t want to put you out…” You began but he cut you off. 

“You half live there in the summer anyway,” he said. “I’d rather know you were safe. ‘Sides, Sarah’s at a friend’s house tonight. You can sleep in her room, don’t even have to put anyone on a couch. When do you get into your new place?” 

“Three weeks,” you sighed. “It’s really not that big a deal, this kind of thing happens all the time…” 

“Don’t make it right,” he glanced over at you again before putting his eyes back on the road. “You can stay with us for a few weeks, we’ll go get some of your stuff tomorrow.” 

You watched him for a moment. There was blood on his knuckles, the streetlights outside catching on the shaggy curl of his hair, his eyes narrowed on the road in front of him. 

It was lucky that you’d ended up working for Joel Miller. You’d know that before, too. He’d put an ad in the paper a year before, looking for a nanny for his then 9-year-old daughter, Sarah, and you’d been looking for a way to not take out more student loans. A simple enough arrangement. 

You’d met for the first time at a coffee shop near campus. You showed up a few minutes early - you always did, being late made you anxious - and Joel showed up a few minutes late. You’d recognized him by the look of general discomfort on his face, a look that made you smile a little. He was clearly out of his element, interviewing nannies, looking around a coffee house filled with college girls so that he wouldn’t even know which one to approach. You saved him the trouble. “Mr. Miller?” You asked, brows raised. You’d worn a sundress that day, too. But you’d put on the only blazer you owned with it, trying to look somewhat professional. Not that you really knew how. “Hi, I’m here for the interview?” 

“Hi,” he looked relieved. “Sorry I’m late, got held up on a job… Can I get you a coffee or… somethin’? I’m gettin’ somethin’…” 

“Sure,” you smiled. “Thanks.” 

You stood awkwardly beside each other in line, Joel insisting you order first which made you feel bad when you got an iced lavender latte and he just got a black coffee. 

“Sorry, I’m such a sucker for lavender,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, over your cup. “There’s a lavender farm down the street from where I grew up, could always smell it on the air at the right time of year…” 

You were babbling. You set the cup down. 

“Sorry,” you smiled again. 

“No, no, you’re good,” he smiled a little too. “I’ve never done this before, so…” 

“Me either,” you said quickly. “I nannied for the kids of some friends of my grandma’s but they already knew me, so didn’t need an interview.” 

“So, you’ve got experience watching kids?” He asked, turning his paper cup absently in his fingers. 

“Oh yeah,” you nodded. “I love kids, I started babysitting when I was 13 and have nannied in the summer since I was 17 but I’m staying here this summer because of my lease, so I need something local.” 

“You’re not from here then?” He asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m from New York? Not like.. the city. The state. The boring part.” He laughed a little at that. You smiled. “I came here to go to school. I’m studying to be a teacher.” 

“A teacher?” He asked. You nodded. “You must like kids. What do you want to teach?” 

“High school biology?” You asked more than answered. “Really, I’d love to be a pediatrician but the loans… But teaching high school would be great. There were some teachers I really connected with in high school, the ones who believed in me and trusted that I could become something. That’s what I want to be for someone else, you know?” 

He nodded and took a sip of coffee. You tried to not watch his throat as he did. Mr. Miller was almost weirdly attractive - way hotter than any dads you’d worked for in the past. You didn’t want to blow this interview just because it felt like you could write a book of poetry about the man’s jaw alone. 

“Can you tell me about your daughter?” You asked after a moment. “I think you said she was nine?” 

He nodded again. 

“Yeah, Sarah,” he said. “She’s a good kid, smart as a fuckin’ whip.” He noticed that he cursed, his eyes going wide. “Shit… sorry, no…” 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “I’m a big girl, I can handle some adult language.” 

He looked relieved. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Sarah’s… I don’t know what I did to deserve a kid like her but it had to be somethin’ in a past life because it sure as shit ain’t this one. She’s such a sweet kid, so smart - way smarter than me, not a clue where she got it from - funnier than hell. You’ll love her, everyone loves her. She’s easy to watch out for, part of why I’ve never had to do this before. We had neighbors who were happy to look after her for me during the summer but they moved to Dallas about a month ago.” 

“Could I meet her?” You asked. “I mean, assuming you’re interested in potentially hiring me, I’d like to meet her, get to know her a bit…” 

“Well,” Joel looked awkward again. “You’re… the only interview I got. I must not be offering enough, didn’t get any other takers…” 

“I’m not opposed to being a last resort,” you smiled. He laughed. “And I’m fine with the pay. It’s enough that I won’t need to take out another student loan.” 

“That’s good,” he sighed. “Because I’d love to offer more but…” 

“I get it,” you said. “Will I be meeting Sarah’s mom?” 

“No,” he replied. “She hasn’t been in the picture in years. Her loss, but still. It’d be nice to have a… female presence in her life.” 

“That’s hard,” you leaned in a bit closer to him. “I’m really sorry. If it helps, I know a bit about what that’s like. My dad left before I was born, my mom not too long after. I grew up with my grandma. She’s great, I love her more than anything and she’s done so much for me but… I dunno, I guess I was always wondering why I couldn’t be enough for them to want to stick around.” 

“Speaking from experience,” he replied. “It ain’t got shit to do with you, Kid.” 

It was the first time he’d called you that. Now it was practically all he called you, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d said your name. You kind of liked it. Your grandmother had been the only person close enough to you to have given you a pet name, it was nice to have a term of endearment from someone. Even if it was a bit infantilizing. 

You realized Joel must have been fucking flooring it to get to you as fast as he did. It took almost 15 minutes to get back to his place and the TV was still on when you stepped into the living room, a horror movie you didn’t recognize playing. 

“C’mere Kid,” he jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Should ice that wrist.” 

You followed obediently, still cradling your injured arm as he rifled around the freezer. He pulled out a bag of frozen corn and dropped it on the counter before squeezing it a few times to break it up. He wrapped it in a towel. “Hop up,” he patted the counter and you obliged. He held his hand out and you put your injured wrist in it. He turned it over gently in his hands, examining you. 

“You’re already bruising,” he growled. “Should’a fuckin’…” 

“You got me out of there,” you cut him off, voice gentle. “I don’t even want to know what might have happened if you hadn’t come to get me…” 

“Me either,” he muttered, gently pressing the frozen vegetable bag to your arm. You winced. “Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” 

“Positive,” you replied. “Nothing’s broken. I broke my arm once when I was a kid, it was way worse than this. They’d just send me home with some Tylenol right now.” 

You looked at his hand. 

“You’re sure you’re OK?” You frowned. He glanced down. 

“Definitely,” he said, going to run his hand under the faucet. He glanced up at you. “You know how to throw a punch?” 

“I think so?” You replied. “How hard can it be?” 

He shut the faucet off and dried his hands before stepping in front of you.

“Let’s see,” he said. “Make a fist.” 

You obeyed, using your uninjured hand. He shook his head, taking hold of your fist. 

“Your thumb has to be on the outside of your fingers,” he said, gently opening your hand and freeing your thumb. He nudged your fingers closed again and brought your thumb over the top of them. You’d never noticed just how large his hands were until you saw them contrasted with yours. “Like that. You’ll break your thumb if you do it the way you had it. When you go to punch, bend your knees a bit. It’ll stabilize you. All your power is going to come from your lower body, start there and carry it up. Strike with your middle knuckle and then follow it through.” 

“Thumb outside, knees bent, start low, follow through,” you repeated, your hand still in his. You tried to ignore the electric current that ran over you where his skin touched yours.

“Right,” he said, releasing your fist. “So next time some asshole puts his hands on you, do that at his nose, OK Kid?” 

“Something tells me it won’t be as effective as when you do it,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his. 

“Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But it’ll still hurt and give you a chance to run. Which is what you do. And you can always call me. OK?” 

“OK.” 

He helped you down from the counter. 

“Don’t know about you,” he said. “But I’m a bit too keyed up to sleep quite yet. Want somethin’ to drink?” 

“Is it weird to ask for a beer?” You almost winced. 

“Not like you’re workin’,” he said, going for the fridge before turning back for you. “Wait, you turned 21 last fall, right?” 

“Yes, Joel,” you smiled, rolling your eyes a little. “I’m fully legal. Well, except to rent a car.” 

He laughed as he got two beers from the fridge, opening them with a bottle opener that was attached to the counter. He passed you one and you both went to the living room, the credits rolling on whatever horror movie he’d been watching. 

“Sorry I made you miss your movie,” you said, sitting on one end of the couch and taking a sip of beer. 

“It was shitty anyway,” he shrugged. 

The TV switched to a commercial break before teasing “When Harry Met Sally.” Joel went to change the channel but you stopped him. 

“What, don’t tell me you like that… romance crap,” he was almost teasing you. 

“Have you ever seen ‘When Harry Met Sally?’” You asked. He made a face. You rolled your eyes. “Joel. C’mon. It’s one of the best movies ever made.” 

“No,” he scoffed. 

“It is!” You insisted. “The dialogue? The pacing? The acting? Ugh, so good. It’s one of my favorites. Give it a try, pretend there’s a heart somewhere in there.” 

He was still looking at you, skeptical. You’d somehow closed the gap on the couch, your arm brushing against his. 

“I will lose all respect for you if you just refuse to even try it,” you challenged. 

“Oh because you’ve got so damn much of that,” he snorted. You elbowed him playfully. “Fine, Kid. We’ll watch your little romance movie. But only because you had a bad night and I’m not a total asshole.” 

“You’re not?” You clutched your chest in mock surprise. 

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

You kept glancing over at him as you drank your beer, your legs tucked up beside you as he leaned against the arm of the couch. He was actually paying attention, you’d give him that. 

“Well?” You asked during the second commercial break. 

“It’s… not bad,” he looked over to you. 

“You like it!” You twisted to face him. 

“No, I do not,” he fought to keep from smiling. “I just don’t… dislike it.” 

“Joel Miller: father, contractor, rom-com lover,” you smirked, taking a sip of beer. He just shook his head, a twitch in his jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you tickets to opening night of the next Meg Ryan movie, it’s the least I can do.” 

You caught him stifling a laugh more than once and, about an hour into the movie, checked your injured wrist before taking the still half frozen corn back to the kitchen and coming back with two bottles of Shiner, passing one to you. 

The beer made you bold - and tired. Your head drifted onto his shoulder and he didn’t stop you, your blinks becoming longer and longer until your eyes stayed closed and you fell asleep against him. 

*** 

You’d been right about the movie. Joel shouldn’t be surprised. You had good taste in most things. The books and music you brought around, the food you invented on nights where he worked late and you made Sarah dinner. Your taste in men left something to be desired, though. 

Joel ground his teeth, glancing over at your sleeping frame, the almost empty beer bottle still in your fingers. He gently took it from you, setting it on the side table to not disturb you. You sighed happily and pressed yourself closer to his side. His eyes trailed down your body. You were wearing one of your damn sundresses again - seemed like that’s all you wore this time of year. He thought you were going to be the death of him the summer before, him coming home every night to see you in one of your damn sundresses or cut off shorts and a tank top, looking soft and sweet and beautiful as you made dinner or did a science experiment with Sarah. 

He’d never known a person as kind as you. That he was sure of. The first time he called you on a Saturday morning to ask if you could come watch Sarah on your day off - there was an emergency at a job site and he was desperate - and you made it sound like he was doing you a favor, not the other way around. 

“Of course!” You sounded actually excited. “Do you think I could take her to the zoo? There’s a cool program there on Saturdays, I was thinking of asking to take her sometime, anyway…” 

He’d tried to pay you for it but you waved him off. 

“I’m just hanging out with my best friend at the zoo, why should you pay me?” You looked at him like he was crazy. Sarah was glowing. 

You were everything bright and good and the fact that someone had put his hands on you… He ground his teeth again. He was surprised that you weren’t more upset. He’d have expected you to be crying, at the very least. It sounded like you had been when you called. But, by the time you got to his place, you were your usual self. Like somehow one asshole wasn’t going to ruin your outlook on the world. 

Joel hadn’t realized how strong the drive to protect you would be. He’d never needed to before. He’d told you pretty early on to call if you ever needed something. He’d even told you to call if you were drunk at a party and needed a safe ride - didn’t want you getting in a car with some idiot college kid who’d had a few too many behind the wheel. You’d rolled your eyes a bit but said thank you all the same. But he wasn’t expecting you to ever need to take him up on it. At least, not like this. 

He hadn’t realized that he’d run out of the house without shoes on - without even locking the damn door - until he was halfway back with you safely beside him. You’d sounded so hurt and so scared, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He’d had to keep himself from beating the shit out of the man who’d been holding you. 

And now you were asleep on him. 

There was so much wrong with what he was thinking about you. There’d been so much wrong with what he thought about you since the day he met you. He called you Kid as much as a nickname as to remind himself that you were far too young for him, closer to Sarah’s age than his own. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were barely out of your teens when he met you. Men who preyed on young women disgusted him. He wasn’t about to become one just because he could spend all damn day just watching you exist. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch. Was it fair to even have you work for him this summer if he felt this way? He was going to, regardless, he just wasn’t sure how shitty he should feel about it. Offering you his home as a place to stay for a few weeks wasn’t a smart move, though. He was already around you all the damn time when Sarah was out of school - and pretty regularly outside of that, too, you coming by a few times a month to keep an eye on her when he needed to take care of something on evenings or weekends. You even tutored her in math and science when she hit a rough patch back in February, you figuring out her stumbling blocks and reframing it so she could wrap her head around it. Sarah had been so excited when she got an A on her test, the first thing she wanted to do after telling Joel was call you. He’d heard your excited yell through the phone from a few feet away, Sarah beaming with pride. You, in his space, with your damn sundresses and your CDs and your books in fucking French were going to kill him. 

He tucked your head tighter to him, slipping an arm below your waist before maneuvering you into his arms. You sleepily mumbled something - totally incoherent - and he carried you to Sarah’s room, setting you gently on her unmade bed. He took off your shoes before tucking you in and paused. You’d painted your toenails red, the same shade as the cherries on your sundress. You’d painted your fucking nails for the asshole who’d put hands on you. He clenched his jaw for a moment before pulling the blankets over you and closing the door behind him. 

Joel tried to think about anything but the way your breasts looked in that dress, knowing you were just down the hall, as he fucked his own hand before passing out alone. 

He woke up before you the next morning and stood awkwardly in his kitchen, wondering what he should do. If you were a woman - well, a woman he’d fucked - he knew what he’d do. He’d try to make you breakfast, something that was good enough that you might want to come back and fuck him again. What did he make for his babysitter who he rescued from a bad date and then fell asleep on his arm? 

He started with coffee and waited, standing there awkwardly leaning against the counter where he’d had your hand in his the night before. Thankfully, you woke up not long after him, shuffling into the kitchen in bare feet, your hair mussed and mascara on your cheeks. You’d put on an oversized zip up hoodie that Sarah had stolen from him and never given back, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, the sweatshirt not that much shorter than the dress below it. 

“Morning sunshine,” he teased you. It took you a moment to register that he was there, looking almost surprised when you did. “Coffee?” 

You wordlessly nodded, shuffling to the kitchen table and sinking into a chair before putting your head down on the table. He smiled and shook his head, pouring you a cup of coffee and adding some milk and sugar before putting it in front of you. 

“Not a morning person?” He asked, sitting beside you. You shook your head, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a long drink. You looked surprised again, looking from the mug to Joel. “Use your words, Kid.” 

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” Your voice was still scratchy with sleep. 

“Took a guess,” he shrugged. “Didn’t quite have the materials for a lavender latte.” 

You glared at him before taking another sip of coffee and sighing happily. 

“How’s the wrist?” He asked, nodding to your arm. 

“Fine,” you said, stretching it out in front of you. There were black and blue fingerprints on it. Joel clenched his jaw. “Just a bit sore. How’s the hand?” 

“Fine,” he said, voice gruffer than he’d intended. You just nodded and drank more coffee for a moment. 

“So,” you said, setting the coffee cup down and crossing your sweatshirt-clad arms on the table. “Did I fall asleep on you last night? And if yes, how embarrassing was it?” 

“You did,” he replied, half smiling at the memory of you against him. You groaned, putting your head down on the table again. “Not embarrassing though. You only snored a bit, sounded like a very small chainsaw…” 

“I snored?” Your head shot up from the table, eyes wide. He just laughed, taking a sip of coffee. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cruel. That’s what you are, you’re cruel. Such a weird trait for a man who’s favorite movie is ‘When Harry Met Sally’ but what do I know…” 

“You hungry?” He asked after a moment. “I could make you somethin’. Not sure what you might want…” 

“You have to get me to my apartment today, right?” You asked, fidgeting with your mug. He nodded once. “Well, there’s this great diner around the corner from me, makes the best waffles you’ve ever had in your life…” 

“Not a Waffle House is it?” He asked, quirking a brow at you. You glared at him. 

“No, Joel, it’s not a Waffle House,” you shook your head but you smiled a bit all the same. “I could take you to breakfast? It’s the least I could do…” 

“I know what I pay you, Kid,” he said. “I’ve got breakfast. But yeah, let’s go get these famous waffles. I gotta grab Sarah this afternoon, was thinkin’ of calling Tommy and having him meet us at your place…” 

“Why?” You frowned. “I’m just grabbing some clothes and stuff, hardly need a team for heavy lifting…” 

“Because if that asshole comes around again, I’ll need someone to keep me from kicking his ass,” Joel said wryly. 

You rolled your eyes but went along with him, finishing your coffee and walking barefoot to Joel’s truck, your shoes from the night before dangling from your hand. You rolled the window down on the drive, hanging your head out with your eyes closed until Joel got closer to your apartment. 

“Turn right here, instead of left,” you said, pointing to a place with red and white awning up ahead. “It’s just up there, on the right.” 

You led the way inside, the small restaurant bustling for early on a Saturday. One of the waitresses did a double take as she saw you with your face all but pressed against the dessert case. 

“Girl, what are you doing here this early?” She asked, snapping her gum.

“Just getting an early start,” you smiled. “How’s your morning going so far Luce?” 

“Oh you know how it is,” Luce looked you up and down. You were still wearing Joel’s hoodie from Sarah’s room. “You doin’ a walk of shame?”

“Luce!” You swatted her arm. “C’mon, give me SOME credit. You know I’d tell you immediately how it was if that ever happened.” 

The waitress barked a laugh and shook her head. There was a bell at the kitchen window and she looked behind her before going back to you. 

“Sit tight for like three minutes,” she snapped her gum again. “I’ve got a table that’s ready to cash out, let me run this food and take care of them and you can sit with me.” 

“You’re the boss,” you gave her a small salute before turning back and smiling to Joel. “Prepare to have your life changed, Joel. I’m telling you, these waffles? Will ruin you.” 

“Nah, you’ve built them up too much,” he shook his head, frowning. “Can’t be that good.” 

The waitress you’d talked to before brought you to a table and put menus in front of you before leaning in conspiratorially to your ear. 

“Thought you said this wasn’t a walk of shame?” She looked Joel up and down. 

“Luce, this is my friend Joel,” you gestured across the table. “I look after his daughter in the summer. Joel got me out of a tough spot last night…” 

“He could get me out of a tough spot any time,” she winked. You gaped up at her. Joel just laughed. “Sorry, sweetie! We’ve just been dying for this girl to actually come in with a man at some point. She’s been on dates, never seems to go anywhere! She’s too cute to die alone, if she doesn’t have hope none of us do.” 

“No, you’re right, this restaurant is life changing,” Joel smirked at you. You went red. 

“Thanks Luce, I’m going to just die here now, appreciate you,” you smiled sarcastically up at her. She just laughed. 

“Usual drink, babe?” She asked. You nodded. She turned to Joel. “And for you sugar?”

“Just coffee.” 

“A purist,” she snapped her gum. “Be back.” 

You watched her go before groaning and burying your head in your arms. 

“I really should have known better than to bring you here,” your voice was muffled. “This is really on me.” 

“How often to you come here?” Joel asked, smiling as you emerged from your makeshift shelter. 

“Every Saturday,” you said. “Usually like an hour before close when it’s a bit slower. I sit in….” You twisted and pointed to a small, two-seat booth in the corner. “That booth so I’m out of the way and I just people watch and have coffee and waffles and catch up with everyone here. They’re all really sweet. Plus they’ll sometimes send me home with stuff from the display case that’s getting tossed that I then use to bribe your daughter with during the week.” 

“That explains the sugar highs,” he said dryly. 

Luce returned, putting something frothy in front of you and a coffee in front of him. 

“Whatcha eatin’?” She snapped her gum again. 

“Can you do me just the hugest favor,” you bit your lip, eyes wide. Luce sighed. 

“Tell me,” she said. 

“Can you make the sampler for my friend here?” You asked. “He’s never been here before and he absolutely HAS to understand the depth of affection I have for the waffles.” 

“Only because it’s you,” she shook her head. “I just let you get away with murder…” 

“It’s because you love me,” you smiled. She just sighed. “And I’ll do… the chicken and waffles please.” 

She turned to Joel. 

“You’re getting a bunch of waffles sweetie,” she said. “Whatcha want with em? Eggs?” 

“Scrambled.” 

“Any meat?” 

“Bacon.” 

“Done,” she took your menus. “Don’t let her run roughshod over you like she does over me.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel smiled. 

“I’ve made so many mistakes in the last 24 hours and this might just be the worst,” you sighed, taking a sip of… whatever it is that you ordered. 

“You just make friends with everyone, don’t you?” He asked, watching you across the table. Your face turned serious for a moment and then you smiled again. 

“I try to,” you shrugged. “But I end up on my own most of the time. Which is totally fine, by the way, I like being by myself. Lots to do and solitude is a good way to do it.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“What about you?” You asked, stirring your drink with a straw. “Haven’t seen you bring many friends around. Except Tommy but family doesn’t count.” 

“Not a lot of time for friends,” he shrugged. “Got work, Sarah….” 

“Rescuing hapless college students.” 

He smiled. 

“I stay busy.” 

You stirred your drink again, bobbing your head slightly, in time to a song Joel could barely hear over the buzz of people in the cramped restaurant. 

“You really tell them all about your dating life?” He asked, half smiling at you. 

“Oh God,” you groaned and then laughed. “Yes. But only because it’s basically non-existent and I have almost no one else to talk to about it. Luce is convinced she’s a matchmaker. Maybe I should listen to her, she’s been right every time I’ve told her about a guy I’m seeing.” 

“Every time, really…” Joel’s jaw twitched a bit. He didn’t like thinking about you with other men. But he did have fun making you squirm a bit in your seat. “How many times is that, exactly?”

“Are you asking me about my love life, Joel?” You teased, leaning across the table at him. 

He matched your stance, his face ending up only a few inches from your own. Even now, you smelled good. Sweet, floral. A bit like lavender. 

“Curious about your track record,” he replied. You laughed. 

“It’s real bad,” you said, sitting up straight again. “Jeremy was the fourth guy I’ve gone out with since I came to Texas. He’s the only one who made it to date four and we saw how THAT ended. The others weren’t QUITE so awful. One came close to being that bad but otherwise, just run of the mill not working out. Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of guys beating down the bio-lab door to get at the teacher in training.” 

Joel sat back in his seat, too. 

“Men are idiots,” he shrugged. “Especially when they’re in college. They wise up when they get older.” You bit your lip for a second before shaking your head to yourself. “What?” You scrunched your nose and shook your head. “C’mon kid. What were you going to say?” 

“They get better when they’re your age?” You blurted, blushing as you asked it. 

He watched you for a moment. 

“Like to think so.” 

Luce had been right. You’d ordered him a mountain of waffles. There were three of them, each quadrant a different flavor, topped accordingly, looking like a rainbow of food in front of him. He gaped at you and you shrugged, smiling as you cut into your own. You were right, too, though. They were the best waffles he’d ever had. And he wasn’t even that crazy about fucking waffles. Luce whispered something in your ear when she gave you a hug as you were leaving and it was enough to make you swat her on the arm before going to the truck, still smiling and shaking your head when you buckled up. 

Tommy asked few questions when Joel had called to ask him to come to your place and he’d beaten the two of you there, leaning against his truck. 

“Hey Tommy!” You hopped out of the truck and waved. You always sounded like whoever you were greeting made your day just by being there. It never seemed fake, either. Joel didn’t understand it. 

“Hey Kid,” Tommy smiled, hugging you briefly. “Heard I’m here to run interdiction.” 

“Your brother is paranoid,” you rolled your eyes, absently fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie. Tommy noticed the bruises at your wrist in the brief second they were exposed, grabbing your hand and shoving the sleeve up your arm. 

“The fuck is this?” He looked to Joel. 

“It’s nothing, really,” you took your hand back and Tommy didn’t fight you on it. “Just a… misunderstanding that Joel got me out of last night, that’s all.” 

“Misunderstanding my ass,” Joel muttered. 

“Some guy do that?” Tommy demanded. “What, he your boyfriend? Where is he?” 

“No!” You closed your eyes for a second and crossed your arms, Joel noticing the first traces of pain on your face since he’d picked you up last night. So you weren’t as OK as you looked, you were just damn good at hiding it. It passed quickly. “No, it’s just a guy I’d gone out with a few times and it just… didn’t go the way he wanted is all, it’s fine, it’s a misunderstanding, it won’t happen again, it’s fine. I promise it’s fine.” 

It didn’t look settled for Tommy. Didn’t feel settled for Joel.

“That��s why we’re getting some of her stuff,” Joel said. “He knows where she lives, she’s gonna stay with Sarah n’ me until her new place is ready. Wanted you here in case he showed his face.” 

“Afraid you can’t take him alone?” Tommy smirked a little. Like he knew the real reason. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel muttered. 

“OK so if the dick measuring contest is done, can we go inside and stop making a scene?” You fished your keys out of your purse. Joel’s eyebrows went up. He didn’t think he’d ever heard you say the word ‘dick’ before. Or be quite so blunt. 

“Sure Kid,” Tommy said. “We’re at your service.” 

“Such gallant gentlemen,” you smiled a little, leading the way to your apartment. It was on the ground floor of the small complex, a neighbor saying hi to you as you passed and giving a cagey look to the men trailing behind you.

Joel had never been inside your apartment before but, when he stepped inside, he imagined it was what it would be like to step into your mind. 

Everything was light and bright with soft things everywhere - a blanket draped over the back of the couch, pillows on a beanbag in the corner. There was a small cluster of plants on your windowsill and Christmas lights framing your bookshelves which were loaded down to the point that the boards were sagging in the middle. 

“Give me like five minutes to get changed?” You said, setting your purse down on the small breakfast bar that looked to serve as your only dining space. “Make yourselves comfortable, help yourself to anything…” 

You disappeared down the short hall and Joel took a minute to indulge his curiosity. He started with your bookshelf, the most worn copies. “Pride and Prejudice” looked like it was hanging on by a thread, the spine barely readable. He almost laughed. That fit you. “The Bell Jar” was also particularly worn. He hadn’t read that one, so he pulled it off the shelf and looked at the back, frowning. This seemed less like you. Or what he knew of you. He put it back. There were a lot of books on your shelf he didn’t know, and a lot that were in French that he may have known something about but fuck if he could tell what they were. 

You didn’t have many pictures, something he found oddly disappointing. There was one photo you’d framed of you with a girl who was the same age but it was years old, you couldn’t have been more than 15 in it. The few others there were looked to just be photos of you with an older woman, who must be your grandmother. There was a painting on the wall next to the bookshelf, almost too big for the space. A lavender farm. Of course it was. 

“I painted that.” 

Joel hadn’t noticed you come back in. You were still tying your mass of hair on the top of your head, wearing jeans and a threadbare t-shirt and the canvas tennis shoes you wore with fucking everything - the damn sundresses, the shorts that drove him crazy. He looked back to the painting. 

“It’s good,” he said. He wasn’t lying. He’d have never guessed you hadn’t bought it somewhere. 

“It’s that lavender farm, near my grandma’s place?” You stood next to him, looking at the painting. “Anyway, safe to say that can stay for now. Is it OK if I bring my plants? I don’t want them to drop dead because I’m not watering them when they need…” 

“Sure, Kid,” Joel smiled a little at you. “We’ll find a spot for them.” 

You looked relieved, finding a big, plastic tub to pack the plants in before going back to your bedroom. Joel followed you there and you handed him a worn duffle bag as you started to grab things to pack. Your bedroom, like the rest of your home, was you personified. There was a quilt on the bed that had to be about as old as you, tiny flowers covering the thing. The windows had frothy, white curtains, your bed had about six too many pillows. Stack of books on the nightstand, pressed framed flowers on the walls. All sweetness and softness and light. 

“Can you…” your face scrunched. “Close your eyes for just a sec?” 

Your hand hovered by a dresser drawer. He laughed. 

“Sure, Kid,” he obeyed, closing his eyes. “Pack your underwear without this old man watchin’.” 

“Not that old,” you muttered. He smiled, resisting the urge to sneak a peek at what it is you wore under those little dresses. 

It didn’t take long for you to gather your things, you turning in circles in each room a few times, muttering to yourself before nodding once, a sense of finality to it. 

“We can always come back if you forget somethin’,” Joel said. “But that’s a ‘we,’ no comin’ here on your own.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But still, trying to avoid leaving stuff for school behind. I have exams soon, I need to study… Think I’m good, though.” 

You grab your purse and one of the three bags you’ve filled with the things you’ll need to survive a few weeks with Joel and Sarah. Joel grabs the other two, Tommy the box of plants and you fill up the bed of Joel’s truck. You’re about to get in your old car - a beater from the early 80s that Joel is still amazed made it from upstate New York to Texas in the first place - when a late model Ford F-150 that’s never done a day of work in its life pulled into the lot, closing your car in. You froze, a deer in headlights, as the fuckin’ guy from the night before stalked over to you and threw you against your car. 

Joel was over to you before he even realized he was moving, pulling the man away from you and shoving him to the ground. 

“What’d I tell you, boy?” He growled, pulling a fist back and bringing it down on his face. “Told you I’d kill you if you touched her again, didn’t I?” 

Joel hit him again, the man trying to protect his face, and he pulled his fist back to hit him again when you caught it, pulling him back. 

“Joel!” You were yelling it, like you’d been screaming it for a minute. Maybe you had been. Tommy was on him then, too, pulling him off the man on the ground. “He’s not worth it, Joel, he’s not worth it…” 

Joel got to his feet, breathless, the man on the ground curled in on himself. He turned to you, your eyes still wide. He wanted to hug you, hold you close. Instead, he just looked at you. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. You nodded once. He turned back to the man on the ground. “Take your truck and get the fuck out of here.” 

The man scrambled to obey and you watched, your body stiff, until he was out of sight. You deflated a bit when he was gone, the hint of a tear at the corner of your eye. 

“You’re OK Kid,” Joel said quietly. You looked at him, your eyes wide, trusting. “I’ll keep you safe. You’re OK.” 

You looked at him like you believed him.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller father figure #joel miller fluff #fluff #f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader

[everythingseasoning]

We’ve Met Before, pt 1

// Reader x Choso fanfiction

…Little do you know that you and Choso were lovers in a past life.

CH. 1 SUMMARY …Little do you know that you and Choso were lovers in a past life. When you meet Choso, at a college party of all places, you can’t help but feel enamored. Unfortunately, murders and missing person cases have also been popping up around your college campus, disrupting the lifestyle of all those at Jujutsu University— and the latest case has been brewing closer than you’d think. Your lying, cheating ex Sukuna, is also running around freely and trying to prevent any semblance of finding love in your life.

Tags: This fic has CURSES and SORCERERS, but the characters are also students at JUJUTSU UNIVERSITY // ~1.7k

Warnings: Cheating ex, blood & canon violence, emotionally abusive ex, borderline NSFW but not with reader

We’ve Met Before Masterlist || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 ||

‘he seems so lonely’

Nobara drags you closer towards the Frat house’s entrance as the soles of your shoes scuff against the ground from your resistance. You feel heat on your feet, the friction of rubber and cement underneath you. You swat at Nobara’s hand— ceasing your actions immediately as your friend’s sharp brown eyes meet yours in a stern glare. 

“Come on you loser, have fun for once!” Nobara cranks. 

“This isn’t fun for me, Noba,” you say, your tone low and loose. The sadness you’d been feeling all day hadn’t gone away, and you doubted that a party would do the trick. Parties are full of heated but temporary connections, and you would rather stay in your single dorm room and wallow sadly, instead of awkwardly wander ‘round a noisy frat party. 

“You’re such a wet blanket. Drop the attitude and just maybe tonight you’ll find somebody who treats you right!”

Your depressive state is overtaken by irritation. “Seriously? There won’t be a decent guy at a fucking frat party. In fact—” You scowl at Nobara, “It’s just the kind of place Sukuna would be at, did you forget?” 

Nobara’s gaze softens a little upon seeing involuntary tears spring up in your eyes. Your friend speaks, her voice a level nicer, “I managed to reach Yuji a few hours ago, over the phone, and he said Sukuna would be gone this weekend, for the football team’s away game.”

Relief melts into your body like smooth, sweet chocolate on the tongue. “Thank god,” you whispered, memories of your awful ex spinning violently in your mind…


One week ago:

“Sukuna?” You called out, stepping into the men’s bathroom of Jujutsu East’s dormitory wing. Your voice was completely inaudible though, the booming music obscuring any trace your existence— and that’s when you heard it, underneath the muffling chorus:

Moaning. A guy’s moan. A rich, low, seductive voice cursed, “Fuck, doll-face, you’re sucking me off so well, hmm?” 

You knew that lilting, rumbling voice anywhere. 

You froze, stiffening in shock and denial. You listened: A rustle of curtains, the metal rings clinking. —A thud, a body pushed against a wall. A wet noise, followed by slapping noises.

“Mm, ahh, ooh fuck, Sukuna!” 

“Doll-face—ugh—Shut up. Can’t have nobody hear us, you dumb slut.” 

You felt your legs turn into jelly, but you stood still, unable to move. Musical groans played in the air around you. Just yesterday, you’d been the one to pull those sweet melodies from him.

—

Sure, you knew from early on in your relationship that Sukuna wasn’t the one for marriage. But before Sukuna you’d been isolated, stuck in an abusive relationship of six years. When you’d met Sukuna, you were exhausted from your miserable ex Charlie, who just tolerated you. 

In Charlie’s eyes, you couldn’t do anything right— that was the message you gleaned from every sigh and every complaint Charlie had for you. With every meal you cooked, with every conversation you two had, and with every gift you brought him, you disappointed him, daily. Throughout the years with Charlie, you reasoned that he was just a sad person who expected you to fix all his misery, and you felt pity for him. So you tried to help him, fix his mindset, and show him love. You desperately wanted him to be happy. But after six long years, you couldn’t do it any longer— because nothing was ever enough, and you couldn’t keep up with all his criticisms and tantrums— you didn’t make him happy, and you didn’t make him proud. You were a useless loser in his eyes. 

—

You felt yourself flinch in the memory, doom crawling on your skin from how badly six years with him had fucked you up. 

After that relationship had ended, you needed to feel wanted again. You needed the warmth of somebody’s skin and touch, the soft praise of somebody kind. 

And Sukuna didn’t seem that bad at first— he had actually been so good. He answered your calls every night and listened to you rant about your day; he asked about your hobbies, let you pick out movies to watch together every week, bought you baked goods just because, and he picked you up whenever you wanted to hang out.

But it was like he had two sides to him. There was one that was encouraging when you felt low and insecure, the guy who held you tightly against his large, sturdy chest, whispering promises that he’d “make all the pain go away.” The Sukuna who told you that you were strong and brave to get out of your past shitfire of a relationship… And then there was the Sukuna that eyeballed other girls when you were with him, the Sukuna whose reputation preceded him (“he’s a player, __, get out while you can”), the Sukuna who was now dick-deep in another girl. Turns out, he was also a misfire of a relationship. A liar. 

—

A long groan echoed through the marble walls of the men’s bathroom, and the slapping noises were no more. 

“Alright, get out of here, I’ve got to get ready for the date with my main bitch tonight.”

You heard a huff before the whish of the curtain sounded, and that’s when you bolted.

Sukuna had blown up your phone for days after, but you’d avoided him like the plague for the past week. He stopped texting just after a couple of days, which really showed you how little you’d meant to him. Still, you couldn’t bear the thought of him seeing you, even in passing.

—

“Hey, girl, you alright?” Nobara’s voice is suddenly loud, and you come back to the moment, seeing her wave her hands in front of your face. You swallow thickly, before blinking. Fat tears are let loose and run down your face. 

“No. I wanna go back to the dorms,” you croak out. Nobara stares at you for a couple of seconds before her gaze hardens.

“No. If I let you do that, you’ll just sulk all night. I won’t let that happen.”

You glare at Nobara. “Look, I know you’re just trying to help, but—” 

Before you can finish your sentence, Nobara tugs you through the open door, and you fall forward, bumping into somebody—

“Hey-” you hear a raspy, low voice. 

When you look up, dark brown eyes mesmerize you. A pale skinned guy is looking down at you with a confused expression, two ponytails poking out from his head cutely. Most strikingly, he has some rough eyebags, and purple lines run down and across his face. Tattoos? you wonder as you drink in his face. Something is different, though, about this interaction— your heart seems to beat a bit too quickly, because something about him seems way too familiar. Is it his eyes? You’re staring into them, pools of smooth darkness that murmur quietly, simmering with secrets you want to listen to; He seems so lonely— You swear, you’ve seen these eyes before— 

You stand completely still, enamored, as your eyes dart across his face, absorbing the face of this mysterious stranger.

You feel like the other half of your heart is standing right in front of you.

A couple of seconds have passed when you realize that he’s been studying you right back.

You snap out of your trance, blinking quickly and looking away, Whoa. That was weird. I’ve never taken in somebody’s face like this before—! Wait, he was curious about me, too, right—? Your heart flutters at the thought.

“Wow, you guys really need to fuck each other tonight,” You hear Nobara say, and you whip to face her, wide-eyed in horror, just to see your friend smirking at you, a mischevious look on her face. 

“Noba, shut the hell up, oh my god,” you gasp, and Nobara runs away, leaving you alone with the mysterious stranger. You watch her leave and squirm internally, anxious, before turning to look back at the guy. “I’m sorry for staring! I’m __. I just, erm, you just— do you— do I know you?”

He’s staring at you, in disbelief, almost like he’s looking at the fountain of youth. You both continue to stare at each other, and though it should be an awkward moment, you feel like you can feel what he’s feeling, like you know what he’s thinking: Who are you? What are you to me?

His voice comes back deep and melodic, “I’m Choso. Choso Kamo. I don’t remember us meeting before. But–” 

A shrill scream pierces the air before Choso can get another word out. You whip your head to the origin of the noise, and see a girl bloody on the floor, torn limbs by her side, two arms laying next to her. Your eyes blow wide in shock: she’s facing the ceiling, screaming her head off, and people are already rushing past you, running towards the exit. 

It hits you like a truck, pure terror pulsing through your entire being— This is one of those crimes that have been happening lately, where people have been having their limbs torn off mysteriously. The girl continues her blood curdling screams as you stare in horror, your head spinning. Your heart is racing a mile a minute and yet you just— can’t— move— No, no, no, no — 

You notice now that Choso is gone too, probably out the door and halfway down the lawn at this point. So much for love at first sight. Blood rushes through your ears, muffling out your surroundings, and your skin runs cold, the vicious sight before you keeping you frozen. The world feels like it's been flipped upside down. You were never one to stomach violence. 

Is this where I die? You think. 

Before you can do anything to get yourself to safety, you’ve blacked out. 

–

✧꧂ Please comment ur thoughts/feelings!! I’m curious + that encourages me to keep writing this fic! ♡

Do not plagiarize my writing. Characters are of Gege Akutami’s work, Jujutsu Kaisen. All fanfiction ideas and writings are my own.

➜ M’s Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

➜ Chapter 2

#choso kamo #choso #choso fanfiction #choso fanfic #choso fic #choso kamo fanfic #choso kamo fic #choso kamo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk fic #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #choso jjk #choso smut #jjk choso #choso x reader #choso x you #choso angst #jjk angst #choso kamo angst #Sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #JJK

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7

MDNI !!!!!--------------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member warnings: soft dom spencer, sub oc, making out, sexual tension, age gap, fingering, dirty talk, i think that's it!

Chapter Six:

As the SUV rolled into the small, sunbaked town of Maricopa, Arizona, the heat hit them like a physical force. The town lay simmering under the relentless sun. The mercury had soared to a scorching 113, and the air summered with heatwaves rising from the parched earth. It had been weeks since Evelyn's last case, filled with a growing sense of belonging at the BAU, yet blemished by an internal battle against thoughts she deemed incredibly inappropriate--thoughts of Hotch and Reid.

As she stepped out into the furnace that was midday Arizona, the heat enveloped her like a suffocating blanket. She was clad in a light, sleeveless tank top that clung to her form, paired with loose-fitting cargo pants that allowed her some respite from the heat.

Behind her, Hotch and Reid were thankful their sunglasses hid the way their eyes followed the sight of Evelyn, her silhouette outlined against the harsh glare of the sun.

As Evelyn's gaze lingered on Spencer, the sight of his shirt sleeves casually rolled to his elbows, sent a warm shiver down her spine. She caught her breath, her teeth gently catching on her lip in a futile attempt to stop the fluttering in her chest. When he spoke, a dimple would flash momentarily on his cheek, a fleeting view that would leave her heart aching for more.

Her thoughts then turned to Hotch, whose commanding aura was accentuated by the way the heat caused his shirt to cling to his broad shoulders. She couldn't help but think of how he would look on top of her, pinning her own shoulders down. Even in the sweltering sun, he exuded an air of cool authority that was as compelling as it was intimidating.

Both equally alluring in their own right. It was a dangerous game, letting her mind wander like this.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the images. 'Focus,' she chided herself.

The sun bore down mercilessly on the small town of Maricopa, turning the air into a tangible curtain of heat. Evelyn wiped at her forehead, the fabric of her handkerchief quickly dampening as she exhaled a labored breath. "I knew it'd be hot, but this is like walking into an oven."

Hotch, his silhouette sharp against the blinding backdrop, offered a firm nod, the lines of his face set in stoic resolve.

"Focus on the case, Evelyn. The heat is just another variable to manage." Yet, even he seemed to succumb to the sweltering climate, his fingers deftly unfastening the top buttons of his shirt.

Evelyn's eyes traced the movement, a flush of embarrassment warming her cheeks even more as she imagined a completely different scenario.

God, she needed to get laid.

Spencer emerged last, his curls already beginning to curl from the oppressive humidity. "Actually, if we consider the heat index, it's more akin to a convection oven. The humidity amplifies the subjective temperature, making it feel even hotter."

Evelyn's smirk lingered as she absorbed Reid's attempt at reassurance. "Thanks, Reid. That's... oddly comforting," she quipped, the irony not lost on her.

The scene before them was a desolate stretch of road, a dusty turnout off a seldom-used highway. A lone car sat in the center; its paint job dulled by the sun's unforgiving rays.

Hotch's voice cut through the stillness. "Let's get to work. Keep an eye out for anything that might give us insight into the unsub's patterns."

The rest of the team was back with the local PD, leaving just the three of them to navigate the scene. They moved with precision, each step deliberate, documenting everything. The heat was a constant pressure, an invisible force that sought to overwhelm them.

Evelyn seemed almost like a mirage to Hotch and Reid. The fabric hugged her form as beads of sweat traced paths down her skin. As she leaned forward to inspect the car door, Spencer's attention by the curve of her breasts. He quickly redirected his thoughts, focusing on the task at hand.

"There's a discrepancy in the tire impressions," he began. "They're inconsistent with the victim's tire treads. It's possible we're looking a secondary vehicle, potentially the unsubs."

"The victim, Michael Torres, 34, he's far from his last known location at the diner. He was an accountant, no known enemies." Evelyn announces from memory, her gaze sweeping over the bleak scene, "but how did the unsub lure him out here? Especially if he brought his own car? How could he prevent the victim from just driving off? Going to the police station?"

"It's possible the unsub used a ruse to get Torries out here." Hotch suggested, his posture rigid as he folded his arms over his chest.

Spencer, his brow furrowed in concentration dragged his thumb across his bottom lip. "Or the unsub could have disabled the vehicle remotely after Torres arrived, preventing him from leaving."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed as she considered the implications. "That would require technical expertise," she mused aloud. "Do we have anything in his background that suggests he was targeted for his skills?"

Hotch shook his head gently. "Not that we've seen," he confirmed.

Evelyn's moment of contemplation was brief, her lips pursing in a thoughtful pout that captured the attention of both Spencer and Hotch. She reached for her phone and dialed Garcia.

"Tech Goddess Garcia, at your beck and call my queen," Penelope's voice rang out, a vibrant contrast to the arid scene around them.

Evelyn's laughter, light and unexpected, seemed to momentarily soften the edges of the harsh environment. "Hi, P. Can you cross-reference Michael Torres' financials? Look for any anomalies or recent tech purchases."

"On it, sug! I'll work my magic and get back to you," Garcia replied. Evelyn, with a smile playing on her lips, voiced her thanks before gently disconnecting the call.

"Also, let's consider the possibility of coercion. The unsub might have threatened someone Torres cared about," Spencer mused, his voice steady despite the heat that seemed to press upon them with an almost physical weight. Droplets of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his hair, now clung to his temples in damp curls.

"But there's no mention of a missing person connected to him," Evelyn countered.

"Right. Let's keep digging. The answer is here; we just need to connect the dots." A pause, then a slight tilt of his head towards Evelyn, Hotch's voice carrying the faintest hint of dry humor. "Let's get out of this heat, Evelyn looks like she's about to pass out."

Evelyn, caught off guard by the rare flicker of levity in Hotch's tone, stopped fanning herself. "Hey," she giggled, "I think the heat's getting to you too. You're starting to sound almost human." Her words were light, teasing, and in the vast expanse of the desert, she swore she caught a brief smile before he turned towards the SUV.

--

Inside the bustling precinct, the team gathered around a cluster of desks, papers and photographs spread out before them. Officers darted between the rows of desks, their voices a low murmur punctuated by the occasional crackle of radios. The conditioning was a welcome reprieve from the desert's furnace.

"Local PD says there's no pattern in victims' jobs or social circles. It's like the unsub is choosing them at random." Prentiss's voice cut through the buzz of the station.

Mirroring her team's attire, Prentiss donned a casual v-neck today, a file in her hand fanning the heat off her face. She paced the room, arms clasped behind her.

"There's gotta be a link," Morgan argues, his voice tinged with frustration. He stands firmly, his posture is assertive. His eyes, dark and focused, scan the team, seeking any sign of agreement, "unsubs don't just throw darts at a phone book."

"Unless we're dealing with a thrill killer. But this feels more... personal." Rossi spoke, leaning back in his chair, eyes narrowed in thought.

Evelyn leaned forward, her gaze flitting across the faces of her colleagues, settling on Spencer's. "Three victims, three different lives. There has to be something that ties them together," she asserted. 

"Well, they all suffered in that heat. Maybe that's our common thread--punishment." Prentiss suggests.

"Speaking of heat, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm actually missing those chilly Quantico mornings." Morgan manages with a wry smile.

Rossi, with a chuckle a knowing glance towards Morgan, retorts, "you? I recall a certain someone complaining all last winter."

Evelyn chimes in, her laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes as she gently shakes her head, "I think we can all agree, a little less sun and a little more snow wouldn't hurt."

The sound of a phone ringing cuts through their exchange. Evelyn glances at their caller ID and a smile forms on her lips, softening the tension in her jaw.

"Hi P, you're on with the team." Evelyn answers, switching to speaker. The device clicks and Garcia's voice spills into the room.

"Hello, my knights in standard-issue body armor! I have news," she announces, "all of the victims made purchases from a company called Key Innovations. They make those fancy remote car keys--like, the kind that can start your car from inside a building."

"That's our link." Hotch notes, " Get as much information as you can on the employees, Garcia. Evelyn, you're with me. We need to pay this Key Innovations a visit."

--

The SUV's engine hummed as it cut through the streets, a steady backdrop to the hush that had fallen over Evelyn and Hotch. She stole a glance at him, his profile etched with the usual stoicism, eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses.

"You know," Evelyn began, her voice a soft flutter against the buzz of the AC, "I've never actually been to a company like Key Innovations. The tech must be pretty advanced, right? To remotely disable a car like that?"

Hotch's reply was curt, his gaze never leaving the road. "It's a specialized field. Their technology could be a critical piece of this case."

Evelyn's fingers danced over her badge, the metallic surface cool against her warm skin. "Right, right. Critical. It's just... well, it's fascinating, isn't it? How something designed to make life easier can be twisted into... this."

"It's often the case. Progress has it shadows." Hotch noted.

Evelyn, her hair coiled into a bun atop her head to escape the heat's caress, felt the air conditioning brush against the exposed nape of her neck. Hotch's gaze, though obscured, lingered a moment too long on the delicate curve.

"I've been meaning to ask--how do you stay so composed? With everything we see?" Evelyn asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Focus on the victims, the justice they deserve. It keeps things in perspective." Hotch replied, his voice steady.

"I guess I'm still learning that part," Evelyn sighed, "sometimes it all just feels overwhelming, amazing, but overwhelming."

"It takes time," Hotch says with a curt nod. "You're doing well."

"Thanks, sir. I just really love this job, you know? It's just that sometimes it feels like I'm running alongside professional athletes. And I'm just... me. I mean, I keep up, sure. I have my morning routine--high-protein breakfast, you know, eggs, Greek yogurt, the works. It's actually because of my anemia. Not a big deal, really. But it's like my own personal marathon every day, keeping pace with you guys."

Hotch remained silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving the road. Then, without turning, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly.

"Agent, take a breath."

Evelyn's rambling came to an abrupt halt, and she let out a small, nervous laugh. "Right."

--

The sleek glass doors of Key Innovations slid open with a whisper, ushering Hotch and Evelyn into the cool, modern lobby. The receptionist looked up, a practiced smile ready on her lips, but it faltered and died under Hotch's firm gaze. 

"I'm Special Agent Hotchner, and this is Special Agent Gideon. We need to speak with your CEO," Hotch announced, his voice echoing slightly in the vast space of the lobby as we presented our badges.

The receptionist nodded, her fingers trembling slightly as she pressed the intercom button. "Mr. Landon, FBI agents are here to see you."

A voice crackled through, calm and collected. "Send them up."

As they ascended to the top floor, Evelyn's nerves buzzed. She watched Hotch, his every move exuding authority and purpose.

They were greeted by a man with sharp eyes that held a hint of caution and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Agents, I'm James Landon. What can I do for you?"

"We believe your products have been used in a series of murders. We need a list of customers who've purchased your remote car keys as well as your employees in the past six months," Hotch stated. 

Landon's eyes flickered with concern, a shadow passing over his face. "Of course, I'll get that for you right away."

Minutes later, they poured over the list in a conference room. "Hotch," Evelyn points out, her finger tapping against a name on the list, "Look. Simon Travers, he processed the orders for all of the victims."

"Is Travers in the building?" Hotch questioned, his gaze never leaving the list.

Landon nodded, a hint of unease creeping into his eyes. "Yes, he's one of our programmers."

Travis was found in his office, a nest of gadgets and screen that hummed and blinked with a life of their own. His surprise at their presence was palpable, but he masked it quickly.

"Mr. Travers, we need you to come with us for questioning regarding the misuse of your company's products," Hotch state, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As Hotch and Evelyn escorted Simon Travers through the bustling corridors of Key Innovations, tensions hung in the air like static. Travers, with hands cuffed in front of him, a defiant tilt to his chin. He turned his head slightly towards Evelyn, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Must be my lucky day, getting arrested by such a pretty face," Travers smirked, his eyes raking over Evelyn in a way that made her skin crawl.

The comment sliced through the professional veneer of the moment, and Evelyn's stride didn't falter, but her eyes flashed with disapproval. Before she could respond, Hotch stepped slightly in front of her, his voice low and edged with a warning.

"Watch your mouth," he growled.

--

The interrogation room was awash with the harsh, unyielding glare of the overhead lights, which hummed incessantly above. They cast a clinical pallor on the team, their faces etched with the indelible marks of fatigue. Travers remained seated; his composure seemingly unshaken by the grueling hours of scrutiny. 

In the midst of the tense atmosphere, Evelyn's yawn cut through the silence, a delicate yet unguarded moment that caught Spencer's attention. He couldn't help but watch her, the way her eyes fluttered closed slower than usual, her lashes casting long shadows down her cheeks, the way the corners of her mouth downturned in a soft frown of exhaustion. It was rare glimpse of vulnerability that Spencer found incredibly endearing, a contrast to her usual ball of energy.

Rossi, ever the observant one, caught the exchange and responded with a wry smile, "You know, in some culture, yawning is considered a sign of deep thinking. Or is it just your subtle way of saying we're boring you, Evelyn?"

Her tired eyes twinkled at the comment as she shot back, "If that were true, Rossi, I think we'd all be geniuses by now."

"We're done for tonight," Hotch declared, his voice devoid of his usual sharpness, worn down by the day's exertions. "he's not giving anything up."

"Because I have nothing to hide. I didn't do anything," Travers retorted, his voice unwavering. 

Hotch let out a deep sigh, the sound heavy with the weight of a 14-hour deadlock. He rose from his chair, the movement sluggish, a signal to the oppressive heat that seeped into their bones. "Let's pack it up. We'll continue tomorrow."

The team's exhaustion was evident, Hotch's once crisp suit now clinging to his skin, tie loosened in a futile attempt to alleviate the sweltering heat. Evelyn's eyes were softened by the relentless temperature that mocked the coolness of the room's decor. As they collected their belongings, their movements slow, mechanical--each step was a battle against the invisible battle of the exhaustion and heat. 

The hotel was a beacon of rest in the night, but as they arrived, the front desk clergy greeted them with an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry we're overbooked. You'll have to double up on rooms."

Hotch took the news in stride, quickly making arrangements for the team. "JJ and Prentiss, you're together. Rossi and Morgan, you've got a room. And Spencer, you're with Evelyn."

The hotel room door clicked shut behind Spencer and Evelyn, the sound echoing slightly in the compact space. They stood there for a moment, an awkward silence stretching between them. The awkwardness skyrocketing as their gaze landed on the situation before them. One bed. Of course.

"I can take the floor," Spencer suggested, grabbing Evelyn's bag, setting it beside his own by the dresser.

Evelyn's response came with a dismissive wave, "don't be ridiculous, it's big enough, we can both take a side." Her voice carried her usual confidence, though her insides were aflutter with what that might mean. "Do you mind if I take the first shower?"

"Of course, go ahead. I'll just... um, go over the case notes again while you do that."

Evelyn nodded and disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water soon filling the room. Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he noticed the door slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of light within the bathroom.

With his case files before him as a cover, he watched as Evelyn stood in the crack, slipping her shirt gently over her head. Spencer knew he was supposed to look away, he knew that. Next came her bra, falling to the floor, leaving the slope of her back to Spencer, her hair dropping against the bare skin.

Spencer tore his gaze away as she reached for her pants, trailing a finger over the files with one hand and rubbing the bridge of his nose with the other. A few minutes later, the water stopped, an Evelyn emerged, a cloud of steam billowing out behind her. She hadn't realized the door hadn't closed fully, and Spencer quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to... I thought I closed the door."

"It's... it's fine. I didn't see anything." Spencer stumbled over his words, his hand instinctively reaching for the back of his neck.

Evelyn was now dressed in a tiny pair of pajamas, the fabric light and airy against her skin. It left nothing to the imagination, the shorts riding up with every step, her generous curves filling out all the right places, the outline of her nipples evident despite the heat.

"Well, I guess this is the one way to beat the heat, huh? These PJs are practically made of air." Evelyn joked as she ran a brush through her wet hair.

Spencer managed a nervous chuckle, his eyes darting anywhere but at Evelyn. "Yeah, the heat... it's definitely something."

Evelyn made her way across the room, tossing her hair into a loose ponytail, attempting to gain some relief off her neck. Her frame stopped at her bag, reaching down to neatly shove her clothes back in the duffel.

Spencer the flames rise to his cheeks as he attempted to keep his focus glued to the files before him. It took everything in him to not ogle the woman who stood in practically nothing and eventually his resolve didn't hold. He started at her ankles, rising slowly over her legs, taking his time, drinking her in. His eyes halted at the soft curve of her ass, God, he'd never seen an ass like that.

He cursed himself for thinking like that, for imagining his coworker, much younger coworker at that, in such a way. He felt like a pervert, imagining her in compromising positions, her hands braced against the dresser, his chest flush against her back.

Evelyn turned back towards the bed and Spencer covered his state with a clearing of his throat. She made her way to the bed, letting her bare legs slip under the comforter.

"Did you know," Spencer began, adjusting his glasses, "that the body is bioluminescent? We usually emit a small amount of light, but it's a thousand times weaker than the human eye can perceive."

"Well, if we start glowing any brighter, we might just save on the electricity bill," Evelyn quipped, a smirk playing on her lips as she tucked herself under the comforter. Her gaze lingering on his. 

Spencer glanced at Evelyn, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "Actually, the human body could power a small light bulb with the energy it emits," he said.

Evelyn's laughter bubbled up uncontrollably at his response. She leaned in, tucking her head against his shoulder. Spencer's initial reaction was a slight stiffening, the unfamiliarity of the contact sending a jolt through him, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Evelyn settled into the bed, her body relaxing as she nestled her head into the soft pillow. Spencer, meanwhile, rose to dim the lights, leaving only the lamp beside him to cast a gentle glow across the room. He then rejoined her, sitting upright with the case files spread before him, his mind still entrenched in the details.

"Spence, it's late," Evelyn murmured, her voice tinged with concern. "You can go over that in the morning. You need rest."

He glanced at her, the faintest hint of a weary smile on his lips. "The mind has a remarkable capacity for nocturnal problem-solving," he replied, his gaze returning to the papers.

Evelyn sighed softly. "So, where do we go from here then?" she asked, shifting to face him.

"We keep interrogating him," Spencer explained, "we'll use the profile, find the leverage points and get inside his head. It's only a matter of time."

As he spoke, Evelyn's leg accidentally brushed against his. A flush of warmth spread across her cheeks, but Spencer seemed unfazed, his focus unbroken as he continued detailing their strategy.

Evelyn felt her eyes drift closed, the steady hum of his voice washing over her. The file slipped from Spencer's fingers as his eyes followed Evelyn's movement, the sheets rustling as she pulled them around her, hair falling against her neck, the tips tickling the exposed flesh.

He was suddenly very aware of how close she was, his thoughts turning from the case, his mind solely on her.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she burrowed deeper into the blankets, the soft light framing her face, her long lashes fluttering. He let his gaze roam over her, his heart stuttering as her legs brushed his again. His heart beat a rapid rhythm in his chest, his hands fisting the sheets as his body responded to the contact.

He reached over to the lamp, flicking it off as he let the darkness envelop them both. 

--

The night had deepened into its quietest hours. Spencer's eyes fluttered open to a soft sound, a distant echo that seemed out of place in the stillness. As his senses sharpened, he became acutely aware of the warmth against him, the gentle rise and fall of Evelyn's breathing. At some point during the night, they had gravitated towards each other, his hands planted firmly against her back and ass. 

He quickly redacted his touch, palming through his hair as he made out the peaceful expression on her face. Her features softened in her sleep, her lips parted slightly, her arm rested on the pillow next to this, hand splayed open. 

"Spencer," Evelyn whispered. 

Spencer's gaze widened; she was still asleep. Compelled by a force he couldn't name, his hand sought hers, fingers intertwining with a gentleness that belied his racing heart.

Evelyn's moan drifted into the silence. The sound sending an unexpected pleasure through him. His hold on her involuntarily tightened. His eyes darted back to her, breath lodged in his throat, as he became acutely aware of the peaks of her breasts poking through her top. 

Once more, she stirred, her breasts drawing close, her back arching ever so slightly. She was having a sex dream, he realized. Her leg swept across the sheets, sending a soft graze of her knee against his. He sucked in a breath as he felt the familiar surge of arousal, his cock hardening as his name fell from her lips again.

A hushed moan parted her lips once more as she shifted relentlessly, writhing softly. Finally settling her ass firmly in the nook of his front. Spencer exhaled a shaky breath, his hands gravitating to her hips with an urgency that betrayed him, fingers pressing into the fabric of her shorts in an attempt to still her movements.

This was wrong, he thought to himself, willing rational thought to take over. It felt like a betrayal to even entertain the thought, a silent war waged in the recesses of his mind. She laid before him, not just a coworker but a friend, one at least seven years his junior. And yet, the blood rushing to his cock and Evelyn's parted lips calling his name seemed to cut his IQ in half. A fog descending over his reason.

 A wave of desperation guided his free hand up the delicate curve of her neck, entwining with the curls at her nape, pulling her closer into his chest. Evelyn's eyelids lifted slowly, a drowsy haze giving way to clarity as she registered the hold. The reality of their closeness, the arousal coursing through her, and the slickness between her thighs washed over her. 

Her voice was a soft tremor in the stillness, "Spence," she whispered, her voice tinged with uncertainty, now fully awake.  

"Seems like you were having a bad dream, Evelyn," Spencer murmured, his fingers gently coaxing her hair, drawing her into the warmth of his breath, his lips hovering close, "the mind has a peculiar way of weaving narratives when we're most vulnerable."

A wave of warmth surged to her cheeks, the dream's vivid memories flooding her senses, each one starring him. She found herself momentarily breathless as her body instinctively softened against his. Her thighs clenching, seeking to soothe the deepening ache that thrummed through her every heartbeat.

Words deserted her, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind as his fingers sketched a path along her hip, coming to a deliberate pause on the tender skin of her inner thigh, tantalizingly close to where she needed him to be. Her hand swept back in a natural arc, fingers threading through his hair, securing a tender hold as his lips brushed softly against the crease of her neck.

His fingers danced along the canvas of her thighs, igniting a yearning within her that propelled her body against his, driven by a fervent desire to diminish the space between them. Her panties were reduced to a soaking mess. 

His fingers danced on her wrist, her body pushing into his in a desperate attempt to be closer. 

"Tell me to stop." His plea unfurled in the hush, raspy and laden with sleep, as if each word was a desperate clawing against the silence. "Tell me to stop, Evelyn, because I think if I don't now, I'll never be able to."

"Spencer, please," came Evelyn's soft murmur, not even sure what she was asking for. 

Her fingers curled tighter into the soft rebellion of his hair as she pivoted to face him, her gaze delving into his, drinking in the sight, absorbing every line, every contour. His eyes, wide and ravenous, betrayed a longing as palpable as the hands that ached to trace her every curve.

Her soft utterance was all the invitation he needed; his hands framed her face like a cherished verse, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both reckless and rooted in need. His fingers made its way between them, as he flipped her onto her back, his body towering over hers. Evelyn gasped into his mouth as his fingers drew delicate circles on her clit, her body instinctively rising in an arch to meld with his. 

"God, you're so fucking wet, Evelyn." His obscene words only seemed to amplify the problem, prompting her thighs to clench together, but his hands prevented her from doing so. A moan was her only response, her hands reaching out to desperately cling to him, distrustful of her ability to speak. 

"You want me to make you feel good?" He questions, his fingers teasing Evelyn's entrance, tracing up and down her slit. Evelyn's nod was fraught with urgency, her head tilting back, surrendering to the softness of the pillow. Her fingers twisted into the sheets, gripping them tightly. "I know, princess."

His fingers plunged into her wetness, her moan coming out as a sob of relief. Her hands found their way around his neck as her hips grinded against the palm of his hand. A ghost of a smirk played on Spencer's lips at the reaction. His lips found her neck, settling at the sensitive flesh behind her ear. 

His pace increased. As she threaded her fingers through Spencer's hair, it only spurred him on, his movements relentless.  Her mind was blank, every thought eclipse of his face. Evelyn tried to speak, to say what? She wasn't sure. All that came were breathless moans.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart," Spencer's praise traveled all the way to her pussy, clenching around his fingers as he spoke, "look at you, you're such a mess princess."

The familiar coil of anticipation tightened in Evelyn's core, her breaths growing labored as she grasped at Spencer, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Spencer, I--"

He silenced her with a decisive motion, his hands tracing the contours of her face as he pressed his lips to hers hard. Her sobs melted into the kiss as she writhed beneath him. "I know. Go ahead, let go for me."

His words were all she needed, her body convulsing suddenly as pleasure washed over her. Her eyes, brimming with the shimmer of tears, sought out Spencer's face. Her thumb finding his bottom lip as she grinded her body against his. A Chesire grin spread across his face, leisurely and content, as he eased his pace, letting her ride out her high. 

Her eyes fluttered as she tried to recover, her mind a haze of disorientation. Her fingers danced lightly across his face and neck, exploring to warmth of his skin. With a gentle press of his lips to each cheek, he drew out a smile from Evelyn, dazed and luminous, her chest rising and falling. She had never felt so euphoric.

Her hands immediately flew to his pajama pants, dancing along the line of his boxers, drawing him closer, as her lips found his. A soft chuckle escaped him as he seized her wandering hands, halting their advance with a gentle firmness. 

"Spencer," she uttered with a pout, her gaze intensifying as if to memorize his every feature, "let me return the favor."

"Can't let you do that, sweetheart," he protested with a smile. "If I did, I will never focus on another thing again. Remember, my eidetic memory would replay that moment with relentless precision every hour," he paused, planting a kiss on her temple, "every minute," another to her nose, "every second," and finally, a lingering kiss to her lips.

next

taglist: @nonamevenus @aceofspades190

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x oc #aaron hotchner x oc #spencer red fic #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #Spotify

[localapparently]

i love kimcom so much.. i love them so much..

theyre so..!! honestly if i think about them too much i'll cry.. and I'm rereading a few bits of dark castle to compare the novel and the webtoon and gosh, sleepyc and team's art really allows kimcoms interactions to feel more alive and goofy, silly even,,

epilogue spoilers ahead near the end

and novel's narration are like the gaps to fill in, both sides elevate the story,, i sound like a food critic but like. oh my goodness you read the part where kdj reunites with sys in dark castle after his revival and youre so taken by how sweet and cute it is. and then you read novel and..!!

I wouldn't have been able to run straight here if it wasn't for this feeling. I saw Shin Yoosung crying and thought that parents probably felt like this.

GOODBYEEEE I AM SO DEADDDD LIKE OH MY GOD YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME???

and webtoon chooses to let kdj maintain the same composure he had when he talked to jihye after saving her just moments prior,, and it works because now i read his inner thoughts in novel and I FEEL SO INSANE?!?!?! YOU BITCHHH SAY IT SAY YOU MISS HER?? no wait .. im getting off topic. this is becoming a kdj sys ramble

Honestly even though i call them found family I don't really classify them as a family either, they feel more like a home? at least at the first half of the story.. In an apocalypse where everything feels uncertain and you've lost all your close friends, you'd end up wandering aimlessly, so sticking to a group is moreso a temporary means of survival than friendship of any sort. It's also why kdj is so essential to kimcom as their glue, as the person who gathered them together, he provided them with that temporary party. and having that 'constant' you can return and realign to in that setting is so.. augh...

not to mention that three of the kimcom members are kids and kdj is their form of stability. lgy and sys hug him whenever they see him because he's the first adult that had ever shown them care. jihye is probably shaken from the first scenario but while she clings to yjh and admires him as her master, he probably doesnt do enough to reciprocate her respect or communicate as enthusiastically. now that i think about it, jihye feels kind of lonely, not young enough to get along with the kids particularly closely and not old enough to be buddies with the adults. does she make up for it by being talkative?)

And at this point in the story its evident that theyre not even that close !! singshong's writing style isnt one that elaborates on emotions and descriptive fluff to begin with, but sys is stated to not be so fond of jihye in ch162 because jihye was rude to kdj, they still feel like theyre in their own cliques. sys and lgy stick together as kids of similar ages, jhw and lhs get along normally, hsy is. hsy. lhs for one narrates kimcom as his 'companions' quite early on, but i'm unsure whether that choice is becuase thats just a suitable word for people closer than 'allies' but not close enough to be 'friends'. ultimately its just a buncha people who are trying to survive, and care about the guy that brought them tgt. it doesnt really feel like anything more than that.

and then as you're caught up in kdj's shenanigans, small snippets pass by and they feel a bit warmer yk. like sys and lgy having a coin flip whenever they're uneasy. (sys states that lgy has "done this before", like he's the one that has suggested the past coin flip(s). it feels like its implying that hes initiated this game system just to cheer up sys because shes a lot more transparent about feeling sad that kdj isnt there.) sooyoung of all people, willing to get an outer god contract to save sangah. jihye, hyunsung and seolhwa chilling in the room during proof of stars, and hyunsung was picking his nose like are you fr they are so unserious,.

in jttw arc ch 433, yoosung growing close enough to joonghyuk to not get intimidated by him and (forcefully (forcefully is a strong word but she straight up just puts it on his cheek unprompted and that is so funny of her)) apply seolhwa's ointment, even giggling when he allows her to do it after she brings up doctors orders.

after proof of stars, theres a portion that goes

The party members supported each other. (...) I saw the white lines connecting the empty universe. The stars, that seemed like they would never meet each other, were facing each other.

please know this: i wanted to cry and scream so bad. ive started to spell out kimcoms names rather than address them in their shortforms, that writing inconsistency is how emotional i am right now.

I can't do the justice of listing down every instance where they've grown a little closer, but i'm hoping to remember more on my second reread.

because orv is such a long novel, the way they gradually grow closer also feels realistic.. and by the time you're in the ch400s, its so clear that they wouldn't go anywhere else without each other.. if i start talking about vacation arc i'll just start sitting and staring at a wall again.

"you're explaining how an average found family trope is realised" Youre right!!! youre right!!,, me when the found family is actually found family.. don't shame me like this.. i'm just an emotional person..

Ah and then you get moments where their unity really shines, and they become god pummeling probability festering forces of nature... and its when one guy's life is in jeopardy. even when they weren't all that close yet, its when they save kdj where they feel most strong. and its a bit obvious because its like, common goal makes people group together yknow, but god the adrenaline and relief when they appeared in demon king selection.. the way their names pop up one after another when they vote for jung heewon's skill..

and 1865 !! 1865 was really the epitome of it all!! oh my god they were all so reluctant to return to the hell of the scenarios but they dragged themselves back because of one fucking guy that they loved too much. and i'm rereading 1865 a bit as i write this but the way they all yelled at their sponsors to pick them is so so funny and the whole speedrunning thing really shows their desperation to quickly find him but also feels a bit fun and even exhilirating with how theyd already beaten the game once, and they were going to storm through the whole thing again to reach kim dokja. like a fuckin earthquake. the lines in ch 536

They had to be insane. (...) These people who lost their minds were clearing the scenarios with insane methods.

YEAHHH THATS MY FUCKING KIMCOM WOOOH OH MY GODD THEYRE SO INSANE!!!!

kimcom's bond was strengthened because of their love for kim dokja, kimcom drifted so close because of how much they wanted to save kim dokja. whenever i think about the 'found family' trope between kimcom, it exists because they love kim dokja, and once again i'm reminded of how much that bastard is loved and how he denies that he is anything else but a reader outside the covers of the story.

It's not to say that all of kimcom's bonds were because of him, but it's clear that had it not been for him, they would have dissipated so much quicker.

agh. what was i talking about again..

genuinely i dont know if ive proven anything through this. i just had to talk about it. i havent even talked about the relationship between kdj and each kimcom member but then the post wouldnt end. sys's section would be thousands of words and i would even have a portion for gong pildu and jang hayoung..

i love kimcom. thats it thats the post.

#orv #3am rambles #dont give me access to tumblr past 2am you get shit like this #orv spoilers #kimcom #kdjc

[royalsweetteaa]

Good intent

Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x Homeless!reader

Chapter 3

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - This story contains the following: dark themes such as kidnapping, non-con/rape, brief mention of suicide, mutual masturbation, oral sex, obsessive behavior/possessive behavior/delusional behavior on Ransom’s part, cheating, Ransom being a creep in general, toxic relationship dynamic, Stockholm syndrome on reader’s part, abuse of power, classism, size kink, manipulation, angst, a bit of sad!Ransom, eventual fluff.

Summary: Ransom is going through a life crisis where he’s miserable and he wants to change things up to make his daily life more interesting. The change involves taking the freedom of someone who he deems is beneath societal suitability.

Ch. | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

2nd person POV

The following weeks were pretty much the same for you. Ransom would be at home with you through most of the day, excluding the hours when he had to buy groceries and necessities. You would stay at your room for a good fraction of time, but when you felt lonely you would leave and see what Ransom was up to from afar.

When you were too close to him, his eyes would wander down to your body and you knew he had lustful thoughts through the look of his eyes. He would take you at the most unexpected times and would have you pressed against the wall or on a counter to grind himself against you. It came apparent to you that he liked grabbing your breasts, squeezing them and twisting your nipples while hovering above you.

If he was really in the mood, he would make you slide your panties down so he could cum on them, - to then demand you to wear those for the rest of the day. The feeling of his sticky cum between your pussy and inner thighs made you cringe. You had more of a reason to look forward taking a shower when the evening came.

You did cry during a lot of his pouncing molestations, but you had recently gotten used to the routine. What Ransom was doing wasn’t the worst thing out there. You had heard of stories and cases of abductors keeping their victims in awful living conditions, having them tied up so that the abductor could do inhumane and violating acts against them. While it didn’t excuse Ransom’s way of manhandling you, it certainly made you feel a little bit better to think of worst case scenarios.

He had gifted you clothes, but you quickly learned his real intentions when you discovered they were rather suggestive. Your new underwear and bras were lacy and covered little. They were all of the colour white, and when Ransom first saw you in them, he had said the colour made you look pure and clean. You used to think he referred you as clean because of how you were able to shower now, and it was a way of him being derogatory over you being homeless, but you grew less sure of the meaning.

Ransom had also bought you oversized sweaters and sweatpants of his size. You didn’t know if he simply got off to you wearing something that was meant for someone like him or if it was because of easier access to take your clothes off. Maybe he was just being cheap and bought something he could easily take and wear himself. You didn’t know.

Nonetheless, your sweatpants barely held up because of how big they were, which made it easier for Ransom to just pull them down and have his way with you.

How had your life taken this drastic turn?

Today would break the streak of a routine you and Ransom had followed for almost 3 weeks now. He was leaving early in the evening for a family gathering at Harlan’s for the first time in ages, - according to him anyway.

You had learned that Ransom didn’t have the best relationship with his family either. He had told you as such when he compared the two of you one time during an intense session of fingerfucking you. You surprised yourself that you had managed to remember anything Ransom had said during it.

He put his coat and scarf on and left without saying goodbye. You were thankful he didn’t do anything before leaving. He seemed nervous, even though he tried his best to hide it. But you could tell.

You saw the way he would shuffle to spaces around the house without having any reason to be there. You concluded he was in a train of thought and was trying to gather them. You felt….bad for him.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you saw something in him that reminded you of all the times you headed home from school, mentally preparing yourself to be yelled at by your parents for nothing other than them releasing their frustration onto you.

6 hours went by and it was soon closing to midnight. You were on the sofa in the living room, watching a late night show as you snacked on potato chips. There were full stocks of them in the shelves.

Ransom had stocked up on cookies and salted goodies for you to eat when he was out. There was also frozen and canned food in the fridge but nothing fresh.

Ransom always ordered take out or bought frozen food that could easily be put in the oven and be done within an hour. It was good food and you never complained about it, but as your boredom grew, you missed cooking. Cooking always brought joy when you visited a friend and you would make your spaghetti with meatballs from scratch.

You kept in mind to ask ransom if he could buy ingredients so that you could cook something homemade for the two of you.

For the two of you.

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening and closing downstairs. You heard irregular footsteps coming up the stairs, and you were met by Ransom. The smell of alcohol made its way through your nostrils, and you knew then that he was drunk. Shit.

“Hey, kitten…enjoying the night without me?” He asked with a lazy voice. He almost tripped when passing the armchair, but he slowly made his way to you with a smirk.

“I’m just….watching some TV. I’ll be going to bed soon. You should go to bed too…” you suggested carefully.

He scoffed. “Nah, I’d rather be here with you, sweetheart. Nothing better than being with you….” He said with no shame, before he placed himself on the couch. You scooted away - a big mistake on your part.

He frowned. “Stop fucking….- moving away from me. It hurts…when you do that.” He muttered, before he laid down and placed his head on your lap, snuggling into you.

You were in shock. You had never seen Ransom in a state like this. One could almost say he was being vulnerable, but maybe it was the alcohol messing with his mind.

“I had the worst fuckin’ time ever….had the whole family screaming at me, like they always do. Telling me I’m a worthless piece of shit and how I don’t do anything worthwhile…..as if they are any better. They hog up my grandfather’s money just as much….I’m no worse of a fool, yet I get all the blame when they made me this way….I hate them so much.” He said with a shaky voice. “Had to get drunk to not have a full mental breakdown. Wasn’t the easiest, and probably not the safest to drive home but I had to…*hic*…get back to you. Couldn’t stay any longer away from you…”

You felt your sweatpants were getting moisture from where Ransom laid his head. You were confused, and so you moved your head just a little to get a better angle, and that’s when you saw it.

He was crying….

“Everyone hates me. Even you. I know you do. No matter how much I try to sugarcoat it, I know you despise me, but honestly, I’d rather have you hate me than not have you at all. I’m fucking done for if I let you walk away from me…”

You almost couldn’t believe it. Ransom had never expressed any vulnerable emotions other than anger, frustration, jealousy, lust and sometimes happiness, if you could call it that. Sadness and fear were never on the table before. Until now.

You should leave him to cry out his frustrations alone. Make him understand that there’s no use in finding comfort from you. That’s how one should normally respond to someone who has repeatedly violated one’s body.

But you don’t.You don’t have the heart to do it.

You carefully place your hand on his head, which made him shudder in surprise. You started to stroke his hair when he seemed to maintain calmness. He further nuzzled into you, wiping his tears with your sweater.

“Ransom…..” you started, before taking a deep breath. “I don’t….hate you. I don’t hate anyone.” You quickly specify. “If anything, I hate myself more because I can’t seem to put up a fight when….” You shook your head, regretting on saying anything at all. He didn’t care anyway, you thought.

He looked up at you, half smiling despite having bloodshot eyes. “You’re everything I could want..so forgiving and submissive…then there’s me who doesn’t regret taking you. I don’t regret anything I’ve done to you.” He said, before rising away from your lap. He took your hand and kissed it before looking at you with caring eyes.

“Does that make you angry, sweetheart? That I don’t regret touching you? I haven’t hurt you…I’ve been nice enough to make you cum whenever I wanted to get off with you. I’ve been nothing but nice….you just can’t seem to see that yet….“

Your eyes were burning from trying to hold yourself together. You wanted to cry so bad, but you didn’t want to show weakness anymore.

“You’re so dear to me….I think….…*hic*…if anything were to happen to you, or if I ever came home and you were gone, I’d just kill myself…” he said before leaning away and looking up at the ceiling.

Your stomach dropped and you felt sick. So many mixed emotions were contemplating from head to heart.

“You…you don’t mean that….you’re drunk Ransom…you said it yourself, I’m a nobody.”

Ransom chuckled at your doubting. “I’m an honest drunk, sweetheart… and I’m sure as hell going to regret saying all these things but it’s true…you may be a no one outside this house but you’re my whole new world, no matter how fucking cheesy it might sound. I…always thought you were the one who needed me but it was always the other way around. I realize that now.”

Your heart was beating at a pace you didn’t know was possible. Ransom turned to look at you and smiled. He patted the sofa for you to come closer to him, and you complied.

“Ransom…” you were about to ask what he was going to do, but he beat you to it. “Kiss me..” he mumbled. Before you could coherent his request, he attached his lips to yours. It was probably the most gentle kiss you two have ever shared. He held your hand and caressed it while his other hand moved to your thigh. “I need you, Y/N…” he mumbled in the kiss. He wasn’t hinting on any sexual desire this time but just pure passion.

“…I….I need you to give me a blowjob.” He whispered bluntly while stroking your knee.

You spoke too soon.

You were taken aback by his demand but not surprised. You had thought that Ransom would eventually demand to experiment more sexual deeds with you as time went by. He had been ‘kind’ enough to not engage in penetrative sex with you yet, but you knew his end goal was to do just that when the ‘right time’ came, whenever that would be. It scared you, but what was even more scarier was how the thought also gave you thrill.

“But you’re drunk Ransom…we can’t just-“

“I don’t care…I need you to to touch me this time. Suck my cock, kitten.”

Because it was less of a request and more of an order, you knew you had no choice. You sighed with defeat and nodded. “Okay.”

Ransom beamed. It was as if his smile alone was out of an achievement. It was as if to tell you ‘I won’. You hated yourself immensely at that moment.

He straightened his posture and spread his legs before looking at you. You took it as a cue to remove yourself from the couch and place yourself on the floor, slotting between his legs. He towered you from this angle.

“Go on, darling. Take my cock out like a good girl.” He taunted and licked his lips.

You looked down at his crotch area where you could see his bulge growing, and with shaky hands you reached out to undo his fly. You unzipped him and saw a few wet patches on his boxers. His cock was twitching under the restraints, almost begging to be released. You peeled off his boxers and were met by his hard red tipping cock. Your face has never been this close to it, and you were distracted by how pretty it was.

You felt your heart sink when you felt a sense of tingling - your pussy responding out of arousal at the mere sight of a cock. His cock.

Your hand wrapped carefully around his shaft, and you slowly began to pump him. His head leaned against the headrest of the sofa, letting out a sigh of relief. “There you go….fuck, I’ve been dreaming of having you on your knees for the longest time. I’ll never get this image out of my head….” He rasped.

You weren’t nearly as experienced as him, - you had figured as much, but he didn’t seem to mind. His hand stroked your hair, much like you were doing earlier.

“C’mon baby, use that pretty mouth now and suck. Want you drooling and making a sloppy mess around me.” He groaned.

You did as he said, and moved yourself closer to his cock. You gave the tip a few kitten licks before swallowing him in your mouth. His precum tasted bitter, but it wasn’t that bad. You circled your tongue around his mushroom head and gathered more spit to make it easier to take him. Your small hands wrapped around beneath where your mouth was working and you started stroking. He let out obscene moans all the while his grip around your head became rougher.

“Mmm Good girl, fuck…such a good girl for me…fucking addicted to you, baby. You’re my little slut, aren’t you? Mine to do as I please with….”

Yours thighs rubbed together as it gave your throbbing pussy some relief. The way Ransom spoke to you ignited something within you. It always had, but this time you couldn’t help but get off from only his words. His praise of your actions made you feel powerful. You liked this.

You looked up at him while forcing your throat to accept him, and you found him staring right back at you. He looked at you with absolute adoration.

“Look at you,…so pretty…you’re nothing like those whores I used to fuck…you’re so much more…” he said completely dazed out before he gripped your head and started forcing you to swallow him full.

“I’m gonna fucking cum….ah shit, you better not let any of my cum go to waste. F-fuck!~” he closed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Spurts of cum made its way to your mouth. You swallowed his spend, letting each load into your throat and down your stomach. You savored the taste, and he let go of your head so you could remove yourself and breathe. You coughed a little bit as it had been a while since you gave someone a blowjob, but you recovered quickly.

“Open your mouth..” he demanded. You opened your mouth, presenting that you had indeed swallowed everything he gave you. He smiled pleasantly. “Amazing…came faster than I usually do because you treated my dick so well..” he praised. “Want me to return the favor?” He asked with a raised eye brow.

You shook your head. “I’m tired right now, but…thanks.”

He smirked and nodded understandingly. “Come here. Let’s cuddle.”

He took you into his arms, but what you didn’t expect was to be carried. Carefully, he stumbled his way with you to his bedroom and placed you on his bed. He took off his sweater and trousers but left his boxers on. You sighed in relief as it was a huge indicator that he wouldn’t start anything. You were too tired, and he was too.

Ransom tucked you under the sheets and put it over himself as well before reaching into your touch. Your hand landed on his chest as you made yourself comfortable. Somehow, after everything that had happened, this gave you the peace you had longed for. You had forgotten yourself completely, not scared anymore of what Ransom had made you become. Ransom gave you a kiss on your temple and stroked your shoulder where his arm held around you.

“Goodnight, kitten.” He mumbled, before falling into a deep slumber.

You muttered ‘goodnight’ back, and everything went black.

You woke up the morning after, still in Ransom’s bed. Ransom wasn’t beside you anymore though. You turned to look around to find no one but yourself in the huge bedroom. His side of the bed was cold, which meant he must have left much earlier on. You sighed.

Disappointment. That was all you felt. You had lost the little dignity you had left and accepted the fact that you had grown attached to your captor. He had said he didn’t regret what he had done to you, and while it did hurt you at the moment, it had seemed he was trying to tell you he did it out of adoration for you. He wasn’t mocking you over his non-existent guilt, but rather insinuating it was with a purpose. A purpose to connect the two of you in a way he only knew how to connect.

His vulnerability yesterday made you see Ransom from a different perspective. One of a lonely and unloved rich man who took you to fill his void. You being that person to a demanding and defensive man such as Ransom made you feel somewhat special.

You hated yourself for it. You truly did. But why resist it? The feeling you were slowly getting attracted to made you feel like you could stay here and not hate it. Why push away the man who seemed to care so much about you, to the point where he would place your pleasure first before his?

You recalled the times he would touch you and feel you without thinking of touching himself. He said he knew your body too well to know it craved him. The more you thought about it, the more you concluded he was right all along. Your mind and heart was slowly abiding to your body’s cravings.

You were becoming one with your body.

Leaving the bed, you walked over to your room and had a mission of your own to look presentable. You took a shower and used the vanilla fragranced soap.It reminded you of him, so you wanted to embrace it.

You put on a new lingerie Ransom had gifted you, and put on a comfy sweater. No sweatpants this time.

When you were done, you looked around the house. You assumed Ransom went to the store because he was nowhere to be found. You wrapped your arms around your shoulder, suddenly feeling very alone.

You were scared.

You have been alone for a long time ever since you had to move out and lay in the streets. You were getting used to it, and then he came along and showered you with attention. Showed you affection like none other. You hadn’t been in a serious relationship ever, and you didn’t know the implications of it. You wondered if that made it all the more easier for you to like Ransom since you couldn’t compare previous relationships. It made you feel pathetic the more you thought about it.

You returned to Ransom’s bed and decided to curl yourself in the sheets. They smelled like him, and it made you feel flushed. You inhaled the smell once more, instinctively bucking your hips. God, you wanted him so bad.

His face. His body. His words. His smell. His taste.

You had grown addicted, you had realized. He made you drown in lust, becoming like a dog in heat. You didn’t realize you were humping against his sheets, desperate to get off. You wanted him to touch you like he had done for weeks. To take control and satisfy your body and make your head go numb from thoughts. You longed for him to tell you that he would take care of you, like your parents never did. Like your life never has.

“Oh, Ransom…” you moaned. You put his pillow underneath you and started humping it. Your hips rolled against it as you sought after the friction only Ransom could provide. It didn’t feel the same, but it still felt good. You cried out his name over and over like a chant, and when you came, you collapsed onto his bed.

A few moments later and your head was cleared from the lustful bliss. You started to cry. You were so conflicted over your feelings, and the memories of the time when you were scared of Ransom reminded you how drastically your mentality has changed.

I’m not a victim anymore. I’m just his. You thought.

Ransom didn’t return for the entire day. You had cleaned up the house, watched some TV and finished an entire book. You also put on a frozen pizza, but you had to use a regular utensil knife to cut it which was hard. Ransom had a lock on the cabinet with all the sharp objects such as kitchen knives, and oddly enough the pizza cutter. You recalled he said something about ‘refraining you from purposefully hurting yourself’ when you asked about it.

You left a few pieces for him, trying to present it nicely on the plate by the kitchen table. You were a bit nervous about Ransom’s absence, but you figured there had to be a reason for it.

Maybe he had to turn up for a family emergency. It had to be important if he had to be gone for so long.

You were in his bedroom once again, and it was around 12:00 PM you heard the upstairs floor door open up. There was silence, until you heard Ransom curse. By his stern sounding steps, he must be upset, you assumed. You heard him undress and hang his jacket on the hanger before his steps closed in to where you were.

He was just about to take off his scarf until his eyes met upon yours. He looked stunned to see you there, your upper body resting against the headboard while your legs were draped in his sheets.

His face scrunched. “The fuck are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your room?” Ransom snapped.

You were stiffened by his outburst. You didn’t expect that to be the first thing he would say after being gone for so long. “I-I just thought that…- I have been waiting for you.”

“Well I don’t want you around right now, so you can get the fuck out and go to your room where you always are. I don’t need you.”

Your heart shattered by his harsh words. How could you be so foolish?

You immediately put the book on his nightstand and rushed outside while hugging yourself.

He had sweet talked you while drunk all afternoon yesterday, and not even 24 hours later he treats you like shit. He used to play with your body and now he was playing with your feelings. What more could he want? Was he really expecting you to live like this?

Ransom’s POV

I regretted my words as soon as she left my room and ran into hers. I always had to fuck up the good things in my life, and she was no exception.

I had woken up early today to find her curled up into my chest. The morning hangover messed my head up so bad, I couldn’t appreciate the moment. Though I should have. I eventually remembered the night before, when I was heavily drunk and I let my mouth running. I talked about things I shouldn’t have said. Hell, I even remember admitting to myself that I would regret opening my mouth when I was sober again. I had fucked myself over by telling the truth I refuse to accept being fundamental.

I decided to leave and meet my grandfather - Harlan, who wanted to speak with me. We had a serious conversation where he shared his concerns about my future and place in this family. I grew angry when he mentioned he was thinking of cutting me off of the will for the sake of me getting a ‘wake up call’. I told him I had a lot to take care of at the moment which was none of his concern. He asked me if I have been gambling or was in debt, to which I said no - the rightful truth. I had no plans on telling him I had a woman at home who I was providing. She was my dirty little secret, and the word would spread some way or another if I told Harlan. The last thing I wanted was to have my family involved in my personal life.

I left Harlan, even more frustrated than before I met him. Deciding to not drive home just yet, I parked at the bar and let my temptations get the better of me. I took a shot of scotch, and eyed the drug dealer who always sat at the corner where he was barely noticed by other people. I payed him for 7 grams of marijuana, and consumed a fraction of it.

“Oh, hey Rannie!” A woman’s voice came from behind me. I turned to be met by a redhead I couldn’t remember the name of, but I remembered I had hooked up with her 2 months ago. “Long time no see! Have you missed me, daddy?”

The marijuana was taking effect on my body, the dopamine turning my mood into one that felt good. It also made me horny. Very horny.

“Let me fuck your cunt and I’ll give you an answer.”

I regret it. I regret it so bad. I thought I had bypassed my old habits but they were coming back. I felt so empty after the marijuana got out of my system, and now I was taking it over Y/N, who was finally giving me what I want. Herself.

I need her.

I need her. I need her. I need her.

I couldn’t deny it anymore. My yesterday’s drunken self was right.

An hour passed by since she left to her room. The door was unlocked because there were no locks there to begin with, but I wanted to give her space until I couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

I opened her door quietly, finding her on the floor, leaning against the bed. She sat in a fetal position with her legs close to her chest as her arms wrapped around them, her head laying low. I couldn’t see her face. I knew she knew I was in her presence, but she was refusing to look at me.

After a few moments of silence, I opened my mouth to speak, thinking cautiously of what I should say.

“Darling….I’m…” I wasn’t used to apologizing, and even now when I was desperate for her forgiveness, I couldn’t bring myself to say that one word. The word I wasn’t taught to ever use.

“Shut up!” She snapped. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Shhh, don’t shout-!” I tried to coo, but I was quickly interrupted. “Stop hushing me and telling me what to do! You’re terrible, Hugh! One day you’re being a decent person, and another day a cruel man. And I hate it! I hate what you have done to me! I hate myself for how I’m not able to fight back! I hate you!”

I stiffened. I had heard those words aimed at me by my own family so many times, yet I felt my heart sink when she said those very same words.

“No you don’t…you said it yourself, you could never hate me-!” “And you said I’m your whole new world, but I guess we just say things we don’t mean!” She interrupted once again.

“I have been feeling sick all day because I’m feeling things I shouldn’t feel! I haven’t tried to escape since I came here because I can’t fight you! You make me vulnerable and now I’m growing attached to you when a normal fucking person should never feel that way towards someone who has constantly violated them! A-And then you said all these wonderful things of how you need me yesterday - something a lover would say, and that stole my heart, but now you decide to say you don’t need me after all of this?! Why am I even here? W-What is even my purpose if I’m not supposed to be with you the whole time?!” Her voice cracked in the midst of her break down.

For once, I really did feel like a horrible person as she described it. She was pouring her feelings and admitting that she has grown attached to me, and it made me hate myself for ever opening my mouth.

“You were out somewhere doing stuff too, weren’t you? I can smell alcohol from your breath and cheap perfume coming from your sweater. Tell me, did you have a good time? Does it feel empowering knowing you can do and get about anything outside of your house and have your plaything waiting for you at home? I’m like the cherry on top of your sundae, am I right? That’s all I am. That’s what you’ve made me become. And I fucking hate you for it.”

My face turned from sorrow to anger at her accusations. “That’s not true! Don’t put words into my fucking mouth, kitten. I made a mistake, one I will regret for the rest of my life but that gives you no right to assume what you are to me! You belong here, with me. We were made for each other, Y/N, you just need to see it my way.” I defended.

You shook your head and ducked your head between your arms again. “There’s nothing to see. There’s no ‘your way’ that could possibly make this any less wrong… admit it, you’re just fucked up.”

Usually I wouldn’t let that kind of insult slip, but for once, it felt deserved. “That makes the two of us, doesn’t it? I may be messed up in my head but it’s because of you, and no one else. Just like I’ve been able to make you grow fond of me despite how ‘unethical’ my actions have been. We are both fucked up and that’s what makes us so compelling, along with our differences. You need me just as much as I need you. I’m admitting it while I’m sober.I wasn’t thinking earlier, alright?I’m truly done with life if you aren’t by my side.So please…forgive me.”

I carefully held her by the waist and pressed her against my chest, caressing her body into my own. She hit me on the chest with her fist which made me grunt, but I could easily take hits if it meant she would give into my touch.

Usually when she was in a similar state, I would respond with sex as my way of showing comfort. But this was different. I had broken her and I had to get out of my comfort zone by having to use my words to put the broken pieces back together. It seemed to work, and she even stopped crying.

Second person POV

Your closed fist loosened up soon after, and you placed it around his neck to move closer to him. You were so helpless at the moment, but Ransom made that feeling go away. He gave your back gentle strokes and kissed your shoulder.

You had seen a few movies to know this was just like how couples for life acted. Together so close in a time where it was most needed. In a time where everything hurt. He had caused you so much pain, and just like that, you were healing in his arms.

“I’m sick, Ransom…I think there’s something seriously wrong with me to be enjoying this. I should go to a therapist…and you should too.”

He chuckled at your last statement. “There’s nothing wrong, baby…nothing wrong with loving me.” He said. “I promise you, I’ll never say what I said earlier ever again. I’ll always be with you and give everything you desire. Tell me, kitten, what do you want?”

You sniffled and pondered for a moment before coming with the perfect idea. “I want to bake a pie.”

The next day would mark the second night in a row where you slept in one bed together, but this time, you found yourselves tangled to each other in your bed. It was smaller, but Ransom liked how it made him dependent on holding you so close to him, or else he would fall off the edge.

He woke up early that day, and after admiring your sleeping form for what felt like hours, he left the bed and dressed up to leave to the store. You requested the day prior on baking a pie for lunch, and you had made a list of the ingredients needed to make it. He was going to get all the things before you wake up.

Ransom eagerly drove downtown to the store, strolling through all the isles to find every single ingredient. He wasn’t used to buying ingredients as he has never bothered to cook his own meals from scratch, so it took a while for him to claim the items and check off the list.

When he drove out and cruised through the quiet streets, his eye caught a police car, where in the pavement stood two police officers talking to one of the rich old hags with their small demon dogs in their handbags. He turned his head to the road again, and that’s when he suddenly realized which street he was currently driving in.

It was the street of which he had taken you.

Fuck. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tried to maintain the same according speed. The least thing he would want to do now is to catch anyone’s attention. Let alone the police.

Maybe it’s a coincidence, but regardless, I can’t keep my guard low, Ransom thought.

When he stepped out of his car and made his way to the house, he couldn’t help but be shaken. It haunted him immensely to think he could be caught for taking you, and worst of all - have you taken away from him.

At this point, he was considering moving location to ensure the police would never find her. He was thinking of asking Y/N if she gave her location to the shelter before he took her, but he concluded it would be bad for her to know someone was looking for her at all. They were at a stage where they were only now going past being two strangers to lovers from both sides. At least Ransom liked to think you saw him as his lover by now, but it didn’t matter. They were to be whatever he wanted to label them as.

He entered the house with the groceries and walked over to your room to greet you. You were still sleeping and burying your face in Ransom’s sheets. He found it so endearing and he couldn’t help but take a picture.

Ransom then walked over to you and sat at the edge of the bed. The sudden dipping of the bed made your face scrunch in confusion and you squinted your eyes open.

“Morning, kitten.” Ransom greeted. You smiled and returned the greeting while stretching your body.

He held up the bag of groceries. “Bought the stuff you needed.”

“Oh, thank you.” You beamed. Ransom hummed in content. He wasn’t used to being thanked for doing simple things, but it was nice. So nice that each time you thanked him, he felt warm and fuzzy inside.

As he was standing up to move the groceries to the kitchen, his gaze caught up on your sudden nervous composure.

“Um, Ransom?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh, was wondering if you can-……nevermind.” Your head looked to the side bashfully.

Ransom frowned at your retorting of words, but when his eyes scanned to read your body language, he saw.

Your hands were resting on your thighs as you wriggled and rubbed your thighs together. You were biting your lip and looking rather suggestive.

Oh. He knew what you wanted. It was clear as day now. And he was going to give it regardless, but only if you told him first. He wanted to hear it.

“Oh no, no, no. Don’t shy away now. Tell me, darling. What do you want me to do?”

He could see the hesitation in your eyes, but he knew at any moment you wouldn’t hold back anymore. “I-I want you to….I need you to touch me..” you said, your last words of the sentence barely audible, but he heard it. He grinned with amusement.

“Good girl.”

Ransom joined you in bed, reached out and lifted up your sweater. He was revealed with the lingerie he had recently bought you. It made his mouth water at the sight of the garment hugging your body tight like this.

“You dressed up yesterday for me, didn’t you? And I was foolish enough to deny you when you look so fucking sexy. I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart. I promise…”

He hunched over and peppered you with kisses. First he kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your nose. And finally, your mouth. You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to have him inch any further away from you. His hands were all over you, making you melt. You have missed this so much.

“Let’s make the both of us feel real good, baby…I’ll touch you while you touch me, okay?” Ransom suggested seductively.

You nodded feverishly and watched him undress. His cock was already hard when it sprung out of his boxers, but he kept his blue sweater on which made you pout. Ransom picked up on that and snickered.

“I know, darling. I know how bad you want to see my built chest, but m’still kinda cold from being out. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” He cooed.

You sighed. “Okay…”

“Besides, you won’t be clinging onto my chest this time. We’re going to play with each other while we sit comfortably on this bed. Remove your underwear and come to me, kitten…” he said and patted on the free spot beside him.

You removed your underwear eagerly and crawled over to him. “Aww, look at you…crawling like a little kitten to me. I’ll buy you a couple of cat ears. Bet you’d look adorable with them.” Ransom teased.

You shook your head, hiding your grin as you felt excitement. He gestured you to spread your legs while you sat towards each other, and he reached out to touch your glistening heat.

“Pretty little pussy’s dripping….it’s been a while since I treated her good…poor little thing….”

You exhaled and shut your eyes as Ransom’s fingers rubbed your cunt gently as a warm up. “I-It’s only been two days..”

“Hmm, too long if you ask me…” He inserted a finger just then which made your legs tremble. You bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to hold in your moans.

“Hmm…does that feel good, kitten? You love it when I touch you, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head and whispered a ‘yes’.

“I love it when you touch me too…give my cock some attention, will you? I need your soft hands so bad…”

Your hand reached weakly around his cock, and Ransom let out a deep sigh as he was finally receiving the relief he so badly needed. He thought of how the two of you could have easily done this prior if he wasn’t an idiot yesterday.

You stroked him with weak hands but soon enough gripped him firmly to give him satisfying relief. His head dipped slightly upwards as he concentrated to maintain focus on pleasuring you.

“Good girl….fuck!…that’s it…” he moaned.

You pleasured each other, touching each other’s weak spots. Ransom was working on edging you by rubbing your clit before moving back to your folds right before you reached your climax.

“…stop teasing me, I wanna cum…” you whined.

“Hmm you’ll have to convince me a little more than that, darling.” Ransom challenged.

“…Please, I need it so bad… I-I’ll swallow your cum if you stop teasing me.” you bargained.

Ransom hummed in delight of your offer. “Oh, I like the idea of that, sweetheart. I’ve turned you into my little cumslut, haven’t I?” He started to rub your sensitive pearl harshly, making let go of his dick and reached your high of your orgasm.

“Mhm! Yes!! I’m your cumslut, Ransom! O-Only for you!“ you babbled as you became cross eyed from the overstimulation. You creamed just then, making Ransom’s fingers become coated with your juices.

“There you go, kitten. Cumming like the good girl you are. Atta girl.” Ransom cooed as you mewled.

“Mmm, thank yousir…”

His cock throbbed when he heard you calling him that. It was the first time you have ever uttered something of the sort, and he hadn’t ever suggested you to use that title. It made him grow lustful as he stroked his cock, wanting to cum so bad and make you swallow his load. You were now laying on thin ice in Ransom’s book.

“Ah, so I’m sir now, baby? Is that who I am? You better show how good that tongue is right now if you know what’s good for you. Come here.”

You complied right away, crawling over to his lap and before taking him in your mouth. The salty precum which coated his whole cock pleased you taste buds. You lewdly hummed around him, sending vibrations to his spine and quickly pushing him on the edge of his orgasm.

“Aaah! Fucking hell!…” Ransom moaned, closing his eyes so tight it almost hurt as he let himself release in your mouth. He could hear you gulping his spend down your throat. Once he opened them, he saw you holding your hand under your chin as trickles of cum dripped.

“S-Sorry, I….couldn’t swallow it all….”

He grinned, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “You did good, darling. You’re dirtier than I thought. I love it.”

Your cheeks flushed at his touch, and you were overjoyed with his praises. You pounced on him which made him grunt in surprise. For a millisecond he thought you were attacking him.

But no, you were nuzzling your head onto his soft sweater. If he wasn’t mistaken, he felt almost nervous from your sudden affectionate gesture, something he wasn’t used to getting. It made him think back on when you were stroking his hair as he laid on your lap. Something you had done without him demanding you to do.

His chest was pounding from the tight feeling and he gulped subconsciously.

Is this love?

Because if it was, he hated it. Okay, maybe hate was an exaggeration. It made him feel weak, but your comfort and touch made it all worth it. He returned the gesture of stroking your hair as he leaned to breathe in the smell of vanilla lotion that still lingered in you. He could get used to this.

What ruined the moment was when he panicked of thinking you were listening to his rapidly beating heart, and he immediately pulled away to look at you. You looked confused, but Ransom covered his panic with an assuring smile.

“How about we make that pie?”

Note from author: Stockholm syndrome took off in this chapter and I’m not sorry for that lmaoo.

Hearts & Reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #chris evans #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fic #dark fic

[bellaireland1981]

Starting Over | 10

Summary: You come home to work to find your husband of three years in bed with your supposed best friend. It’s the wake up call you finally needed to take your two year old daughter and get the hell out of Texas. With nowhere to go you head to your big brother in San Diego. The Dagger squad takes you under their wings, and shows you what having a family means. You get a fresh start… will you find your happily ever after?

Characters: Jake “hangman” Seresin x Sister! Reader, Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Seresin! Reader (Eventually), Hangman x Phoenix , Adorable OC Gracie!   The Dagger squad

Word Count: 8658

Warnings: Angst, fighting, cheating husband, emotional abuse, eventual fluff, SMUT, Sweet uncle Jake, Adorable Rooster with a toddler… if I miss any please let me know. MINORS DNI

A/N: I don’t own the characters or storyline for Top Gun Maverick. All OC’s are mine. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO COPY OR REPOST MY WORK TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM! DON’T STEAL! Reblogs, likes and comments ALWAYS welcomed. THANK YOU @waywardodysseys​ and  @beyondthesefourwalls​ as always for reading over my work and helping me flush out ideas!!

Taglist is open! If I missed anyone who asked to be tagged, please fill out this GOOGLE FORM  to be added. It’s getting to hard to keep track of asks.

CH 1  CH 2  CH 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6  Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9

Sunday morning you slipped out of bed, pulling on one of Bradley’s t-shirts and quietly making your way down to the kitchen. You decided to treat him to a full breakfast, letting him sleep in while you cooked. You looked in cabinets, finding what you needed to make him some pancakes from scratch, then opened the fridge to find eggs and bacon to go along with the pancakes. You selected a playlist on your phone, setting it on the counter out of the way and got to work cooking.

You were flipping pancakes, swaying to the music when Bradley wandered into the kitchen a little while later. He stood in the doorway watching you with a smile on his face before making his way over to slip his arms around you from behind and burying his face in your neck.

“Morning, Sweetheart.” He said quietly, before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, then neck, before moving to your ear and finally your lips when you turned your face towards him smiling.

“I was trying to let you sleep in.” You told him, “Did the music wake you up?”

“No, I got lonely.” He pouted, “My beautiful love wasn’t next to me when I woke up and I got sad.”

“Aw, my poor baby Roo.” You cooed playfully, setting the spatula down and turning in his arms to wrap your own around his neck, “Come here.” You pulled him down and kissed him, your fingers slipping into his hair, loving the soft feel.

“I was looking forward to no more lonely mornings now that this is your home too.” He teased, “Only to wake up to no girlfriend by my side.”

“I promise to make it up to you.” You promised, kissing him again before turning back to the pancakes, “Grab plates though, your breakfast is almost done. I wanted to spoil my boyfriend with a nice breakfast this morning.”

“Your boyfriend greatly appreciates his girlfriend making him breakfast.” He said, kissing your cheek before doing as you asked and grabbing the plates.

“How about we eat then shower together before we go tell Gracie the good news?” You suggested.

“That sounds perfect, Sweetheart.” He agreed. “Jake and I are fully committed to taking her to Disneyland as well to soften the blow that we can’t all live in one giant castle.”

“I think the two of you just want a reason to go to Disneyland and you’re using our daughter to do so.” You laughed, turning off the stove after plating the last of the pancakes. You pulled the eggs and bacon from the oven where you’d been keeping them warm and set them on the counter. Noticing Bradley had gone quiet, you turned to see him set the plates down on the table and turn towards you. Without saying a word he was across the kitchen and had you in his arms, holding you tightly, his face buried in your hair, breathing you in. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands running over his back to comfort him.

“Bradley… Baby, are you ok?” You asked quietly, turning your face to place a kiss to his chest. “Talk to me, Roo.”

“I’m more than Ok.” He whispered in your hair, taking another moment before he pulled back and smashed his lips to your own, kissing you deeply. When the need for air caused you to have to separate, he pulled back enough to rest his forehead against your own, not wanting to separate further just yet.

“Not that I’m complaining…” You said, slightly out of breath, but highly confused, “But… what’s going on in your head, Bradley?”

“You called Gracie our daughter.” He replied softly, his voice gravely from emotions and the heated kiss, “I know it’s dumb that it just now hit me because she’s been calling me Daddy and I’ve literally been saying she’s my little girl for a while now, but to hear you say she’s our daughter… Y/N… I can’t even describe the feeling that hit me. It was better than anything that I’ve ever felt… It was more incredible than the feeling I got the first time I flew in an F-18. I just… got a little overwhelmed.”

“It’s absolutely not dumb, Bradley.” You said, pulling back so you can look him in the eyes. “Anything you’re feeling at any time is never dumb. I want to know what you’re thinking and you’re feeling. I didn’t think it was possible, but I just fell even more in love with you.” You pulled him in, kissing him softly but pouring all of the love you felt into it.  When you pulled away, you were both smiling widely, looking at each other with what could only be described as heart eyes. “Come eat, Baby. It’s going to get cold.”

After breakfast the two of you worked side by side to get the dishes cleared and put away then headed upstairs to take a shower…which ended up taking a lot longer than normal because neither of you could keep your hands off of each other.

Bradley left the bathroom first to get dressed while you were drying your hair and applying your lotion and running through your morning skincare routine. When you emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around you, you found him sitting on the bed, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Philly’s T-shirt looking around the room, deep in thought.

You walked over to him, stepping between his spread thighs and cupping his face to gently lift it to look up at you. You smiled softly, bending down to place a gentle kiss on his lips before straightening back up so you could look into his eyes again.

“What has you so deep in thought, my love?” You asked him, slipping your hands around to the back of his neck and lacing your fingers together.  His hands came up to waist to hold you to him.

“Just thinking maybe we can look at new bedroom furniture for in here too…” He said, “While we’re out letting Gracie pick out her new room, maybe we can redecorate our space too… make it ours. And I was mentally making a list of spaces to clear out so you’ll have room in here.”

“I don’t need anything new or fancy, Bradley.” You assured him, “I just need you… and I don’t have much, so please don’t worry about clearing a lot of space.”

“Sweetheart, you may not need new or fancy but I fully intend to spoil my girl.” He informed you, pulling you down so you were sitting on his lap. “I think it’s important for us to turn this into OUR home. As for you not needing a lot of space, I haven’t forgotten our conversation yesterday on the phone. I am taking you shopping and we are not stopping until you have a full wardrobe that you are 100% happy with because you deserve nothing less than that. You’ve done such an amazing job at making sure that Gracie always has everything that she needs and you take care of everyone else all of the time… Sweetheart… please, just this once, let me take care of YOU.”

“I’m not going to win this argument am I?” You whispered, laying your head on his shoulder. “I’m not really good at letting people take care of me… but I’ll work on it. We can pick out new furniture…and go shopping for some clothes.”

“That’s my girl.” He said, turning his head to kiss your forehead, “I should warn you though, when I said just this once… that was a total lie because I plan on always taking care of you. I love you, Sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Bradley.” You replied, kissing his shoulder.

A while later you pulled into the driveway at Jake’s. Bradley parked the Bronco behind your car and the two of you made your way inside. It was already mid morning by the time you got there. Jake and Phoenix were on the couch when you walked in, Gracie running over with various cups and plates of her plastic food serving them.

“Hi Sweet Girl!” You said walking in the front door.

“Looks like you’re having a party and didn’t invite us!” Bradley said, hands on his hips, pouting playfully at Gracie.

“MOMMY! DADDY!” She exclaimed, dropping the plate of plastic food on the couch and running as fast as her legs would carry her towards him. Bradley laughed, scooping her up and tossing her into the air before hugging her tight to him and kissing her face over and over.

“I missed you my little princess!” He said between kisses. Gracie was giggling wildly at his antics. “Did you have fun with Uncle Jake and Aunty Nix?”

“I missed you too, Daddy!” she said, “We had fun! We pwayed! Unco Jakey wet me have ice cweam with spwinkos!”

“Wow, Ice cream AND sprinkles, Uncle Jakey?” You asked, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. You knew he let Gracie have treats when he watched her and you were fine with it. It was cute that Gracie thought she was getting away with something though.

“I’m the fun uncle, what can I say?” He laughed, “Did you two have a good night?”

“We had a great night.” You replied, beaming, looking at Bradley who was still holding Gracie.

“Anything in particular you’d like to share with the group?” Jake asked, winking. He clearly knew Bradley had asked and you laughed, shaking your head.

“Gracie, sweet girl,” You said, “Sit over here with Mommy and Daddy.”  You  moved to the love seat across from the couch, sitting down and Bradley sitting next to you with Gracie sitting in his lap.

“Gracie, do you remember when we were building with blocks and you built a big big castle so we could all live together?” Bradley asked.

“Yes!” She replied, “You wiv wif us Daddy! And Aunty Nix wiv wif us!”

You looked over at Jake and Phoenix who were both fighting smiles as you and Bradley tried to navigate this conversation. You stuck your tongue out at them when Gracie wasn’t looking causing your brother to chuckle out loud and Phoenix to playfully smack him.

“Daddy  and I looked for a big enough castle for all of us, but we couldn’t find one we’d all fit in.” You said, “Would it be ok if you and Mommy move into Daddy’s house with him and we come visit Uncle Jake and Aunty Nix whenever you miss them?”

“Unco Jakey, will miss us too.” She said, her eyes looking sad. Jake could feel his own eyes start to tear up looking over at his niece.

“Come here Princess G.” He said, opening his arms. Gracie jumped down and went to her uncle, climbing into his arms. “I love having you and mommy live with me so so much. But I think that it’s important for you and mommy and daddy to live together, Princess. You won’t be far away like you were before, Ok?”

“Ok.” She said, “But you be sad here awone, Unco Jakey.”

“I won’t be alone, Princess G.” He assured her. “I’ll still come steal you and we’ll have super cool sleepovers with blanket forts and no mommies allowed!” Then he looked over at Phoenix and winked before pulling Gracie to him and whispering in her ear, “You should ask Aunty Nix to move in with me so I’m not sad.”

Gracie beamed at him, then kissed his cheek and scooted over to Phoenix, crawling into her lap. Phoenix eyed Jake suspiciously, but wrapped her arms around Gracie giving her her full attention. They’d already discussed moving in together in future terms so Jake didn’t feel bad about using his niece as leverage here.

You and Bradley watched the scene unfold before you, stealing a glance at Jake, you caught the wink he sent your way. You could guess what your daughter was about to ask Phoenix and you had to hold back the laugh at Jake’s tactics.

“Aunty Nix?” Gracie asked

“What’s up Gracie Girl?” She replied smiling

“You pwease come wiv wif Unco Jakey so he’s not sad when Mommy and me wiv wif Daddy?” She asked, giving her biggest puppy eyes to Phoenix. Jake hadn’t been wrong. You were in trouble when Gracie was a teenager batting those eyes and dimples at you both.

Phoenix looked up at Jake who was also giving her his saddest puppy eyes and pout, his dimples showing too,  causing her to laugh, and fall more in love with the man. There was no way she could tell him ‘no’, or Gracie ‘no’.

“Will it make you feel better Gracie?” She asked, playing along, “If I come live with Uncle Jakey and make sure he’s not lonely?”

“Yes!” Gracie exclaimed.

“Ok, I will do that for you. I will come live with Uncle Jakey and make sure he’s not lonely at all. That way you and Mommy can go live with Daddy so HE’S not loney.”

“I wuv you Aunty Nix!” She said, hugging her tightly. Phoenix laughed, hugging her back just as tightly.

“I love you too, Gracie girl.” She replied, then whispered in her ear, “You should ask Daddy and Uncle Jakey to take you to Disneyland.”

“DADDY! UNCO JAKEY!” She yelled pulling away from Phoenix and whipping around, “We go to DISNEYWAND?”

“Well played Nat.” You laughed, “These two had already planned to offer that up had negotiations not gone well… I think we should make it a Daddy, Uncle, Gracie outting though…”

“Sweetheart…”Bradley said looking at you with a terrified look in his eyes. Glancing at Jake you saw the look in his eyes matched Bradley’s. “I mean… is that… wise?”

“You’re probably right.” You agreed. “We can send Bob to supervise.”

“Tulip!” Jake groaned, “Gracie… don’t you think it would be more fun with your whole family? We can get all of your uncles and maybe even Papa Mav and Penny to come?”

“YES!” She agreed with her uncle, who looked relieved.

“Well, now that that is settled,” You laughed, “We were thinking of furniture shopping today… letting Gracie pick out some things and apparently we’re getting new bedroom furniture too.”

“If you need her bedroom furniture we can move it…” Jake offered, but you could see he really wanted to keep a room here for Gracie. Bradley picked up on it too and smiled. He knew how much Gracie meant to Jake.

“We figured she’d need it when she’s having sleepovers here… if you’re ok keeping it.” Bradley said, “Was going to have her pick out what she’d like in case we needed to bribe her into the new room.”

“I think keeping a room for her here is a great idea.” Phoenix said, “We plan to steal her often anyway, so she’ll need a place to sleep.”

“Absolutely.” Jake agreed, smiling lovingly at Phoenix. “When is your lease up, Sweets?”

“I’ve actually just been month to month until I decided if I wanted to stay in an apartment or if I wanted to look at housing.” She replied, “So… it’s technically up in 2 weeks if I tell them I’m not renewing next month.”

“Tell them.” Jake said, “I’ll come help you pack.”

“I plan on taking my girls as soon as possible.” Bradley said. He pulled you over into his lap, holding you, “I know this week is going to be a lot…and I don’t want to add any pressure or stress to that. We have court and Gracie’s birthday. How about the following weekend we move Phoenix in here and you and Gracie in with me?”

“I think that sounds perfect.” You replied.”What do you think, Nat? Will that be enough time to get everything packed and sorted out with your apartment?”

“Plenty of time.” She smiled, “I’m Navy… I can move with 24 hours notice.”

You spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon with Bradley and Gracie at the furniture store picking out bedroom furniture and setting up delivery. As luck would have it, the sets you found that you liked were in stock so you just had to find a time that the store had a delivery truck and crew available. After leaving the furniture store you decided to stop at Bed Bath and Beyond to pick out new bedding sets and curtains to go with the furniture before grabbing lunch and heading back home for Gracie to take a late nap.

The week went decently fast. Bradley ended up spending every night with you at Jake’s, not wanting to be away from you and Gracie. Jake stayed at Phoenix’s on Monday and Tuesday night to start helping her pack but had promised to be back Wednesday night. He’d stopped into the Hard Deck Wednesday on his lunch while you were working, bringing you something to eat from In and Out Burger.

“I’m not flying this afternoon, so I decided it was a greasy burger, fries and milkshake kinda lunch day.” Jake said, bringing the food up to the bar and setting it all out for the two of you. “And it’s been awhile since I’ve had a lunch date with my baby sister.”

“Thanks Jakey.” You smiled, “You’re the best big brother in the world. I’m actually starving and this smells amazing.”

“You doing OK, Tulip?” He asked, taking the wrapper off of his burger and taking a bite.

“I’m just kinda nervous.” You replied, “I mean… logically I know that with the order of protection, him facing charges and actual jail time the odds are in my favor that the judge will actually terminate his parental rights, but a small part of me is still really scared something will happen and the judge will side with Trent.”

“Baby girl there is zero chance a judge would side with that piece of shit.” Jake assured you. “In fact, I’m confident that this hearing is just a formality to officially free Gracie from him. Lauren pretty much said as much the last time we met with her.”

“I know… It’s just really hard to trust that my world isn’t going to drop out from under me because everything is so perfect.” You confided in him. “Literally everything is going so well… I’m happy Jakey. I am in love with the most amazing man who is literally perfect. He’s stepped right into being Gracie’s daddy without any hesitation and adores her as if she were biologically his own. I’ve made friends…real friends. We have a whole ass FAMILY Jakey. This is… amazing…and yet… scary.”

“I know what you’re saying Y/N.” Jake said smiling sadly, “I hate that you have to feel this way too. I really tried to keep all the bad stuff from ever touching you, Tulip. I guess that just wasn’t realistic. Here’s the thing though… I’ve learned recently from some VERY smart individuals… It’s ok to trust the good stuff. The world won’t fall out from underneath you just because life gets good. The good stuff is what makes life worth living. Just trust that it’s all going to be OK. You’ve survived all the crap life had to throw at you…now you get the good stuff.”

“Listen to your brother, Sweetie.” Penny said gently, coming in from the office, not wanting to startle either of you. “It’s all going to work out tomorrow. Amelia and I will be over in the morning to watch Gracie again. We might take her to the park if that’s ok with you?”

“Thank you, Penny.” You smiled, “She’ll love that. She’ll be excited that Amelia is coming again, she adores her.”

“Perfect.” Penny replied, “I’m going to go take Mav some lunch, he forgot to bring anything. I’ll be back before you leave.”

“Sounds good.” You said, “Take your time.”

You and Jake finished eating your lunch then with some time left before he needed to be back at work decided to play a game of pool.

“So I know you’re moving in with Bradley and you’re in love and everything is great…” Jake said, “With everything that happened with Trent and with what we saw growing up… do you still believe in marriage and happily ever after?”

You looked up from the pool table where you were about to take your shot, trying to get a read on your brother. You couldn’t tell if he was asking because he wasn’t sure how he felt about marriage and happily ever after or if he was really talking about you and Bradley.  You took a minute to think about it, lining up your shot and taking it, sinking the ball in the corner pocket before standing up to walk over to Jake.

“Short answer?” You replied, “Yes. I do. Despite what we saw from our own parents growing up and what I lived with Trent, I DO believe in marriage and happily ever after. I believe in love, Jakey. Do I believe in the fairy tale love that we see on TV and in movies? No, because that’s not real. Love is sometimes messy, it requires work from both parties. It’s give and take… it’s not always 50/50… sometimes it’s one person giving more because the other person is tapped out. What we saw from our parents growing up wasn’t love. But we did see love Jakey. That sweet adorable old couple that used to buy us milkshakes at the diner whenever we went there to escape the fighting? They were so in love with one another after over fifty years of marriage… they thought one another hung the moon. THAT’S love. Bradley had reservations for us on Saturday night at the Italian restaurant we went to on our first date but when I called having a mini breakdown because I didn’t know what to wear and was hating my wardrobe, he realized I wasn’t freaking out about clothes and that going to a fancy restaurant was the last thing I needed so he canceled and planned a perfect beach date on the fly last minute. THAT’S love.”

Jake stood for a moment taking in what you said, letting it all sink in and processing it through his head.

“And because I believe in love, I believe in marriage and if Bradley wants to marry me someday, I will absolutely marry him.” You said, “But if he’s content with us just being together as a family then that’s what we’ll do because I love him.”

“I would do anything for Nix.” Jake admitted quietly. “If someone came through the door and told me that I had to choose between flying and her… I’d choose. Every. Fucking. Time. I would hand over my wings and sign my discharge papers and walk away.”

“Jakey, that’s love.” You smiled at your brother. “But she’d never ask that of you because she loves YOU. Do you believe in marriage, Jakey?”

“Yes.” He replied, smiling as he thought of the rings he had tucked away at home. He made a mental note to make sure they were better hidden before Phoenix moved in. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

“Of course you can!” You replied, gasping, hoping this was going where you thought it was going. Jake chuckled at the excitement on your face.

“Saturday… when Bradley and I were on a top secret mission….” Jake said, “He went with me to help me pick out a ring.”

“JAKEY!” You yelled, throwing down the cue on the table and throwing yourself at your brother. He caught you easily, laughing as you hugged him tightly, and he hugged you back just as tight.

“I take it, you approve?” He asked, chuckling in your ear. Pulling away you gave him a look like he was an idiot, making him laugh again.

“Of COURSE I approve!” You said, “Nat is literally the sister I always wanted and now I get! She’s also the friend I always wished I had. But beyond that she makes YOU happy and THAT is all I could ever hope for. When are you going to ask her?”

“I’m still working on that.” He said, “You better work on your poker face, Tulip. No slipping!”

“I promise!” You said holding out your pinky to him. He laughed but linked his pinky to your own in a child-like promise. “I’m so so happy for you Jakey.”

“Thanks, Tulip.” He replied, “I told you things are going to be good for us. All good stuff from now on.”

“I just ask one thing.” You said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Anything, Tulip.” He replied.

“You’re not allowed to use my daughter to emotionally blackmail Nat into sayin ‘yes’ to marrying you.” You teased, “Moving in was one thing, marriage is totally different.”  Jake threw his head back laughing.

“Tulip!” He gasped, “We’d already talked about it in general Saturday night because I knew Bradley was going to be asking you to move in with him… I just hadn’t made an official ask yet. I swear I wouldn’t ever use Princess G to manipulate anyone!”

“I know.” You laughed, “I just wanted to give you a hard time. Although now that I think about it… there could be some cute proposal opportunities using her as your little wingman… wing..girl?”

“I’ll let you know if I need to borrow my niece.” He laughed. “For now though, I need to get back to base. I’ll see you after work. Do you need me to get Princess G from daycare or are you good?”

“I’m good. I’ll be out of here at a decent time today. I’m thinking about ordering pizzas for dinner though, that OK, I know we just had junk for lunch?” You asked.

“Of course.” He replied, “Tonight is a no pressure, relax and breathe easy night. Tomorrow night, we will celebrate at home, low key. Friday we’ll be over at Mav and Penny’s house getting things set up for Saturday.”

“Ok.” You smiled, “All planned out.”

“Yup!” He said,giving you a hug. “Don’t work too hard, I love you, Tulip.”

“Love you too, Jakey” You replied, “Be safe doing whatever you’re doing this afternoon.”

“Just instructing.” He laughed, “I’ll be on the ground while they’re doing simulations.”

“Perfect.” You beamed. “Tell my future sister in law I said ‘hi’”

“Will do.” He laughed.

The rest of the day went fast. Penny made it back just in time for you to head to pick up Gracie. Bradley called as you were getting in your car to let you know he was done for the day.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He said, “I’m leaving base now, are you still at work?”

“I’m just leaving now to go get Gracie.” You replied, starting the car.

“I’m going to run by the house to grab clean clothes and a shower then I’ll be over.” He said, “Do you need me to stop to pick anything up?”

“Nope, we’re ordering pizzas tonight for dinner.” You said, “Unless you want something else…”

“Pizza is perfect, Baby.” He replied, you could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too. Drive safe.” You replied.

“You too. You’re both precious cargo!” He said.

After picking up Gracie from daycare and getting home, you got her a snack while you pulled out stuff to throw together a quick dump cake. You didn’t feel like cooking dinner but you were never too tired to make a dessert. You knew both Bradley and Jake loved the caramel apple dump cake you made for several of the dinner nights and it was really quick and easy so you didn’t mind.

“Gracie, do you wanna help Mommy make a cake for Daddy and Uncle Jakey?” You asked her. Your daughter loved to help in the kitchen and you loved the quality time with her.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, happy to help bake, especially for her two favorite people.

“Hop on over here my sweet girl!” You said, smiling, pulling up the step stool you sometimes used to reach stuff on the top shelves. You definitely did not inherit any of the height genes in your family. Jake got all of those. You helped your daughter carefully climb up on the step so she could reach the counter better and the two of you set to work dumping ingredients into the glass cake pan.  You had just finished and were putting the pan into the oven when the front door opened.

“Honey, we’re home!” Jake called. You could hear Bradley laughing as he came in behind him. “Where are our girls?”

“Unco JAKEY!” Gracie yelled, jumping down from the step stool and tearing off towards the living room. “DADDY!”

“There’s my Princess G!” Jake said, picking her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“I good!” She replied, kissing him on his cheek, “Unco Jakey, you pway wif me?”

“I will absolutely play with you, Baby girl.” He said, “Let me change quickly first, ok?”

“OK!” She replied, reaching over to Bradley, “Gimme Daddy!”  Jake laughed, passing her over to Bradley before heading to his room to shower and change out of his uniform.

“Hi Princess.” Bradley said, taking her from Jake and hugging her close, “I missed you so much today. Did you have a good day?”

“I missed you too Daddy.” She replied, “I pwayed wif my fwends today and den Mommy bwinged me home and we maked you and Unco Jakey a cake!”

“You did?” He asked, “Thank you, my Gracie girl! I can’t wait to eat the cake. I’m sure it’s the best cake ever.”

“I wuv you Daddy!” She said, grabbing his face and giving him a very big kiss. “We go wiv at your house now?”

“I love you too, Princess,” He chuckled, “We have to wait just a little bit longer. We have to make sure your brand new room is ready first.”

“Ok, Daddy.” She sighed, “You stay wif me and Mommy?”

“Of course, Princess.” He promised, “I’ll stay right here with you and Mommy, Ok?”

“Ok!” She said.

“Someone is turning into quite the Daddy’s girl.” You smiled, coming into the living room.

“Are you a Daddy’s girl, Gracie?” Bradley asked her, tickling her tummy as he held her. “I think you’re Momma’s little angel.”

“I am Mommy’s and Daddy’s pwincess!” She declared.

“Yes you are.” You laughed.

The night is relaxed. Jake and Bradley do their best to keep your mind off the hearing coming up the next day. Jake ordered pizzas to be delivered before he left base so they arrived not long after they’d gotten home. Once dinner was finished the three of you had taken Gracie out to the backyard to let her run around and run off some energy.

“I think you’re going to need to find that castle playsets to put in your backyard Rooster.” Jake said, “Princess G is going to need swings and stuff to play on.”

“I’ve been looking at some actually.” Bradley said, pulling his phone out to show Jake the playsets. You just laughed, shaking your head. You’ve given up trying to reign these two fools in anymore.

After a while you took Gracie in to wash her hands and let her help you dish up the cake the two of you had made and then you carried it out to the back so you could all eat dessert outside. The guys made sure to praise her (and you) for how delicious it was and how much they loved it. Gracie was over the moon that her two favorite people loved the cake so much.

By the time bedtime rolled around, Gracie was worn out. She requested that Uncle Jakey tuck her in and read her bedtime book, which he was more than happy to do.

“Want a glass of wine or a beer, Sweetheart?” Bradley asked, heading to the kitchen.

“Wine please.” You said, sinking down onto the couch.

He returned a minute later with a bottle of beer for himself and a glass of wine for you. Handing you the wine, he sat down, before pulling you into his side, wrapping his free arm around you. You rested your head against his shoulder and took a sip of your wine.

“I can hear your thoughts from up here, Sweetheart.” He teased, gently. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“I am relaxed” You argued, looking up at him and sticking your tongue out. “I just… happen to also be thinking.”

“About tomorrow? Or non-stressful stuff?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Both.” You replied honestly. “I’m mentally preparing myself for tomorrow and thinking ahead for the good stuff.”

“I can accept that.” He replied, “Let’s sort through the thoughts on tomorrow first. What are you thinking?”

“I just keep worrying something will go wrong, so I’m preparing myself in case we don’t get the outcome we want.” You admitted.

“That’s fair.” He said, “Considering everything you’ve gone through up to this point, Sweetheart, I can absolutely understand why you’re planning for the worst. It breaks my heart that it’s your default and I am making it my mission from now until forever to change your default to only expect the best that life has to offer.”

“I love you.” You whispered, turning your head into his chest. “I WANT forever with you Bradley Bradshaw.”

“I love you too, Baby Girl.” He said, setting his beer on the coffee table and using his now free hand to tip your chin up to face him, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Alright, no making out in front of me.” Jake whined, coming into the living room. “Don’t make me separate you two.”

“Way to ruin a moment, Seresin.” Bradley said, glaring playfully at Jake.

“Sorry, not sorry.” He winked, plopping himself down on the other end of the couch. “What are we watching tonight? RomCom? Action? Comedy?”

“What’ll it be, Sweetheart?” Bradley asks.

“Sweet Home Alabama” You picked immediately, causing both men to groan. “It’s GOOD!”

“Sure…” Jake said, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and turning on the TV.

You spent the next couple of hours snuggled into Bradley watching your favorite RomCom. You started to drift off towards the end, relaxed and comfortable in Bradley’s embrace.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” He said softly, “You’re falling asleep, let’s get you to bed.”

“Goodnight Tulip.” Jake said, “Get some sleep, tomorrow’s gonna be a great day.”

“Night Jakey.” You replied, letting Bradley pull you up from the couch, “I hope you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” He winked.

The next morning, Jake took care of getting Gracie breakfast and getting her dressed while you got ready and Bradley kept you calm and together. Penny and Amelia arrived with coffee and pastries from the bakery down the road from her house. Once she was there to wrangle Gracie, Jake headed into his room to get ready.

“It’s going to be OK, Sweetheart.” Bradley reminded you before you headed down out to the kitchen, “No matter what happens today, you’ve got me, Baby. Gracie is not Trent’s. She calls me Daddy. She’s ours. I don’t care what the judge says. But they’re going to agree with us.”

“I love you.” You said, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out.” He promised, dropping a kiss onto your head and wrapping his own arms around you. “I love you too, Sweetheart.”

You arrived at the courthouse and made your way through security. Lauren was waiting on the other side to meet with you again prior to going into the hearing. “Good Morning!” She said, smiling, “Let’s head into the conference room and we can go over what to expect today.”

She led the three of you to the conference room across from the courtroom you’d be in for the hearing.

“Has there been any new developments in that asshole’s case?” Jake asked, sitting down on one side of you at the table, Bradley  sitting on the other.

“Actually, I have some pretty good news to share with you all” She replied, “I just got an update when I arrived this morning and then his lawyer requested to meet with me first thing.”

“I’m afraid to ask what he wants.” You said quietly, unwilling to get your hopes up or believe the good news would indeed be the news you were hoping for.

“I understand, given the history, that you’re apprehensive with anything coming from him.” Lauren said, smiling gently, “But, Y/N, I promise you, this is all good.”

“Lay it on us.” Bradley said, squeezing your hand in support, and offering you a smile.

“Alright, well first of all, given the fact that he did violate the order twice and got violent the second time, chances of leniency from the judge will be slim to none. His lawyer knows that and I am sure made him aware of that. Trent is looking at jail time regardless.” Lauren said, “The amount of time is what’s up in the air. His lawyer advised him to work with you and give you what you’d originally asked for ahead of the next hearing date and that it’ll help his image in court. It might go a little ways with that judge, I assure you, it won’t be enough to get him out of serving time. I wasn’t going to point that out to his lawyer though.”

“So… is he going to do it?” Jake asked, “Did the piece of shit finally agree to sign off all rights to Gracie?”

“He did.” She smiled, “I have the signed papers here, saying he’s willingly signing over full custody to you, Y/N. He doesn't want visitation rights.”

“Ok, so I have full custody.” You said, “But he’s still listed as the father on Gracie’s birth certificate. Can the judge change that today?”

“We will still ask for that here today.” She assured you. “With him willingly signing over custody and not wanting visitation, we can certainly take it one step forward and ask that all parental rights to Gracie be removed. In the event that something were to happen to you, he’d have zero claim to her.”

“I want that. I can’t let him get her.” You said, “If something happens to me, he cannot have her.”

“He won’t, Sweetheart.” Bradley promised, leaning over to kiss your head, “None of us will let that happen.”

“I can promise you that, Tulip.” Jake said, “He’d have to pry her from my dead cold fingers, and even then there’d be a whole squad of naval aviators right behind me in line to protect her.”

“And in addition to her many bodyguards,” Lauren said, “If the judge for whatever reason, does not remove him from the birth certificate or revoke parental rights, you can create a Will and specify who will become guardian to Gracie in the event that something happens to you. Regardless of what happens here today, I highly recommend you do that anyway.”

“Ok” You said, “Thank you. For everything. I will never be able to adequately put into words how grateful I am to you for everything you’ve done.”

“Y/N, I am more than happy to have been able to help you.” She replied, “I was lucky enough to have had someone there and able to help me when I was in your shoes and now it’s my turn to do the same. Seeing you get to move on and live the life you deserve and see Gracie get the family she deserves… the Daddy she deserves.. And has found Bradley… that’s payment enough.”

“Well, after all this you’re officially a part of our chaotic family, so we’d love it if you'd join us Saturday for Gracie’s 3rd birthday party.” Jake said, “We…may have gone a little overboard on it.”

“We?” You laughed, “I’ve been doing all I can do to reign you idiots in. But absolutely, we would love for you to join us. I can definitely promise it’ll be a zoo…. And depending on how much these two have been planning when I’ve not been around… the zoo might be literal.”

“I would be honored to come celebrate your sweet little girl turning 3.” She replied, “I look forward to seeing what these two have planned.”

“You might not say that when you see what they’re capable of.” You replied, laughing.

“Alright, let’s go ahead and head into the courtroom.” Lauren said, “It’ll be a closed room because it’s for a minor.”

You filed out, following Lauren across the hall to the courtroom. Before entering you saw a familiar face heading towards you down the hall in service khakis. You smiled, nudging Jake.

“Looks like someone snuck away from base.” You said.

“Sweets, what are you doin’ here?” Jake asked, a huge smile spreading across his face at the sight of Phoenix walking towards you all.

“Wasn’t going to miss this for the world.” She replied, pulling him into a hug when she got to him. “Figured you could all use the extra support, so I got Admiral Simpson to give me the morning off. Mav’s covering for me.”

“I love you, Nat.” Jake said,hugging her back. “Thank you for being here.”

“Love you too, Jake.” She replied, “Let’s go free Princess G.”

“Thank you, Nat.” You said, hugging her before you all went inside. “You’re the best.”

“You’re the first female best friend I’ve literally ever had, Y/N.” She chuckled, “My sister from another mister.”

You all made your way inside the courtroom and took a seat at the front. You sat with Lauren on one side. Trent’s lawyer appeared for him, sitting on the other side of the room.

Once the judge entered and took his place, he quickly reviewed the files in front of him, including the additions placed in the file that morning.

“Ms. Kennedy, have you had time to review the new proposals submitted this morning from opposing counsel?” The judge asked.

“I have your honor.” She replied, “Ms. Seresin accepts the offer of full custody and zero visitation stipulation offered from her ex-husband. Your honor we also are requesting that Trent’s parental rights be completely repealed and his name be removed from the minor child’s birth certificate.”

“Ms. Seresin, is there a reason you are asking for her father to essentially be expunged from your daughter’s history?” The judge asked, directing his question to you.

You looked at Lauren who nodded encouragingly at you, before looking back at Bradley who gave you a soft smile. Taking a deep breath you stood up and addressed the judge.

“Your honor, with all due respect, Trent may have contributed the DNA needed to create Gracie that was where his contribution ended, Sir.” You said, “He has never, in her entire life, shown any interest in being her father, apart from when she could be used as a pawn to control me. He wasn’t there when I gave birth to her, You Honor. He hasn’t been there any time she’s been sick or had a bad dream, said her first words, or took her first steps. She hasn’t asked about him one time since we left Texas, nor has she ever called him Daddy.” You paused, taking a  steadying breath, looking back at your brother and Bradley again. “But, my daughter Gracie does have a Daddy. One that she loves very much, Sir. He may not have given her his DNA, but he gives her his love, he shows up, he loves her unconditionally and has done so since the first day he met her. He’s the one she calls Daddy and who she thinks hung the moon.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, Ms. Seresin.” The judge answered, “Given what I’ve seen in the files here and from conversations I’ve had with Judge Edwards prior to today, I understand where you’re coming from. Strictly looking at the facts on the paper, Ms. Seresin from the two violations of the protection order already, the second being your ex husband attempting to forcefully remove you and the minor child from your residence, it is of my opinion that it is in fact in the best interest of the child to terminate paternal parental rights and in doing so I will grant your request to have his name removed from the birth certificate. You will, however, need to file that with the county in which she was born, which is in Texas if I am not mistaken.”

“You are correct, Your Honor,” You answered, choking on emotions, “Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m assuming the man your daughter has claimed for her dad is here today?” He asked.

“Yes, Your Honor.” You replied, glancing back at Bradley, smiling through your tears. You noticed, he was wiping his own away from his eyes, smiling right back at you.

“I trust that you understand what an absolute honor it is that this little girl has chosen you to be her person?” The judge asked Bradley. “That her mother is putting her faith in you to be the father her little girl deserves?”

“I do, Your Honor.” He replied, “It’s not something I take lightly, Sir. I’d do anything, give anything to ensure both of them are taken care of, loved, and happy.”

“Will I be seeing you back in here at some point down the line to make your father title official?” The judge asked, smiling for the first time at both you and Bradley.

“I would love nothing more, Sir.” He replied, “But official paper or not, Gracie is my daughter.”

“Good to hear.” He replied, “Alright, Counselor, you can tell your client all parental rights are hereby stripped, effective immediately. Ms. Seresin, I know it’s been a long and rough road for you and that little girl. Once you walk out those doors today, it’s all in the past. Focus on the future and the life you’ve already started on building for you and Miss Gracie.”

“Thank You, Sir.” You replied, choking back a sob. It felt like the entire weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time you could truly breathe. It was over. You had been freed from the nightmare, and now your daughter was too.

“Congratulations, Y/N.” Lauren said, pulling you into a hug, “It’s all over, Sweetie. You did it. Let’s get you all out of here and across to the conference room so you have some privacy.”

She ushered the four of you across the hall, back to the same conference room you’d been in prior to the hearing.

“I’m going to take care of filing these right now to give you all some time.” She said, “I’ll be back in a bit and we can go over the process to get her birth certificate changed.” She left the room, softly closing the door behind her.

“You did it, Tulip!” Jake said, pulling you into him and hugging you tightly, “You got our Princess G freed from that dickhead! I am so fucking proud of you, Y/N.”

You let him hold you, hugging him back just as tight. All of the lingering stress and anxiety from the last few months seemed to leave you at that moment, an intense feeling of pure relief washing over you.

“He can’t touch us anymore, Jakey.” You whispered, “We’re free.”

“You are.” He confirmed, “You’re so so strong, Tulip. You went in there and didn’t give that judge a chance to even think about deciding anything else. You are one hell of a momma bear. Princess G is so damn lucky to have you for her Momma.”

“He’s right, Y/N.” Phoenix agreed, “You were so fierce and strong this whole time. You’re so much braver than anyone I know… and I fly with some crazy ass people.”

You laughed, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Come here, Sweetheart.” Bradley said, his voice rough from the emotions he was fighting back. Jake released you, stepping back to place his arm around Phoenix while you stepped into Bradley’s outstretched arms. He simply held you tight for several moments, just needing to have you close and feel you in his arms. You needed the same so you were content to just let him hold you.  “I love you so much, Baby. I can’t even put into words how proud I am of you for standing your ground in there today and not only speaking up about exactly what a useless piece of trash Trent is but for what you told the judge about me… and being Gracie’s real dad. I meant what I said to the judge too… I would absolutely make it official at any point, but papers or no papers, she’ll always be my little girl. I plan to keep showing up, and loving her, and her mom, if that works for you?”

“That works for me.” You replied, smiling through your tears, “I love you too, Bradley… more than I ever thought I was capable of. I don’t know how Gracie and I got so lucky but, no take backs. You're ours now.”

“Strict no return policy, so you’re good.” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you softly.

“Alright!” Jake exclaimed, “Celebratory dinner tonight. Just us, then we can celebrate with the whole group tomorrow while we set up for the party on Saturday.”

“Sounds amazing.” You said.

“Ok, I’ve filed the paperwork with the clerk.” Lauren said, coming back into the room. “Next steps, Y/N you will need to take copies of all of these to the courthouse in the county where Gracie was born and file to change her birth certificate and name. Once that is complete a new social security card can be issued with her new name. It can take weeks up to several months depending on their backlog.”

“Is it something that can be done through the mail?” Jake asked, knowing you weren’t crazy about going back to Texas.

“Unfortunately, no.” She said, “It’ll be a good opportunity to go through the house and get anything out that you wanted and close out any bank accounts while you’re there though. Use it as the closure that it is, Y/N. Afterwards you don’t ever have to step foot in Texas again.”

“You won’t be going alone, Tulip.” Jake promised.

“Damn straight you won’t.” Bradley agreed.

“I feel as though it’s safe to say that you’ll never be without a strong support system again, Y/N” Laurent smiled.

After thanking her again and giving her all the information for Gracie’s party on Saturday you all said your goodbyes and headed out of the courthouse.

“I’ll see you all at the house tonight.” Phoenix said, once you were all outside. “I have to head back to base.Y/N, I’m so happy for you and Gracie. I love you both so much.” She stepped over to you, pulling you into a hug.  

“Thank you so much for being here, Nat.” You said, hugging her back. “I love you too!”

“I’ll walk with you to your car, Sweets.” Jake said, “I’ll be right back.”

Jake walked with Phoenix over to her car while you and Bradley made your way to the Bronco. Before getting in, he pulled you into his arms, his head dipping down to claim your lips in a tender kiss.

“I love you.” He said, pulling away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I love you too.” You replied, smiling. “Looks like we have a lot to celebrate this weekend.”

“So much to celebrate, Sweetheart.” He agreed. “And we’re just getting started.”

A/N: Phew! Thoughts?? Up next.... BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!! 

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Miles Teller #top gun fanfiction #big brother Jake Seresin #Jake hangman seresin x Natasha phoenix trace

[esseegg]

Hobie Brown x Reader [a trying duet - Ch. 1]

Fic summary: Hobie has lost his voice, both literally and figuratively. He's a few weeks into the whole "mute Spider-Punk" gig, and he's still trying to figure out what that means — silence to someone so loud, that is. As he wrestles with his identity, you offer a new set of eyes on things he thought he knew so well. Together, the two of you relearn many things: voice, meaning, and the duet between two hearts.

Ch. 1 synopsis: You meet London's spider, his taste, and his improv sign language.

Notes: gender neutral Reader, slow burn vibes, if coffee shop AUs started in 1970s music shops instead, transcripts included for Hobie's writing, POV change

London’s spider had a habit of losing himself in the moment. Concerts, battles, Molotov cocktails — you name it, he’s done it. Silence was a stranger, though. He never liked flirting with it too long. When he did, well… he wandered.

Hobie was a few hours deep into his trek along the city’s urban web. Long gone was the center, in which blaring advertisements and one too many armrests on benches watched over the streets’ people. Now, he was walking the threads that were old brick and mortar paths along the perimeter. Old-fashioned lamps of shops now closed stared at him, dull and clouded, as he passed. Bridges loomed over the block, reeking of an Industrial Revolution rust that had him wrinkling his nose from the first breath in. Silence was punctuated by the slap of his boots. Every now and again, he had to shake off copies of yesterday’s rain-soaked newspaper. The ink of pigs’ names often stuck under his soles. Usually, that’d amuse him a tad, but right now, he was…

Why was he out here again?

His hands sat heavy in the pockets of his leather vest. In his right, he started to fidget with his favorite guitar pick. He was thinking, thinking — till his thumb caught a chip in the plastic. With a slight frown, he stopped.

That’s right.

He was looking for a new guitar. Huffing under his breath, he turned on his heel to retrace his steps (or lose track of them too). Right as his boot met brick, though, a series of twangs danced with his silence. He paused, ears chasing after the tune. (If off-tune tuning could be called a tune, that is.)

Plucks at an ascending G(?) string led him further down the block. Past the lamps and bridges, he spotted a shop window alight with humble gold. In the center of the off-color window frame, just behind a cash register that looked too big for the counter it sat on, there was a figure. Both their back and the guitar’s faced Hobie, a blend of simple black and acoustic brown. He might’ve thought the sight a photograph — till you turned a tuning peg the wrong way. His chest puffed with a breath of laughter. And with that, he went inside.

The shop’s muddy-looking hanging bell gave a funny tink! when the door swung. You peeked over your shoulder, cocking an eyebrow when the man’s wicks grazed the bell.

Damn. Talk about tall.

“Afternoon.” Setting the guitar against the counter, you faced your first and only visitor so far this week. (On Saturday, no less.) “You here to browse, or you got something in mind?”

The man cocked a brow at you in return. You couldn’t tell if it was to mock your expression or to judge your lack of the “customer service” tone.

Either way, his gaze shifted to the wall of secondhand guitars that were hung up with neither rhyme nor reason. Some had sticker residue staining the body or neck, while others ached a dullness from worn off polish. Opposite of that wall, there was a visual cacophony of other instruments: yellowed drums, scratched-up saxophones, a minus-10-or-so-keys piano, and God knew what else. To tie it all together, there were a few lonely racks at the shop’s center full of cassette tapes and vinyl records.

It was the racks that drew the man a little further into the shop. He picked up a record, noting the vibrant spray paint and smudged fingerprints that replaced the original cover. You saw his shoulders twitch with what was maybe a chuckle. With a twirl of his fingers, he turned the vandalized cover towards you and tapped at it with his finger.

“Oh, that?” You chuckled, loud enough for both of you. “Yeah, a couple of kids came in and sold it to us last week. Said their grandpa didn’t want it anymore since they redid the cover and all.”

His lips twitched with a smirk. Holding a hand out, he gestured to arbitrary heights, ranging from his knees to his chest.

“How old?” you inquired. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ten, twelve. Why? You looking to support some local artists?”

That got another slight jolt out of his shoulders. With a low rumble in his throat, he slid the record across the counter.

“Good choice.” With a face just short of a smile, you started to ring up the record for him.

While you were punching the grimy, dust-ridden buttons of the cash register (and putting up a damn good fight, mind you), the man eyed the guitar that you had left half-tuned. All of a sudden, you heard a thwip and the acoustic bang of wood on wood. Your eyes shot up, locking on the instrument that he now now cradled in his hands.

“Was that…” you paused, squinting at the guitar for damage (or any new damage, rather), “you?”

He replied with a crooked bow of his head. You might’ve thought it an apology, if not for the way his lips curved up at the corner. Smugness had a new subtlety, apparently.

“Alright… Well, you looking to buy that too? I was just working on the strings. Might need to replace them, though. They sound kind of shit, as far as I can tell.”

While you rambled, a lazy thumb plucked at each string, letting dissonance ring out in layers. At the top of the neck, callused fingers toyed with the pegs with a confidence that you only managed to fake for the sake of your job. Eventually, G sounded like G. It was warm, mellow, like the golden light that first drew him in. With a flick of his wrist, the shop resonated with a deep, soulful chord.

“Huh.” A tinge of heat rushed up to your cheeks. “Good job.”

With another nod of his head and a smirk to boot, he handed the instrument right back to you. While wood blocked your vision, you heard another thwip and the click of a pen. By the time you had set the guitar behind you, the man had finished his message. He flicked the pad of sticky notes, letting it spin and slide your way.

StrINgs ARe fIne, yOU jUst SUck aT yoUr joB

[ Strings are fine, you just suck at your job ]

Wow. Real nitpicker, wasn’t he?

Face blank, you sent the man a look. Hands in his pockets, he shrugged with that same old crook of his lips.

“Am I wrong?” he seemed to say.

To that, you just rolled your eyes. With a light smack of your fist, the cash register jumped with a chime.

“Two pounds for the record,” you retorted.

Reaching up, the man tapped at one of several pins on his vest. It was the British flag, handmade with layers of wrinkled duct tape and permanent marker that stood out against the vest's black leather. Once he secured your attention, he gestured to you with a raise of his brow.

“What?”

Another tap on the pin, followed by a gesture to his throat this time. Running down his Adam’s apple was a scar. It looked a few weeks old, a ravine stitched shut some time ago. Within a few seconds, your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Are you… talking about my lack of an accent?” It was your turn to tilt your head around, lips puckered with a hint of reluctance. “Yeah, I guess I’m not from around here. I moved to London a little less than a month ago.”

You caught a faint hum of intrigue. Seemingly satisfied with that answer, the man finally gave you the two pounds and then some.

“What about you? You lived here your whole life, or..?”

You handed him his change. Casually, he dropped that change in the tip jar. (First tip since you started this job.) Once the record was back in his hands, he nodded.

“How is it? I haven’t really gotten much time to live the… ‘London experience,’ as some people advertised it to me.”

At your air quotes, which might’ve bordered on sarcasm, the man shook with a breath of laughter. With a low, thoughtful hum, he did a so-so gesture with his hand. Bouncing a fist off his palm, he jabbed a thumb off to the side.

“Is that… a way of saying ‘it’s better to skip town?’” you tried to translate.

His brow twitched with surprise. A second later, he gave a huff of affirmation, along with yet another one of those funny nods of his. (You swore the slight weight in them meant something.) Taking back the sticky notes, he scratched out a new message for you.

tHe PEopLE AIn’t BaD, jUsT ThE WaY tHInGS RuN

[ The people ain’t bad, just the way things run ]

“Hm. That’s a shame,” you sighed, averting your eyes. “Can’t say I haven’t heard that before.” Either that, or vice versa in some places. Between the memories, you heard the scritch-scratching of another note.

STicK To tHE OUtSkIRts. mIGht NOt lOOK liKE iT, bUt THeRe’S PLeNtY Of goOD ARoUnD hERe

[ Stick to the outskirts. Might not look like it, but there’s plenty of good around here ]

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

The man hummed — neither affirmed nor denied. Setting the pen down, he made his way towards the door.

“Is that a no on the guitar, then?” you called after him. Acoustic didn’t look quite right on him, but he sure as hell had a good handle on it.

The hanging bell sang its dinky, little tune. Wicks brushing against it for an encore, the man surveyed the wall of loved and abandoned guitars. The electrics were far and few in between, but… Nonetheless, the man raised a hand. Pinching the air, he mimed the action of turning a tuning peg. Then, he pointed at his ear. You squinted and cocked your head, almost like you were looking for another clue somewhere in the air.

“Are you… talking about my tuning?”

All you got was a grin in return. “Fix your tuning. Then, we’ll talk,” your mind translated.

With a playful salute, the man strolled out of the shop. As he left your sight, a petty pout settled over your face.

Nit-picky bastard…

He was many of your firsts in that moment. First customer of the week. First tip in this city. First word from someone honest. First critic of your “music expert” facade.

Picking up the pounds he had left, you went to stash them in the cash register. Right as you smacked the drawer open, you paused at the sight of your fingers. Pink, splotchy and bright, had stained them at some point. The pounds were pink too, sticky from the smear of spray paint. A hum stirred in your throat, soft and curious.

Wonder where that came from…

With a shrug, you tossed the coins in the drawer and bumped it shut. Either way, the nitpicker was probably stained pink too.

Thank you for reading! Likes, Comments & Reblogs are much appreciated <3

(P.S. If interested in a taglist, please let me know :) Not exactly a regular updates kind of person, but I'm hopeful for multiple chapters)

#hobie brown #spider punk #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown spiderverse #hobie brown x you #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse fanfic #egg's writing

[druidgroves]

butch lives to bring up flora’s over zealous past

#fallout #fallout 3 #lone wanderer #fo3 #rae.psd #ch: florence gallagher #she used to quote bible verses at him when he was being a dick 😔

[zhongrin]

| ◆ ch.9 ⑊ interlude ii.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

◇ a/n ◇ i swear i'm still writing this series ok shush-

"i greet the divine ruler, the beholder of the thousand stars."

you frown at the formality in the words spoken by such a familiar voice. yet as you turn towards the wind spirit, the words of scolding disperse into the breeze by his airy giggle and upturned eyes.

“little wisp,” you chide, “has the elders gotten to you too?”

“ehe! well, it depends, is morax categorized as an ‘elder’?”

with a chuckle, you raise your hand and the little ball of elemental energy automatically settles on your open palm. though it originally felt cold from your previous guest’s touch, you can sense your skin warming upon the spirit’s touch. how can two elemental beings turn out so differently?

“how are you liking the realm thus far?”

“i love it! it’s very…. you!”

“is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”

“of course it’s a good thing! it feels very homely! and nice! even the animals love it here!”

your eyes wander towards your surroundings, before they’re slowly drawn towards the festivities in the distance. they linger on the sight, a smile tugging on your lips as you spot the familiar faces strewn about the venue.

makoto is peacefully having tea with guizhong at one of the tea stalls, the latter smiling gently as the other is speaking about something with a proud smile on her facade. bragging about ei again, if you would allow yourself to guess.

you can't see morax, but you have a suspicion he's on the next island, no doubt intrigued by the storytelling performances of the older allogenes.

meanwhile, osial and beihst are strolling about aimlessly with a few delicacies on hand, and you almost laugh at the deep blush on beihst face as her companion offered her to share a bite of his food. you can see in the stars that they would be united as one, and you're looking forward to the day they ask for your blessings.

.... if you were still alive by then, that is.

the soft call of your name brings your attention back to the wind spirit floating by your open palm, and you hum to signal that you're listening, eyes still affixed to the way the lanterns twinkle under the fake night sky that you've crafted.

“[name], [name]. can i ask you for a favor?”

“as long as it does not upset the balance of the world.”

“…… will you give me a name?”

ah.

the sudden question makes you refocus your attention on the wisp. with the way his speck of green eyes behind his little hood keeps flitting about, unable to meet your gaze, it appears the little one is… a tad embarrassed?

“if you wish….,” a thoughtful hum echoes within your throat, “how about…”

“…. barbatos?”

the bard blinks and finally meets your gaze properly. he tilts his head and laughs, the sound ringing awkwardly in the air, and you give him a worried look.

“are you okay...?”

“of course, of course! well- actually, scratch that, i’ll be really lonely once you leave, soooo you better come back to visit soon!”

you snort and shake your head, giving him a knowing smile, “you could always visit me. as long as the wind blows, you can go anywhere you wish, no?”

the boy’s lips part, as if he was about to retort, but keqing’s voice steals your attention, and you completely miss the soft whisper of the forlorn breeze.

“your divinity, we’re ready!”

you throw one last grin at the crowd gathering on top of the city’s bridge and towards the anemo archon, “tell everyone thank you for the second time for me, okay?”

barbatos watches forlornly as you climb onto the carriage prepared by the liyue qixing. the breeze is cold as it whips around him, caressing through the surface of the cleansed water in the lakes and the flowers you’ve coaxed to bloom within the span of the few days you stayed in mondstadt.

it’s okay, he tells himself.

you’ll be back soon.

he can always visit you.

“but not if you disappeared from teyvat itself…”

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @niverine | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @clovcly | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #tsaritsa #venti #barbatos #rin writes #universe abound

[tokoyamisstuff]

Sugar Shock Ch. 1

Hotaru Haganezuka x GN! Reader

Based on this comic by @yuki2sksksk. I hope I did it justice! 💌

Might do more chapters as the comic continues. 🙃

Summary: No one - including Haganezuka himself - believed that he would ever get married, let alone be interested in it at all...

...that was until he met you, at least.

Warnings: None.

Words: 1763

A/N: I wrote this on my phone while my baby was dozing on me and I couldn't move. 🤣Added a bit of extra plot just for fun.

Also I know the title is cheesy, leave me alone.

There was nothing special about today, he thought.

It was a day like so man others before, and still he decided it'd be the day of his proposal to you.

The peculiar swordsmith had been pining on you for a year and a half. Well, one year five months and twenty-three days to be precize. He was a man to whom details mattered, after all.

So why today, after such a long time of inaction? There was no answer to that question he asked himself.

Maybe it'd be safer for his heart to keep on admiring you from afar, occasionally stilling this irresistible urge to seek your presence by visiting your shop.

Hotaru sat up in his bed, groaning as he shook his head desperately to become clear again. But you were always there, in the corner of his mind.

The sun had yet to rise, but every single time he would try to fall asleep again was a fruitless attempt. His thoughts would always wander off to you, about how you were probably awake right now as well, already preparing the shop for your daily work.

You had a kind of dedication to your craft Haganezuka only ever saw in himself. Maybe you weren't all that different, he and you. Lonely in your passion for the only thing which in another way connected you to other people.

There it was again, this annoying pound in his chest he couldn't quite decipher. Sometimes it was a narrowing feeling however, as if he couldn't breathe and his whole body went numb.

Back then he even visited the doctor of the village, certain that it was a sign of a serious illness. It was the first time he had ever felt this way for anyone, after all, and deciphering those complex emotions sure took him a while...

...and when he realized this was what love must feel like, he became afraid. Scared of what this would make of him, that his emotions would hinder his work and the perfect concentration needed for it.

So afraid that he thought suppressing them would be easier than to find out what kind of life could await him if only he had the courage to confess.

But he was literally drawn to you like a firefly would be to the light.

Even if his love for you was no sickness, it sure felt like it - and would worsen with every day that he did not act.

Haganezuka felt like he would burst if he wouldn't finally vocalize those feelings. But if he'd make himself vulnerable like that, he'll at least go all out and instantly ask you to join him in marriage.

"Might as well get this over with."

His way to your shop led straight through the main Swordsmith Village, a crowded place he would usually go out of his way to avoid. Luckily, since it was still early, no one would bother him on his quest.

While he was strolling through the empty road, he reminisced about when exactly he began harboring those irritating emotions for you. His crush had developed slowly but steadily, just like the process of forging a sword.

Fighting it was a battle he was doomed to lose.

You on the other hand had probably forgotten already, since those acts of kindness just come natural to you. Many times before he had seen you handing out samples of candy to children or drinks to people working outside in the sun.

About two years ago you had coincidentally encountered him in the forrest.

You were collecting herbs and other ingredients needed for your work, stumbling across a sulking Haganezuka in the middle of nowhere. He had a habit of running off after he had one of his infamous tantrums, sometimes disappearing for days nowhere to be found.

Opposite to the other townsfolk which would usually scold or make fun about his behavior, you simply nodded with a smile on your face, greeting him in the silence he most likely needed.

When he failed to react you'd dare sitting down next to him, and even though his face was hidden you felt an intense stare observing you sinking onto the slightly damp grass. Your nervousness was pathetically obvious, yet not a surprising reaction.

Hotaru was used to nothing less from people that knew of his violent tendencies, so over time he had mastered the art of making it seem as if he did not care. Still, he shuffled a bit further away from you, his arms crossed in front of his chest to make him seem less of a threat.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, you took a deep breath of fresh air and rummaged into your bag, with Haganezuka eyeing you warily yet not less interested. "Here" you offered as you pulled out a single piece of mitarashi dango - his favourite. "To calm the nerves."

He snatched it out of your hand without thinking first, making you chuckle as you heared him munch quite aggressively from beneath the Hyottoko mask.

In return you had gotten a long rant about some kid that had apparently broken his sword, as well as more details about the topic of forging a Nichirin Sword than you were willing to listen to. Still, it was rather pleasant to see him so expressive for a change.

And yet: After that event Haganezuka never spoke to you again.

You'd even go so far as to say the man was actively avoiding you, always changing sides of the road or doing a quick turn whenever you'd meet in the village. Even when visited your shop, Kanamori would always accompany him and do all the talking.

And yet he would come every single day, though you deduced it was due to his weakness for sweets in general that he'd endure your presence.

When Tecchikawahara got wind of it however, he insisted that his foster son had never opened up to anyone so easily, but you brushed it off as nothing special.

Why force someone so obviously asocial into an interaction? Things were fine as they are now.

You yawned, stretching in front of the great display window as you took in the first rays of sunlight this morning. The daylight would scatter across the treetops, showing the colorful beauty of autumn.

It sure was nice living out here, in safety.

Sometimes you couldn't believe it was three years already since Kanamori had taken you with him.

Like many others that ended up affiliated with Demon Slayers, your previous life had been obliterated by one of those monsters.

Kanamori had taken sympathy in your situation back then, and offered to take you in as an apprentice. Sadly it turned out you lacked any talent for swordcrafting, so you stuck to the labor that had been passed down in your family for generations: Creating different kinds of desserts and beverages.

This way you could still be useful to the hardworking craftsmen, repaying their generosity of taking you in at your lowest point with your eternal gratitude.

And now that you had accustomed to this life, you felt a sense of normalcry. Not a home, not yet, but maybe someday.

A loud bang startled you straight out of your pondering. It was the front door that had forcefull, swung open, accented with the little bell attached to it.

"Ha-Haganezuka!"

This was certainly the last person you had expected to enter your shop before it had even properly opened. And alone for a change, since Kanamori was out of town for this day.

There was no trying to hide both the bewilderment and concern in your features when he approached you with firm steps, wordlessly towering over your much smaller form.

Quite taken aback by the sudden proximity, you gulped before reminding yourself he is still a customer. And it would be impolite to just remain like this - since as far as you knew him, he wasn't going to initiate a conversation anyway.

"Good morning!" you cheered as you put up your most welcoming smile, "What can I help you with?"

And just like that, everything he had come up with in his mind had vanished into thin air.

Good for him that he was wearing his mask like he always would, otherwise his intentions would be as clear as daylight. He could only guess, but from the heat that was radiating off of his face, it was most likely bright red at this point.

"C'mon, say something...remember what you came here to do!"

Hotaru's words had now completely failed him, and he could see the gears in your head turn the longer he would remain staring at you without making a single sound.

Every single time he saw you it was comparable to the ecstasis of having finished yet another masterpiece of a sword.

And just like those blades, you were immaculate.

He flinched at the inevitable rejection that awaited him, only now wondering why he would even consider asking for your hand when he knew he could consider himself lucky if you'd even hear him out.

All of this seemed way easier when he went through it in his head.

You rose an eyebrow at the strange man, but quickly regained your composure. "If you want to buy sweets, you have to wait until I can open the store properly..."

The only answer was a shake of his head. Alright then.

"No?" Oh, now you got it. "Did you come to see Kanamori? He's still spending time with his wife, but he told me they'll be back before noon."

Another frantic head-shake.

What then?!

It's alright that he doesn't like smalltalk, or you, or both. But how should you know why he's here when he is making this way harder than it has to be?

"Stay polite, Y/N, pick your fights wisely..." this man has quite a temper and poor anger management skills, you wouldn't wanna provoke him.

"Haha" you chuckled halfheartedly, more fake than anything. "Are you here to see me? Oh my, I feel like I'm about to be court."

You snorted, this time for real as you imagined this hilarious scenario. Haganezuka, liking you? To be perfectly honest, while he's certainly loyal to the village and it's inhabitants, he seemed rather neutral about anything besides his craft. "Just kidding-"

"Yes."

Huh?

HUH?!????!?

You thought to have misunderstand, but instead of correcting your joke Haganezuka balled his fists, as if bracing himself before repeating his declaration. It was now or never.

"Yes, Y/N, I am courting you."

[Next chapter]

#demon slayer #haganezuka / reader #haganezuka / you #haganezuka hotaru #self insert #writing

[pedritomosquito]

Unmute (Ch 1)

Summary: Joel's journey to find Tommy is interrupted by a girl who needs help. A whole lot changes for both of them when she ends up tagging along.

Pairing: No Pairings, just Joel & Ellie

Word count: 3,339

Warnings: SA recovery, Ellie was SAed, canon-typical gun violence, Mute character

A/N: My first tlou fic! I live for Joel and Ellie. I wanted to watch how Ellie's character would grow into the one we know and love if she started off mute. Heed the warnings, loves! Have a safe read 🥰

Joel had no one. 

He swore to himself he would never get attached, that the world was different now and he couldn’t afford to. 

Yet Tess was gone. And hours later he found that Bill and Frank were too. 

If he swore he wasn’t attached, then why did he feel the void inside him growing?

The only thing left was getting to Tommy. He needed to believe Tommy was alive. It was naive and uncharacteristically optimistic of him to assume that nothing had happened to him; that his radio silence didn’t mean he was gone too. 

Joel had to believe Tommy was alive or the last part of himself that remained would die too. 

Now he had a car and a mission.

He’d driven through the night, wanting to put as many miles behind him as possible. Each hour he would pull over to fill the truck’s tank, bleary eyed as he cut through Bill’s supply. He’d only made it this far west of the Boston QZ a couple of times, but he knew his next stop would be a gas station on route 70. It was an interstate rest stop with enough abandoned cars and pumps to find some gas to siphon.

The gas pedal meeting the floorboard cued Joel to realize he fucked up. The truck was only rolling along at twenty miles per hour.

“Shit,” He muttered.

The quality of gasoline seemed to deteriorate by the day now and fuel gauges could never be trusted.

He pulled off of the road, coasting down the embankment and into the trees. He had enough momentum and fuel to drive just far enough into the woods, out of sight.

He hung his head, hands braced against the steering wheel. Maybe this was a sign. His eyes wandered to the rifle sitting beside him.

He exhaled the idea, shoving the door open instead. 

He’d passed a sign only a minute before that said the rest stop was seven miles away. That meant he was probably six miles away now and a two hour walk each way. 

Grabbing a backpack and slinging the strap of the rifle over his shoulder, he set off back towards the road with a gas can in hand. He trailed alongside the fractured pavement, staying hidden in the treeline. 

The gas station was just as he remembered it. One large building created its center with a food court and bathrooms. Sixteen gas pumps sat in clean rows of two outside. The overgrowth of weeds and vines had crawled further across the rooftop, fingers dipping into the boarded windows.

The pumps were long emptied, so Joel headed over to a derelict Nissan Pathfinder. Bigger car, bigger gas tank. He pried the metal cover off and unscrewed the gas cap. He pulled out the tubing from his backpack and threaded it into the tank. It came back wet with fuel. 

He was setting up the can next to him when a gunshot roared, whistling through the steel of the car.

“Fuck,” he darted behind the SUV for cover. He peered through the crosshairs of his rifle as two more bullets flew past him from different directions. He could just barely make out the barrel of a gun sitting in the gap between a couple of wood boards. He fired and was satisfied by the unmistakable sound of bullet finding flesh.

There was shouting inside and then a barrage of gunfire pelting the car, still from two different angles, one of them new. He calculated at least three men, one already down. He leaned out, firing at a shadow. Another hit.

A long moment of silence followed. A lone gunman finally replied with several shots. Joel couldn’t get an angle on him and ran for cover behind another car.

It was a clear and easy shot through an uncovered patch of a glass door.

The glass shattered and the man’s body hit the floor before the last shard had even fallen.

The quiet pause lasted this time and Joel carefully advanced toward the doors in smooth, long strides. He kicked open the door, sweeping his rifle over the room. 

Sets of tables and chairs were strewn about, some overturned. Moss leached along the cracks in the black and white floors, now coated in dirt. The bodies of the three men became fixtures, like they had already become part of the ground itself. 

Between a pair of toppled tables, he made out the toe of a green shoe. He tightened his grip. 

“Don’t you fucking move,” he warned, circling in a wide arc. 

His eyes landed on a naked girl under the table, tucked tightly in a ball. 

Sarah’s age. 

His grip faltered. 

She wore only torn remnants of a shirt and she desperately tried to cover the rest of herself with her hands. Her eyes were blown wide in terror, the dirt on her face streaked with tears. 

She looked him dead in the eye and gave him a tiny nod. 

Please. Do it.

His brow furrowed.  

“Are you bit?” He asked lowly. 

She shook her head. 

He eyed her suspiciously for a moment. He wanted to be distrustful–needed to be, really–but her fear was so genuine it was almost overwhelming. He averted his gun’s aim off to the side.

“Stand up,” He directed quietly.

She stayed frozen, her face beginning to crumple.

He followed her train of thought.

“No, no, I’m not–” He tried to explain but couldn’t find the words. “I just gotta see if you’re bit.”

She hesitantly unlaced her arms from around herself and emerged from betweens tables, getting to her feet.

Joel had turned his head away from her, just his eyes reluctantly scanning over her. 

He noted a full spectrum of bruises across her skin, mostly around her wrists, neck, and legs. Some dried blood blotted the inside of her thighs. She turned around slowly, showing him her back, before returning to face him. She slipped her arms around herself again, her eyes never leaving the filthy linoleum at her feet.

With decades between Joel and life before the outbreak, he liked to consider himself fully numb at this point. The child in front of him was making him waver as outrage swirled uncomfortably in his stomach. He glanced at the dead bodies around him and wished he’d made them suffer more. Death was far too kind.

He shrugged off his flannel.

“Put this on,” he said as he held it out to her.

She looked between him and the shirt fisted in his hand. She slowly stepped forward but hesitated when she reached for it. 

Joel nodded in encouragement. 

As her fingertips brushed the fabric, it was like a visceral need shot through her. She quickly grabbed it, spinning away from him as she shoved it on. It was just long enough to cover her completely. She began to work on buttoning it up.

He wondered what the hell he was supposed to do with this kid now. 

“Where did you come from?” He asked. 

The girl just continued to fumble with the buttons.   

“You from the Pittsburgh QZ?” He tried. 

Her eyes bounced up to him for a moment. 

“Okay, so the Pittsburg QZ,” he deduced from her glance alone. “I’ll bring you back there if—“

He’s interrupted by her outright panic, frantically shaking her head, tears welling in her eyes. 

Goddamnit. He sighed. 

“FEDRA wants you,” he assumed in defeat. She fiddled with a sleeve regretfully. 

The rumbling of an approaching car cut them off. Joel pushed the girl back into her hiding spot behind the tables and crouched down beside her, training his gun on the door. 

The engine cut off and the footfalls of several people crunched in the gravel. 

“Pat?” A voice outside called as it approached, “Shawn?”

The door swung open and Joel fired, striking the man through the chest. Chaos descended upon the room. 

The back door burst open and Joel pivoted, shooting the intruder and covering the girl. He immediately returned his aim to the front door at the sound of a gun cocking. 

Joel managed to fire once before ducking behind the table as bullets sprayed back at them. He left the girl’s side, moving further back and using a booth as cover to divert the gunfire. 

He leaned out and took three more shots. Over the explosions of gunpowder, he didn’t hear the fourth man enter from the back. 

A boot collided with Joel’s head, knocking him and his gun to the floor. Joel reached for the weapon but another pair of hands gripped the barrel. 

They both grappled and fought for possession, the heavy weight of the man pinning Joel to the ground. The man wrenched the gun up to his neck and pressed it tight down against his throat. Joel tried to push back, to allow any bit of air to slide into his lungs, but the man’s weight was too much. 

His hearing started to fade. Black ash plumed in his vision. 

A muffled gunshot rang in his ears and the weight above him suddenly shifted, collapsing onto the floor next to him. 

He saw a blurred figure in his green flannel, crouched off to his side, gun still pointed at the man now lying on the floor. 

She instantly turned as the man at the front moved towards them and she fired a clean shot. His body thudded onto the tile. The chaos was gone and the only sound in the room was the wounded man’s frantic breathing. 

The girl stood slowly, shaking, the gun still in her hand.

Joel sat up and watched wordlessly as she walked forward. 

Shattered glass popped like thin ice under her worn rubber soles with each step.She came to stand over the bleeding man. 

His fingers twitched feebly to reach the pistol laying by his side and she kicked it away. 

She raised her chin as she raised her gun, hands shaking but certain as she looked down at him. 

And she fired. 

The kickback made her startle and her cheeks were soaked with tears, but she kept her eyes on him even as the gun fell from her hand. 

When she moved, she made her way over to one of the other men and leaned down. She reached out and searched through his pocket for a moment before withdrawing. The quiet sound of metal jingling echoed in the room.  

Finally Joel staggered to his feet and picked up his rifle, strapping it to his back. The girl returned to him and said nothing, simply holding out a pair of car keys.

He looked at her, but the girl refused to bring her eyes up from the floor.

He carefully took the keys dangling from her fingertips. 

“Okay,” He nodded, “Let’s get out of here.”

—--

Joel aimlessly fidgeted with the steering wheel, rolling his grip on it. The girl was an unexpected obstacle–cargo with no real destination. She was undeniably an extra weight to carry and ultimately just an extra mouth to feed, but he still didn’t see any other options. 

She sat quietly in the back seat, pulling the hem of her shirt down as far as she could. 

He pulled up behind Bill’s truck, throwing the gear into park.

“Come on,” He said a bit begrudgingly, “I think I can find something for you.”

She hesitantly got out of the car and trailed behind him over to the truck. 

Joel rifled around in the backseat for a minute. In one of the bags, he found an extra pair of Frank’s jeans. Although Frank had become much smaller as his health deteriorated, Joel knew the pants would be ten sizes too big all the same. He found the first aid kit and pulled out the bandage scissors. He knew he'd have to sacrifice his belt for the cause as well and began to undo the buckle, sliding it off.

The snapping of twigs brought his attention back to the girl. He saw her slowly backing away, eyes flitting between the belt in his hands and an escape route.

“Shit, no, I’m just–” Joel rushed to explain, pulling the folded jeans out of the car into her view, “For you, see?”

He held it out toward her. This barely seemed to calm her down. He slowly walked to the hood of the car between them, a neutral ground, with one hand up in surrender. He carefully set the peace offering down. 

“Put ‘em on,” He offered gently before walking back to the truck.

A minute later, the girl appeared to the side of him. He pretended not to be unnerved by her stealth. 

The ill-fitting pants at least got the job done as she stood fully clothed before him. Her sleeves and pant legs were rolled a hundred times over, bulky and unraveling. 

He placed the bandage scissors on the tail bumper.

“Trim them,” He nodded towards the pair of dull blades.

The girl regarded him suspiciously before quickly swiping the scissors and finding a rock to sit on. She busied herself with cutting the denim and flannel. 

Joel popped the hood of the newly-inherited car, inspecting it. It was newer and had better fuel efficiency than Bill’s truck, so he made the decision to switch out the supplies. He started carrying loads between the cars, stocking it up.

The girl returned in clothes that were at least no longer a tripping hazard.

Joel just nodded in approval and reached to take the scissors from her. She stepped back and hugged them close to her chest. Watching her cling to them like safety–he couldn’t bring himself to take them away. It would be good, he reasoned; she would be less of a burden if she had a way to defend herself.

He sighed in defeat.

“I better not find those in my back,” He muttered.

She slipped them into the pocket of the oversized jeans and silently picked one of the bags from the backseat. She slung it over her shoulder and walked it over to the other car.

 ——-

Joel cranked the key in the ignition, the engine turning to life. 

The girl climbed into the passenger seat, curiously scanning the space around her. She poked at the air vent and spun its dial experimentally. She found a square button on the dashboard and pushed it. The glove compartment fell open into her lap, making her jump. 

Joel watched, feeling impatient, even if admittedly a bit amused. 

“Never sat up front before?” He assumed.

She looked in his general direction for a moment. She picked up papers that sat in the compartment and froze when she saw a small black pistol beneath it.  

“I’ll take that,” Joel immediately reached over and plucked it out, unloading the cartridge and barrel in two swift motions before tucking the gun in the side of his door. 

She pushed the glove compartment shut and reached up to the rear view mirror, tilting it. 

“Don’t touch that,” he said, adjusting it back to its proper position. 

Her hand slowly reached back up as she still stole a look at him. She extended a singular finger and gave the mirror a tiny, gentle poke. 

“Christ,” he muttered with a roll of his eyes and a sigh. “Seatbelt,” he directed. 

The girl glanced at him and looked around a bit blankly. 

“It’s—“ Joel started to reach toward her but froze when she flinched, leaning away from him. “Ok,” he backed off, re-calculating his explanation. He pointed to her far shoulder instead. “Behind you?”

She looked and found the strap, running it between her fingertips and then looked back to see him demonstrating with his own seatbelt. 

“You just pull it across, and buckle,” he explained as it clicked in. 

Her face grew troubled, looking between the buckles and the latch in her hand. Fear crept into her expression again. 

“You just push the button to undo it,” he assured her. 

This assuaged her doubt a little, but she continued to side eye him distrustfully. Faster than he could object, her hand flew down to the red button next to him, jabbing it hard before jumping away. 

Sure enough, Joel’s belt popped out, just as he said it would. 

He caught the latch as it slid back across him, looking at her with his eyebrows raised.

She seemed satisfied, buckling her own seatbelt and staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“Okay,” Joel concluded, beginning their drive out of the forest and to the main road. 

As much as Joel thoroughly enjoyed having a quiet commute, he couldn’t help but wonder about his passenger. It had been two hours of silence and sunset was nearing.

“You got a name?” He finally asked, watching the endless country road feed itself to the tires of the car. 

More silence. 

“Or a reason you got the aim of a sniper?” He got no response so he continued. “Or why you don’t talk?”

Nothing. 

“Do you know how to talk?” He prodded. 

He looked over and saw her offended expression. 

“Well you’re not giving me a lot to go off of here, kid,” he reasoned. 

She adjusted in her seat to look out the window.

“Fine,” he gave up. “That’s enough for today,” he decided, pulling off of the road and into the woods, “We’ll stop here and get back on the road in the morning.”

It occurred to him that the girl had no idea where he was headed or why. It didn’t seem to matter to her. 

He found a patch far enough into the woods for his liking and dropped anchor. He started to set out a sleeping bag, tossing the girl one as well. She caught it easily and Joel detected a bit of light in her eyes as she admired the rolled bedding in her hands. Simple pleasures.

Daylight had just about faded when Joel finished warming up a couple of 20 year old chef boyardee’s. The girl looked confused when he pushed a can towards her.

“You’re no good weak,” He said simply.

She hesitantly took the can, her face unreadable. 

He started to eat but was quickly distracted by the sound of the girl, who was eating like she hadn’t been fed in days. He realized that might actually be true–lord knows when she’d eaten last.

“Slow down,” He commented despite knowing he’d probably be ignored. And he was.

—-

Joel laid his rifle down beside his sleeping bag, ready to get some rest. He looked over at the girl and saw a half-shredded book he’d never seen before in her hand. There was almost a slight pull at the corner of her mouth, something like a smile, as she read by the lantern light. 

“Where’d you get that?” He asked, his voice startling her. 

She closed the book and slid it into the sleeping bag, nodding towards the car. 

Joel just hummed in response. 

He reached to turn off the light and the girl flinched hard, her grip on the sleeping bag white knuckled. 

He paused, debating why he always felt so guilty when she was scared, why he cared at all. 

“Listen,” Joel began, trying to articulate his thoughts as cautiously as he could. “What those men did to you. It was wrong, okay? I don’t want… that… from you. I will never want that from you. Understand?”

The girl just stared at the dirt. He couldn’t be sure in dim lantern light, but it seemed like her eyes were pooled with tears. 

She suddenly turned over, facing away from him. 

Joel cursed himself for being so bad at this. He tapped the light off with a small sigh and laid back, looking up at the weave of leaves looming tall above him. 

“Ellie.”

Joel’s head shot up, looking at the outline of the girl through the darkness. He surely didn’t hear that, did he?

Her voice was small but definitely there. 

Ellie. 

Her name was Ellie. 

He rested back down on the sleeping bag. 

“Joel.”

Ch 2

#hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #ellie williams #joel miller #fanfiction #imagine #hurt/comfort #angst #fanfic #joel and ellie #joel and sarah #chapter 1 #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #tlou

[sydsrichie]

'til queendom come, ch. 7

[masterlist] [Ao3] [playlist]

aemond targaryen x targaryen oc

wordcount: 10,004

ch. 7, pariah: "It is about time you young ones learned what it is to play the long game. Now is not the time for the rashness and hot blood of youth. It is time to dig in before winter and lay plans, Lady Visenya. Will you trust me on that?"

warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical incest, abusive parent/child relationship, nsfw/18+ in later chapters, mentions of canon sexual violence & abuse (including against minors), spoilers for HoTD/F&B

a/n: each and every ask, reply, reblog puts a gigantic grin on my face, guys, so thank you so so much! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Once the maester came to tend to her father, Sena did not waste any time in using the distraction to slip out of Dragonstone. The wind on the rolling moors before the keep’s walls was ice cold and it penetrated Sena’s dress like so many knives. She wrapped her arms around herself, her splinted one still aching angrily, and carried on up the incline to the smoking home of her family’s dragons.

The tunnel she found was a familiar one, and the skeletal remains of fish and seabirds littered the floor as she retreated into the cave. It was dark. So dark. And cold. The blackness was only broken by a thin few shafts of light penetrating the ceiling. She usually would have asked Grey Ghost for light, but she did not find him there. He was not coiled in the cavern, dozing safely and happily, knowing as sure as the sun rises in the east that it was only his master who approached him. His master, his only friend, who would never let harm come to him.

Sena’s chest started to constrict and spasm and she threw her weight down onto the cavern floor.

The sobs started wracking her body like they were being drawn from the depths of her stomach, the marrow of her bones. Her throat felt raw and her cheeks stung as she swiped at them angrily. She could not draw breath, could do nothing but gasp and pray desperately to every God she knew of that she would find air. The sounds that were shredding their way out of her throat echoed off of the rocks around her and bounced back to her ears like the wails of a ghost.

Maybe she was a ghost, doomed to haunt this smoking isle forever, lonely and lost. Try as she might to pretend otherwise, she was still little more than that sad child who fifteen years ago had wandered off into the hills, searching for a fabled dragon of the fisherfolk who was as alone in the world as she was.

The last few moons were nought but a bleak blur in her head. It had been savage blow after savage blow. Aemond, her poor, sweet uncle, Aegon’s crowning, Luke, Grey Ghost… and now this.

She had promised Jaehaerys they would race his uncle and sister on her own Grey Ghost. Now… now Aemond seemed an entire world away, and Grey Ghost was dead at her hands, and poor Jaehaerys. It did not bare thinking about. A tiny blood-soaked body… Helaena screaming.

Sena hit her hands off of the cave floor until they were raw and bleeding. She screamed and screamed until her voice failed her, throwing every rock and shard of bone she could lay her hands on, listening to them ricochet in the dark.

Her father. 

The wet arc of his blood spattered across the front of her gown.

The split in her lip that leaked her own blood onto her tongue. The aching of her jaw where her father had struck her.

She needed to move. The castle garrison would come looking for her soon, once Prince Daemon was bandaged. When they asked the guards on the walls and found out she’d made for the Dragonmont, the empty haunt of her lost dragon would be the first place they checked. She had to move.

The only problem was that she could not see anything. Her hands were aching, her left arm had lost much of its sensation, and she was desperately cold, shivering even as she dragged in ice cold air like a dying man. Was this how Grey Ghost had always felt, like he was stumbling around in the dark? This was how she had killed him, flying him into a storm and taking his sight from him.

She got to her feet shakily. The cold air of the Dragonmont felt like knives in her chest. She needed to find somewhere safe to hide, somewhere in the smoking hill. Somewhere closer to the molten veins, far from the surface, far from where the Queen’s guards could find her.

Would she hang for it, she wondered? What sentence would the Queen pass down for an attempt on her consort’s life? Hanging was probably too kind - if they did it right, it would snap her neck and end it all instantly. No, her father would not like that. Maybe it would be Caraxes? The Blood Wyrm would do it, certainly - he held no love for her, did not even tolerate her like Vhagar did. But then, her father’s words rung in her head like a struck bell. He had no intention of wiping her from the face of the earth until he had first hurt her each way he could.

She would not be a prisoner until that day came, she decided.

The floor of the Dragonmont was uneven and slippy beneath her feet, damp in the cool air of the nearing winter. Her cotton dress and shift were like a paper shield against the penetrating cold, so she pushed forward, up the connecting passage and deeper into the heart of the hillside. She felt her away along the wall, probing carefully with her feet before her with every step so as not to be caught unawares by a sudden drop. Meagre sunlight broke up the darkness when it could, but she was mainly on her own, her eyes straining for any kind of guidance.

It was while she fumbled in the dark that she first heard a low growl. Fuck. She was just trying to find warmth, light, not step on the tail of a sleeping dragon-

The grumble grew louder and she crouched into the wall, as if it could give her any cover. It had to be one of the bigger dragons she had stumbled across, as the sound was distant and echoing, like it was coming from overhead. Not Syrax, Vermax or Tyraxes. She winced. Maybe Caraxes was about to put a swift end to her after all. “Lyks,” she hissed urgently. “Lyks. Lykiri.” Peace. Calm down. She crouched down before the beast, making herself small, willing the racing of her heart to slow.

The dragon did not set fire to her, at least. Not straight away. Recognising its own tongue, the blood of the dragon, the way she was only sitting somewhere close by and not actively trying to come nearer, was enough to get the beast to settle some.

Sena let out a long breath and calmed her racing heart. “Nyke jeldan naejot sagon mērī,” she said, I wanted to be alone. “Kesan daor jenigon ao.” I will not bother you.

The dragon grumbled its assent. The cavern was warmer, at least, with the great beast’s breath filling the air, and Sena felt her shivers subside as she set herself down on the stone. The floor radiated a little heat, closer to the glowing heart of the Dragonmont. She could stay here - for awhile, at least.

She focused on her breathing. In and out. That was it. That was all she had to do.

-----

Sena had no idea how long it was before she heard boots approaching and distant calls of “Lady Visenya?” Men’s voices. More than one. The castle garrison. As soon as the dragon she shared her cavern with heard, it shifted in the dark and growled, low and menacing.

The steps in the hallway faltered. “Careful,” one man hissed to another. “That one doesn’t sound friendly.”

“We have to find her,” the companion hissed. “We can’t go back to the Queen empty-handed.”

“We won’t go back to the Queen at all if we get torched.”

The second man made a sound and said, “C’mon, then, craven. We’ll look for her elsewhere.”

The footsteps retreated again.

Sena could feel the dragon’s gaze on her, the beast’s steady breathing causing her skirts to ruffle a little. She hoped the beast would not decide her to be more hassle than she was worth and just torch her there and then.

It wasn’t until many hours later that she heard someone approaching again. She’d been passing in and out of a light sleep, her thoughts exhausting her and her stomach starting to growl. But she heard light feet on the hallway she had come down, and the dragon sharing the cavern stirred once more, growling at the incomer.

“Lykiri,” came a woman’s voice. “Nyke māzigon isse lyks.” I come in peace.

The woman bore a torch, and blinding light flickered across Sena’s field of vision for the first time in hours. She flinched and averted her eyes. Gods, could no one in this damned family leave well enough alone?

Princess Rhaenys stood at the mouth of the cavern, her eyes catching on Sena’s crouched form with an unreadable look on her face. “There you are, my lady,” she said. “You’ve had the entire castle garrison and all the family scouring Dragonstone for you all day.”

Sena gritted her teeth at the idea of Jace, Baela and Rhaena knowing what she had done and being made to search the entire isle for her. “The dragon kept the garrison away.’

“He could do that, yes,” the Princess raised her torch, and the light caught on a truly fearsome beast, bronze in colour and twice the size of Sena’s Grey Ghost. The dragon peered at Rhaenys through a slit of eyelid, then lay his head down to go back to sleep, unbothered by the intrusion. “He was my grandfather’s mount, once upon a time. I flew across the realm upon Meleys with him on a royal progress, when I was a young woman. The same progress where I told my grandfather I intended to marry Lord Corlys.”

Sena gazed up at the bronze beast in wonder. “Vermithor?” She breathed. The name was like legend in her family. The mount of her great-grandfather, Jaehaerys I, the progenitor of all living Targaryens and the greatest King their House had put on the Iron Throne. The King who seized back power and restored order to the Seven Kingdoms after his father’s throne was usurped by Maegor the Cruel. The Conciliator. It had been Vermithor who bore Jaehaerys I across the realm, from the North to the Stormlands, cowed his enemies and sired clutches of eggs that had birthed many of their current dragons.

Rhaenys had a wistful look in her eye. “Those were better days,” she said, and looked down at where Sena still huddled on the cavern floor. “If you had told me then as a young woman that my good, kind Uncle and bawdy, courageous Aunt would sire a man like your father… I would have been too naive to believe you.”

Daemon never told her about her grandfather and grandmother, Baelon the Brave and Princess Alyssa. Truthfully, she thought he struggled to speak of them. Childbirth scared her father - he had not been with Rhaenyra through any of her births after losing both his mother and his second wife to the birthing bed. And if someone who seemed so destined for greatness as her grandfather Baelon could die of something as menial as a burst belly… she sometimes thought it had put a recklessness in her father, a distaste for patience, reserve, morality. He could die at any moment and it weighed on his mind constantly. It made him dangerous. “So you’re not here to drag me back to Dragonstone and clap me in chains then?”

Rhaenys gave her a wry look. “If I was, I wouldn’t waste time by standing here talking to you, girl,” she said. “Your father has left for his troops in the Riverlands. The Queen commanded him to stay and heal, but he is as wilful as he is foolish.”

“’Twas only a letter opener,” Sena said darkly, “he’ll live.”

“I can’t decide if you meant to kill him or not. Lord Corlys thinks you did. My grandchildren think you did not.”

“I knew I couldn’t. Like I said, it was only a letter opener. I just… wanted him to feel the fear he inflicts on others,” Sena said, rubbing at her eyes with the backs of her hands. There were still specks of blood on them, she noted with a grim smile. “So I guess there isn’t an answer to your question.”

Rhaenys nodded, as if that was answer enough. “Are you going to come back down to the keep for supper and a salve on that bruise or shall I have to send your sisters up with a plate?” She asked. “The Queen will not punish you tonight. The immediate threat to Daemon’s life is over and I do not think she would wish to lose the loyalty of any more dragonriders.”

Sena looked at her, really looked at her. Took in the snow white streaks in her hair and the fine lines on her face. She envied the Princess her wisdom, she realised with a pang. She envied the assuredness and the strength that Rhaenys walked through the world with. The kind of certainty you only get from having your world fall to pieces and putting it back together many times over the years. The assuredness that nothing in life was unsalvageable if you knew how to pick through the rubble. Sena did not know if she was strong enough to make it as far as the Princess had, not if her next twenty years were to be anything like her first. “Am I supposed to just go back to normal? Pretend nothing’s happened?” She asked and her voice was hoarse from the screaming.

“No,” the Princess said, shaking her head. “I am not asking you to do that. But it is about time you young ones learned what it is to play the long game. You will not get your revenge today, my lady… or tomorrow, or in the next moon, or maybe even next year. Now is not the time for the rashness and hot blood of youth - you tried that today and it failed spectacularly. It is time to dig in before winter and lay plans, Lady Visenya. Will you trust me on that?”

Sena considered her and thought about it. It was true, rashness had not prevailed today. Her father was still breathing and more livid than ever, even if he had run off to the continent to lick his wounds. She also knew she had lost much of her favour with the Queen. Not that she could truly care who liked her, not while Helaena was leagues away, drowning in agony and grief. But if she wanted to stop this war, wanted to stop the pain, the death, wanted to right the wrongs that had been done to her and the people she loved… she sighed. “I guess I had best keep my strength up, if it’s the long game we’re playing,” she said and pushed herself up from the ground, a little wobbly.

Rhaenys gave her the barest hint of a smile. “Now you’re getting it.”

After that day, Rhaenyra was loathe to be in Sena’s presence. Whether it was fear or anger or shame, Sena did not know. But truthfully, she did not mind. She too could not stand to be in the presence of a Queen who either had not known that Daemon had set his eyes on Prince Jaehaerys or had elected to ignore it. So Sena trained instead, and helped train Jace and Joffrey and Baela, and wandered the Dragonmont when she needed some quiet, some time alone. And with every meal and prayer and parry and heartbeat, she thought of Helaena. 

Helaena, Alicent, Aegon, Daeron… Aemond.

The maester to her father’s army reported his swift recovery. Targaryen blood burned out infection better than all others and she had clearly missed everything vital. Sena made a grim mental note to herself to study the veins and arteries of the neck when she got the chance. 

Harrenhal fell quickly to Prince Daemon’s burning wrath, and by all reports it set the green council ablaze. Ser Otto Hightower was dismissed from the Tower of the Hand, with Ser Criston Cole taking up his office and the Usurper’s armies being ordered to march. It seemed the war of words was well and truly over, and the storm of swords was about to begin.

It was the day that Maester Gerardys removed the splint from Sena’s arm and she was testing out her healed arm that a new line of dominoes began to fall. She had managed to dress herself and was overjoyed at being able to wear her favourite gowns again when her handmaiden, Sophey interrupted her. “Pardon me, m’lady, but the Queen is requesting your presence at the war table.”

Sena looked up, shocked. “Are you sure?” She asked Sophey and the doe-eyed girl nodded hurriedly. What could Rhaenyra possibly want with her at the war table? She had not spoken to Sena in two long moons and this was how she chose to break the silence? “Okay,” Sena nodded stiffly. “I’ll be right behind you.”

When she entered the makeshift throne room in Dragonstone’s great hall, she curtseyed low to the Queen. Rhaenyra was more gaunt than the last time Sena had seen her, clearly was not sleeping well, and let Sena stay crouched in a curtsey for a moment, seemingly deciding whether or not to relieve her legs. “Rise,” she commanded eventually, coldly, and Sena’s thighs burned with relief as she followed the order.

Around the war table, the Queen, Prince Jacaerys, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys were focused on the small corner of the map they currently stood in, the mouth of Blackwater Bay. Sena could see black dragons on Dragonstone, Driftmark and Harrenhal, showing their forces, and a green dragon advancing up the coast. “What news do we have?” She asked, drawing close to the table to observe the troop positions.

“Duskendale has been sacked,” Lord Corlys said, “with heavy casualties for us and the death of a member of the Queen’s black council. Now, Ser Criston Cole lays siege to Rook’s Rest, and Lord Staunton is asking for our aid.” He slid the letter across the table to Sena, who took it up to read it. 

Some 3000 knights, men-at-arms and sellswords at the gates of a town garrisoned by a hundred men, and that was not even considering the usurper-king on dragonback. It did not look good for Lord Staunton. “Then we should send dragonriders. The greens are attacking our declared allies to prevent further defection in the Reach, the Riverlands, the Crownlands. If we are to gain more supporters, we must defend the ones we already have.”

“Our allies?” The Queen bit out. “You still count yourself amongst our number after making an attempt on the life of your Queen’s consort, your own father?”

“Mother,” Jace warned in a stiff tone.

“It’s alright, Jace,” Sena placated him with a small smile. He looked so grown, standing there in his fine wool and steel, his brow adorned with a circlet. “It seems as though I’m here because you are asking me for help. Is that right?” She asked the Queen, who looked away from her with a flicker of rage.

Lord Corlys seemed to be suppressing a weary sigh when he said, “Yes, my lady.”

“What do you want from me?” She asked and eyed Princess Rhaenys. She remembered her words in the Dragonmont that day - that it was time to dig in and lay plans. Sena would not end this war today or tomorrow, as much as she might wish it. But if she was to have any hand in it coming to an end sooner rather than later - fuck whoever sat on the damnable throne in the end - it was high time she rolled her sleeves up and started incurring favours and loyalties.

Princess Rhaenys gave her a knowing smirk, and Sena felt a burst of pride. It was high time she sharpened up and learned to play. Aemond would be proud. “We think it is time you claimed another dragon and joined me in defending Rook’s Rest.”

Sena raised her eyebrows and looked to Lord Corlys, who was clearly in on the plan, eyeing his wife. The Queen was stoney faced, and Jace seemed even less pleased. “Do we have a shortage of dragonriders on Dragonstone?” Sena asked, a little perplexed.

Jace frowned unhappily and was ready to speak up when his mother silenced him with a hand. The Queen met Sena’s gaze. “Baela’s Moondancer is much too young to go to war. Rhaena has no dragon, no experience as a dragonrider and I will not put my sons into the monstrous paths of my half-brothers again. Nor will I risk making them orphans by going myself.” The implication that by comparison Sena was expendable was clear.

“I also have no dragon,” Sena said. He died, trying to save your son, she longed to say. “Aegon’s beast is young, still not so large. Smaller than my Grey Ghost. The Red Queen is more than a match, Princess,” she told Rhaenys.

“Nothing is ever so certain when dragons dance, my lady,” Rhaenys said grimly. “If we can stack the deck in our favour, we ought to. Make a decisive victory of it and shatter Cole’s advance.”

Sena considered it. “What dragon did you have in mind?” She asked. “We have a number of riderless ones. Will it be a case of wandering the Dragonmont like it is the Street of Silk until one takes a liking to me?” She got a hint of a smile out of Jace at that.

“I think one already has,” Princess Rhaenys said dryly. She was a somewhat humourless woman, Sena thought, and found she liked that about her. “My grandfather’s mount is not a kindly beast. He is ferocious, only tolerates my presence because I have been around him and pulling at his tail since I was out of swaddling clothes.” Lord Corlys looked a little horrified at that, as members of other houses were wont to when they heard of children playing with dragons. “The fact that he did not eat you that day I found you in his cavern is enough indication to me that you could be a good match.”

Sena thought of the gigantic beast, the colour of beaten bronze, large enough to ride a horse down his gullet, and shivered. “Just because he liked me enough not to make a meal of me does not mean he will let me ride him or command him,” she said. “Even if he did, we would need time to bond so I could control him. Time we do not have. I will not have a repeat of what happened above Storm’s End.”

Princess Rhaenys, Lord Corlys and Jace all stiffened at the mere mention of Storm’s End, and the implication that it had not been entirely under Prince Aemond’s control. It was so much easier to hate him, call him One-Eye and kinslayer if they could believe him to be evil to the core. But for the love she still bore the Prince, Sena would not have it. The Queen glared at her. “On the contrary, that might be exactly what we need. Put an end to the Usurper and I’ll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I do not see what that would achieve,” Sena said coldly, her tongue dripping with acid. “I am already rich, and Aegon has heirs… unless we were planning on murdering Aegon’s other infant son, as well.”

Queen Rhaenyra gripped the model black dragon in her hand hard enough to splinter and clenched her jaw. “If that’s what it takes,” she said, but it sounded weak to Sena’s ears, like she could not bring herself to mean it.

Rhaenys looked like she was stifling an eye roll at their dramatics. “This war will not be ended by cutting off a single head, for two more will always grow in its place,” she said plainly. “We need to do this with force, with decisiveness. And with unity.”

Sena sighed and looked across the table at her cousin. Rhaenyra looked tired and broken. “If my Queen will have me, I will join this fight, Princess.”

Rhaenyra looked up at her from across the table and her expression was conflicted. So vengeful, and yet Sena thought faintly that it was not directed at her. She was just unlucky enough to be close at hand, catching the brunt of it. “I will have you,” Rhaenyra breathed, and Princess Rhaenys gave a barely audible sigh of relief.

Sena nodded at her cousin, then looked down at her dress. “I guess I had better go change, then.”

-----

The morning was brisk as Sena pulled her dragon-hide gloves into place. The leather under her chainmail felt strange on her body, too stiff, too new. The armour was an inky black and her breastplate was emblazoned with the crest of her family, a crimson three-headed dragon reaching for its own tail. As she stalked up the incline to the Dragonmont, she prayed to every god who would listen that Vermithor would be in a pliant mood.

Thrice. That was how many times she had ridden Vermithor so far. She could barely even work the chains on his saddle that kept him from throwing her midair. But needs must, and Rook’s Rest was in distress, so she was approaching the great bronze dragon with trepidation in her chest, ready to meet Rhaenys and Meleys on the cliffside.

Vermithor surveyed her with amber eyes as she entered his dwelling. He was still young enough not to be as sluggish as Vhagar and that made her even more nervous, being surveyed by a dragon big enough to swallow her whole, nimble enough to catch her off her guard and interested enough to bother doing it. “Lykiri,” she commanded as Vermithor’s tail flicked with irritation at being disturbed once again. It had been some five-and-twenty years since the Old King’s death, and Vermithor had grown used to being his own master. “Dohaerās.” 

The dragon did not seem pleased to see her but did not protest as she started the long clamber up his wing and onto his back. As soon as she brought him back from Rook’s Rest, she would be adding some sort of ladder to his saddle, but there was no time for that now. With a grunt, she jumped and caught the stirrup and back of the saddle with her hand and elbow, and her left arm twinged as she dragged herself up. Undignified, but worth it to be riding one of the largest dragons her House had ever hatched. That was, if she could control him and not accidentally set a killing machine on the people of Rook’s Rest. She had some comfort in the fact that Vermithor was familiar with Rhaenys and Meleys - at least they would be safe from whatever carnage she unwittingly unleashed.

The ground shook as Vermithor moved, and he clawed his way forward, out of his cavern and onto the side of the Dragonmont. When he met the fresh sea air, he let free a deafening roar that almost had Sena clapping her hands over her ears. She hurriedly fastened the saddle chains to her armour before he could take flight and throw her off with a well-timed flick of his tail. “Gīda,” she commanded the beast. Calm. Whatever good that would do.

Above her on the side of the Dragonmont, Sena saw the vibrant red of Meleys emerging from her cave and a sharp salute from the Princess. “Are you ready?” Rhaenys bellowed down the hillside.

“As I’ll ever be,” Sena gritted out below her breath. Then, “Sōvēs,” she commanded the dragon in a strong tone, and the bronze giant lurched forward. His size meant he was not so manoeuvrable as Grey Ghost, and instead used the sea cliffs to drop off of to take to the air. Sena’s heart lurched every time he did it, pitching them both over the edge and letting them fall for seconds that felt like hours. Then, with a solid, swooping beat of his wings, they would soar up, up into the clouds.

Meleys followed behind her on the wind as Sena turned Vermithor due west. It would not be a long flight - as they climbed into the sky, she could practically see Rook’s Rest on the horizon - but every moment, her heart was in her throat.

It was bizarre, to ride a dragon this large. Larger than her father’s own Caraxes, larger than Syrax and Vermax put together. Vermithor’s wings covered vast swaths of the bay, blotting entire islands from Sena’s view, and sometimes, when she pulled at him or bellowed commands, she felt like she was trying to reign in a glacier, so vast and uncaring was the beast.

She could do this, though. She needed to believe it. If she was to have any chance at putting a stop to this bloodshed and torment, she would need to be riding a dragon like Vermithor. The only thing her family ever bowed to, the thing they had been wielding as a weapon for more than a century now was the pure, unadulterated power given to them by their dragons. Without them, they were nothing.

After some time in the air, with Meleys close behind, Rook’s Rest drew closer until it was beneath them. From here, Sena could see the town’s walls and the thousands of soldiers marshalled outside, laying siege and blockading every road in and out.

Trying out her control of him, she commanded Vermithor lower and he swooped down over the King’s army. She squinted her eyes and could make out dragon banners, mounted knights, men at arms. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and turned to the sky to watch the two dragons circling overhead, one a vicious red and the other monstrously large. Sena’s breath caught in her throat when she laid eyes on Sunfyre - proclaimed to be the most beautiful dragon to have ever lived. He was a fine beast and shone like beaten gold against the burnt ground he coiled on, watching his kin circle above him with lazy interest.

Sena sighed and commanded Vermithor down to land in the town square. It was barely big enough - she gritted her teeth as smallfolk rushed out of the way and Vermithor’s tail knocked the top of the spire off of a sept, but she was suddenly surrounded by gasps of relief and cheering, so she guessed she was forgiven.

She met Lord Staunton in his keep with Princess Rhaenys. He was beyond relieved to see them - the people of Rook’s Rest would have needed to start slaughtering the horses to keep eating if relief had not arrived soon, he informed them. “Relief is here,” Princess Rhaenys said, standing tall in her armour and doing her best to calm him.

There was little to be done to calm anyone when the letter from the encampment outside arrived, however.

Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men and Protector of the Realm requests the presence of the Bronze Dragon at parlay. In one hour, a pavilion will be erected before the gates of Rook’s Rest. Guest right will provided in the form of bread and salt so that negotiations may proceed peacefully and safely for all parties.

The Bronze Dragon. Sena gripped the letter in her hands and nodded at Rhaenys. It had been what they wanted. They had hoped that Vermithor’s mere presence would be enough to scare off the enemy and end the siege without blood being shed. She could only hope that Aegon would be smart about this. “I will go-“

“I will come with you, my lady,” Princess Rhaenys said firmly. Sena’s pride smarted at that. The Princess caught her look and sighed. “I mean no offence but in these matters, you remain as green as grass.” 

Sena set her jaw, knowing that Rhaenys meant it in more ways than one. 

Within the hour, a pavilion was hastily erected before the town gates, and Sena and Rhaenys approached under a peace banner. Their dragons stayed inside the town but the women remained armed for their own protection.

Sena ducked under the tent flap and came face to face with Aegon and Ser Criston for the first time in many moons. Aegon could not be said to look kingly - he was as gaunt and tired-looking as ever - but he was still the handsome lad she remembered and he sent her a menacing grin. Ser Criston nodded his head at her but showed little warmth despite knowing her from girlhood. The badge of his new office shimmered on his cloak. 

Both men were less impressed when Rhaenys followed behind her. Aegon huffed and poured them wine, which they hastily ignored in favour of the bread and salt Ser Criston pushed towards them across the table. Sena chewed at the dry heel of loaf the enemy had scrounged up and grimaced at the salt on her tongue. Aegon might have been enough of a cur to not care for the symbolic protection of guest right, but Ser Criston was nothing if not a stickler for the rules. When it suited him, at least.

“What is the meaning of this?” Rhaenys asked as soon as she had swallowed her own guest right. 

It was Aegon who spoke, leaning forward in his seat. He shone from neck to toe in polished plate, his circlet of Valyrian steel and rubies nestled in his silver blonde hair and the other ancestral blade of their house hung at his hip. Sena was not fooled. It would take more than Blackfyre and the crown of the Conqueror to make Aegon a King. “We simply wish to give you an opportunity to turn tail and leave before things get… messy,” he said with his familiar lilting smirk.

“It’s more than you gave Prince Jaehaerys,” Criston cut in, surveying them both stonily.

Sena clenched her jaw and Rhaenys balked at that, going pale in the face and rounding on Aegon. “If it is mercy you speak of, what sort of mercy did your mad dog of a brother show my grandson?” She spat.

Aegon grinned at the mere reminder of Lucerys’s fate and it only set Rhaenys further on edge, reaching for the hilt of her blade. Sena laid a hand on her arm to stop her, trying to catch her gaze with a glare. Where were her lectures about rashness and hot blood now? Was it just that she did not know Aegon? Did not know how purely aggravating and contemptuous he could be?

But it was Ser Criston who spoke up, cutting through the thick tension between the Princess and the would-be King. “Careful, Princess. You speak of someone who is very dear to all those around you,” he said, and Sena glared at him, her cheeks flaring with shame.

Aegon looked at her and smirked at the embarrassment on her face. “Everyone knows, goodsister. It’s alright.”

“Shut it,” she snapped at him and Gods, if she could only reach across the table between them and clobber him with his own crown.

Ser Criston was not looking at her, though, and addressed the Princess. “We are willing to incur what casualties we must to raze Rook’s Rest to the ground, Princess. It would certainly show your allies how little the support of their so-called Queen is worth. You need only look outside this pavilion to see we are equipped to accomplish this,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed Princess Rhaenys with a hard look. “Of course, neither of us truly desires a battle where considerable life will be lost, and potentially another dragon. We would like to discuss the terms of a mutual retreat, if that is amenable.”

Sena looked at Ser Criston in confusion as he rounded the table. Mutual retreat? What in the name of the Gods was this about? It made no sense. Ser Criston offered to escort Princess Rhaenys from the tent, and rage flared inside Sena. The disrespect of it all, speaking as if she was not there-

Once they had left the tent however, Aegon turned to Sena, furious, and it all became a little clearer. “Why did you bring her? I asked for you and you alone.” 

Sena rolled her eyes. It was all a ploy. “Do you think I can command her about like a servant? Do you truly think I got a choice in the matter, fool?” 

Aegon scowled at her. “It’s King Fool to you.”

“Fine then, King Fool. Do you care to explain to me what in the seven hells this parlay is about? You don’t truly expect me to believe you would give up so easily, or expect us to,” she said, leaning over him where he sat. 

Aegon considered her for a second, clearly trying to come up with some pithy response. He eventually realised where he was, though and that time was of the essence. He cut to the chase. “He won’t fight you.”

“Who?” 

Aegon screwed up his face like he was talking with a simpleton. “Gods, Visenya, who do you think?” 

Her brow shot up. “Aem-“ 

King Fool stood up swiftly and slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, eyeing the tent flap where Ser Criston and Princess Rhaenys had been moments earlier. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed. 

Sena’s blood thundered in her ears. “He’s here?” 

“Yes,” he nodded and her heart swooped, suddenly turning her head this way and that like Aemond was going to materialise in the corner of the pavilion or pop out from under the table. “This was a trap for Meleys, but even my clever brother did not think to anticipate you swooping in on the second largest dragon in the known world. You really ought to have words with him - underestimating you like that shows a certain lack of respect, no?” 

“Aegon,” she hissed, willing him to focus. 

“Right,” he said, conceding with a nod. “So we’re at a stalemate. He does not wish to fight you - I think the whole nearly killing you the first time thing is weighing on him, y’know? And if I know this ridiculous little lovesick dance of yours well enough by now, I know you do not wish to fight him. So what does that leave us with?” 

Sena thought about it for a second, leaning down to the table to cradle her head in her hands. Aemond was here. He was near her, near enough to talk to, near enough to explain, near enough to babble apologies, touch, kiss until they were drunk on each other. “We both go home,” she breathed. The thought was agonising. “Aemond goes to King’s Landing, I go to Dragonstone.” And in the ensuing battle, Meleys would snap Sunfyre’s neck, she thought grimly.

“No way,” Aegon waggled a finger at her. “Not good enough, goodsister. I would like to propose you and Princess Rhaenys turn around and go home and leave us to Rook’s Rest. No bloodshed, no sad ballads to be written about star crossed lovers dying on each other’s swords today.” 

She scowled at him and looked around her. “Where is he? You can’t expect me to stand here and have this conversation with King Fool. Gods, even Cole would be better.” 

“No,” Aegon snapped, his expression gone hard and he looked so like his little brother in that moment that Sena’s heart leapt to her throat. “You don’t get to speak to him. You don’t get to bat your eyelashes at him and say pretty please, none of that shit. You are going to turn around, go and explain to our sweet cousin Rhaenys that the largest dragon alive is sat behind a hill five leagues away, and go home. You won’t win this fight, Sena. And I know you think I don’t care about this family, but I won’t watch my brother destroy himself by killing you.” 

“I can’t, Aegon,” she hissed, her throat burning. “I can’t counsel retreat. Don’t you think they already mistrust me enough, for how I love your sister? For how I feel about your brother? If I turn tail now, my own father will take it as a betrayal and slit my throat in my sleep.” 

Aegon looked as though he could not care less. “Not my problem, sweet Sena,” he said. “You could have switched sides anytime you liked… you still can.” 

Sena ignored that vehemently, blazing right past it. “And what if we hold fast? What if you turn around and go home?” 

“We don’t go home,” he said. He was growing weary of this now, his expression sullen. “There will be a fight if you do not retreat, Sena. And Aemond is dutiful, he will do what I command of him and turn Vhagar against you if he must. I don’t want that to happen, but the alternative is giving up the crown and losing my fucking head. Not just mine, all of our heads.” 

Sena leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “I guess we’re at an impasse, then.” 

Aegon shook his head at her in disbelief. “Trust my brother to love the most stubborn fool in the Seven Kingdoms. It seems we are, Sena.” 

She surveyed him. The armour that was tailored to him perfectly but still did not seem to fit, the crown that was seemingly causing his neck to buckle under the weight. She eyed Blackfyre on his sword belt. Could think of few people in her family less suited to wield it. “I’ll speak to Rhaenys,” she said at long last. “If I can convince her to retreat, you will have my word by daybreak tomorrow.” 

Aegon nodded his acquiescence and sunk deep into his chair, raising his goblet to take a long gulp of wine. “Think about it carefully, Sena. And I meant what I said. Whatever you feel towards me, there will always be a place for a stubborn bitch with a big dragon in my army.” 

Sena shook her head at him and turned to leave. She paused at the tent entrance though, and her heart stuttered in her chest. She could not stop herself saying it. “I’m sorry,” she said, “about your son. He was a sweet boy.”

Aegon’s petulant manor froze and his jaw went tight. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t kill him,” he said, and she could hear a quiver in his voice.

“I’m sorry it has come to this, Aegon,” she said softly.

He frowned down into his lap and the crown slipped deeper down his brow. “So am I.”

Sena braced herself with a breath. “How is Helaena?” 

But Aegon wasn’t having it. He shook his head at her. “You have made your choice, Sena. I think you have lost the right to ask me about her.” 

“Aegon-“ she said with a pang in her chest, but he cut her off.

“Good day, Lady Visenya. Consider my terms carefully.”

-----

“There is not a decision to be made,” was Rhaenys’s answer to Aegon’s proposal over supper that night. They had been given Lord Staunton’s private dining room, and a fire crackled low in the grate, their food barely touched. Sena felt guilty for wasting what was already in short supply, but her gut was churning so much it was unthinkable to eat. “We must stand and fight.”

Sena dragged her hands through her hair with a weary sigh. “It’s not truly a decision, is it? If we turn back now, we’ve as good as lost this war. Our lives will be forfeit.” What hope did they have of suing for peace if their allies saw their words meant nothing? What leverage would they have to stop Aegon storming Dragonstone and putting them all to the sword? “And if we fight… the odds are about as even as they’re ever like to be.”

“Even? We’re still a hundred against an army.”

“The real battle is the one in the air, you know that,” Sena said, eyeing Rhaenys. Their family’s battles were fought and won with their dragons - the Conquerors had shown what little use men-at-arms were against the winged wyrms of Old Valyria.

“So it is the dragon battle you’re concerned about?” Rhaenys asked and Sena knew that was what she had been probing at all along.

Sena narrowed her eyes. “I would be a fool not to be concerned about it. I ride a dragon I have no bond with against two of my cousins, one of whom rides Vhagar.”

“It is not Vhagar you are worried about, though, is it?” Rhaenys said, leaning back in her seat and holding her wine goblet close. She surveyed Sena with hard eyes, and the words caught in Sena’s throat. Rhaenys sighed. “You shall take Vermithor against Sunfyre and I shall take Meleys against Vhagar. Do you think you can do that?” 

Sena raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Princess, I don’t think that is a fight you can win.” There were few dragons alive who could hope to survive a bout with Vhagar and at first glance, Sena would not put Meleys among them. 

“You give me little choice, Visenya,” she said, and pushed her chair back with a scrape. She composed herself and went to leave, the matter having been decided. 

“If it was Lord Corlys,” Sena said, stopping Princess Rhaenys in her tracks. “If you found yourself on opposing sides with the Sea Snake, could you truly meet him in battle?” 

Rhaenys turned back to her and gave her a pitying look. “If what you feel for that brute is a shadow of what I feel for Lord Corlys… you are truly lost, Visenya,” she said, and Sena’s heart plummeted. The elder woman sighed, not uncaring. “And truthfully, I do not know what you are doing here.” 

Neither did Sena. 

Daybreak came and went, with no peace signed.

It was midday by the time Aegon’s vanguard made to breach the gates. Lord Staunton’s men held it valiantly and defended their position, but the two dragonriders knew that their time had come. With a nod to Rhaenys and a prayer to the Gods, Sena took to the skies upon Vermithor. No sooner had she chained herself to his saddle than she caught sight of Sunfyre rising with her, a brilliant gold-and-pink blur against the sky. She set her sights on her target and steadied herself.

It was only when she saw Vhagar’s monstrous form looming in the distance that dread flooded through her like ice water.

As Vhagar drew closer and Meleys circled above her, Sena suddenly knew for certain that this did not bode well for Rhaenys. Meleys was not a small beast by any measure, but Vhagar loomed nearly twice as large. 

Before she could intercede though, Sunfyre was tackling Vermithor and the battle in the sky begun. It was as though the brothers could read her mind exactly and knew they needed to divert her to give Aemond a chance to take down Rhaenys. 

But Sena forced it all from her mind for now and focused on her own battle. Vermithor was new to her, did not know her well enough. That coupled with Sena’s own gnawing uncertainty was enough to draw the fight between Vermithor and Sunfyre nearly equal as Meleys and Vhagar clashed behind her.

Sunfyre banked and rolled, resplendent in the high noon, missing Vermithor’s gnashing teeth by the breadth of a scale every time. Sena could hear Aegon laughing. Could hear the howls of Vhagar and Meleys tearing at each other on the wind. 

Gods be good, if this was the end, she wasn’t going to die fighting Aegon. 

Sena directed Vermithor for one more wild snatch, letting Aegon become complacent and arrogant, as he was wont to do. He was a lazy swordsman, and even bearing Blackfyre, he could not make up for the fact that his next move shone on his face like a lit beacon in winter snow. The same principle seemed to carry over into his dragonriding. Sena and Vermithor came around on Sunfyre and Aegon one more time, and, at the most logical moment for the larger dragon to dip and lunge,  she screamed “Navemanon!” into the wind. Vermithor hesitated - it was not a Valyrian command, not even a word in their tongue, but it sounded enough like it to Aegon and it worked beautifully, because whilst her dragon was confused and trying to work out what she wanted him to do, Aegon turned his entire head to the right. There. “Nābēmagon, Vermithor! Paktot!” Attack, Vermithor! Right! And as Aegon feinted right to dodge the first, false attack, Vermithor lunged with him and clamped his teeth down into Sunfyre’s wing.

The scream from the golden dragon was piercing, and it was all Sena could do not to let go to cover her ears. Vermithor gave one good shake of his head, shredding the membranes of Sunfyre’s wing, and the King’s dragon screamed, spewing flames back at Vermithor. But Vermithor was too large, his scales too thick, and with a sharp “Dracarys!” from Sena, he caught the King’s dragon in a blast of his own flame. Sunfyre roared and began to wheel desperately in circles, only born aloft on one good wing. Sena commanded Vermithor to bank so they could take a final swipe and be done with Aegon for the time being, but there was no need, as the King’s dragon was falling from the sky at speed.

That was when she caught sight of Vhagar raking her claws down Meleys’s back in the distance. There was an almighty roar from the Red Queen as steaming blood began to spurt from the wound. “No! No!” Sena screamed. Aemond would not add another dragon or another Targaryen to his headcount. Vermithor sharply banked towards Vhagar, nearly colliding midair with Meleys who was reeling in descending loops, fighting to stay airborne. To deal so much damage to such an experienced dragon so quickly… Aemond was either letting Vhagar wreak carnage as she saw fit or he was the greatest dragonrider in a century. Sena found herself not wanting to know the answer. 

She spotted Rhaenys on Meleys’s back - shaken but unharmed - and commanded Vermithor around, determined to keep Vhagar’s attention away from the failing Meleys. Vhagar seemed to have the same notion, deciding to deal with the fitter prey before finishing off the weakened one. As the two mighty dragons set on a collision course towards each other, Sena felt her blood run cold as she thought of Luke, and whether Aemond had any control of the ancient beast right now.

Sena threw herself flat against Vermithor’s back, bracing for impact, letting free a wild howl as the dragons came closer and closer. And then, Vhagar feinted left, and the force of the wind from her wingbeat would have knocked Sena clean from her saddle if she had not been chained down. The message from Aemond was clear. Stand down.

Vhagar followed a long arc downwards to where Meleys was reeling, pulling up at just the right second to catch the Red Queen’s neck in her maw. Claret blood spurted and steamed as the Red Queen gave a feeble shudder. It was too late by the time Sena brought Vermithor round and slammed down onto Vhagar. It knocked all three dragons - two living, one in the final throes of a bloody end - the last thirty feet to the ground. Vermithor and Vhagar hit the ground with enough force to knock every soldier within a league on his back. A wave of searing pain and nausea hit Sena as her head whipped off of Vermithor’s hard-scaled back, her nose burst with blood and her vision swam out of focus.

“Fuck,” was all she could manage, and Vermithor was furious at her handling of him. He roared and swung his weight in an attempt to throw her from his back, but her chains held her down. He then moved as though to roll with her still on his back, crushing her beneath his weight, and Sena’s stomach lurched, desperately pulling at the chains on her belt.

At the last second, she unhooked her entire sword belt, wrapped her hand around the hilt of her sword and threw herself from dragonback.

She hit the ground hard, and Vermithor screeched once more. Her head swam as she staggered to her feet, desperately trying to drag air back into her lungs, terrified the dragon would round on her once more. But instead, free of his rider, Vermithor took his chance and rose to the sky again.

“Well, fuck you then!” She screamed after him and attempted to staunch the blood flowing into her mouth with her glove. She stood there on the field, a wide circle cleared around her where her dragon had fell, sword in hand and watching her dragon retreat West. She was utterly alone in a field of green soldiers who were staggering to their feet, watching her, waiting for orders. She was truly fucked now. Meleys was down, twitching in her last throes of death, and Sena could see no sign of Rhaenys. Sunfyre and Vhagar were down too, the former seemingly for good, the latter only dazed, somewhere on the field behind her. Sena turned to watch Vermithor’s retreating form in the sky and groaned in frustration. Vhagar would be free to torch the entire town now once she regained the air-

“Back,” snapped a commanding voice. “I’ll deal with her myself.”

Sena spun around and her heart lurched in her chest. Aegon’s troops had fallen back from her at the sharp command, Vhagar was watching her from across the field with beacon-like eyes and her rider… Aemond stood before her, sword drawn, clad in armour from head to foot. He raised the corner of his mouth in his soft smile. “Pure ingratitude,” he said, nodding at Vermithor. “Most men would kill to have you all to themselves.”

She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “I don’t know about most men,” she said and her voice was barely a croak.

“Fine, maybe I meant I would kill to have you to myself,” he said.

It was a poor choice of words and her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Her blood surged rebelliously in her veins. “You’ve killed for less.”

His expression faltered. “I have,” he said wearily, shamefully. “Lay down your sword and I’ll get a maester. Your nose needs seeing to.”

She clutched her sword tighter. “I can’t.”

He shook his head at her, looking tired. “Stop fighting,” he told her. “Please. Let me take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” She asked, her voice trembling. “You killed Luke, Aemond. And Grey Ghost-“

“I thought I had killed you.” he said, his own voice shaking, drawing closer to her. His eye was glossy. “When I watched you fall, I thought I would die with you.”

She clenched her jaw and raised her sword as he tried to approach her. She kept him at arm’s distance with the point of her blade.

He let the point of the blade catch on the centre of his chest. Met her eyes with a beseeching look. “Give up this folly, my lady. Come back to King’s Landing, come home and marry me.”

“You’re betrothed,” she bit out, and that was another part of this that stung like hell.

He shook his head in disbelief. “There’s not a woman in the world I would not spurn, not an oath I would not break for you. How can you not know that by now?”

Her eyes were swimming with tears, her knuckles gone white from how hard she was grasping her sword. “Give up everything I believe in? Give up my Queen, my sisters, my brothers, to come stand silent at your side and bear your sons? No, Aemond. No.”

He held his expression carefully blank, though she could see the bob of his throat. “You would not be you if you were so easily swayed,” he said, “but to hear you reject me so plainly, reject us and our children… it hurts more than I thought it would.”

Everything in her was shaking. She needed to end this now, before she went weak. Before she folded. Before she succumbed and pulled him into her arms.“I can’t let you take this town without a fight, Aemond. I owe it to my family, to everyone your army will put to the sword.”  Her voice was shaking. She wrapped both hands around the hilt of her sword, the point still resting against his armour.

“I understand that, Sena.”

Sena. Her name from his lips had haunted her dreams since all this began.

A breeze picked up behind him and his long hair blustered around his face. Leather, brimstone, rosemary filled her senses.

“Why did the gods make me love you, Aemond?” She asked, her voice shaking.

He smiled a sad smile as he stepped back and raised his sword. A tear rolled freely down Sena’s cheek. “Because they made me for you.”

Their swords clashed between them and at long last, they danced.

They knew this dance well, knew each other well, and it showed in each parried blow, each perfectly timed deflection and dodge. Aemond’s bare steel swung through the air on a counter and she met it with a sharp ringing sound, throwing his strength back at him and slashing with a backswing. He stepped backwards, grimacing as a few strands of silver hair were cut loose from his head, and looked at her with fire in his pretty eye. “You’re going to have to do better than giving me a haircut, issa jorrāelagon.” Sena’s heart seized. My love.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped and swung at him again. 

Time and time again, her strikes fell. And time and time again, he batted them away like he was swatting flies, but never advanced on her. She grew frustrated, grew furious and howled with rage as she swung at him again. He caught the blade inches from his shoulder and deflected it, sending a sharp glare at her, but she did not care, swinging her arms back up again-

It was Ser Criston that caught the next blow, approaching from the side. She’d been so focused on Aemond, she did not even see him approach. Neither did Aemond, his mentor coming at them from his blind side, and he flinched away from the ring of their steel meeting.

“Stand down, my lady,” Ser Criston Cole commanded her sharply. “We have you surrounded. There is no way out.”

But Sena was too angry. Seething at the thought of it all. Luke, Aegon, Jaehaerys, her father, all of it, all she wanted to do was win, just this one time. She struck out one final, savage blow at Aemond, but it was sloppy, made in anger and exhaustion. He side-stepped her easily and pulled her back sharply towards his chest with an arm around her middle.

Ser Criston Cole knocked her hard against the head with his armoured elbow and the scorched field tilted out of focus. 

Her vision spotted, her stomach rolled. The ground did not so much rush up to meet her as she was lowered to it. She thought she heard Aemond - her Aemond - murmuring in her ear. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. Look at me. You’re okay.” She couldn’t be sure. 

But she did feel cold shackles closing around her wrists, and a murmured “Apologies, my lady,” from a misshapen blob that looked like Ser Criston Cole. 

Then, there was something sweet on her tongue, and the world went black.

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