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#it's not that i begrudge them for writing what they love
rosaacicularis · 2 years
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your blog is one of my saving graces for my scarian fixation rn i love checkin in like we still on this shit? YES we on it TOGETHER!!!! thought about them in the middle of the night and then literally stopped trying to sleep so i could write it and i!! i’m not even a writer!!! they’re making me do things!!!
SO true, to get myself through the day at work, i just think about them <3 and sometimes i’ll just keep repeating a sentence in my head until i can get home and write it down! like they have picked up permanent residence in me noggin
i’m glad i’m not alone in my copious and overwhelming thoughts about them <3
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hongdiwang · 1 year
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revisiting content you made in the context of a relationship and realizing it’s been long enough you can repurpose the concepts without feeling some kind of way about it is dope actually. calling it healing would be a stretch but moving on is dope
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moonstruckme · 7 months
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James Potter x Reader where reader is in a different house (Hufflepuff if you don’t mind) and she ends up on the receiving end of one of their pranks which makes her angry so she avoids James and the other marauders, forcing him to grovel/beg for forgiveness? Thank you so much xoxo
Hi, thanks for your request! This got a bit long haha, but I enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading :)
cw: mentions of blood
James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader ♡ 1.8k words
Though no one tells him it’s happening, Remus sees the prank coming from a mile away.
Primarily, this is because James and Sirius appear to be playing an entirely ordinary game of frisbee. Just tossing it back and forth, no hexes or nifflers or anything. A simple pastime between two boys on a lovely warm afternoon. 
Secondly, they haven’t asked Remus to join them. While they know from experience he’s content to read his book in the grass, they always make a point to ask just to be sure Remus doesn’t feel excluded. The fact that they haven’t suggests that they’re well aware that whatever they’re up to, Remus will want no part in it. 
Lastly and most importantly, James Potter has the worst poker face Remus has ever known. 
When the curly-haired boy slyly drops the frisbee they’ve been using into his bag, trading it for another, he can hardly keep the giddiness from his face. Which is probably why, when he tosses it well away from his companion and towards a crowd of gathered students, Sirius is the one who has to say, with theatrical volume and distress, “Merlin, can somebody grab that?”
Remus watches warily as several students turn to track the progress of the disk as it sails overhead, and after a moment one breaks away, chasing after it. Remus feels a pang of sympathy for you, your yellow and black scarf flying behind you as you run, needing no further evidence than the eager look in James’ eyes to know that you’ve fallen for a trap. 
You jump up to grab it out of the air, beaming in triumph for a moment before a yelp escapes you. You flings your catch to the ground, cradling your hand as the fanged frisbee twitches and snarls at your feet. 
“Shit,” he hears Sirius breathe, and the excitement is gone from his and James’ expressions as they jog over to you, Remus standing to follow them. 
You pick your head up as they approach, eyes wet but fierce. 
“What the hell?” you snarl, and Remus realizes with a stab of concern that there’s a small puddle of blood forming in your palm. “You’ve begun targeting your stupid pranks at anyone who’s dumb enough to help you now? How’s that funny?”
Remus looks at his friends in bewilderment, aggrieved on your behalf but unable to believe they’d do something so cruel. The fanged frisbee—a cheap trick, which really should be banned in Remus’ opinion—twitches closer to your ankle, and Sirius flicks his wand at it, its teeth retracting as it goes silent and motionless. 
“We…I charmed it so its teeth would be dull and harmless.” James scrubs a hand through his hair, at a loss. “It was only supposed to scare you, not hurt you.” 
You shake your head at him disbelievingly and bite your lip, face reddening as the pain sets in. James steps closer to you, blocking you from view of the small crowd of gawking students, none of whom, Remus notes with some bitterness, have come to help you or see if you’re okay. 
“I’m really sorry,” James says softly. “Let me help.” But when he reaches for your hand, you step back, holding it close to your chest. 
“Just leave me out of your fun in the future, yeah?” you hiss, stalking inside. 
James looks pained as he watches you go, and though Remus doesn’t begrudge you your justified anger, he feels for his good-natured friend. It had been an honest mistake, though the cost turned out to be far higher than either of his friends had expected. But knowing James, he’ll find some way to make it right. 
“Sorry, mate. They can’t all be winners.” Sirius claps him on the back, and Remus knows his light tone is more to make James feel better than it is true carelessness. Sirius is loyal that way; he���d probably lock you in a broom closet rather than have you upset James again. 
“It wasn’t meant to hurt anyone,” James says quietly.
Sirius’ smile is unfaltering, though Remus spies the worry in his eyes. “She’ll get over it. C’mon, there’s still time to go into Hogsmeade if we hurry.” 
And though Remus hopes you’ll feel better soon, he knows it will take James a long time to get over it himself. 
James shuffles from foot to foot, feeling silly and anxious as he waits for someone to leave the Hufflepuff dorms so he can go inside. He’s fairly sure you’re supposed to have potions together, but you hadn’t shown up to class, and though James had kept an eye out all day in the hallways, he’d never spotted you. He’d thought he’d caught a glimpse of you in the great hall during lunch, but you’d darted out of sight before he could be sure, and then there’d been no sign of you at dinner. Luckily, it had only taken a quick consultation of the map he shared with his friends to find out that you’d holed up in the Hufflepuff common room, so here he was, draped in his invisibility cloak and fidgeting like a nervous date at your front door. 
The door creaks open, and James slips in before it can shut, the exiting Hufflepuff shivering slightly at the breeze he makes whisking by them. It’s not difficult to spot you where you’re sitting painting your nails, lips pursed just slightly in concentration. The common room is mostly empty as other students enjoy the nice weather outside, and James is grateful for the privacy as he takes off the cloak and goes to sit beside your feet where they’re stretched out on the couch. 
You look up at the intrusion and startle to find James, pulling your feet closer to you reflexively. He hopes it’s an instinct to make room for him and not to protect yourself from him, though given recent events he could hardly blame you for the latter. 
“What’re you—how did you get in here?” you ask, eyes darting between James and the door in bafflement. 
Never mind that. “You weren’t at dinner,” James says, holding out his small stolen dish of chicken curry, “so I thought you might be hungry. Sorry, it’s barely warm now.” 
You take it from him suspiciously, careful of your wet nails, and James feels a stab of guilt at the sight of your bandaged hand. 
“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he goes on, throat burning with shame. “I know I’ve already said it, but it was supposed to be harmless. I wasn’t careful enough.” 
You don’t look at him, not rejecting his apology but not quite accepting it either. “Pomphrey fixed it good as new anyways, so we can just say it never happened.”
James appreciates the attempt to ease his conscience, but your kindness only makes him feel that much more villainous. This would be so simple if you were one of those pureblood gits, or even just a bit ruder, but you’re you, and that’s so much worse. 
“Can I see it?” he asks softly, and you hesitate only a moment before scooting a bit closer and extending your hand to him, palm up. 
James unwraps the bandage with care, keeping one eye on your face to ensure he’s not hurting you, and so he notices the faint blush that colors your cheeks as he cradles your hand in his. The last layer of your dressing falls away, revealing three tiny white scars. Though they’re healed over, he hisses in sympathy, drawing your hand further towards him protectively but forgetting you’re attached to it. 
Your inhale is soft as you lean forward awkwardly, and James huffs a laugh at his enduring idiocy. “Sorry, love,” he says, letting you lean back. He doesn’t let go of your hand, though. “Were they deep?”
You give a one-shouldered shrug, as though it’s nothing to you. James worries you’re putting on a performance of exaggerated blasé for his benefit. “They bled a lot, but a charm sealed them up quickly enough.”
James nods, remembering with sickening clarity the blood that had pooled in your palm and dripped from between your fingers. 
“I’m glad,” James says, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Nothing feels like enough. But he can’t stop himself, even if it’s all inadequate. “I’m really sorry.” 
You sigh, and James knows enough about you to guess that being upset is exhausting you. It isn’t in your nature; you’re someone who always has a kind word for everyone, who he’s seen lend your quill to a student that forgot theirs and offer them an understanding smile when they broke it, who would rather spend all day avoiding James than let him feel the wrath of your grudge. 
Your very warranted grudge, by the way. 
It’s terrible luck that someone as sweet as you was on the receiving end of his mistake. But, as you’d pointed out, that was how the prank was designed, wasn’t it? Though James and Sirius hadn’t thought that part through at the time, the victim was always going to be whoever stepped forward to help. Normally it might not matter, but they’d gotten so caught up in the excitement of trying out their new toy that James had somehow gotten the spell wrong. And as a result, you’d been forced to pay a price for your kindness and his incompetence. 
“It’s okay,” you say.  
“It’s not,” James insists. “And I can’t fix it, but let me do something else. I can do your potions’ homework for the rest of the year, I can give you my dessert every night, I can…I can sneak into Hogsmeade and bring you whatever you want, anytime you ask, I can…what?”
You’re smiling at him, and it’s familiarly lovely but, James can’t help but think, entirely undeserved. 
“I don’t need any favors from you, James,” you say, and he realizes it’s the first time you’ve said his name. It’s not a long name, but somehow your voice gives it a cadence he quite likes. “Just be more careful, okay? I ended up fine, but next time someone might not.” 
“There won’t be a next time,” he promises swiftly, and means it. “But sweetheart—” if he notices how you soften at the endearment, he doesn’t mention it “—you’ve gotta let me make it up to you somehow.”
You sigh again, though it’s lighter this time, seemingly both exasperated and amused by his persistence. After a moment spent within your own head, you ask, “Could you help me study for the potions exam next week?”
“Yes!” James grins eagerly. “Of course. That’s a start. How’s tomorrow after class? I’ll bring study snacks as well, and we can make it a regular thing, if you like.” 
He’d like to make it a regular thing, debt or not. 
You smile. “Tomorrow is perfect. And can I call in another favor right now?”
If James weren’t sitting, he’d buckle at the knees in relief. “Yes. I’m at your service.”
“Can you tell me how you got into the Hufflepuff common room?”
“That,” he says smoothly, “is just one in my arsenal of skills now at your disposal.”
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androidtrashfire · 8 months
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shipping Varric and Cassandra in the ending where she become the Divine is so fucking funny, let's be honest like
Varric returning to Kirkwall after Inquisition: "Hey everyone, I'm back!"
Aveline or someone: "Varric! You've been gone for literal years, what happened!?"
Varric: "Eh, nothing much. Just got kidnapped by this pissed off 30-something lady and dragged all over the world to a bunch of fights and, like, political machinations, etc. Fighting an undead priest bent on world domination, that kind of stuff"
Them: "...oh my God!"
Varric: "Nah, it's fine actually. We developed this kind of begrudging bantery relationship that developed into something deeper, and now I write erotica for her, which she goes totally feral over. Just absolutely loves the stuff."
Them: "Oh, uh, okay. That's cool, I guess... And who is she?"
Varric: "The pope."
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ellecdc · 19 days
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This is my first ever time requesting and i feel a tad nervous about it. Since i don’t know how the whole thing works.
Okay so i've seen in your previous posts that you said you don't write for barty jr as a central character but imma request anyways and maybe just maybe i'm lucky and you do end up writing this request (no pressure tho sweetie)
Basically a Ravenclaw reader x reg x barty. Reader is a total sweetheart but also very witty, playful and sassy in a sweet way. and marauders are also involved in the fic. (Maybe reader is neighbors with James or maybe she's beasties with rem. I don't mind. you decide that.)
Your moonwater x reader one shot was so cute and i’m just craving more of your writing.
Anyways thank you and also if you don’t want to write for barty just replace him with another character or just ignore this whole request. 💗
🤨🤨🤨🤨 I wanted to say no on account of I really don't know that I want to write for Barty BUT....you're just too cute and I love you too much and I didn't want to say no to you on your first request [which: thanks so much for bestowing me with such an honour]. 🤨🤨🤨🤨 cheeky little minx, I bet you did that on purpose 😉
So I present to you, for possibly the only time ever on ellecdc.... poly!bartylus x Ravenclaw!reader
CW: Barty jokes (?) about wanting to kill people - very on brand for him
“Reggiiieeeee.” Barty whined as he walked into their shared dorm room where Regulus had been reading due to the fact that Barty had taken up residence in the Slytherin common room, making reading nearly impossible.
Regulus stifled a sigh and offered a begrudging “yes, my love?” as Barty belly-flopped onto the bed and muttered something (unintelligible) miserably into the velvet quilts.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Regulus asked, deciding to bookmark his place and give his boyfriend his undivided attention (anything less could end up being detrimental to both Regulus and Barty’s safety).
Barty lifted his head with a pout on his lips to look at Regulus. “How mad do you think Y/N would be if I killed Potter and his friends?”
Point proven. 
“I’m sorry, what?” Regulus deadpanned, causing Barty to groan and roll onto his side.
“It’s just she’s always spending so much time with them and they’re all so annoying. And I don’t want to tell her to not hang out with them” (that was a lie; Regulus has heard Barty tell you that the Marauders were 'no good company to keep' well over hundreds of times) “so, I thought it’d just be better if they...disappeared, you know?”
“What have you done?” Regulus groaned darkly, causing Barty to chuckle.
“Nothing! Nothing...” yet. 
“You do realize that your hit list includes my brother, right?” Regulus asked.
Barty looked at him like he was sort of stupid. “Uhm...duh, it’s called hitting two bludgers with one beater-bat. Do keep up.”
“Barty, you are going to scare her away...” Regulus pressed. “...you’re kind of scaring me away.”
Barty’s groan nearly turned into a shriek as he threw himself back down onto the bed in defeat.
“Fine. But when we’re trying to enjoy a nice moment with Y/N and Potter and his cronies interrupt, it will be all your fault.” 
And with that Barty got up and stormed out of the dorm room. Regulus sighed in relief and pulled his book back out.
So, when the three of you were wandering around Hogsmeade (i.e., you and Regulus were walking hand-in-hand whilst Barty followed, balancing precariously on the stone walls of bridges as well as some fences lining various properties (much to the shop clerks and homeowners’ chagrin), pausing to pet every cat he could find and seeing how many times he could skip stones in the pond [the answer was none, he kept throwing them too hard]), Regulus got proven wrong (somehow), and (even more importantly) Barty got proven right when Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus showed up.
“Hey guys!” You called cheerily, and Regulus was almost ashamed to admit that your sweet smile and kind voice cancelled out any chagrin that the appearance of his brother caused him.
“Hello gorgeous! Baby bro.” Sirius called with a wink, causing Regulus to roll his eyes.
“Can I help you four!?” Barty nearly screeched as he showed up seemingly out of nowhere, all but standing directly in front of you like he was trying to shield you from the sight a particularly horrifying broom crash.
“Barty...” You chided jovially, gently nudging him aside. “They’re just saying hello.”
Sirius looked rather chuffed that you had defended them. Regulus didn’t like that one bit.
“Okay, well hello. You can leave now.” Barty shouted.
“Oh, lighten up, Junior.” Remus called with a smirk. “We’re all friends here.” 
Barty scoffed. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than be friends with Gryffindor’s.”
“Ew.” Everyone else said in response.
“Come on, my sweet, beautiful, angelic, lovely, smart, wonderful girl. I don’t want you or our beautiful day to be tainted by such scoundrels.” He cooed at you like you were some toddler on the verge of tears from having dropped your ice cream on the ground.
You groaned a little bit but acquiesced, allowing Barty to turn your body in the opposite direction.
“Sorry guys. I’ll see you tomorrow for our study date!” You called over your shoulder, to which Barty quickly counteracted with a “no you won’t!”
“You know, love,” Regulus murmured into your ear, “you’d probably save him a little bit of grief if you at least didn’t call it a date.” 
“Perhaps. But look at him now.” You whispered back conspiratorially. “He’s holding my hand and talking a mile a minute about how much of his dad’s money he wants to spend on us at Tomes & Scroll’s.”
Regulus couldn’t help but smirk at that. 
A Ravenclaw may have been smart enough to come up with a plan like this, but only the influence of your two Slytherin boyfriends would have made you cunning enough to pull it off. 
AN: I don't know how I feel about this one bit
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rafesapologist · 14 days
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could you write a JJ x reader
Where sarah wants to include her best friend (reader) on the gold. Reader and jj absolutely hate eachother. reader is sleeping with rafe but soon catches feelings for jj. jj realises he didn’t hate reader but was in love with her the whole time👀 sorry if this is all over the place😂
we can't be friends ─ jj maybank
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summary: jj maybank hates sarah cameron's best friend, at least, he thought he did
warnings: mature themes, swearing, jj being a dick
author's note: thank you for sending in this request! love the idea. i also wrote this with writer's block so forgive me for the delay, if you'd like a part 2 pls let me know
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The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the secluded stretch of beach where the Chateau stood, its weathered walls a testament to its history. Inside, JJ and Sarah were deep in conversation, their voices muffled but urgent. You approached cautiously, sensing the tension in the air.
As you neared, JJ's eyes flicked to you, his expression guarded. There was a certain coldness in his gaze, a barrier you couldn't quite penetrate. Sarah turned to him, a pleading look in her eyes.
"Come on, JJ," she urged, her voice soft but determined. "She could be a real help. We need all the hands we can get if we're going to find the gold."
But JJ's response was immediate, his tone clipped. "No way," he stated flatly, shaking his head. "I'm not bringing her along."
Sarah's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why not? She's willing to help. And you know she's capable."
But JJ remained unmoved, his gaze unwavering. "I don't trust her," he admitted, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "And I'm not about to risk the mission just to accommodate her."
You felt a surge of anger rising within you at JJ's words, a flush of embarrassment burning in your cheeks. You had hoped to prove yourself, to show that you were capable of more than he believed. But it seemed that no matter what you did, JJ would always see you as an outsider, as someone unworthy of his trust.
As Sarah continued to plead your case, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over you. It seemed that no amount of convincing would change JJ's mind. And as John B joined the conversation, his expression thoughtful but ultimately in agreement with JJ, you knew that your hopes of joining them on their adventure had been dashed.
The tension in the air was palpable as the conversation seemed to reach a standstill. Just when it seemed like JJ's decision was final, Kiara stepped forward, her voice cutting through the silence like a whip cracking.
"Seriously, JJ, get over yourself," Kiara chimed in, her tone laced with exasperation. "We could use more women in the group anyways. It's not like she's asking for a free ride."
Her words hung in the air, echoing in the room as everyone turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden interjection. Even JJ seemed taken aback by Kiara's boldness, his expression shifting from defiance to mild annoyance.
But Kiara wasn't finished. She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing JJ with a pointed stare. "She's got skills, whether you want to admit it or not," she continued, her voice unwavering. "And we need all the help we can get if we're going to pull this off."
Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes pleading with JJ to reconsider. "She's right, JJ," she added, her voice gentle but firm. "We can't afford to be picky about who joins us. We need all the help we can get."
For a moment, JJ seemed to waver, his gaze flickering between Kiara and Sarah. But then, with a resigned sigh, he relented, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice begrudging. "But if anything happens, it's on you."
You couldn't help but feel a surge of relief at JJ's reluctant agreement, grateful for Kiara's intervention. As the tension in the room began to dissipate, you realized that despite JJ's initial resistance, you were finally going to be a part of the adventure. And as the group began to make plans for the journey ahead, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you.
The girls exchanged excited glances, their faces lighting up with anticipation at the prospect of you joining their adventure. Sarah grinned encouragingly, while Kiara gave you a supportive nod. Even though JJ's begrudging acceptance hung in the air, their enthusiasm was infectious.
But as you basked in their excitement, JJ couldn't resist interjecting with a snarky comment, his eyes rolling in exasperation.
"Well, isn't this just great," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We're letting Rafe's girlfriend tag along now."
His words stung, a bitter reminder of the animosity between him and Rafe, a rivalry that seemed to overshadow everything else. You could feel a flush of indignation rising within you at JJ's remark, but before you could respond, Sarah shot him a warning glance.
"First of all, Rafe is not my boyfriend," you retorted, your voice firm and assertive. "And even if he were, it wouldn't define me or my capabilities."
JJ rolled his eyes at your retort, his skepticism evident despite his attempt to brush it off. There was still a lingering doubt in his expression, a hint of disbelief that lingered like a stubborn shadow.
"Sure, sure," he muttered, his tone still tinged with skepticism. "Whatever you say."
You could sense that JJ wasn't entirely convinced by your words, but you didn't let it deter you. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, determined to prove yourself through actions rather than words.
As the conversation shifted back to the logistics of the journey, you pushed aside JJ's lingering doubts and threw yourself into the planning process with renewed determination. With each contribution you made, you aimed to show JJ and the rest of the group that you were a valuable asset, regardless of any misconceptions they might have had.
And as the discussions continued late into the evening, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that you had stood up for yourself, even in the face of skepticism. With each step closer to the adventure ahead, you were determined to earn JJ's respect and prove that you belonged among them, no matter what doubts he may harbor.
Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you pushed JJ's lingering doubt to the back of your mind, focusing instead on the task at hand. With a determined nod, you joined in on the group discussion about their plans for the gold.
As Sarah and Kiara outlined their ideas, you listened intently, eager to contribute and make your mark on the conversation. Drawing from your own knowledge and experiences, you offered suggestions and insights, each one met with nods of approval from the group.
Despite JJ's initial skepticism, you refused to let it dampen your spirits. With each passing moment, you felt a growing sense of confidence, knowing that you were making valuable contributions to the discussion.
As the conversation stretched on into the night, the group's excitement and determination only seemed to grow. Together, you hashed out the finer details of your plan, ironing out potential challenges and devising strategies to overcome them.
By the time the discussion drew to a close, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in what you had accomplished. Despite JJ's doubts, you had proven yourself as a valuable member of the team, ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.
As the discussion wound down, you rose from your seat, feeling a sense of finality settle over you. With a determined expression, you turned to your friends, minus JJ, and announced your goodbye.
"Alright, I'm heading out," you said, your voice steady and resolute. "Sarah, I'll meet you back at your house tonight to go over the final details."
Sarah smiled warmly, nodding in agreement. "Sounds good," she replied. "We'll see you then."
But as you turned to leave, JJ couldn't resist interjecting with a scoff, his disbelief still evident in his expression. The sound earned him a sharp death glare from Sarah, who didn't hesitate to voice her displeasure.
"Cut it out, JJ," she admonished, her tone stern. "She's part of the team, whether you like it or not."
Feeling a spark of mischief, you couldn't resist the opportunity to deliver a sly comeback to JJ's scoffing. With a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, you turned to face him, meeting his skeptical gaze head-on.
"Well, JJ," you said, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm, "don't worry, I'll be sure to bring back some gold for you to scoff at too."
The corner of JJ's mouth twitched in response, a hint of begrudging amusement flickering in his eyes despite his best efforts to maintain his facade. Sarah stifled a chuckle, shooting you a knowing look, while Kiara grinned approvingly.
With a satisfied smirk, you turned and made your exit, leaving JJ to ponder your words as you headed out into the night, determined to prove him wrong and show that you were more than capable of holding your own in the adventure to come.
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
Back at Tanny Hill, nestled in Rafe's bedroom, you found yourself perched on the edge of the bed, Rafe's head resting comfortably in your lap. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm ambiance around the room as you launched into a rant about your frustrations with JJ.
"I swear, Rafe," you began, your voice tinged with irritation, "JJ can be such an insufferable know-it-all. He acts like he's the king of the world, and everyone else is just along for the ride."
Rafe listened attentively, nodding in understanding as you vented your frustrations. His hand absentmindedly traced patterns on your leg as you spoke, a comforting gesture that helped to soothe your frayed nerves.
"I get it," Rafe replied sympathetically, his gaze meeting yours with empathy. "He can be a real pain sometimes, but you know how he is."
You sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "I know, I know," you muttered, "but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. Sometimes I just want to shake some sense into him."
Rafe chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Believe me, I've been there," he said, his tone laced with affection. "But hey, at least you have me to vent to, right?"
You couldn't help but smile at Rafe's words, grateful for his unwavering support. Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over you in his presence.
"Yeah," you replied softly, "at least I have you."
As the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the weight of your frustrations lifted slightly. And as you wrapped your arms around Rafe, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing against your chest, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for his presence in your life, even in the midst of chaos.
Rafe shifted slightly in your lap, his brow furrowed with curiosity as he gazed up at you.
"So, I gotta ask," he began, his tone tinged with curiosity and a hint of annoyance, "what's with you loving to hang out with Sarah and her Pogue friends so much?"
His question caught you off guard for a moment, but you composed yourself before responding, understanding his frustration regarding his sister.
"Well, Rafe," you replied, meeting his gaze evenly, "there's something special about the bond they share. They're like a family, always there for each other no matter what. It's refreshing to be a part of that."
Rafe's expression softened slightly as he listened to your explanation, but there was still a hint of skepticism lingering in his eyes.
"But why them?" he pressed, his curiosity unabated. "You could hang out with anyone in the Outer Banks. Why them specifically?"
You took a moment to consider your words before answering, wanting to convey the depth of your connection with Sarah and her friends.
"It's not just about hanging out," you explained, your voice earnest. "They make me feel like I belong, like I'm a part of something bigger than myself. And that's something I haven't found anywhere else. I mean, except for JJ."
Rafe nodded slowly, seemingly mulling over your response. There was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, a recognition of the importance of finding a sense of belonging.
Rafe's chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh, his amusement mirroring your sentiments about JJ. There was a glint of camaraderie in his eyes as he nodded emphatically.
"Oh, trust me, I know," Rafe replied, his laughter subsiding into a smirk. "JJ can be a real pain in the ass sometimes."
You couldn't help but grin at Rafe's candid agreement, feeling a sense of validation in knowing that you weren't alone in your frustrations with JJ.
"Tell me about it," you replied, shaking your head in mock exasperation. "It's like he goes out of his way to be difficult."
Rafe nodded in emphatic agreement, a playful glint in his eye. "Yeah, well, don't worry," he reassured you, "you just gotta keep him in check."
With a shared understanding, you and Rafe settled into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier dissipating in the wake of your shared laughter. With Rafe by your side, you felt confident that you could handle whatever challenges lay ahead, even if it meant dealing with JJ's antics.
As Rafe nestled into you, his breathing steady and even as he drifted off to sleep, you remained awake, your mind buzzing with thoughts of how to prove yourself and prove JJ wrong. With your head against the headboard, you let out a soft sigh, the weight of determination settling over you like a heavy blanket.
You replayed the events of the day in your mind, reflecting on JJ's skepticism and the challenges you faced in gaining his trust. But instead of feeling discouraged, you felt a surge of determination coursing through your veins. You were determined to show JJ and everyone else that you were more than capable of handling whatever challenges came your way.
With each passing moment, you formulated plans and strategies, mapping out the steps you would take to prove yourself. Whether it was through your actions, your skills, or your unwavering determination, you were determined to make JJ look stupid for doubting you and show him that you belonged among them.
You tossed and turned restlessly, the memory of JJ's dismissive demeanor replaying over and over in your mind like a broken record. Each time you closed your eyes, his snide remarks echoed in your head, fueling a growing anger that refused to be quelled.
Cursing him silently in your thoughts, you berated JJ for his narrow-mindedness and his unwillingness to see beyond his own biases. You couldn't understand why he insisted on treating you as an outsider, refusing to acknowledge your potential and the contributions you could make to their group.
With each passing moment, your frustration only grew, simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt. You longed to confront JJ, to demand an explanation for his behavior and to prove him wrong once and for all.
But as the night wore on and the darkness pressed in around you, you realized that confronting JJ wouldn't solve anything. Instead, you resolved to channel your anger into determination, using it as fuel to drive you forward and prove him wrong through your actions.
And as the first light of dawn began to filter through the window, you finally drifted off into a restless sleep, the weight of your annoyance with JJ still heavy on your mind but tempered by a newfound resolve to prove him wrong.
。゚•┈୨♡୧┈• 。゚
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, you stirred from your restless sleep, your mind still buzzing with determination from the events of the previous night. Glancing down, you noticed Rafe still sound asleep, his breathing steady and peaceful.
Not wanting to disturb him, you quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. With a sense of urgency gnawing at you, you hastily gathered your belongings, grabbing your backpack from the floor and slinging it over your shoulder.
As you made your way downstairs, you moved quickly but quietly, mindful of the early hour. The house was still and quiet, the only sound the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet.
With each step, your determination grew stronger, fueled by the knowledge that you were meant to meet up with your friends early that morning. You couldn't afford to be late, not when so much was at stake.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you paused for a moment, glancing back up at the bedroom door where Rafe slept peacefully. With a pang of guilt tugging at your heart, you silently wished him a peaceful rest before turning and slipping out the front door.
As you stepped out into the crisp morning air, a surge of anticipation coursed through you. With each passing moment, you drew closer to meeting up with your friends and embarking on the adventure that lay ahead. And as you set off down the deserted street, the weight of determination heavy on your shoulders, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. Today was the day you would prove yourself and show JJ just what you were capable of.
As you pedaled your bike towards the Chateau, the cool morning air whipped against your skin, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. Your mind raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety, the events of the previous night still fresh in your memory.
You couldn't shake the frustration and annoyance JJ's doubts had stirred within you. It irked you how much he was getting under your skin, his skepticism serving as a constant reminder of the uphill battle you faced in proving yourself.
But as you rode, you made a conscious effort to push aside those negative thoughts, focusing instead on the task at hand. You knew you couldn't afford to let JJ's doubts derail you, not when so much was riding on the success of your mission.
With each turn of the pedal, you forced yourself to stay focused, channeling your energy into the anticipation of what lay ahead. The Chateau loomed in the distance, a silent beacon calling you forward with promises of adventure and opportunity.
As you neared your destination, a sense of determination settled over you like a comforting blanket. You knew that despite JJ's doubts, you had the skills and the determination to come out successful. Today would be the day you silenced his skepticism once and for all. With renewed resolve, you pedaled harder, pushing yourself to reach the Chateau and meet up with your friends. As you arrived at your destination, the rush of anticipation and determination fueled your every step, driving you forward towards the adventure that awaited.
You parked your bike and hopped off, the excitement of the moment urging you forward. But as you made your way towards the front porch of the Chateau, a familiar, nagging voice pierced the air from behind, causing you to freeze in your tracks.
"Well, well, well, look who actually showed up."
You turned around slowly, your heart sinking as you spotted JJ leaning against his bike, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His tone was taunting, dripping with sarcasm and disbelief.
You felt a surge of frustration rise within you at JJ's mocking words, but you refused to let it show. Squaring your shoulders, you met his gaze head-on, your expression determined despite the doubt gnawing at your confidence.
Ignoring the urge to snap back at him, you simply offered a tight-lipped smile, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you rattled.
"Yep, here I am," you replied evenly, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. "Ready to get down to business."
"Surprised you're capable of not being up your boyfriend's ass for a day," JJ's remark cut through the air like a knife, his sarcasm dripping with disdain. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as his words struck a nerve, but you refused to let him see how much they affected you.
With a tight-lipped smile, you turned to face JJ once again, your voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Surprise, surprise," you retorted, your tone laced with sarcasm of your own. "plus, I knew you'd need my help at some point. And like I told you before, he's not my boyfriend, you dick." You could see the flicker of annoyance in JJ's eyes as he absorbed your words, his facade slipping for just a moment before he regained his composure.
"Whatever," he muttered dismissively, rolling his eyes in a display of feigned indifference.
Refusing to engage any further, you turned away from JJ and continued towards the front porch, determined to focus on the task at hand. You knew that proving yourself to JJ would be an uphill battle, but you were more determined than ever to show him just what you were capable of.
As you entered the Chateau, a wave of relief washed over you, replacing the tension of your encounter with JJ with a sense of warmth and familiarity. Your friends greeted you with smiles and expressions of joy, their enthusiasm contagious.
"Hey!" John B exclaimed, his voice filled with both concern and excitement as he approached you. "Are you ready for this?"
You returned his smile, feeling a surge of determination welling up inside you. Despite the lingering doubts and skepticism from certain members of the group, you knew deep down that you were ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.
"Absolutely," you replied, your voice steady and resolute. "I'm ready to give it everything I've got."
John B nodded approvingly, his expression filled with confidence. "That's what I like to hear," he said, clapping you on the shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. "We're all in this together."
Sarah's voice rang out with unwavering confidence, cutting through the chatter of excitement like a beacon of support.
"I knew she wouldn't let us down," she declared, her tone filled with certainty and pride.
Her words ignited a spark within you, filling you with a sense of determination and purpose. With Sarah's faith in your abilities, you felt a surge of confidence welling up inside you, driving away any lingering doubts or uncertainties.
"Thanks, Sarah," you replied, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I wouldn't ever."
Her smile mirrored your own as she nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with unwavering belief in your capabilities. With Sarah's support bolstering your resolve, you felt ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead, confident in your ability to rise to the occasion. As the group gathered around to finalize their plans, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Sarah's unwavering confidence in you. With her belief in your abilities and the support of your friends by your side, you knew that together, you were capable of achieving anything.
The moment of joy was abruptly shattered as JJ's voice echoed through the living room, cutting through the camaraderie with his usual snarky demeanor.
"Well, let's hope she's as good as you all seem to think she is," he remarked, his tone dripping with skepticism.
His words hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the room and dampening the spirits of the group. You could feel the weight of JJ's doubt pressing down on you, threatening to undermine the confidence you had worked so hard to build.
Rolling your eyes at JJ's predictable cynicism, you turned to face him, a defiant glint in your eye as you prepared to counter his snarky remark.
"Wow, JJ, didn't realize you were the designated pessimist of the group," you quipped, your tone laced with sarcasm. "But hey, if you're looking for someone to bring down the mood, I guess you're doing a great job."
A ripple of laughter spread through the room at your comeback, breaking the tension that had settled over the group in JJ's wake. Even Sarah shot you a supportive grin, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
JJ's expression darkened momentarily, his jaw tightening with irritation, but you held his gaze steadily, refusing to back down. Despite his best efforts to undermine you, you remained steadfast in your resolve to prove him wrong. With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turned away from JJ, returning your focus to the task at hand. Today was not about letting his negativity get to you – it was about showing everyone, including JJ, what you were truly capable of.
Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you turned to face the group, your expression resolute as you awaited their instructions.
John B, the natural leader of the group, stepped forward, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering confidence. "We need you to keep an eye out," he said, his voice steady and sure. "We'll need someone watching our backs while we're inside."
Kiara nodded in agreement, her eyes flashing with determination. "Yeah, and we'll need someone quick and agile," she added. "In case things get hairy."
Pope chimed in next, his tone thoughtful. "Maybe you could scout ahead," he suggested. "See if there are any potential obstacles or threats we need to be aware of."
Sarah, ever the strategist, nodded approvingly. "That sounds like a plan," she said, her voice filled with confidence. "We'll need someone reliable in that role, and I know we can count on you."
As each of your friends offered their suggestions and assigned tasks, you listened intently, absorbing every detail and mentally preparing yourself for the role ahead. With a nod of determination, you accepted your role in the plan, ready to do whatever it took to ensure the success of the mission.
With his arms crossed and a dry tone, JJ interjected, "So, are we all set to go?"
His question was laced with skepticism, his doubt hanging heavy in the air. Despite the excitement and determination of the group, JJ's cynicism threatened to cast a shadow over the impending adventure.
But instead of letting his negativity dampen the mood, Sarah shot JJ a pointed look, her eyes flashing with determination. "Yes, JJ," she replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We're ready."
There was a collective nod of agreement from the rest of the group, each member echoing Sarah's sentiment with unwavering confidence. Even though JJ's negativity lingered, the group remained resolute in their determination to press forward.
With a resigned sigh, JJ uncrossed his arms and nodded, a hint of begrudging acceptance in his expression. "Fine," he muttered, his tone begrudging but resigned. "Let's get this show on the road."
As you and the Pogues packed up your gear for the mission, the tension between you and JJ hung heavy in the air, a palpable reminder of the skepticism and doubt that still lingered between you.
With John B at the wheel and Sarah in the passenger seat as usual, the rest of you piled into the back of the van. You, Kiara, Pope, and JJ found yourselves seated in close quarters, the space feeling smaller and more confined with the weight of the unspoken tension.
Despite the excitement of the impending adventure, the atmosphere in the van was thick with unease, the silence punctuated only by the low hum of the engine as the van rolled along the road.
You tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside the lingering animosity between you and JJ, but the tension refused to dissipate. Every movement, every shift in posture felt like a silent battle for dominance, the unspoken conflict simmering just beneath the surface.
Pope's voice broke the heavy silence like a ray of sunlight piercing through storm clouds. "So guys," he began, his voice clear but cautious, "maybe we should go over the plan one more time."
His suggestion hung in the air, a lifeline in the midst of the tense atmosphere. You could feel the tension easing slightly as Pope's words redirected the group's focus from the underlying friction between you and JJ.
"Yeah, Pope?" Kiara responded, her voice echoing with gratitude for the opportunity to shift the conversation away from the lingering tension.
With a nod of agreement, you added, "That sounds like a good idea. A quick refresher won't hurt."
Pope's shoulders relaxed visibly as he cleared his throat once more, diving into the details of the plan with renewed determination. As he spoke, his voice steady and sure, the tension in the van gradually began to dissipate, replaced by a shared sense of purpose and focus.
With each word, Pope's explanation served as a reminder of the mission ahead and the importance of working together as a team. Despite the underlying tension, you knew that you and the Pogues were united in your determination to succeed.
JJ's dry laughter reverberated through the van, his head tilted back against the wall as he made his snarky remark. "Good idea, Pope," he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "We all know Y/N needs it explained to her a few times."
His words stung like a slap to the face, the underlying implication clear: JJ didn't believe in your abilities, and he wasn't afraid to make that known. You could feel the tension in the van ratcheting up another notch as his comment hung in the air, the weight of his comments pressing down on you like a lead weight. You could feel the eyes of the rest of the group on you, waiting to see how you would react to JJ's barb.
JJ's look pierced through the air like a dagger, his expression a mixture of disdain and mockery. With a sneer, he couldn't resist making another cutting remark aimed at you.
"Well, what do you expect?" he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "We all know Y/N's just a dumb kook."
His words hit you like a blow to the gut, the venom in his tone cutting deep. You could feel the eyes of the others in the van flickering between you and JJ, the tension thickening with each passing moment.
But you refused to let JJ's insults get the best of you. Steeling yourself against the hurt and frustration bubbling within, you met his gaze with a defiant stare, refusing to let him see how much his words affected you.
"Real mature, JJ," you shot back, your voice laced with equal parts anger and determination. "But I'd rather be a 'dumb kook' than an asshole." Your retort hung in the air, a challenge to JJ's arrogance and superiority.
Kiara's intervention was a welcome relief from the escalating tension in the van. "Guys, seriously," she interjected, her voice firm but calm. "Nothing is gonna get done if you two keep arguing all the time."
Her words served as a sobering reminder of the task at hand, grounding the group in the reality of the situation. You felt a pang of guilt for allowing JJ's taunts to escalate the conflict, but you knew that Kiara was right. This wasn't the time for petty squabbles.
Before you could respond, JJ's voice cut in, his tone surprisingly subdued. "I'm just telling the truth," he muttered quietly, his words tinged with a hint of defensiveness.
Turning to JJ, frustration seeping into your voice, you couldn't help but let out a sigh of exasperation. "Do you even know how to shut up?" you asked, your tone laced with irritation.
The words slipped out before you could stop them, borne out of the frustration of JJ's constant need to belittle and undermine you. You could feel the weight of everyone's eyes on you, waiting to see how JJ would respond.
For a moment, there was silence in the van, the tension palpable as JJ considered his response. Finally, he met your gaze with a cool, collected expression, his tone even as he replied, "Do you?"
His retort hit you like a slap in the face, the sting of it leaving you momentarily speechless. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the frustration boiling beneath the surface.
But before you could respond, Kiara jumped in, her voice cutting through the tension. "Alright, enough," she declared, her tone firm but calm. "We've got bigger things to worry about right now."
Her words served as a much-needed reminder, grounding the group in the reality of the situation. With a resigned sigh, you forced yourself to let go of the argument, turning your attention back to the task at hand.
Just as the tension in the van threatened to reach its boiling point, John B's voice cut through the air like a lifeline, breaking the cycle of conflict. "Hey, everyone," he called out, his tone firm but reassuring. "We're here."
His words were a welcome interruption, drawing everyone's attention away from the argument and back to the task at hand. With a sense of relief, you turned to look out the window, realizing that the van had come to a halt at your destination.
As the group began to stir, gathering their gear and preparing to disembark, the lingering tension in the van began to dissipate, replaced by a renewed sense of focus and determination. Despite the disagreements and arguments that had threatened to derail your mission, you knew that you were all united in your shared goal.
As the group flooded out of the van, you couldn't help but notice the way the boys linked up, falling into their familiar roles with ease. But your attention was drawn to JJ, who seemed to move with a purpose that made your stomach churn with unease.
Your eyes widened as you watched him discreetly slip a handgun into his pocket, hiding it under his shirt as if it were just another accessory. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, a lump forming in your throat as you struggled to comprehend the implications of what you had just witnessed.
A sense of unease settled over you like a heavy blanket as you followed the group, the weight of JJ's actions lingering in the air. Despite the adrenaline pumping through your veins, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that washed over you, a nagging voice in the back of your mind warning you of the danger that lay ahead.
Kiara's sudden touch on your shoulders startled you, pulling you out of your uneasy thoughts. You turned to face her, meeting her determined gaze with a sense of gratitude for her grounding presence.
"Y/N, do you know exactly what you're supposed to do?" she asked, her voice firm but reassuring.
Her question cut through the fog of your unease, forcing you to focus on the task at hand. With a nod, you replied, "Yes, Kiara. I'm clear on my role."
Her hands remained on your shoulders, her grip steady as she held your gaze. "Good," she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "We're counting on you." With Kiara's support bolstering your confidence, you squared your shoulders and took a deep breath, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As the group dispersed into the house, each member moving with purpose towards their assigned tasks, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. With a sense of determination, you sprang into action, wasting no time in fulfilling the role that had been assigned to you.
Outside the house, you took up your position, scanning the surroundings with keen eyes. The cool breeze tousled your hair as you stood watch, your senses on high alert for any signs of trouble.
With practiced ease, you moved silently, keeping to the shadows as you patrolled the perimeter. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of a branch, sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins, but you remained calm and composed, your focus unwavering.
As you surveyed the area, your mind raced with possibilities, every scenario playing out in your head as you prepared for any eventuality. Despite the tension that hung in the air, you refused to let it cloud your judgment, trusting in your instincts to guide you through the darkness.
With each passing moment, you felt a sense of purpose growing within you, fueled by the knowledge that you were playing a crucial role in the mission. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, you were determined to see it through to the end, whatever it took. And as you stood watch, the weight of responsibility settling on your shoulders, you knew that you were ready.
As the moments passed, the stillness of the night enveloped you, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Despite the apparent calm, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, a nagging feeling that something was amiss.
You shifted restlessly on your feet, the weight of anticipation settling heavily on your shoulders. Every passing second felt like an eternity, each heartbeat echoing loudly in your ears as you waited for the inevitable. Deep down, you knew that this mission wouldn't be easy. The stakes were high, and the competition fierce. Everyone's goal was the same: to find the gold, no matter the cost.
As you stood watch, the tension in the air thickened, a palpable reminder of the dangers that lurked in the darkness. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every rustle in the bushes a potential danger.
Every rustle of the bushes or trees sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins, your senses on high alert for any sign of danger. Each sound, no matter how innocent, seemed to magnify in the darkness, setting your heart racing with alarm.
You paced back and forth outside the house, the rhythm of your steps matching the frantic beat of your heart. Despite your best efforts to remain calm, the tension in the air was palpable, a constant reminder of the risks that lay ahead.
With each passing moment, you found yourself growing increasingly restless, the weight of anticipation pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Every second felt like an eternity as you searched for ways to pass the time until your friends emerged from the house.
You tried to focus your thoughts on anything other than the looming mission, but the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on your mind. The stakes were high, and the thought of what could go wrong filled you with a sense of dread.
But despite the rising tide of anxiety threatening to overwhelm you, you refused to let it consume you. With a determined effort, you pushed aside your fears and focused on the task at hand, determined to remain vigilant until your friends returned.
The sound of a car pulling up outside snapped you out of your reverie, your attention immediately drawn to the source of the noise. Your senses went on high alert as you strained to listen, the murmur of voices in the distance sending a shiver down your spine.
With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that it could only mean one thing: the men who were looking for your friends had arrived. Panic surged through you like a tidal wave as you processed the gravity of the situation.
"Shit, shit, shit," you whispered to yourself, the words escaping your lips in a breathless rush. Your mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. The safety of your friends hung in the balance, and you knew that you had to act fast.
As the male voices drew nearer, your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins as you frantically scanned your surroundings for a place to hide. With every passing moment, the sense of urgency grew more pressing, driving you to act quickly before it was too late.
Spotting a corner of the house nearby, you made a split-second decision and darted towards it, your footsteps quick and silent as you sought refuge from the approaching danger. With a racing mind and trembling hands, you pressed yourself against the rough exterior of the building, willing yourself to blend into the shadows and remain unseen.
The voices grew louder as the group approached, their conversation a distant murmur that sent shivers down your spine. You held your breath, your heart hammering in your chest as you listened intently, straining to make out any discernible words.
As the men drew closer, your muscles tensed with anticipation, every nerve on edge as you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you waited, the seconds stretching out into an eternity as you prepared to face whatever came your way.
In the brightness of day, your heart pounded in your chest as you peeked around the corner, spotting the men on the front porch with the sunlight casting long shadows around them. Their presence sent a chill down your spine, knowing they posed a threat to your friends inside the house.
Your mind raced, desperate for a plan to thwart their entry. With each passing second, the urgency of the situation intensified, driving you to act swiftly.
In a surge of impulse, your eyes landed on a large log nearby. Without a second thought, you seized it, your fingers wrapping around the rough bark as you steadied your grip.
With determination fueling your movements, you approached the men from behind, their backs turned to you as they lingered on the porch. The weight of the log in your hands was a tangible reminder of the stakes at hand. As you drew nearer, your heart thundered in your chest, drowning out all other sound. The sun beat down on your back, but you remained focused, your gaze locked on the men ahead.
As the man reached for the door handle, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, propelling you into action. With a swift and decisive motion, you swung the log with all your strength, connecting with a resounding thud as it collided with the man's back, sending him crashing to the ground.
For a moment, silence enveloped the scene, broken only by the dull thud of the man hitting the ground. Your heart raced in your chest as you stood frozen in shock, the weight of what you had just done settling heavily upon you.
But as the rest of the men turned to face you, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and rage, you knew that there was no time to dwell on your actions. With wide eyes and trembling hands, you dropped the makeshift weapon and turned on your heel, sprinting towards the safety of the back of the house.
Adrenaline fueled your every movement as you raced away from the scene, the sound of your footsteps echoing in your ears. Fear gripped you like a vice, but you pushed past it, focusing only on putting as much distance between yourself and the men as possible.
With every stride, you felt the weight of the danger behind you, urging you onward. The adrenaline-fueled rush of escape pulsed through your veins, driving you forward with a single-minded determination.
Panic surged through you as a strong hand closed around your arm, yanking you back with a force that made you wince. With a gasp, you stumbled backward, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled against the firm grip.
Instinctively, you tried to break free, but the hold on your arm was relentless, the pressure enough to send a sharp jolt of pain shooting through you. Fear clenched at your heart as you realized you were trapped, your mind racing with a million possibilities of what could happen next.
Desperation flooded through you as you fought against your captor, your adrenaline-fueled instincts driving you to escape. With every ounce of strength you could muster, you twisted and turned, struggling to break free from their grasp.
But no matter how hard you fought, the grip on your arm remained unyielding, the hold tightening with each passing moment. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you braced yourself for whatever was to come, the sense of helplessness weighing heavily upon you.
As your captor pulled you closer, their intentions unknown, a sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating blanket. With every fiber of your being, you prayed for a way out of this nightmare, knowing that your fate hung in the balance.
"Let go of me!" you screamed, your voice filled with desperation as you flailed your legs, struggling against the iron grip that held you captive. But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the man hoisted you effortlessly over his shoulder, his movements confident and determined.
Panic surged through you as you realized the gravity of your situation. With each step he took, your heart pounded in your chest, the fear of the unknown looming large in your mind.
As he carried you back towards the front yard, your mind raced with a million thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. With every passing moment, the sense of helplessness threatened to overwhelm you, but you refused to give in to despair.
Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you continued to struggle against your captor, determined to break free from his grasp. But no matter how hard you fought, his hold remained unyielding, his grip like a vice around your body. As you were carried further and further away from safety, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of your stomach. With each passing moment, the reality of your predicament became clearer, and you knew that escaping would be no easy feat.
"You thought you were gonna get away from us, you little bitch?" the man's voice sneered, dripping with malice as he continued to carry you towards the front yard.
Your frustration reached its peak, and you let out a cry for your friends, hoping against hope that they might hear you and come to your rescue. But your desperate plea only seemed to further enrage the man.
With a growl of anger, he dropped you unceremoniously from his shoulder, and you crashed to the ground with a painful thud. Before you could gather your bearings, he was upon you, pushing you roughly against the brick siding of the house.
"You think you're tough, huh?" he spat, his face twisted in a mask of fury as he pressed his body against yours, pinning you with an iron grip. "Well, let me tell you something, sweetheart. You're nothing but a helpless little girl, and you're gonna regret ever crossing us." His words cut through you like a knife, each syllable laden with venom and malice. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm you, you refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a defiant glare.
Your eyes widened in alarm as the man's hand darted to his belt, pulling out a gleaming knife that glinted ominously in the sunlight. Your heart leaped into your throat as he pressed the blade against your skin, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine.
With the razor-sharp edge of the knife dangerously close to your throat, a sense of dread washed over you like a tidal wave. Fear clenched at your heart as you realized the gravity of the situation, the realization sinking in that your life hung in the balance.
The man's face twisted into a cruel smirk as he held the knife to your throat, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You wanna try anything else, sweetheart?" he taunted, his voice laced with menace.
Every instinct screamed at you to fight back, to do whatever it took to escape the man's grasp. But as you stared into his eyes, you knew that any wrong move could spell disaster.
Tears welled up in your eyes as you pleaded with the man, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please... just let me go," you begged, your words barely a whisper as you fought to keep your composure.
A single tear slipped from your eye, tracing a path down your cheek as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of the glinting knife so close to your throat. Every fiber of your being screamed for escape, for release from the terror that gripped you in its icy grasp.
But despite your pleas, the man's grip remained firm, his hold unyielding as he continued to press the blade against your skin. The metallic tang of blood filled your nostrils, a stark reminder of the danger that lurked just inches away.
With every ounce of strength you had left, you forced yourself to remain calm, to suppress the rising tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm you. Though your heart hammered in your chest and your breath came in ragged gasps, you refused to give in to despair.
As the man drew closer, his hot breath ghosting over your ear, he whispered menacingly, "You aren't going anywhere, sweetheart. You're mine now."
Your heart sank as his words sent a shiver down your spine, the grip of fear tightening around you like a vice. But before he could finish his sentence, his voice was abruptly cut off by a sudden impact from behind him.
With a startled cry, he stumbled forward, his hold on you loosening as he struggled to maintain his balance. You watched in astonishment as he crashed to the ground, the knife clattering from his hand as he fell.
Before you could fully comprehend what had happened, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching rapidly from behind. Turning around, you saw a familiar face standing over the fallen assailant, their expression fierce with determination.
"Get away from her!" JJ growled, his voice filled with righteous anger as they glared down at the man who had threatened you.
You watched in astonishment as JJ approached the fallen assailant, his expression steely and resolute. With a determined stride, he knelt down beside the man, his movements deliberate and purposeful.
With a menacing glint in his eyes, JJ pointed his gun directly at the man's face, the cold metal pressing against his skin. His voice was low and dangerous as he spoke, each word dripping with a lethal promise.
"If you ever lay a hand on her again," JJ growled, his tone icy with menace, "you're dead. Do you understand me?"
The man's eyes widened in fear as he stared up at JJ, the full weight of his threat sinking in. With a trembling nod, he muttered a barely audible agreement, his voice trembling with fear. Satisfied that his message had been received, JJ stood up, his grip on the gun unwavering as he turned to face you. There was a fierce protectiveness in his gaze as he met your eyes.
You felt a flicker of surprise at the unfamiliar look of concern etched on JJ's face as he turned to you. His usual demeanor of bravado and aloofness seemed to soften, replaced by a genuine worry that took you off guard.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with a sincerity that you hadn't expected.
The concern in his eyes was unmistakable, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. It was rare to see JJ drop his tough exterior and show vulnerability, and yet here he was, genuinely worried about your well-being.
You nodded slowly, unable to hide the gratitude in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I'm okay," you reassured him, your voice barely above a whisper. There was a brief moment of silence between you, the weight of everything that had just transpired hanging heavy in the air. But despite the lingering tension, there was also a sense of solidarity, a silent understanding that you were all in this together at the end of the day.
JJ's concern lingered in his gaze for a moment longer before he nodded, his focus shifting to the urgency of the situation at hand.
"C'mon, we need to go," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension as he took charge of the situation.
Without waiting for a response, JJ reached out and grabbed your hand, his touch firm and reassuring as he pulled you along with him. With a sense of urgency, he led you in a sprint towards the van, his grip never faltering as he navigated through the chaos.
As you ran beside him, a surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, driving you forward with a burst of energy. Despite the danger that still lurked nearby, you felt a sense of safety in JJ's presence, knowing that he would do whatever it took to protect you.
With every step, you drew closer to the safety of the van, the sound of your pounding footsteps echoing in your ears. And as you reached the vehicle, you felt a wave of relief wash over you, knowing that you were one step closer to escaping the danger that had threatened you.
With a final burst of speed, you leaped into the van beside JJ, the door slamming shut behind you as the engine roared to life. And as the van peeled away from the scene, leaving the chaos behind, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards JJ for his protection.
"Holy shit," Kiara exclaimed, her voice breathless with adrenaline as she glanced around at the group.
"That was terrifying," Pope added, his voice tinged with shock as he spoke, his wide eyes betraying the fear that still lingered within him.
His words echoed the sentiments of the entire group, each of you grappling with the intensity of the situation you had just faced. The reality of the danger you had narrowly escaped weighed heavily on your minds, leaving you all shaken but grateful to be alive.
As the van continued on its journey, the tension in the air was palpable, the silence broken only by the sound of your racing hearts. Each of you was lost in your own thoughts, trying to make sense of the chaos that had unfolded.
You threw your head back against the wall of the van, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you tried to catch your breath. Despite the rush of adrenaline still coursing through your veins, exhaustion weighed heavily on you as you struggled to process the events of the day.
"I hope you at least found the gold," you muttered breathlessly, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.
Sarah turned around in the passenger seat, a triumphant smile gracing her features as she reached into the bag she held beside her. With a gleam in her eyes, she pulled out a shiny object, holding it up for all to see.
The gold.
For a moment, the van fell silent as each of you stared in awe at the treasure Sarah had uncovered. The realization of what you had risked everything for, the culmination of your daring adventure, washed over you like a tidal wave.
A chorus of gasps and exclamations filled the air as you reached out to touch the gleaming metal, the weight of it in your hands a tangible reminder of the journey you had been on. It was a moment of pure triumph, a testament to your resilience and determination in the face of adversity. As you gazed at the gold, a sense of awe and wonder filled your heart. It was more than just a valuable prize; it was a symbol of everything you had overcome, a testament to the strength of your friendship and the power of your collective resolve.
"Well, you fought like hell," JJ chuckled, a rare hint of warmth in his voice as he glanced over at you.
His words were unexpected, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. Despite his usual tough exterior, JJ's words were a genuine acknowledgment of your bravery and resilience in the face of danger.
A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you met JJ's gaze, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, you knew that despite your differences, you shared a bond forged through adversity, a mutual respect for each other's strengths and weaknesses.
"Thanks, JJ," you replied, the gratitude evident in your voice as you returned his smile. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes, a reminder that there was a heart somewhere in JJ Maybank.
Kiara and Pope exchanged confused glances at each other, their brows furrowing in surprise at the unexpected interaction between you and JJ. After all, they were well aware of the tension that had always existed between the two of you, and seeing such a moment of camaraderie was certainly out of the ordinary.
However, recognizing that there were more pressing matters at hand—like celebrating the successful retrieval of the gold—they quickly brushed off their confusion and joined in the jubilant atmosphere that filled the van. With smiles on their faces and laughter in their voices, Kiara and Pope turned their attention back to the group, eager to bask in the shared sense of victory and accomplishment. After all, there would be plenty of time to ponder the nuances of your and JJ's relationship later.
"I say we celebrate tonight, my friends," JJ smirked, his voice filled with a sense of triumph as he reached for the cooler in the back of the van.
With a confident flourish, he cracked open a cold beer, the sound of the tab popping echoing through the vehicle. The sight of the chilled beverages brought a collective sense of anticipation to the group, the promise of a well-deserved celebration sparking excitement in the air.
As JJ passed around the drinks, a sense of camaraderie and camaraderie filled the van, the tension of the day slowly giving way to a shared sense of joy and relief. With each sip, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a feeling of contentment and satisfaction.
Oddly, you couldn't help but find yourself drawn to JJ as he took a swig of his beer, his laughter and banter with Pope filling the van with a sense of camaraderie and warmth. Despite the tension that had always existed between the two of you, in this moment, all of that seemed to fade away, replaced by a shared sense of victory and celebration.
As you watched JJ, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, a feeling of warmth spreading through you as you observed the pure joy that seemed to exude from him. There was something infectious about his laughter, something that made you feel lighter and happier just being in his presence.
For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply bask in the glow of the moment, soaking in the shared sense of triumph and camaraderie that filled the van. It was a rare moment of peace and contentment, a fleeting glimpse of the bond that connected you and your friends in a way that nothing else could. And as you watched JJ laugh and joke with Pope, a sense of gratitude washed over you. Despite your differences, despite the challenges you had faced, you knew that in the end, you were all in this together.
Eventually, the van rolled to a stop back at the chateau, and with eager anticipation, you and your friends spilled out onto the driveway, shouting with joy and excitement. The adrenaline from the day's events still coursed through your veins, fueling the jubilant atmosphere that surrounded you all.
Following the group, you made your way to the backyard of the chateau, where a jacuzzi awaited. As you watched, JJ wasted no time in stripping off his shirt and kicking off his shoes, revealing his toned physique as he bounded towards the water, his laughter ringing out into the night.
With a sense of freedom and abandon, he leaped into the jacuzzi, his splash sending droplets of water flying into the air. The other boys followed suit, joining him in the bubbling warmth of the water as they laughed and joked together, the stresses of the day melting away with each passing moment.
Your breath hitched as you watched JJ emerge from underneath the water, his hair slicked back and his toned abs glistening with droplets of water. There was something undeniably captivating about the way the moonlight danced across his damp skin, casting him in a soft, ethereal glow.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you found yourself mesmerized by the sight before you. There was an undeniable magnetism to JJ, a raw intensity that drew you in and left you feeling breathless in his presence.
As he flashed you a playful grin, a shiver ran down your spine, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins. There was no denying the sudden surge of attraction that pulsed between you, the air thick with unspoken tension as you locked eyes with him.
In that moment, you were acutely aware of the electricity that crackled in the air, the unspoken connection that simmered just beneath the surface. It was a fleeting moment, a silent acknowledgment of something unspoken and yet deeply felt.
Shaking off your intrusive thoughts, you made a conscious decision to join in on the fun. With a sense of determination, you stripped off your shirt, revealing just your bra underneath, and with a playful grin, you hopped into the jacuzzi.
The warm water enveloped you as you submerged yourself, the soothing embrace of the bubbles washing away any lingering tension. As you resurfaced, you were greeted with cheers and applause from the boys, their laughter filling the air as they welcomed you into their midst.
The atmosphere was light and carefree, the worries of the day fading into the background as you laughed and joked with your friends. In this moment, surrounded by laughter and friendship, you felt alive, free to be yourself without reservation.
As you lounged in the jacuzzi, the warmth of the water seeping into your skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. It was moments like these, surrounded by the people you cared about most, that made life worth living.
A hint of shyness flushed over your cheeks as you settled against the side of the jacuzzi, allowing the warm water to envelop you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could feel JJ's gaze on you, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, a tingle of anticipation danced along your skin.
As you relaxed into the water, you couldn't help but steal a glance in JJ's direction, finding him watching you with an intensity that sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way his eyes seemed to linger on you, a silent invitation that left you feeling both exhilarated and apprehensive.
For a moment, you held his gaze, the unspoken tension between you palpable in the air. It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange of longing and desire.
But just as quickly as it had begun, the moment passed, and JJ turned his attention back to the group, a playful grin on his lips as he joined in on the laughter and conversation. And as you watched him, a sense of both disappointment and relief washed over you, the intensity of the moment leaving you breathless and uncertain.
You shook your head, dismissing the subtle interaction with JJ, downplaying whatever it might've meant. It was easy to get caught up in the moment, to read too much into fleeting glances and shared smiles. But deep down, you knew better than to read too much into it.
With a self-assured nod, you pushed aside any lingering thoughts and focused instead on the present, allowing yourself to fully immerse in the warmth of the jacuzzi and the laughter of your friends. After all, there was no sense in dwelling on something that may or may not have meant anything.
As the night wore on and the hours passed, you couldn't help but notice that it was getting late. However, your friends seemed too caught up in the revelry to pay much attention to the time. Laughter echoed through the air, and the sound of clinking bottles filled the night.
It was then that you felt your phone buzz with a notification. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Rafe, asking what time you were planning to come over. The reminder of your plans with him caused you to sit up straight, suddenly feeling the weight of the hour.
With a sense of urgency, you dried yourself off, the warmth of the jacuzzi lingering on your skin as you hastily threw on your denim shorts and tank top. Standing up, you announced to your friends that you were heading out.
"C'mon, Y/N, just ditch Rafe for one night," JJ spoke up, his gaze locking directly onto yours as he made his plea. The intensity of his stare sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. There was something in JJ's eyes, a raw emotion that you couldn't quite place, and it left you feeling unsettled and unsure.
For a moment, you found yourself at a loss for words, the weight of JJ's gaze bearing down on you. You could feel the conflicting emotions swirling inside you, torn between the desire to stay with your friends and the obligation to honor your plans with Rafe.
But as you met JJ's unwavering gaze, a sense of resolve washed over you. With a firm shake of your head, you mustered up the courage to speak.
"I appreciate the offer, JJ, but I made plans with Rafe," you replied, your voice steady despite the nerves that threatened to betray you. "I can't just bail on him."
There was a hint of disappointment in JJ's eyes as he nodded in understanding, his gaze never leaving yours.
"Right, I forgot you were a kook," JJ quipped, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm as he shot you a sideways glance. His words stung, a reminder of the underlying tension that had always existed between you.
Disappointment drew over your face, your eyebrows furrowing as you looked at JJ with a hint of sadness in your eyes. "Really, JJ? Can't you just let it go for once?" you said, your voice tinged with frustration and hurt.
Before he could speak up to apologize, you quickly interjected, saying you were going to grab your things. Without waiting for a response, you turned around and headed inside the chateau, leaving JJ to grapple with the weight of his words.
As you disappeared from view, a sense of regret washed over JJ. He hadn't intended to upset you, and yet his thoughtless comment had clearly struck a chord. With a heavy sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, feeling a pang of guilt gnaw at him.
In that moment, JJ realized the impact his words could have and vowed to be more mindful in the future. He knew he needed to make things right with you, to apologize for his insensitivity and to bridge the divide that had formed between you. With a sense of determination, JJ followed after you, resolved to make amends and to show you that he was capable of being better. It was time to set things right and to repair the bond that had been strained by his thoughtless actions.
You stomped into the living room and swiftly picked up your bag off the couch, frustration boiling beneath the surface. As you turned around, ready to make your exit, you were met face-to-face with JJ, his expression a mixture of regret and concern.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you thick in the air. You could feel JJ's gaze boring into you, searching for some sign of forgiveness or understanding.
You looked up at JJ, your frown deepening as you met his gaze. "What do you want, JJ?" you asked, your voice tinged with a hint of suspicion.
JJ's expression softened at your question, and he took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "I just wanted to apologize," he said, his voice earnest. "I didn't mean to upset you back there. It was a dick move." His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. You could see the sincerity in JJ's eyes, the genuine remorse etched on his face, and it gave you pause.
You crossed your arms and tilted your head at him, skepticism evident in your expression. "Is this some kind of joke, JJ? Because you never apologize," you said, your tone edged with disbelief.
JJ's expression faltered for a moment, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by a rare vulnerability. "No, it's not a joke," he replied earnestly, his voice quiet but sincere. "I messed up, and I know it. I just... I don't want things to be weird between us, you know?"
You looked at him, your confusion evident in your expression. "Why do you even care, JJ? What does it matter to you?" you asked, your tone tinged with skepticism.
JJ's gaze faltered for a moment, a sense of vulnerability washing over him as he began to speak. "Look, I know you think that I hate you, but I don't," he admitted, his voice tinged with sincerity. His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. You had always assumed that JJ harbored some level of animosity towards you, given your past interactions and the tension that often simmered between you.
But as you looked into JJ's eyes, you could see a genuine earnestness that took you by surprise. There was something raw and vulnerable in his expression, a sincerity that you hadn't expected.
"Then why do you act like you do?" you asked, your voice tinged with a mixture of confusion and frustration.
JJ sighed heavily, a lump forming in his throat as he looked up at the ceiling, his words weighed down by the weight of his confession. "Because you're a kook, Y/N," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "And that alone makes you unattainable. So, it's easier to act like I hate you than to tell you the truth." His admission hit you like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. You had never expected JJ to be so candid about his feelings, and his honesty took you by surprise.
"What truth, JJ?" you asked, your voice soft but insistent, curiosity lacing your words.
JJ's gaze shifted to meet yours, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "The truth about... about how I feel about you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
His confession caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. You had never expected JJ to be so forthcoming about his feelings, and his honesty left you feeling both surprised and intrigued.
"The truth about... how you feel about me?" you repeated, trying to process JJ's words.
JJ nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Yeah," he replied, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I... I care about you, Y/N. More than I should."
His admission hung in the air between you, the weight of his words sinking in. You could see the sincerity in JJ's eyes, the raw honesty etched on his face, and it left you feeling both touched and unsure of how to respond.
Before you could speak, JJ continued, his words pouring out in a rush. "And I hate how you settle for Rafe," he confessed, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. "You deserve so much better than him, Y/N."
His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. You had never expected JJ to be so candid about his feelings, and his honesty left you feeling both surprised and conflicted.
"I... I don't know what to say, JJ," you admitted, your voice filled with uncertainty.
JJ sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know I shouldn't say this," he continued, his gaze fixed on the ground. "But I can't stand seeing you with him, knowing that you deserve someone who treats you right."
His confession hung in the air between you, the weight of his words sinking in. You could see the sincerity in JJ's eyes, the raw emotion etched on his face, and it left you feeling both touched and conflicted.
You went to speak, "JJ, I—" but he cut you off, his expression a mixture of resignation and understanding. "I understand, Y/N," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. "I know it doesn't change anything."
You paused, your heart pounding in your chest, and reached out, gently taking JJ's hand as he began to turn away. Looking up at him with pleading eyes, you searched his gaze for the right words, the words that could convey the depth of your feelings.
"JJ, wait," you said softly, your voice tinged with a mixture of regret and longing. "If I would've known... If I would've known how you felt, I would've done something about it."
Your words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You could feel the weight of the moment, the tension crackling in the air as you waited for JJ's response.
JJ's gaze softened as he looked down at you, his eyes searching yours for a long moment. "Y/N..." he started, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.
But before he could say anything else, you felt a surge of courage wash over you. Leaning in closer, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips against his, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still as JJ's lips met yours, the world falling away around you. And in that moment, you felt a spark of hope flicker to life in your heart, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was more to your relationship with JJ than you had ever dared to hope.
When you finally pulled away, JJ's expression was a mixture of surprise and confusion, but there was something else there too, something that mirrored the longing in your own heart.
"I... I don't know what to say," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled softly, your hand still intertwined with his. "You don't have to say anything," you replied gently. "Just know that... I care about you, JJ. More than you'll ever know."
With that, you turned and walked away, leaving JJ standing there, his gaze following you as you disappeared from view. And as you made your way out of the chateau, a sense of hope filled your heart, knowing that perhaps there was still a chance for something more between you and JJ.
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angelltheninth · 1 year
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In the Eyes of God
Pairing: Demon Lord!Sukuna x Priestess Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, power dynamic, taunting, rough sex, humiliation, degradation, clit stimulation, taking orders, Reader is pinned down, Demon mode Sukuna
Word count: 0.7k
A/N: Writing this for for @semisgroupie ’s what’s done in the dark collab. Really proud of this one. Sukuna is an evil bastard so this is a bit darker then my normal fics.
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It started out as a normal day for you, taking care of your duties, offering respects to your god, offering advice to the people who visited the temple, praying with them, it was nothing out of the ordinary.
So why were you being punished? Was it a punishment even? If it was the why were you offering yourself to this... this demon before you. He already introduced himself as the Demon Lord Sukuna, and at first you figured he must be either joking or delusional. But if so he would not be able to charm you so, to make you forget your vows to smile so triumphantly down at you while holding you down with two sets of hands, one pinning your hands above your head, one hand with sharp, claw-like nails digging into the softness of your hip and the other furiously working on your clit.
"I must say I'm sorely disappointed in you, priestess, all it took was a few touches, a few honied words, a little taste of a real dick and you're offering your pussy to me in the temple of your god." His grin was sickeningly triumphant, his muscles bulging as he fucked your wet hole, "And here I figured you'd put out more of a fight. Barely any screaming too. At least you can scream for me now. Come on bitch, scream, make your god hear you while you're getting dicked down by me."
You shook your head, refusing to give him the pleasure of heading his commands, "I don't take orders from demons." Even you doubted your statement in your current condition.
"But you'll take my dick?" He pressed his thumb against your clit, his long tongue licking over his fangs when your pussy began spasming around his length, "You needed one real bad I bet. Probably only had your fingers for so long. Poor thing. Be grateful that one such as I is fucking you, because this god you seem to love so much sure ain't gonna. But you know what..." He leaned down next to your ear, "I bet he's watching right now, so be a good slut and lets give him a proper show."
The thought of being watched excited you more then you thought it would, more then it should and the dam inside you broke, your back arching off the hard wooden floor and into Sukuna's firm chest. He kept fucking you through your orgasm, never once slowing down, his hands letting go of your wrists to briefly wonder to your breasts, pinching and rolling your hard nipples between his fingers, the pain only making you tighten more.
"That's it slut, take my cock, come all over it. I think you'd be much happier worshiping my cock then that god of yours. In fact, why don't you tell him all about it yourself." Sukuna licked your neck possessively before he pulled out, much to your begrudging dismay, and flipped you over. His hands grabbed your hips firmly, pulling you upwards so his cock could slide easily back in, a needy, grateful moan passing through your lips. "Look up." His hand took firm hold of your chin and held your face up so you could look at the statue of your god, "Say how much you love getting fucked by a demon king's cock. Say how much of a needy, horny, slutty priestess you are. Or better yet let your pussy do all the talking."
"I-I won't-!" You whimpered, eyes welling up with tears as your pussy clenched around Sukuna's cock. It felt too good to deny, to good for you to tell him to stop. So you didn't, but you wrestled your chin away from his grip and looked down at your clenched fists instead, your hips rocking back into his more and more until you weren't sure if he was still thrusting or standing still, regardless his cock was still being rammed inside of you, clouding your mind with pleasure once more.
"That's my girl, it's so much easier when admit it to yourself." Sukuna kept pounding away at your pussy until it's walls became flooded with his warm cum, filling you to your limit and dripping on the flow below your shaking legs, "What do you say priestess, feeling like worshiping me instead?" He didn't have to wait for your reply, your cunt tightening back up around his still hard cock was all the confirmation he needed to get another round going.
2K notes · View notes
megalony · 8 months
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Where Were You
This is another Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) imagine, requested by the lovely @neonkiwi​ I hope this is what you were looking for. Any comments and requests would be lovely.
Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @anonyymoouussssss​
Masterlist
Summary: Tommy takes care of his pregnant wife when she isn’t well, but he isn’t there when something happens.
Enjoy.
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"Thank you," Forcing a smile on her lips, (Y/n) nodded at the man who placed down another stack of papers beside her on the table before he wandered off towards the black board on the wall to change the tally.
Yet more ledgers and bets for (Y/n) to write down in the leather book sprawled out in front of her. The book which only (Y/n) was allowed to write in for the time being because Tommy thought she 'had the best hand-writing' and the book needed to be eligable and easy to read and follow. He had been against (Y/n) helping out in the betting shop work until she showed she was more than efficient writing neat but fast, taking notes and adding and making up the bets, winnings and losses.
There wasn't much Tommy could deny (Y/n) and when Polly and Ada were involved in the business, he could hardly begrudge giving his wife a job role too and letting her help.
But this was where he drew the line and (Y/n) knew it. He didn't want (Y/n) getting involved with the Blinders. She went to all the family meetings, he told her what deals he was planning to make and who they were dealing with, (Y/n) could know everything and anything, he just didn't want her involved. Much like Polly, she knew what they were doing but she left the men to it.
With a sigh, (Y/n) rubbed her hand across her temple and tried to ignore the building headache forming behind her eyes as she looked down at the numbers that were almost bluring before her eyes.
A gasp escaped her lips and her hands furiously grappled with the stack of papers beside her when John slammed a book down on the table, knocking a stale coffee cup flying and spilling the contents across the pages.
"John! Honestly, can't you be careful?" (Y/n) chided as she swatted the coffee from the pages and tried wafting them in the air so they didn't smudge. She couldn't afford to go and ask someone to re-write all of those pages over again for her to copy down into the book. It would set them back hours which they didn't have and bets could be lost.
"Sorry," His shoulders slumped and his lips curled down around the cigarette between them in a way of apology.
Gathering the book and the papers in her arms, (Y/n) stood up from her seat and walked round the table.
The booming voices shouting out bets, calling out names and stakes and the ultimate rush of adrenaline was too much for (Y/n). She couldn't hear her own thoughts in the back room and it was fuelling her headache to the point she was ready to leave which she didn't want to do.
She held the papers close to her chest, curving them awkwardly over her protruding stomach while she weaved around the workers and headed over to Tommy's office. The office was still adjoined to the betting room but it had a wall, window and door to block out the noise and it was significantly quieter in there. It just meant that (Y/n) wouldn't get as much work transcribed when she was in the same room as her husband.
He served as a great distraction.
"Alright, love?" Tommy's low voice curled around a cigarette chomped tightly between his teeth and a puff of smoke swirled around his hair, distorting his features for a second or two.
"Yeah, can I work in here for a bit?"
"Course," Tommy was already up and out of his desk chair which he motioned towards with a quirked lip and a raised brow. It wouldn't be fair to make (Y/n) sit on the sofa with papers scattered on the floor and the book on her lap when she could take his seat at the desk for a while.
A wave of ease rushed through (Y/n) the moment she sat down and felt Tommy's hands rubbing up and down her bare arms. He had the cigarette clasped between his fingers and the smoke drifted through her nose and sent chills down her spine. (Y/n) didn't smoke often but if she couldn't smell the tobacco she started to panic. It was a scent she associated with Tommy, even when they were in bed or in the bath, he still had that lingering smell of smoke about him.
(Y/n) spread her papers about the desk and got started writing them into the book in her neatest penmanship while Tommy sat down on the desk on her left. He was close enough that her arm brushed his thigh every time she turned a page or moved some paper around, but it was comforting.
Every now and then, (Y/n) rested her hand on his upper thigh as he read through some paperwork and after a while, she leaned her cheek on his leg when she took a short break. Her head was as cloudy as the room was with Tommy's smoke and it was making it hard to focus on what she was trying to write.
Her uneasy headache, coupled with the tension in her stomach from the baby made (Y/n) wish time would go faster so they could go home.
Wordlessly, (Y/n) reached out for Tommy's hand that was planted on the desk near her papers, and pressed his palm against her stomach when their baby started to wriggle. She could see him smiling out the corner of her eye but he didn't say anything. He just kept his hand pressed where it was, smoothing his thumb over her stomach in a calming motion that made her feel a little better.
"Bathroom break," (Y/n) mumbled quietly, throwing her pen down on the table as she took a moment to straighten up in her chair and click her spine back into place.
Tommy leaned over to kiss her temple and his hand moved to the small of her back as she walked past him before she headed out the room.
There was a small toilet at the back of the betting room and it was the most convinient when (Y/n) didn't have the time or patience to wander through the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. The toilet was poxy, the room was barely five foot wide and (Y/n) had to wiggle round the door to get into the room and be able to shut it properly behind her.
Even in the small toilet the noises in the betting room overpowered her ears. The loudness, close proximity and stressful atmosphere never used to play on (Y/n)'s nerves until she was pregnant.
A shockwave rattled through (Y/n) and all the air got caught in her lungs when she looked down.
Blood.
Why was she bleeding? There shouldn't be any blood in her underwear like this. A few drops in the beginning of her pregnancy, sure that was normal and nothing to worry about but (Y/n) didn't even get that. From the moment she found out she was pregnant, the thought and sight of blood had gone from her mind.
As if on cue, a small cramp twinged in the side of her stomach when the baby wriggled.
A tightness pulled around her lungs and squeezed her chest until she was barely breathing anymore, gasping for small streaks of air through dry lips. But (Y/n) managed a deep breath when the door suddenly screeched as it swung open and her wide, doe eyes locked with John.
"Shit! I- sorry, sorry I should have knocked!" John's hand tightened around the door handle and he snapped his eyes closed as he went to shut the door again. All of them seemed to forget that the lock on the door was broken and no one bothered to knock and check if it was in use or not.
"Can you get Tommy for me?"
"Wh- why?" The unease in John's voice was clear and he kept the door open just a crack so he could hear (Y/n) but couldn't see anything. He didn't want to go get his big brother because he would not be happy with John for this mistake.
"Please?" The pleading in her voice was evident because John shut the door and scampered off immediately.
"Learn some manners and fucking knock next time!" Tommy slapped his hand against the back of John's head, knocking his cap off into his hands before he bypassed his little brother and walked out the office.
He stormed passed the tables, nudging men out the way until he reached the back where the toilet was. A slither of worry rattled through his frame at the thought of why (Y/n) needed him. John didn't know, all he said was (Y/n) didn't seem well and wanted him to go to her but that could mean any number of things. She could have been sick, she could have slipped in that tiny fucking room, she could feel unwell, anything and everything rattled through his mind.
"Love, it's me. What's up?" Tommy carefully pushed the door open, being mindful not to bash it into (Y/n)'s legs before he knelt down on the floor in front of her.
His eyes cast down when (Y/n) pointed at her underwear hanging around her legs and he gulped at the sight of the blood. That wasn't a good sign. When he looked back up, he saw tears streaking down her face that had lost all its colour and she was biting her thumb out of anxious habit.
"Okay... let's get you in the house and Pol will go get the midwife. Hey, no tears," Reaching out, Tommy brushed his thumb against (Y/n)'s cheek and swiped away a stray tear. "You'll be fine."
(Y/n) let Tommy help her up and she bound her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shirt, inhaling his cologne that always calmed her nerves. She didn't dare look at anyone as Tommy guided her back through the room towards the main part of the house. She kept her eyes screwed shut and her face hidden as Tommy's arms tightened around her waist and shoulders, guiding her through and shielding her from any prying eyes.
He could be right, she might be fine, after all she wasn't exactly in any pain. Her head felt fuzzy but that was normal and the baby was moving around like a trooper, showing that they were okay. Maybe she had just been working a little too hard recently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rubbing his damp hair with a towel, Tommy sauntered out the bathroom and walked back towards the bedroom, surprised to find the bedside lamp turned on, illuminating the room in a deep golden glow. He couldn't stop the sigh from passing through his lips when he looked around the room and his eyes landed on his wife stood to the side near the wardrobe.
"What do you think you're doing?"
(Y/n) turned on her heels, coiling her arms to her chest as a small, sugary sweet smile broke out on her face when she looked over at her husband. His hair was stuck up at all angles after he'd just had a wash and he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Showing off the white and baby pink scars, the black tattoos and the tense, taut muscles. But what her eyes focused on most was the quirk of his lip showing he was trying to fight off a smile.
He only smiled around (Y/n).
"Nothing,"
"Then get back in bed." Tommy clicked his finger and pointed over towards the bed as he threw the towel on the chair in the corner and folded his arms over his chest.
"Can't I come with you, please?"
A grin broke out on Tommy's face and for a few seconds, she thought he might agree. He stalked towards her like a predator slowly advancing on its prey until his hands were gripping her hips tightly and his eyes danced up and down her figure. Noticing that she was only wearing one of his button up shirts that was halfway undone, no bra or underwear on beneath.
The grin stayed on his face even as he slowly started to walk (Y/n) backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed and he carefully nudged her down until she was laying on the bed. He hovered above her, stood between her legs and leaned down until his abdomen was pressing against her bump and his nose was ever so slightly brushing against hers.
"No."
"Tommy-"
"Bedrest means you stay in bed, and you rest. What makes you think I'd let you come back to work?"
He could see the sorrow building up behind her eyes and even though it would usually crumble Tommy's hard persona, this time it didn't. The midwife had instructed bed rest and Tommy was going to ensure that it happened. He wasn't having (Y/n) come back down to the betting room and overwork herself or be around all the idiots he had working for him.
No way was Tommy going to have (Y/n) overdo it and find her crying in the toilet again or collasped down on the floor. He wasn't taking any risks with her or the baby. They had been lucky the midwife said it was only high blood pressure and stress that caused the bleeding two weeks ago.
"I'm bored Tommy. I can sit in the office with you and do the books, it isn't hard or tiring, please? I'll still be resting, I'll be sat down all day."
(Y/n) had managed two weeks stuck in their bedroom and she didn't know how much longer she could last. Two more months of this was going to kill her off and no one was listening to her. Polly and Ada agreed with the midwife and Tommy wasn't letting anyone else come up and visit her and no one was going to dare go against Tommy in favour of (Y/n) working.
She wouldn't even mind if he just brought the books up here for her to write in, it would give her something to do up here all day.
A groan passed through (Y/n)'s lips and Tommy swallowed it up, kissing and nibbling on her lip until she was lightheaded. When he mumbled 'no' against her lips, (Y/n) could of cried if he didn't continue to kiss her like he was trying to steal the life from her.
"Can you bring the book up here then and I'll transcribe all the bets in, please?"
"Nope. You can have any book you want to read, I'll bring you anything, but you ain't working and that's that. Now be a good girl and stay in bed, I've got to get dressed and go."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shedding his cap and jacket, Tommy looped them on the hook by the door before he kicked off his shoes and undid the suspenders on his shoulders. He could barely see straight with how tired he felt and it had taken a lot of effort to scrub the blood from his face, hands and neck and change his clothes before coming home. He had taken the time to get the blood from beneath his fingernails too.
He didn't want to bring anything from the dark side of work back home to (Y/n). Whenever he came home to her, he was as clean and tidy as he was when he walked out the door.
His feet barely picked up to trudge up the stairs and he flicked the landing light on as he passed, needing some sort of brightness to wake him up because the darkness was calling his name. Begging for him to sleep and drift off into the dark corners of his mind.
He could feel a smile pulling at his lips when he reached the bedroom. All he wanted was to wrap his arms around (Y/n) and pull her into his chest, never to let her go again.
With his hand on the doorhandle, Tommy barely pushed the door open before something launched his way and had him ducking down, stumbling into the doorframe to be out of the firing line.
"Fucking Christ (Y/n)! What are you doing?!"
Turning to look behind him, Tommy felt his heart beating out of his chest as his eyes landed on a book strewn halfway down the hall behind him. She had thrown a book at him. A fucking book, and he didn't know why. What had he done to warrant that?
He kissed her before he left this morning, in fact he did more than that and she had been smiling tiredly when he left for work. He even sent Polly round this afternoon to check on her and make sure she was alright because he knew she was still struggling with bedrest. So why was she throwing things at him when he had barely walked through the door? Surely he hadn't forgotten anything, today wasn't an important or special day for any reason.
With a deep breath, Tommy stood back up to his full height and stepped into the room, his eyes focused on the bed but (Y/n) wasn't there.
A gurgling cry caught his attention and his wild blue eyes darted round until they landed on his wife. The one thing in his life that he couldn't live, breathe or think without.
She was on the floor.
Tommy tripped over his feet to get over to (Y/n) but he couldn't breathe when he reached her.
(Y/n) was laid on her side on the carpet, her legs curled up to her stomach that was hidden in one of his dark grey button up shirts which she had been wearing a lot recently. Her hair was strewn about all around her, fallen out of a messy bun long ago. One arm was coiled to her stomach and the other was stretched out in front of her clearly from when she had thrown the book towards him. Every part of her was trembling.
But it was the blood that got Tommy's attention. Her exposed thighs were caked in blood, both dried and new and it was soaked into the carpet beneath her. And when he dared to look up at the bed, he saw splatters of blood there too like one of the crime scenes he made his Blinders clean up.
"Fuck- oh shit. Love what's happened? Come on, talk to me."
A burning cry wrenched against the back of (Y/n)'s throat when she felt Tommy's arms cocooning around her. It felt so much better when he lifted her up and took her weight from her, he let her lean into his chest and held her up. Half of her body had gone numb from laying on the floor for so long.
She buried her face in his shirt but slammed her fist into his shoulder to hurt him like she had been hurt. Tommy took the few punches that followed, he tightened his chest and stayed still, letting her vent out her frustrations and he took the horrid scream she errupted against his chest.
"W-where, were you?" (Y/n) sobbed through her words and dug her nails into Tommy's shoulder, begging him to hold her tighter so she knew this wasn't a dream or a mirrage.
"Sweetheart I've been at work, tell me what's happened, please." The desperation in his voice was clear and the agony rattled through into (Y/n)'s chest.
He had been at work, where he had been all day since he left over twelve hours ago. He told (Y/n) he would be home late tonight but he would send Polly round to check on her and she had been okay with that. Why had things suddenly changed like this? He had been in the office until the afternoon and then he had been out on the streets for hours clearing up some business and getting rid of a few loose ends.
"My water broke a-and the blood... Tommy it hurts! I- I couldn't- I tried calling but someone unhooked the phone and..."
The moment the blood started to pool between her legs, (Y/n) tried ringing the office to get hold of someone, anyone who could pass the message along to Tommy that he needed to come home urgently. It rang twice and on the third attempt someone answered before unhooking the phone so no more calls could get through. Then when (Y/n) tried to move, she collapsed on the floor and her phone unplugged from the wall and she was left alone and defenceless.
She had been waiting in agony for Tommy to come home.
Tilting his head down, Tommy pressed his lips against her hair which soaked up the few tears starting to fall from his eyes. He breathed in her scent to stop himself from panicking and slowly swayed them side to side as he held her closer to his heart. Feeling (Y/n) sobbing into his shirt that she was clenching so tightly in her fists that she was about to rip through the material.
Why had no one answered her calls?
Why did no one come and get him? He could have been here hours ago if someone had bothered to hear his wife's calls.
"Love I- I'm so sorry. Let's get you on the bed and I can call the midwife, okay?"
Tommy didn't wait for an answer, he knelt up on the floor and hoisted (Y/n) carefully into his arms bridal style. They couldn't stay sitting on the floor like this and he needed to get her comfortable so he could plug the phone back in and call the midwife- and aunt Pol- and get them both here now.
He couldn't waste anymore time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Turning her head to the left, (Y/n) buried her face in Tommy’s chest, smothering a sob in his shirt as she wished this would end soon. When both Polly and the midwife first arrived, both had been in agreement that Tommy should wait downstairs.
(Y/n), however, was not in agreement.
She wanted Tommy by her side, she wanted his arms around her, his lips on her flushed skin and his soft words in her ear. He promised to keep them safe, he couldn't do that from downstairs or waiting outside the door and he was in full agreement. He wasn't going anywhere without (Y/n).
Her skin was blotched red and dotted with sweat, her body was burning up like she was sitting on a coal fire and she couldn't feel a thing below the waist. 
Tommy, however, felt like all he could smell, see and focus on was blood.
The horrid smell was burning his nostrils and flooding the front of his mind and when he looked around the room, it was everywhere when it should be nowhere. There shouldn't be more than a few streaks of blood during this process that was supposed to be magical and heartwarming, not heart-wrenching and life threatening.
The blood on the carpet was dried and as black as the night sky and Tommy was already adamant that he was ripping that carpet up and replacing it when this was all over. The bedsheets were stained, (Y/n)'s legs were smeared pink from the midwife trying to clean the blood away that reappeared again just a few minutes ago. It was back under Tommy's fingernails from holding and moving (Y/n) around on the bed. He hated it.
Tommy pressed his hand to (Y/n)’s neck, kissing the top of her head repeatedly to try and calm her down because he could do little else but provide support.
(Y/n) tightened her hand around his own as she moved so she was leaning back against the pillows instead of Tommy. She could feel Polly dabbing at her neck and forehead with the ice-cold water she had just retrieved from the bathroom. She tried to scream but it came out rather defeated from the lack of energy and the searing pain.
“H-how much longer?” There was such a pleading tone to (Y/n)’s voice as she looked over at the midwife who pursed her lips.
“Not much longer. The head will be born soon.” She ran her hand up and down (Y/n)’s thigh to try and calm her down. “Come on now, another push for me.” (Y/n) did as asked, pressing her chin into her chest as she snapped her eyes closed, trying to ignore the pain that was consuming her but it didn’t work very well. She wanted this to be over, she wanted their baby to be delivered right now or for this to wait another two months so everything would be alright.
It wasn't supposed to happen like this.
(Y/n) was supposed to be on bed rest for another two months, one month in the very least, before they even had to think about labour. She had wanted Tommy here when it started and for things to go smoothly and to have a beautiful healthy baby in her arms. This was too early for that fantasy to become reality.
Tommy kept his eyes on the cream coloured sheet that had been placed beneath (Y/n)’s lower half but his nostrils flared and his jaw locked when he saw how it still started to get coated in blood.
“Tommy…”
“Shh, it’s alright love. You’ll be fine.” Tommy hushed, pressing his lips to her forehead as he brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. She interlocked their hands together as her other hand pressed to her stomach, wishing the pain would go away.
“Push again for me, the head’s almost born.”
Tommy hooked his arm around (Y/n)’s waist to help her sit up, his other hand still interlocked with her own. He let her lean against his chest as (Y/n) both moaned and screamed at the agony that was tearing through her muscles. Letting out a sharp breath, (Y/n) closed her eyes as she buried her face into Tommy’s neck, feeling him muttering praise against the top of her head.
“Okay, the head’s born.” The midwife reached over for one of the towels resting near Tommy’s leg, not daring to look at him when she heard his sharp breath at seeing the blood on her hands.
(Y/n) started to push again on the next contraction like Mary advised but she felt like she was becoming lightheaded. Tommy kept his hand entwined with hers but moved his arms so they were wrapped around her waist, holding her to his chest. He could feel (Y/n)'s free hand moving up to grip his arm and it made him tremble from how badly she was shaking against him and he hated it.
"Hey, you stay with me, alright? Almost there sweetheart." Tommy's lips stayed pressed to the top of her head but he shook her a little when he felt her wavering against him. She was close to passing out.
"You've done it, you've done it." Polly gripped (Y/n)'s arm and sat down on her other side on the bed, shaking her like Tommy had when (Y/n)'s eyes rolled to the back of her head for a second before she seemed to come back around again.
"Good girl," Those two words sent (Y/n)'s heart alight and made her want to smile but all she could do was nuzzle into her husband, hoping everything would stop now. It didn't seem to sink in with (Y/n) that she was still pushing and the afterbirth came swiftly.
Tommy handed the midwife another towel and she nodded in thanks, gently wrapping it around the tiny newborn. after doing a few checks, she motioned the small bundle towards Tommy, silently asking him to take the newborn but she reeled back when he shook his head. A definite 'no' angrily spat through his lips and he looked at his aunt instead who took the hint.
He wasn't holding his baby until (Y/n) was stable and alright, he couldn't let go of her in case something happened. It felt as if letting go of her would cause her to slip away from him and Tommy couldn't handle that.
His heart hammered away in his chest as he watched Polly take the tiny bundle into her arms, a breathless smile on her tear-drenched face. She quietly mouthed 'girl' at Tommy before she started to rock the small bundle side to side.
“Alright miss.” The midwife hushed soothingly, rattling through her bag before retrieving a small clear glass bottle and a needle. She injected a fair amount of what Tommy guessed was clotting medication into (Y/n)'s lower stomach.
Tommy bit down on his tongue to stop himself from crying or shouting or simply exploding when (Y/n) groaned quietly. Her back arched up from the bed and her head pressed bruisingly into his shoulder but he didn't care. Carefully, Tommy sat (Y/n) forward so he could move around behind her and lean back against the pillows. He sat back against the pillows and headboard and slowly lowered (Y/n) back so she was leaning against his chest, laid between his spread legs.
This was how they laid thousands of times at night, (Y/n) between his legs wrapped up in his embrace like she was a child needing comfort. This way Tommy could kiss her head and keep his arms around her chest and give her the comfort she was seeking.
The midwife gave (Y/n) another injection in her elbow and then started to place rags dipped in ice water over (Y/n)'s neck, wrists and stomach to help cool her down so she didn't fall into a fever.
Time seemed to disappear from them and Tommy wondered if he had slipped into a trance and for how long until he suddenly felt (Y/n) relax in his arms. Whatever the midwife had given her seemed to have done some good, she wasn't trembling against him or moaning in agony and he knew she was still awake which was another good thing.
"No stitches required but she's lost a lot of blood. I'm going to call for a doctor, she might need to go to hospital for a transfusion and fluids and it would be safe for baby to be checked over at hospital. For now, they're both stable."
Tommy refrained from rolling his eyes. The amount of blood he'd seen (Y/n) lose was enough to bring the dead back to life. She needed blood, Hell Tommy would give her pints of his own blood if they matched and it meant she would get better. He knew she wasn't going to be impressed about going to hospital but he needed her to get better and recover.
But for now he could relax a little and let down the guard he had built up to keep himself contained and in check. (Y/n) wasn't on the verge of death, she wasn't in immediate danger.
As if a light had gone off in his head, Tommy looked over at Polly and let his gaze fall down on the bundle in her arms.
Surely two months early meant their baby girl was going to have some sort of complications or issues. Tommy could see already that she was tiny, she wouldn't even measure to the size of his lower arm and the clothes they had clearly weren't going to fit her. But she was breathing, she was whimpering and moving and that was more than he could have asked for in this situation.
"Pol," Ticking his head, Tommy looked down at (Y/n) before back to his aunt who got his silent request and leaned closer to the couple.
She was gentle when she slipped the baby into (Y/n)'s trembling arms, moving the towel back so they could see her face and the newborn could have skin to skin contact with (Y/n).
Tilting his head down, Tommy rested his chin on (Y/n)'s shoulder and moved his hand so he could delicately brush his finger over his newborn's cheek.
"She's beautiful."
674 notes · View notes
haunting-venus · 2 months
Text
wolf in sheep's clothing ↳ jake sully x fem!omatikaya!reader
content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), predator / prey play ( but pretty mild ), oral ( m ), masturbation ( f ), dirty talk, praise, knife play if you squint, facial, accidental stimulation
word count: 3587
notes | here i am for day four of romancing pandora: predator / prey ! first time writing for the man who got me into this fandom and who doesn't love some 2009! jake. these just keep getting longer, its a blessing and a curse
na'vi dictionary | ikran — banshee ; mawey — be calm ; pa'li — direhorse ; tewng — loincloth
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Jake’s breath came out in shallow pants, calves burning with exertion as he carried himself as quickly and quietly as he could through the dense foliage of the forest. It was nearing eclipse, the shine of the sun becoming dimmer through the canopies of the massive trees, the more obscured fauna already beginning to glow lightly with bioluminescent colors.
He was a bit embarrassed of how winded he was, taking a pause to put his hands above his head and inhale deep breaths. He did his best to keep in shape after his discharge, but there was only so much cardio you could do while you were planted in a wheelchair.
Luckily, his avatar was quick to build stamina, the lean body adapted to the harsh climate and terrain of the Forest Na’vi. The pads of his feet were rough and strong, thighs tight with muscle to plant himself firmly while climbing trees, lats and biceps sturdy and taut in preparation to swing across vines or scale mountainsides. It was new, weird, and ultimately awesome.
Still, all his physiological adaptations of his new form (his body, he reminded himself, this was his body now) did little to ease the burn in his chest. He’d been running for a while now, ducking down and between trees and vines in ways that his mind remembered but his body was still slowly readapting to.
It was a simple exercise, really. A test to make sure he had adapted to moving and hunting like a Na’vi rather than a Sky Person. He’d become better—learning to quiet his steps, hear the sounds of nature and the wind that could carry his scent and sound, and he was at least trying to feel the energy of the world around. Still, you had wanted to be sure before you brought him on an official hunt, to prevent him from embarrassing both you and him.
You’d begun right after lunch, riding Jake out on your ikran to the far reaches of the forest, miles from Hometree. He’d gotten a head start of about thirty minutes and directions to the general location of Hometree before you’d sent him away with a pat on the back and a knowing smirk.
The task had two rules—1) make it back to Hometree before the eclipse set fully for the night, and 2) don’t get caught.
He’s beginning to recognize the landscape surrounding Hometree, bark marked with knife symbols and stray arrows that preceded the training grounds. He couldn’t be far now.
He knew firsthand how many predators lie in the forest, and they all seemed hell-bent on getting a chunk of his tasty blue flesh, so he wasn’t eager to see one of them again. Then again, there was little in the forest that set his nerves on end more than you.
Your relationship was strange, dancing between the line of ‘absolutely hating each other’ and ‘begrudging friends due to circumstance’. It seemed like you teeteered between them each day depending on your mood or how shitty he was doing in his training.
You’d taken up the mantle of helping Jake with extra training whenever Neytiri was pulled away for her duties as tsakarem, something that was becoming more and more common with the steady invasion of the Sky Demons. You were a strong hunter, more patient than Neytiri was but also twice as demanding. You knew what you wanted done and how, and knew exactly how to get it, even if it meant keeping Jake awake all night practicing his bow stance. 
There were times you looked at Jake like he was the scum that stuck to the bottom of your shoe (well, if you wore shoes), like he had single-handedly arrived to make your life difficult. Then, there were the other times. The times when you let your gaze soften as you taught him the words of your people—words like love, and hope and friendship that felt like more than just words when they passed your lips so sweetly.  The times when your grip tightens on the bulge of his muscles to adjust his stance, or when your eyes linger a little too long on the exposed skin of his stomach.
It was in those times he felt his mind wander somewhere beyond the defined boundaries of your relationship, to slip into something a little softer, a little hotter. It was starting to become a problem, how ingrained your moods and touches were into the etches of his being, how he was becoming more and more certain that you wanted him just as bad.
Fuck, he could be imagining it, probably was imagining it, but it didn’t matter when you wouldn’t get out of his damn head. You were steady, and tough and so fucking sexy it made his head spin.
He couldn’t help the wandering thoughts as he trailed through the forest, body and mind exhausted from the hours he’d spent watching his every step, craning his head to every sound. His ears twitched up and out, picking up on the low hum of insects and scuffles of small game across the forest floor. He’d been antsy for a while now, the skin rising on the back of his neck and blood thumping through his veins. It felt like he was being watched, that strange dread of being small and targeted creeping up his spine.
The tackle takes him by surprise, the full weight of your body emerging from a low-hanging branch to throw him off balance. He’s a lot bigger than you, stronger too, but this was your terrain and you were definitely in control. He stumbles over vines and rocks as he tumbles back, the impact of the hard ground knocking the breath from his already exhausted lungs.
You’re able to roll off him with grace, readjusting your stance to crouch lowly over him with a mild hiss. Your knife is at his throat before he even has a chance to get his bearings.
“Dead.” Your hot breath hisses over his ear, the cool edge of your knife pressing lightly to his carotid artery.
The blood pounding in his head quickly rushes elsewhere when he’s finally able to take note of your positions. Your face is close enough he can feel your lightly heaving breaths next to his ear, your tail flicking mildly against his thigh as you hold your barely covered sex just above his own. It’s dumb and wrong and he can’t believe he is sporting a halfie right now because what the hell happened to him in life that this gets him hot?
Your gaze softens as he struggles to catch his breath, relaxing your crouch position into a sit on the area just above his loincloth, making him huff. He hopes to whatever god there is on Pandora that you take his flushed cheeks and heavy breathing as anger at being caught and not the mind-bending arousal that was flooding his system.
“You did well, Jake. Most children don’t get nearly this far on their first trial.” You lean back on his lap, knife still dangling from one hand. You clearly don’t seem too bothered with the proximity of your ass to his cock, giving him a teasing look as you praise him. He knew the Na’vi were more open with their sexuality, more casual with touching and feeling than humans but this had to be raising some kind of flags for you.
“Yeah, well, maybe if I had a better teacher…” His voice sounds strained to his own ears, desperate to move the conversation to something, anything, to distract him and get that damn sexy look off your face, like you’ve just won a prize.
Your grin is wide and teasing, easily brushing off his jab. You let your sharp-edged blade trace precariously against the skin of his stomach, voice thick in accented English. “Oh, don’t be a sore sport, Jake. I’m being nice, even though your footsteps are like thunder.”
"Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.” He huffed, leaning a hand behind his head to catch his breath and avoid your piercing gaze.
“Oh, it was. You were moving around like a baby pa’li, just stomp, stomp, stomp.” Your giggles were relentless as you teased him, thumping your feet and tail in loud smacks to drive home your point.
Jake usually would have found it childish, just pushing you off himself and brushing off his shame. Except, your hips swayed dangerously low to the tent in his loincloth with each of your stomping movements, eventually brushing against his sensitive skin and causing heat to shoot through his stomach and up his spine.
“Fuck, don’t move, darling.” His voice was heavier than he meant it to be, his hands instinctively grasping your hips to stop you from moving any further.
Your eyes trail from the flush high on his cheeks to the twitching of his ears, a slow realization coming over your face. Your eyes dilate, tail twitching behind you as you purposefully push your hips back against the growing bulge of his cock. He lets out a groan, fingers tightening against the curve of your hips as he forces his own to stay still.
“I did this to you?” Your expression is unreadable, eyes darting over his face in question.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jake rubs a hand over his eyes, obviously embarrassed. You tackled him, got on his lap and put a damn knife to his neck, and he popped a boner like a goddamn teenager. Grace is gonna murder him when she finds out this is what gets him finally kicked out of the village. “You just looked so pretty, and my adrenaline was going. It-it’s really natural-”
“Mawey, Jake, it is ok.” You grasp one of his hands, your fingers soft but insistent as you lead him to the dip between your legs. He looks up with questioning eyes, waiting for your permission, before dipping his fingers underneath the soft fabric. He bites his lip as he lets his fingers explore the valleys of your pussy, coming away hot and slick from your arousal. 
Your eyes are still focused only on his face, moving your hips idly against his exploring touch as your breath quickens. “It is the same for me. I want you, Jake, all of you, if you will have me.”
He sits up at the waist, letting the fingers from his free hand trace along the edges of your hips and the base of your tail, relishing in the shivers you let out against his chest. He thinks for a moment he must have hit his head too hard since there was no way this strong warrior, this beautiful being so far from anything he had ever known, was offering herself to him.
Except he can feel every breath that huffs from your chest, each twitch of your thighs against his hip, each tremor that wracks your frame when his fingers roll your clit. It makes any rational thought in his head sweep away, pushing his forehead to yours to breathe in this moment.
“Yes, I want you, of course I want you.”
You reached a hand to his face and he could smell the hot musk of your arousal so strongly it made his hips twitch. He leaned his face into your hand, feeling the soft touch of your fingers before pushing his lips to yours impatiently. You sunk into his embrace as he pulled you close, chests brushing one another as you explored the feel of each other for the first time.
Your tongue slipped between your teeth, teasing the edge of Jake’s lips as you opened yourself up to him, letting the sensations of his fingers dipping into your cunt roll over you.
You’d had a few lovers before, fleeting encounters in the night throughout your life, but none had lit your skin aflame like Jake. He was different and a little forbidden, a strong man who threw himself wholeheartedly into the ways of your people and, fuck, you wanted him like no one before. 
His hand trails up the length of your ribs, feeling each dip and curve of your figure as your body moves into him. You let out a shaky gasp that borders on a moan when he grips your tit, thumb moving teasingly along the stiff bud of your nipple. You’re trying so hard to keep yourself together, to be the one in control, but can feel yourself crumbling at each press of his fingers against your hot flesh.
Jake groans against your lips, keeping his thumb rubbing against your tit. “Fuck, I love that sound. Let me hear it again, sweet girl.”
“Me first.” You trail your fingers under the hem of his tewng,pulling the fabric down with a tug to the strings. Jake can see the focus of your eyes, almost grounding yourself like you’re trying to regain some sort of control over your body.
Jake’s touch made you feel like you were falling, an exhilarating and nerve-wracking loss of control that had you shaking. You let your fingers slip over the head of his cock, already wet with precum and decorated with little tanhì on the lavender skin. Jake grunts as you let your fingers slide repeatedly over the wet slit, the confident look from earlier returning to your features as you drink in the sounds he makes with each pass of your hand.
“Oh, come on, darling, let me make you feel good. I was just getting started.” His grin is wicked sharp, as dangerous and enticing as he is, his alien fingers rubbing firmly over your clit to prove his point.
“Come now, I successfully got my prey. Shouldn’t I get to reap a hunter’s reward?” Your lips are swollen as you pant the words into his mouth, moving both your hands to twist around the length of his cock. He hardly muffles a moan at the overwhelming stimulation, brows furrowed in pleasure as you let a grin sneak over your lips.
And fuck that shouldn’t make heat run through him like it does, setting his ears aflame as his hips twitch unwittingly into your grasp. Your prey. He certainly felt like it with the coy way your fingers grasped around his cock, each muscle in his body plying to the sweet friction of your touch.
He lets himself relax back against the dirt and moss of the ground, feeling a pang of need go through him at the look in your eyes as you run your fingers along him, imprinting yourself onto him, declaring him as your bounty in the depths of the woods. “God, darling, you look so pretty, wanna feel your lips on my cock so bad.”
“Being quiet was never your strength, was it?” You tease, flicking your tongue out to run along the bumps on his shaft. They glowed lightly in the dim evening, pulsing a bit as he leaked precum onto your tongue with hitched breath.
“Yeah, well, we all have our flaws.” 
You hum against the shaft of his cock, vibrations making his thighs tense under you. “Not a flaw, let me hear how good I make you feel.”
With that, you wrap your lips around the darker tip of his cock, letting your mouth fall over the tip and running your tongue along the sensitive underside of his head. Jake leans up on his elbows to get a good look, pushing stray strands of hair from your face to admire how your lips stretch around him.
Your eyes are glassy as you take what you want from him desperately, tongue playing on each edge of his cock you can reach to see what has him keening into your touch. His cock is wide enough to stretch your lips, a bit of drool edging from the corner of your mouth.
His tail flicks frantically behind him, restless against the dirt ground before coiling itself around the top of your thigh. He struggles to keep his hips still, near panting as you ease your lips down his cock, taking a little more each time your head bobs. Your throat spasms a bit as you get halfway down his length, muscles tightening around his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose.
He lets out a startled grunt, brows pinched in pleasure as he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. “Oh, shit, just like that, darling, doing so good.”
You look almost proud as you gaze up at him from between his legs, leaving one hand at the base of his cock to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth. He vaguely notices your other hand moving between your legs.
“Fuck, are you touching yourself? All wet just from sucking my cock? Fuck, I bet it’s so pretty, all stretched out around your little fingers.”
The moan you let out reverberates up his cock and into his spine, making his fingers clench in your hair. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers now, rolling inside yourself at the same pace your mouth is falling down his cock. He wishes he could see better, the way your cunt stretches around your own touch, how you stroke yourself in the ways that make you feel the best, he wants to learn it all and ingrain it in his memory forever.
“Fuck, I wanna feel you moan on my cock when you cum, don’t stop-”
He groans as your fingers increase their pace between your legs, your body swaying with each of your thrusts into yourself, pushing your mouth back onto his cock with each movement. He can feel his resolve running thin, mouth lulling open in panting breaths as he lightly moves his hips to chase the movement of your tongue.
You breathe heavily through your nose as the pace of his hips increase, restless against the ground as you suckle hard at the head of his cock. Your moans are incessant now, high and vibrating against the sensitive skin of his tip as you ride your own high. Your eyes are glassy with tears, tightening your grip on his cock as he feels you tremble against him.
He’s still getting used to the whole idea of this Eywa thing, but fuck, the way you look on your knees has to be some kind of divine omen if he’s ever seen one.
He can barely see your body from here, the peaks of your breasts barely poking from the decorative weaving of your top, but the feeling of your hard nipples brushing against his thighs as you move against him has him reeling. He can’t help every little thought he’s had of you in that moment surface—of his cock between your tits, teasing the hard nubs until you're shaking under him, of the look on your face as you ride him relentlessly for your own pleasure, of your eyes rolling as he fucks his cum back into you.
He can feel his self-control slipping, hips inching up into your throat and causing it to spasm around him. You let him move his hips against you, looking up with teary eyes as you run short on breath. After a few strokes, you pull off his cock, panting and shaking with need.
“Jake, Jake, I-yes, yes” your grip on his cock is messy and wet, slick with his own precum and your saliva. His hips jump at the rawness of your voice, breathy and wanting just for him. It’s been a while since he’s been in the game but fuck, he knows you’re close, whining and grinding against your own fingers as you struggle to keep your hand on rhythm.
“Oh fuck, that’s it, come for me baby, I’m almost there-”
He can feel the moment you fall apart on your own fingers, breath catching as you still yourself at the head of his cock, suckling hard as your eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy. You end up easing yourself off to pant into the meat of his thigh, chest panting and fingers quivering as they work his cock. 
“Cum, Jake, let me have it.” Your lips ghost over his length as you move both hands to grip tight around his cock, twisting your fingers at the base as you rub at the sensitive spot below his head. The grunt he lets out is near animalistic, hips pushing desperately up into your slick grip as he chases the edge of release.
The vibration of your voice and the haze of pleasure in your eyes has him hurtling over the edge, stars painting the blackness behind his eyes. Thick strands of cum paint your cheeks and lips, streaks of pearly white on your beautiful blue-skinned complexion.
A sense of pride and possessiveness swells in him at the sight, like he was the one who got to claim you now, covered in his scent and his seed so everyone would know just what happened in the woods. The idea of you flaunting around, a strong and capable warrior, reeking of the alien intruder as you went about his duties had the dimming heat in his loins flaring as he came down from his high.
He pants as aftershocks thrum through his muscles, exhaustion seeping into his bones as you cradle up beside him. He can vaguely feel a contented purr coming from you, tickling his ribs as he pulls you close to put his nose in your hair. “Next time, I’m the one doing the tracking.”
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tags: @eywaite @tallulah477 @neteyamsoare @torukmaktoskxawng
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signedkoko · 4 months
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Howdy!
Makes perfect sense about the requests, thank you for letting me know!
There was really one idea that I've been thinking about but it's kinda angsty and cliche so I understand if it's not the most interesting prompt
--
It's for poly Stolas and Blitzø x reader (but if you don't write poly relationships they can be separate)- finding their s/o crying? Usually their (s/o) tries to be self-sufficient and while they're in touch with their emotions, feel uncomfortable being vulnerable about it.
--
I understand if you choose not to write it for any reason, though. Take care 💛💛
-🐻
Stolas X Reader X Blitzo [Comfort]
In which the two stumble upon you crying, and do their best to comfort you.
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Of the two, you are likely to be the most down to earth, go with the flow person
It works best that way with two large personalities, they give you all the love and attention you could need
And ultimately, you are very good at working through your own problems more personally, since a lot of them don't concern your lovers
The both of them have a lot of more pressing matters that require a lot of support, though Blitzo is far more begrudging about his issues
It was just that, recently, everyone has been so busy, and you found yourself falling below the line of being 'okay enough'
Except Blitzo had so many clients with IMP recently, and it was that time of year where Stolas has to participate in all kinds of royal ceremonies required of his lineage
So you were mostly home alone, seeing them at the end of the day and, if lucky, during breakfast
It's not to say they were neglecting you or one another, but there was a mutual understanding that the three of you had very demanding lives- or at least, they did
Everything was just becoming a bit much, and you found yourself spending most your day shut in
One evening, Stolas came home a tad earlier than expected
He knew you'd be home, and after a long day he wanted nothing more than to tell you about it and see your face again
He was very troubled when he heard crying coming from your shared room
Probably runs in, blowing the door open and dramatically lifting you up into his arms
" Oh my is everything alright my dear!? "
Like a mask had been switched, you hid your tears and stopped crying, shaking your head
Even if you try to tell him you were just a bit sad, he will not have it, it is extremely rare to see you crying, and knowing you'd been home alone all day he worried you hadn't taken care of yourself
He lets you back into the bed and hushes you, rubbing circles into your back and using his magic to bring the phone to him
" Blitzo, when will you be home? "
" Kind of in the middle of something, Stolas, can it wait? "
" I'm afraid not, you see, our partner- "
" I'll be there in 5. "
Literally there in less, his van is squealing into the driveway and you can hear him running through the halls, and when he enters he is on the phone, likely yelling at Moxie to take care of everything
Both are on you in moments, Blitzo is inspecting you for any injuries and Stolas is soothing you with scratches and comforting gestures
While Stolas will try to coax you into being more open with them, Blitzo is far more direct
Because, fuck! He's worried! And if you don't tell him what's wrong, how can he fix it? How can he make it all better?
As hard as it may be to get things out, they won't leave until they can figure something out for you
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Author's Note - I always like s/o with Stolas and Blitz because I imagine reader can be sort fo a mother figure to both Octavia and Loona! Anyhow, thank you for requesting, and please enjoy 🖤
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mermaidgirl30 · 2 months
Text
✨Welcome to the Moulin Rouge✨
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A/N: I have been wanting to write a Joel inspired Moulin Rouge story for a couple months now. Didn’t know what the storyline would be, didn’t know how to quite put it together until I was listening to “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers. Needless to say, the song majorly inspired this one shot. So I hope you enjoy all the angsty Joel feelings since this is in his POV 🥰 We love a good angsty, jealous Joel. Enjoy, lovelies! This might very well turn into a full series once I finish up some of my other wips if people are interested ❤️ Comments and reblogs always make my day 💕
“His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It’s more than I can stand.”
- “El Tango De Roxanne” from Moulin Rouge
Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)
Pairings: Joel x you
Word Count: 1.5k
Tags: Angst, longing, love, jealousy, flashbacks, no outbreak! Joel
Summary: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpowers all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
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The night is dark, foggy, a haze of misty rainfall that pelts against his thin tan jacket. Drip, drip. The rain comes down harder, beating against the slicked back tousled curls that now lay flat against his head. The air is cold, numbing, just like his chest feels now. It’s as icy as his begrudging, still beating heart.
He can hear it, feel it. Almost like he’s there in the room right now with you. He can feel the way the other man claws at your soft skin, hear the stadistic words that spray like venom out of his dirty mouth to you, can taste the way he dips his vicious tongue into your inviting mouth as you swallow the guilt and disgust away deep down your closed up throat. It burns like hot lava, burns like the back of a knife that cuts deep into his skin that smothers all nerve endings in one slice.
He can hear your faint cry of moans, feel you come apart around the other man, taste the stench of regret on your binded hands. You’re supposed to be his, not the other man’s. Mine, mine, mine. That’s all that plays in his aching mind.
Jealousy. That’s what this is, that’s what it’s always been. Ever since he found out that you belonged to him. Terrance. The other man. The absolute pain in his spine. And it wasn’t by choice, it was never by choice. It was arranged, an untieable agreement that was set in place by your uncle long before he even knew about it.
It was about money. It was always about the fucking money. It was to save your future, to get you out of the Moulin Rouge. But it was also about all the money your uncle would get out of the arrangement. And it was so fucked that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the mess he was tangled in, but he wanted you. He wanted you so goddamn bad and nothing could keep him from having you.
The rain continues, lightning crackling in the near distance as the Moulin Rouge sign blinks big red letters over the whole city to see. It’s pulling the men in, calling their names to invite them into the twisted little fantasy where they’ll spend all their money and pay anything to sleep with the beautiful women of the Moulin Rouge.
The jealousy eats at him, consumes him as it twists its suffocating roots around his wrists and binds him to the ground where he has to watch you go into that back room of the Moulin Rouge with Terrance night after night.
It’s dismantling, unnerving to watch when there’s nothing he can do. He’s just a poor carpenter. He has no money to save you from this hell, has nothing to give except himself. But you always tell him that’s enough, that he’s enough for you. Because you want him, just like he wants you. He tells you he’s not good enough for you, can’t give you a bright future that you deserve. But you tell him he’s enough, more than enough. And it shakes him to the core every single time you tell him this.
His fingernails dig into the backs of his palms, almost to the point of feeling warm blood all over his hands. It’s too much, this is too much. He can hardly stand to even think of you in another man's arms. It burns, stings, pulls at him as his mind breaks apart. Ticking and ticking until he’s almost combusted into dust and remorse.
He needs to feel you, needs to wrap you in his arms as he holds you close in his little barely affordable single bedroom apartment. You always say you don’t care about the money, always say you just want him. And it makes the yearning even worse. Makes it barely tolerable.
You’ll come back, run to him when it’s all over, tell him how much you hate Terrance. Tell him how mean and cruel he is and that he just uses your body like a piece of meat, a golden trophy to display to all the rich, entitled pricks in that burlesque. It makes him sick, sicker than a starving dog. He wants to wring Terrance’s neck until he stops breathing, wants to really make him feel the pain that he does when you’re rolling around the sheets with Terrance, forced to perform for him. It makes him sick to death.
He takes a drag of his cheap Marlboro and inhales the toxic smoke as it soothes his racing heart, slowly blowing it out to try and clear his foggy, lovesick brain. He can almost smell the expensive brand of Cuban cigar Terrance lights after he fucks you, can almost see the way you lay there cold, lonely, in a heap of shame against the damp sheets. And it makes his skin absolutely boil with fury and resentment.
He’s not like Terrance. No. He cares about you, deeply, irrevocably. He’s always so careful with you, always so gentle and soothing and loving. He never does anything to hurt you, always puts your needs first, always takes care of you after he makes love to you in his tiny apartment. He loves you. Just like you love him, immensely.
He remembers the first night he came to the burlesque. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, but he found a group of unlikely writers that dragged him to the Moulin Rouge, to his doom. Remembers how he bought a bottle of whiskey that was so expensive he didn’t eat for two days after. He remembers the night so clearly, just like it was yesterday. Just like it was happening now.
He remembers seeing you for the first time up on that lit up stage, remembers how you kept glancing his way, eyes locking with his as you pulled him into a trance that was so strong that nothing could break it. He was hooked on the first look of your long waves that spiraled down your back, entranced by your big, beautiful eyes that called to him like a siren’s forbidden song, captured with the way your short, flowy pink dress hiked up your smooth thighs as tall, translucent heels wrapped around your feet as tight as they latched on to him.
He wasn’t supposed to end up in that dark room alone with you, wasn’t supposed to put his calloused hands on your smooth porcelain skin, wasn’t meant to dance with you to that slow, romantic song as he wrapped his arms around you and breathed in your sweet vanilla perfume. He wasn’t supposed to cup your chin and pull your lips up to his wanting mouth, wasn’t supposed to chase his tongue with yours as he drank down your cherry flavored taste, wasn’t supposed to get lost in your lips as he kissed and nipped at the plush skin, getting drunk off your taste, off your scent, off your skin.
He wasn't supposed to fall for you after one kiss, wasn’t supposed to tear off your dress and throw you on the bed as he crawled onto the silky sheets and crowded your body with his own. He wasn’t supposed to make love to you, wasn’t supposed to even be near you, but he did. He did. And it was the best thing he ever decided to do in his miserable life.
He was hooked right off the bat by your charm and your beautiful smile and the way you talked about your love of books. He wasn’t supposed to keep seeing you in secret, wasn’t supposed to keep coming back to you inside the burlesque, wasn’t supposed to fall for you when you had your entire life mapped out already.
He wasn’t supposed to fall completely in love with you. But he did, he did. So he’d take what he could, even if it was forbidden. Even if it meant there was a chance of getting caught. It was worth it to him, you were worth it. If he was caught, Terrance would surely put a gun to his head and pull the trigger, end the suffering he has to endure day after day. But he can’t stay away from you. No. You were his, and he was yours. Two doomed souls to walk the eternities of hell at the Moulin Rouge. Two fiery souls that burned for the other, pined for each other.
Forbidden love is like a bad habit that takes over every bleeding thought of the day. Inescapable, paralyzing, intoxicating. It feeds on you like a slow, corrupting disease. Consumes every part of your anxious, debilitating thoughts. But if that means he can have you, he’ll suffer. For you. For you he’ll do anything. Cross the entire ocean just to see your bright, starry eyes one last time. For you he’ll do it all. Anything. For you are his perfect diamond in the rough, his constant. Just as he is yours. The forbidden fruit you were never allowed to taste. But you did, you did.
Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where tainted dreams die and longing for the unreachable becomes your worst nightmare. The only thing that holds you up now is him. Only him. Your favorite forbidden desire. Your escape. Your lover.
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grandlinedreams · 5 months
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Hii! I love your writing! Can you do a Law x shy yn please?
Hiya!! Thank-you so much, that really does mean a lot to me to have people enjoy my writing! Absolutely, I hope this is to your liking!! setting context: uh....just after Wano/defeating Kaido
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He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not. He loves meㅡ
"There you are." You look up from your idle task as Law approaches. "What are you doing all the way over here?"
"Nothing," you answer, hoping he doesn't notice the half-plucked flower in your hand and the discarded petals by your feet.
"Not in the mood to celebrate?" he asks, moving to settle himself beside you, Kikoku set aside carefully. He's been cleaned up and bandaged well, most of it hidden under clean, untorn clothing.
"Something like that," you answer. You hadn't meant to worry anyone with your disappearance, only that the loud, boisterous energy that the Strawhats seem to radiate is usually too much to handle when you see them. They have reason to celebrate, and you don't want to ruin the mood with your less enthusiastic presence. "What about you?"
"There's only so much of them that I can take," Law remarks dryly, though there's a hint of a smirk when you stifle a giggle. Despite his frustration and outwardly begrudging tolerance for them, you know Law has a growing soft spot for the other pirate crew. (Luffy has that kind of effect, you've noticed. Eternal canon blast cheer and a tenacity for friendship that strangely seems to always work in his favor.)
There's a lapse into comfortable silence, the sound of some distant nighttime animal echoing as you twirl the flower stem between your fingers. It feels foolish to put any kind of merit into the sway of a childhood game ㅡ you're smarter than that, you know better than that. (Curse those romantic notions you've read so often in books loaned to you on occasion by Ikkaku.)
"Something on your mind?" Law's question makes you look up and over, finding him watching you with soft amusement. "You were sighing pretty heavily. What's going on in that head of yours?"
Your cheeks warm, the half-limp flower spinning faster now between your fingers, an outlet for nervous energy. "Do you think..." You trail off, fighting for the right words. "Do you think we deserve a happy ending?"
It sounds dumber now that you've said it out loud, giving a voice to those idyllic fantasies you've so often found yourself mentally entertaining as of late. Especially so in voicing it to Law, when you know he's a man of science and logic.
"I think so." Law's quiet answer makes you jolt, watching him in surprise. He isn't looking at you, gaze focused somewhere off in the distance as he speaks. "I didn't used to, not when I was so sure that I'd die trying to bring down Doflamingo. And I made my peace with that, so long as I got revenge for Corazon."
Carefully, tentatively, you scoot closer. "And now?"
"Now..." He trails off as he lifts his arm, wraps it around your shoulders to press you closer to him. "I want that. It's what Corazon would want, too." He turns towards you, raising an eyebrow in question. "What about you?"
You spin the flower stem, watch the whirl of the remaining petals before letting it slip from your fingers. You don't need that, not with the weight of Law's arm around you, the quiet, tentative requital of your own feelings. "Yes," you answer at last, "I think we do."
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valeskafics · 10 months
Text
"Family Doesn't End with Blood", Chapter One: Dad's On A Hunting Trip (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) - Supernatural AU
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a/n: ITS HEREEEEE my new aemond series!! yes it's based on supernatural 🤭 this is gonna be excruciating slowburn, rivals/kinda sorta enemies to lovers, lots of bickering and bantering, sexual tension, and i hope y'all are ready for it bc i am SO READY TO WRITE IT. this chapter is mostly set up, the next chapter will be aegon, aemond, and reader fully working the case together ❤️
Summary: Aemond and Aegon Targaryen were trained by their father to hunt the creatures of the supernatural. Now, their father has mysteriously disappeared while hunting the demon that killed their mother 22 years ago. Aegon, along with you, his best friend, goes to Oldtown to find his brother and tell him what's happened.
Word Count: 2,950
TW: she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, toxic family relationships, mentions of character death, mention of suicide (by the ghost), ghosties
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of the Dragon/Fire and Blood characters nor do I claim to own them.
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Viserys Targaryen was never the best father. His sons, Aegon and Aemond, knew this better than anyone. Only a few weeks after Aemond was born, his mother Alicent was killed. Viserys woke, smelling something burning in the house and walked into the nursery. He smiled down at his newborn, taking the little baby in his arms, holding him close to his chest. He wondered if perhaps Alicent left a candle burning in the room. That’s when something red and viscous dripped onto baby Aemond’s forehead. Viserys stared at the crimson substance before looking up and seeing the source. Alicent, pinned to the ceiling, her fire slowly consuming her. Viserys ran with Aemond in his arms, waking his other children, placing the baby in the arms of his eldest son, Aegon, pushing him and his daughter Helaena out the door as he watched the flames consume his wife, and then? His home.
From that day on, Viserys dedicated himself to finding out what it was that killed his wife. He left Helaena with his older daughter, Rhaenyra, focusing on training his two young sons in the art of hunting. Viserys quickly learned that there are things beyond what can be rationally explained, lurking in the dark. Ghosts, shapeshifters, vampires, werewolves, and so much more. All of them were real. He devoted his life to training his sons to find the thing that killed their mother and hunting down and killing any other monsters they could find along the way. He was spartan in his training and not the most loving parent, but he kept them alive, dragging them all around the continent on hunts.
That’s where they met you, the daughter of one of Viserys’ fellow hunters. Aegon was often told to babysit you and Aemond when the three of you were younger, while your dads went out and hunted. Despite Aemond being closer in age to you, it was Aegon who you became fast friends with. Maybe it was because Aegon had such an easy way about him while Aemond was more… Well, not like the two of you. The two of you clashed at every turn, fighting and bickering about anything and everything since childhood. Aemond was quiet, studious, not wanting to stay in the hunting life, always talking about getting out one day, going to college, even possibly becoming a lawyer. You and Aegon would shake your heads, saying the apple pie life wasn’t possible for hunters.
Aemond would never admit it, least of all to you or Aegon, but he’d always found you cute. Maybe that’s why he hated how close you were with Aegon, while you simply argued with him or ignored his existence entirely. But, as you grew older, particularly after your father was killed on a hunt gone bad and Viserys ended up taking you under his wing, you and Aemond grew into a begrudging friendship of sorts. While you still annoyed each other like crazy, you knew he always had your back on a hunt and you always had his.
At least, until the day he turned eighteen, left for Citadel University, and never looked back. You remember his argument with Viserys that day, his father calling him selfish for not wanting to pursue the thing that killed Aemond’s mother anymore. Aegon was bitter, angry at being left behind, having to be Viserys’ perfect little soldier, stepping further into the role of a young hunter that was forced upon him. And you? You were just hurt. Hurt that Aemond never even told you he’d applied to university. That he’d never even bothered to say goodbye. And that hurt grew into resentment and anger as the years passed without a word from the boy you once thought of as your friend.
But, you had Aegon. Aegon was always there. Viserys trained both of you well, and by the time you were twenty-two and Aegon was twenty-four, you were both heading off on solo hunts, taking down monsters left and right. You hunted things and saved people. You were doing good in the world. You and Aegon were the perfect team, best friends who have each other’s backs no matter what. Forget Aemond, the two of you didn’t need him.
Until Viserys goes missing while on a hunt. You and Aegon wait to hear from him, he’s done this before, disappearing without a word. But it’s been too long. And if he’s not dead already, you’re sure he’s going to be soon.
You stay in Aegon’s, well, Viserys’ car while Aegon heads over to Aemond’s apartment to convince him to help the two of you. Aegon, of course, has his own ideas about how to approach Aemond, and decides to break into the apartment, lay in wait, and tackle his younger brother to the ground. You sigh, leaning against the doorframe, watching the two of them tussle. You feel a slight pit in your stomach at the idea of having to speak to Aemond again, but decide to let Aegon do the talking.
When Aemond finally realizes who it is, he knits his brows together in confusion, staring up at his brother, “Aegon? You scared the hell out of me!”
“That’s because you’re out of practice,” Aegon grins, helping his younger brother up, “Now, come on. We need to talk to you.”
“We?”
It’s at that moment that you make your presence known, giving Aemond a short little nod, refusing to look at him, “Egg, let’s just get this over with. He’s not going to help us.”
Aemond frowns, looking slightly hurt at the fact that you’ve barely even acknowledged his presence, turning to Aegon, “What’s going on?”
“Aemond?”
The light turns on. The three of you turn around and you have to hold back the bark of laughter that nearly escapes your lips. Of course Aemond is shacked up with some co-ed. She’s pretty, you note. Dark hair, nice features. She’s just wearing one of Aemond’s tee shirts. You’re not jealous, though. Why should you be? It’s Aemond. You eye her up and down, barely concealing your distaste, but the girl doesn’t seem to notice.
“Um, guys, this is my girlfriend, Floris,” Aemond says awkwardly, “Floris, this is Aegon-”
“Wait, your brother Aegon?” she questions curiously, before turning to you, wondering who you are.
“And I’m his sister, Helaena,” you lie easily, figuring you won’t make this harder on Aemond than it has to be.
Aemond gives you a grateful little smile which you ignore once again. Asshole. You’re not bothered by the whole situation at all, though. Why would you be? It’s Aemond. Hell, you’re not even friends anymore. You don’t care. Aegon starts trying to hit on Floris and you hide your smile behind your hand at how annoyed Aemond looks.
“Let me just go put something on-” she says before being cut off by Aegon.
“No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aegon grins, “Seriously.”
Your best friend is a fucking menace to society, you find yourself thinking and not for the first time as Aegon tells Aemond that the two of you need to speak in private. Aemond refuses, moving to stand beside Floris, wrapping an arm around her. You feel a pang in your chest at the sight and notice the way Aemond is unable to meet your eyes, but say nothing.
“Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of her,” Aemond insists.
You and Aegon exchange a look before Aegon speaks up, “Uh okay. Well, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”
“How does that concern me?” Aemond questions evenly, his voice colder than before at the mention of his father.
“Let me rephrase that. Dad’s on a hunting trip,” Aegon says, “And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”
Aemond looks at you and Aegon, taking in the new information before quickly excusing himself, telling Floris he needs to speak to you and Aegon outside. He follows the two of you to the stairwell outside his apartment. The brothers argue, Aegon practically begging Aemond that the two of you need his help, Aemond insisting that he has a law school interview lined up on Monday that he can’t miss. That he’s out of the hunting life for good. You scoff at his words and cross your arms, leaning against the railing.
“Forget it, Egg. He clearly doesn’t give a shit about what we need. He’s happy here with his little college friends. We can find your dad without him,” you turn to stare at Aemond, a frown playing at the corner of your lips, “We don’t need him or his help.”
Aemond scowls, staring at you, “And what’s got you so pissed at me?”
You laugh bitterly, “Nothing, Aemond, not a thing. I told Egg that coming here would be a waste of our time and I was right. Go back to playing house and your white picket fence life. We’ll find Viserys without you.”
Aemond can’t help but feel hurt as you turn away and walk down the stairs back to the car. His chest tightens at seeing your retreating form. He’s always hated the sight of you walking away, ever since the two of you were kids. He turns to Aegon and tells him that he will be accompanying the two of you, if only to prove you wrong, running back upstairs to say goodbye to Floris and grab some clothes.
You’re in the backseat of Viserys’ Chevy, an old black Impala that Aegon has laid claim to in his father’s absence. Viserys had named it Balerion after one of the old Valyrian dragons. And when the three of you were kids and that engine would roar? You could swear it was a dragon. You’re sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, an expression of annoyance painted across your face when Aemond gets in the car. He turns to speak to you, but you instead turn to Aegon.
“Can you put on some music? I want to sleep until we get to Brightwater Keep.”
Aegon glances back at you and nods, while Aemond lets out a huff of annoyance. The car, being an older one, only has a cassette player, leading to you and Aegon having to be creative and burn your own road mixes. Aegon leans over to the glove compartment and grabs one of them, inserting it in the player and grinning when “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC comes on, annoying Aemond. He turns to Aegon, as if to question his music taste.
“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”
The three hour drive is spent in awkward silence between the two brothers as Aegon tells Aemond that he received a voicemail from Viserys, where he said something big was happening, something to do with the thing that killed their mother. The voicemail had a strange grainy noise in the background, which when Aegon ran it for EVP, he discerned a woman saying “I can never go home.”
When the three of you finally reach the motel you’ll be staying at, you push past Aemond without a word, he shakes his head, mumbling under his breath about how immature you’re being. You elect to ignore him and wait for Aegon to hand you your room key so that you can get some decent sleep, the three of you planning to regroup in the morning.
“Night, Egg.”
“Night, bub,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before turning to enter his and Aemond’s room.
Aemond purses his lips slightly at the sight but doesn’t say anything. Have the two of you started dating in his absence? It would make sense, he guesses, but he can’t put his finger on why the idea of that bothers him so much, why the idea of you with anyone makes him feel like there’s an elephant sitting on his chest. He shakes off the feeling and sighs when he hears Aegon start snoring almost immediately after getting into bed. Sleep doesn’t find Aemond so easily. He’s been pulled back into the life he tried to leave behind, all to find his dad. The man who told him if he wanted to leave for college, that he should stay gone. Aemond lets out another sigh and attempts to fall asleep.
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The next morning, you’re awake and waiting for him and Aegon at the diner beside the motel, already digging into a plate of something Aemond can only assume is greasy and unhealthy. He wrinkles his nose as he slides into the booth, sitting across from you while Aegon elects to sit beside you, his arm around the back of the seat as if he’s done it a thousand times before. Aemond frowns as you tell Aegon you already ordered him bacon and eggs.
“The two of you must have awful cholesterol,” Aemond mumbles before ordering an egg white omelet with kale and a green juice.
You and Aegon exchange an amused look at Aemond’s order but say nothing. That irks Aemond even more, the way you and his brother are able to communicate without words. He watches as the two of you eat your greasy meal with black coffee, Aegon going so far as to ask the attractive redhead waitress if there’s any pie available right now.
You look at your best friend, amused, “Why don’t you just ask her for her number? I’m sure she has some cherry pie she’d love to serve you.”
Aemond rolls his eye as the two of you high five, “Nice to see you two haven’t changed. Still as immature as ever.”
“Yeah, well, we can’t be perfect like your little college friends, can we?” you ask, your tone biting as you and Aemond glare at each other.
Aegon quickly brings up a few relevant facts about the case, hoping to stop whatever fight is about to break out between you and his brother. Aemond scoffs and turns to Aegon, listening attentively. You mention that you found a woman in your research, Constance Welch, who seemed like she had potential to be the ghost. Her children died under mysterious circumstances, some suggesting that perhaps she had killed them, and then she apparently committed suicide.
Later in the boys’ hotel room, Aemond is researching previous victims of the woman in white while you and Aegon get ready to go interview Constance Welch’s widowed husband, hoping to confirm whether or not she’s the one haunting the strip of road where all these disappearances seem to be occurring.
“So get this,” Aemond speaks up, his cheeks flushing slightly when you walk in the room in your professional looking skirt suit, one that hugs your curves perfectly and makes it so he feels unable to look away, “I, um. Uh…”
“We don’t have all day,” you snap at Aemond, hands on your hips, “Spit out whatever you have to say.”
Aemond scowls, ignoring you and turning to his brother, “I think we should look into the possibility of the husband having murdered her. Maybe that’s her unfinished business-“
“He didn’t,” you cut him off abruptly, making him inhale sharply, barely concealing his aggravation at you so flippantly brushing him off, “Coroner’s report shows that it was pretty conclusively ruled a suicide. It wasn’t the husband. But thanks for the completely useless speculation. That’s why we keep you around.”
“It’s completely within the realm of possibility that it was a murder and not a suicide,” Aemond grits his teeth.
“Nope. It’s really not. I did my research independently and-”
“What makes you so sure the husband didn’t murder her?” Aemond questions, crossing his arms over his chest as he turns and stares at you, “I mean, three to four women are killed by their husbands in a given day. And women in white are usually betrayed by a husband or a lover-”
“The right answer isn’t always the easy one,” you retort sharply.
“And maybe you’re just making it more difficult than it has to be-”
“Do you have to be so fucking annoying all the time?” you snap, glaring up at him, “You haven’t even been back here for a day and you’re trying to act like you’re better than me at this? I’m the one who’s been here, putting in the work, and you have the audacity to try and say I’m wrong?”
“Maybe I am better than you at research. It was never really your forte if I remember correctly, you always just came in with Aegon, guns blazing,” Aemond hisses, the two of you glaring at each other fiercely, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife.
Aemond’s gaze flickers to your lips for a moment before Aegon steps between the two of you, saying that the first step is to go interview the husband in the first place. Aemond scoffs and turns away from you and you roll your eyes, saying that you’ll go to interview the husband as long as Aemond isn’t going with you.
“The feeling is mutual,” Aemond spits, glaring at you again.
He doesn’t understand why the thought of you going off with Aegon, alone, to do the interview bothers him so much, but he puts it out of his mind and goes back to researching. He doesn’t like you. You’re annoying, and a brat. And he just needs to stick this out until they find Viserys and he can go back to his normal life. Away from all of this.
Away from you, since he can’t think rationally with you around. He has a girlfriend, he reminds himself, whatever feelings he may have had for you as a kid are long gone.
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443 notes · View notes
kunikuma · 6 months
Text
magic words
relationship | lyney x gn!reader
synopsis | with you having a bad morning, lyney decided he'd try out a new way to convince you about your beauty. ngl, that trick sucked ass. content | fluff, comfort cw | self-consciousness/low self-esteem reader, lyney tried his best omfg a/n | this draft was started on my period when i FELT LIKE SHIT about my body. wrote this to cope. i wanted to try out writing a tidbit where the significant other feels helpless/defeated by their s/o’s self-esteem. y’know, learning how to help someone on their journey to self-luuuuv. ALSO CHECK OUT THE NEW LYNEY SPACER EEEE!
masterlist
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in the glow of the early morning sun, the thin summer sheets of the bed were thrown haphazardly into the air, smothering your curled-up body. 
“ah, i might have a solution to your little plight, my dear. you see, i had been discussing with lynette about this and came up with just the trick!”
the excited blonde magician rolls out of the shared bed, prancing to the dresser housing all of his gear. his bare feet hastily padded on the floor as they collided with the chilled hardwood. he grumbles as he slides his feet into his slippers.
from under the covers, you peered at his form, watching his lithe body and the delicate muscles on his back flex as he dug through his collection. the young man was not in his usual garb quite yet, since the day had yet to begin; his white briefs with hearts and spades on them looked so obnoxious in the lowly lit room. the sun and her beams trickled through the slits of the shades on the windows and you dully watched the dust dance through the air.
after a few moments of rustling, you refocused on the man, and you followed his movements as he hummed and darted around the room. your lover collected a few of his props and none of them made any sense together. 
what kind of transmutation trick to fix an ugly person uses a magic wand, cards, a mirror, and a hat?
you express your mighty disbelief to him from under the crinkled sheets. 
lyney whips around with a playful glare as he wags a pretty finger at you, “do you doubt me and my skills? so, hush while i figure out the best way… to…” the magician trails off as he wiggles his fingers over his trunk of items. despite your bitter mood, you manage to crack a begrudging smile as you sit up on the bed, pressing your back against the wooden headboard. lyney’s antics and charm always wormed their way into your heart, as annoying as they were. 
after another final minute of preparation and muttering under his breath, his eyes seem to sparkle when he hops onto the bed in front of you. after a bounce from his weight, the bed sunk down. 
gently, he pulls your hands into his lap, “y/n, close your eyes for me.” he whispers with a disarming beam, dropping your hands onto his bare legs and tucking a bit of your hair back behind your ear.
your eyes were obedient and they listened, but your lips were not cut from the same cloth. harshly, you bite, “lyney, your trick isn’t going to suddenly make me love myself.”
that attitude was what ruined the peaceful morning a few minutes ago.
late-night thoughts that consumed your mind.
late-night thoughts that eventually invaded the daytime.
late-night thoughts that became a part of your everyday.
having the magician's heart was truly amazing, but that did not prevent the wandering eyes of others. with his gentle smile, beautiful face, and charming personality, could you blame the whispered stares from the men and women of fontaine?
he was always in the limelight! people were bound to fall in love with his visage just like you had. you didn’t understand what the famed magician saw in a simple fontainian like you.
self-criticism and self-consciousness were one and the same, and her sharp nails sometimes dug into your mind and refused to let go.
the man only tuts at you as he gingerly places your hands back onto your lap. in the faint light, you nibble at your lip, reeling yourself back into reality.
“also, sorry for… ruining our morning with my insecurities. again.” you somberly murmured, anxiously drumming your fingers on your lap. 
again.
lyney doesn’t say anything, but his mouth parts as if he had words on his mind. but his voice dies in his throat hearing your crestfallen apology.
this wasn’t the first time you found yourself desperately confessing to him how you felt lowly of yourself. he’d always rush to reassure you, deflecting your jab about yourself by providing the sweetest of words. navia’s dishes would not compare to the sugared terms lyney smothered you with.
but he can only do so much since that battle of self-love and acceptance could only be won by you.
on the worst of days, his soft smiles and kind words fell on deaf ears. this morning, you had pressed yourself against his back and muttered that he should change something about yourself to suit his tastes better.  
to fontaine’s most esteemed magician, your deprecating words were like little knives stabbing and twisting into his poor chest. he’d always plaster a smile on his face as he reassured you each time you felt low.
alas, your words clung to his mind as well. your insecurities poisoned his own well-being and mental. each time you sniffled and made a snide comment about yourself, he could feel himself falter.
did he not… do a good job making you feel safe and loved by him? 
this morning, he had devised a clever little trick for you. as a master of changing a plain pigeon into a beautiful dove after a few magic words and a flourish of his hand, he chimed he could do a little something to tide you over. 
in the present, lyney could feel the heaviness in your heart bleed into the morning air as he grabbed his black and white wand from his side. while your eyes were still closed, you could feel he was waving around his arm thanks to the faint breeze swirling around and the way the bed seemed to shake a little. the young man places his free hand on yours and whispers, “open your eyes, my dear.”
blearily, your eyes flutter open, expecting to see a rose like he would normally gift you with. today was different and you were greeted with the sight of…
yourself. 
…on a tiny, round mirror haphazardly swinging at the end of the wand by a twine rope.
you flinched in surprise and almost yanked yourself away from him. with a terse swallow, his grasp remains strong as his smile quivers. he flusters a little at your response, his hands shaking as he sputters out frantic apologies as you swat at him.
this was probably the riskiest thing he could’ve done, but he didn’t know what flowery words he could regurgitate to convince you. truly, what else could this magician do when all of his words never reached you?
“lyney, as expected, your magic changed nothing!” you hissed in embarrassment, shoving the mirror down til it rested at his side. donned with a rare frown you wish to never see taint his face, he clambers for a response, seeking to explain himself. 
“w-wait! because there is nothing about you i want to change–“
you had turned your head down as your face burned in shame and almost anger. you did not want to look at yourself and you felt like a damn fool for going along with his trick. a mirror on a stick? forcing you to stare at what you despised the most?
lyney watched the gears in your head turn, knowing you were most likely livid with the way he made you feel this vulnerable.
but he was tired and hurt hearing you want to change yourself for him. your words affected him too, but he’d always cheerily reassure you that you were fine just the way you were. the magician did not understand why you constantly sought to fix perfection… always unintentionally waving off the love he would shower you with. 
this wasn’t about him though. he knew that. but he needed you to understand what he believed was a blessing to see every day. he wanted to convey how delighted he was see you sleeping beside him with the sun kissing shadows on your cheeks every morning.
with a more sheepish look, he chuckles, “alright, i can admit the trick was a little startling and that maybe you were just looking for traditional, verbal reassurance, but…”
the young magician seems to curl into himself, his mouth parting silently as he was practicing his next words like an incantation.
“there is nothing i want to change about you,” he repeats softer, lifting your chin to look at him.
“…and i’m sorry. i do not know what other ways i can do to explain that to you. this is all i could think of this time,” he admits quietly, a faint tone of defeat lacing his words as he peered into your eyes and waited for your response.
his weak hold on your chin wavers as it shifts to cup your cheek. he caresses your skin with his thumb; he hesitantly smiles his little lyney smile at you.
the man was like a disarming golden retriever; your anger simmers into just hot embarrassment of being caught off guard. to be frank, you were a little stunned by the sincerity in his bright eyes and his voice. 
taking advantage of your silence, he sneaks in sweet words as he grasps your hands with his. the heat on your face could be blamed on the sun’s warm glow, but you’d be quite the liar. the sun and her rays were strengthening as she rose higher in the sky; she did a splendid job kissing the magician's skin as well. 
to you, lyney looked like the definition of perfection on this quiet sunday morning. the warm glow of his skin, his tousled hair that needed to be combed and braided, and his lips quirked in a gentle yet flustered smile… the way he murmured quiet words of praise in your direction.
was it hard to think you could look just as ethereal as him?
to you, perhaps. 
but not for him. it was effortless. loving you and seeing your glow was effortless.
“if necessary, i will spend every moment of the rest of our lives together to learn how to convince you there is nothing i want to change about you. you are my perfect rose, my love. i can learn to become a patient man, you know.” he sways his body on the bed from side to side, humming as he fiddles with your hands.
for this magician, grandiose words were common in his vocabulary, but he could not seem to muster the correct magic words to convince you of your allure and perfection. perhaps in the future, he would find the right enchanted string of words to bolster your spirit on your journey to see yourself the way he sees you.
luckily, he’s a smart man and knows he’ll drop the mirror with a wand trick for next time.
you sigh and wrap your arms around him to pull him into a hug. you nestled your head into the crook of his neck and he happily melted into your hold, taking this as a wordless sign of forgiveness. you grumble straight into his ear, “lyney, don’t ever do that again. that was borderline torture.”
his shoulders shake from your less-than-stellar review of his work, but he exhales a quiet snicker in response. the magician dances his fingers along your back, connecting the dots between your moles and scars, trailing his digits over the valleys, and dips on your skin. he watches the way the shadows of his hands pranced on the warmth of your skin. he presses a tender kiss against your shoulder and hums.
“in that case, rather than hearing me vomit the same words over and over, teach me how i can make you feel better, my love.”
226 notes · View notes
mikavlcs · 11 months
Text
False Meridian
Pairing: Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader
Summary: Another Ghostface appears out of the blue and Tara will do whatever it takes to eliminate them before they get the chance to hurt you.
Warnings: graphic violence & gore (!!!), bad decisions, bad writing, the usual shit honestly, this fic also follows scream logic (stab wounds are akin to paper cuts)
Word count: 8.2k
Notes: this was requested by a few people. read the warnings pls. i hate this.
Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2
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It had been two months since your father’s death and things were very slowly but surely improving.
You integrated into life with the Carpenter sisters well. So well that Tara honestly thought you were always meant to have a place here. Even during those first few days when you were drowning in guilt and grief, you walked the halls of her house like you belonged there, and Tara loved it.
Unsurprisingly, through the impending days and weeks, your mother never came to check on you even once and, in turn, you never asked to see her. Tara couldn’t help but think it was for the better.
Now, she and Sam were your family, and everyone involved seemed more than happy with the arrangement.
Tara could do without having Sam there, personally, but she still had her uses and you loved her for some reason. Well, not for some reason, you’d mentioned how you always wanted an older sibling a few times, but why you adored having Sam in that position was still a mystery to her.
Sam had abandoned her when she needed her most, and her being back now, five years later didn’t change that, no matter how apologetic she tried to seem.
But Tara buried those thoughts whenever they came forth. Sam, for all of her many faults, was helping you and she wouldn’t begrudge you a connection with her sister because of her own hang-ups.
Plus, there were more pressing issues at hand to worry about anyway.
Returning to school after the bruises had healed enough to be believably covered by makeup and strategic wardrobe choices was tense for both of you.
Tara knew her friends could be nosy, and the last thing either of you wanted to talk about was what happened that night.
And the questions started immediately when you sat down at the group’s picnic table before first period. The boys were practically talking over one another, but they calmed when they noticed the way you shrunk into yourself.
Mindy specifically, being the only socially conscious one, was determined to give you space about the issue, whacking Chad and Wes when they crudely tried to question you and reminding you that they would be happy to listen whenever you were ready to talk.
For that, Tara was thankful, and she made sure Mindy knew that.
Over the days, weeks, and months, you established a new normal bit by bit. Your usual liveliness began seeping back in as the blood on your hands faded with time. Dinners and family nights were riddled with your laughter, and you started going to more and more group hangouts.
You seemed freer now, without the shackles your parents placed on you, and the sight made Tara overjoyed.
So things settled once more and a peace of sorts came to rest over her.
Sure, there were the daily annoyances like boys at school who stared at you in the halls, Wes’ insistent crush, and Sam’s overprotectiveness, but none of that mattered because you were there to soothe her every time.
And now that you lived with her, she had unlimited access to you—her favorite drug, her unending addiction. It was utter bliss.
But of course, peace, however relative it may be, never lasted for Tara.
It happened on a normal night, which only made it that much worse in Tara's mind.
You all had finished eating dinner together twenty minutes ago. Sam, as usual, left for her night shift just as you and Tara began washing dishes, walking out the door chuckling at Tara’s grumblings about getting out of chores while you waved.
Per the routine that you both had been cultivating, you washed, and she dried. You’d gotten to the point where you were both automatic, not needing to look to know where the other was and what they were doing.
When you blindly handed her a dish, she was already waiting for it with an open palm. You worked in tandem efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.
The only thing that actively broke the set-in-stone routine was the ringing of the landline on the kitchen counter.
It was an odd occurrence. The number connected to it was long forgotten by Tara, so it sat silently on the counter most days, completely invisible save for the few times it got knocked over while cooking.
So the sudden sharp ringing startled you both. Tara flinched, her movement nearly imperceptible, but you literally jumped. The only thing that kept you from dropping the dish you were scrubbing was the steadying hand Tara placed on your forearm.
You shot her a bewildered glance, which she returned, but ultimately you ignored it and went on with your shared task.
But then it rang again, and again, and again.
Both of you tried to continue ignoring the sound, but it persisted for minutes on end, unrelenting.
You dried your hands off roughly with the towel by the sink. “I’m just gonna answer it.”
Tara nodded mutely, her eyes following you as you answered the phone.
She continued to dry off the last few dishes, sending you small glances as she set them on the counter. You were leaning against the island, exchanging tense small talk with what Tara assumed to be a particularly insistent telemarketer and she could tell by your tone of voice that the conversation would be over very soon.
Just as she was about to put the dishes away, you gasped, and the phone clattered loudly onto the island counter. Tara was by your side instantly.
“What happened?” she asked urgently.
You didn’t answer, too busy pressing yourself against the sink to try and put as much distance between yourself and the landline as possible.
She carefully took one of your hands and cradled it between hers, hoping to calm you enough to talk and it worked.
“He—he asked what my favorite scary movie was.”
Oh, she thought, her previous tension abating a bit.
Stupid calls like this had been happening ever since her initial killing spree. Immature teens and twenty-somethings loved pretending to be her so they could scare a stranger and get a cheap laugh. Tara adored the Stab movies, but the hardcore fans could be such disruptive assholes.
She sighed, stroking her thumb softly over your knuckles. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just a prank call. People have been getting them for months now.”
You shook your head vehemently. Only now did Tara feel the slight shaking of your hand in hers.
“No, Tara,” you whispered, fear staining every syllable. “He knew my name.”
Tara froze. Immediately, she picked up the phone and pressed it to her ear.
“Who the hell is this?”
A sardonic laugh chimed from the speaker, and even from that single noise, Tara recognized the use of the voice changer.
“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”
Her heart stuttered but she didn’t miss a beat. Thinking quickly, she decided to try and bait him.
“And just who are you? A loser who needs to hide behind someone else’s identity to mess with some girls? Don’t be a coward, show yourself.”
A clumsy attempt, but the only thing she came up with on the spot. Unfortunately, he didn’t bite.
“Oh, now where would the fun in that be? One of the best parts of the Stab movies is the mystery. Revealing the killer’s identity in the opening scene would be disappointing. As a fellow fan, wouldn’t you agree, Tara?”
The way he said her name, like a taunt rather than a title, made her skin prickle. Her irritation was rising steadily, but she couldn’t lose control. Not in front of you.
Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the other side of the kitchen and dropped her voice to the most menacing whisper she could muster.
“Is that what you think this is? The opening kill scene? Because I think you have it painfully backwards.”
“And what makes you think that? I could kick down your front door and dismember you both right now. Who knows, maybe I’m already inside.”
An empty threat, she knew, but still opened her security system app, silently thanking her intuition when she all but forced Sam to install one after you moved in. As expected, it was green. No doors or windows had been opened.
With that reassurance in mind, she set her phone down and turned her back to you.
“Believe me when I tell you that if you step foot inside of this house, I won’t just kill you, I will brutalize you. I will maim you so badly that your family won’t even be able to identify your body.”
The threat did little to deter the stranger. If anything, it seemed to excite him.
“Oh? And how can you be so sure?”
Tara chuckled. “Call it personal experience.”
“Well, luckily for both of us, we’re diverging from the formula. This isn’t a kill scene; this is a warning. A message, if you would.”
Confusion swelled in her. She asked, “A message for who?”
A laugh from the other end. Then, “You, Tara. And your dear sister. And your… ‘friend,’ of course.”
Her teeth grit harshly at the mention of you, but she needed to uncover a motive of some kind if she wanted to identify this person, so she tried another tactic.
“You’re a Stab fan, but you’re changing the iconic opening sequence?” she asked. “Why? Isn’t changing the franchise formula sacrilegious? I mean, they tried that with Stab 7, and look where that got them.”
“Ah, but this is my movie, Tara. And altering the structure serves a purpose. It destabilizes audience expectations and builds tension for the impending bloodbath in the future.”
“And when exactly will this bloodbath be?”
“I’ll be back for the seminal third act soon when both family members are present to witness it. In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”
Tara went to respond but the line went dead.
You watched her intently as she turned back around, glancing between her and the phone. Cautiously, you asked, “Did he hang up?”
She nodded, placing the phone back on the receiver roughly. She hadn’t managed to ascertain a solid motive, but there were pieces. Bits of a breadcrumb trail for her to try and follow.
He mentioned that this was his movie, could that be his motive? Was this just the work of a fanatical fan that wanted a movie made from their actions?
But at the same time, this sounded far too personal to just be some random fanboy. Why target her specifically? And what exactly was he talking about when he said he knew her secre—
A sharp knock on the window resounded through the kitchen.
Both you and Tara jumped. There was a moment of stillness, both you and Tara seemingly frozen in time, but she forced her legs to move. Slowly, she crept toward the window, ignoring your frantic whispers, and pulled the curtain aside.
Standing right on the other side was someone in a Ghostface mask and a black robe. 
When he knew he had her attention, he tilted his head to the side and raised his hand, proudly showing off the knife within it.
Tara’s eyes widened. Her fingers curled instinctively, muscles tensing in preparation for a fight. But he simply waved, waggling his fingers around the hilt, then turned and walked away.
She wanted to chase him down, tear off that mask, and use that knife of his to tear out his insides. But she couldn’t leave you here alone, vulnerable to an attack from a possible accomplice. After all, there were usually two killers in the Stab movies.
So she stood with her feet planted before the window and watched as he disappeared into the night.
Behind her, she heard you speaking urgently with someone and her answer as to who it was came not even ten minutes later when her sister’s car screeched into the driveway.
There were only seconds between Sam haphazardly parking and her crashing through the door. Before she knew it, Tara was being pulled into a group hug, but her eyes remained on the window.
Distantly, she heard you recounting the events of the past half hour or so, and Sam’s repeated attempts to calm you finally pulled her from her stupor. She reached, put a consoling hand on your back and cherished the way your muscles relaxed under her touch.
A combination of Sam’s ushering and Tara’s reassurances got you to finally go upstairs and as soon as you were out of view, it became apparent that Sam was going to attempt to get Tara to follow suit.
“Hey, I know you’re probably shaken about what happened, but you need to rest,” Sam urged her kindly, but the words went largely unheard.
The only part Tara registered was the error in her statement. Because shaken wasn’t quite how she felt.
Her smoldering anger was present, burning her veins with its intensity, but more than anything she felt…dishonored. Aggrieved, even, that someone would dare don the mask and robe that she adorned months before and attempt to terrorize her in her own home. Not to mention the extended threat to you as well.
So, no, Tara was not shaken in the slightest. If anything, she was rooted more firmly in her ways than she had been in a while.
Sam approached and rubbed her shoulder gently. This time Tara looked over at her, which made the taller girl smile.
“Go get some sleep, Tar. I’ll stay up and keep watch.”
The use of the old nickname made Tara’s hand twitch. She wanted to protest, she didn’t trust her sister to bear that responsibility alone, but you were upstairs waiting for her. You needed her so she forced a nod and trudged up the steps.
As expected, you were in bed waiting for her. She climbed into bed next to you and pulled you into her, cradling your head to her chest. Neither of you spoke a word, just laid with each other in the silent reassurance that the other person was alright.
And even when your breaths eventually evened out, her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above.
-
Tara didn’t sleep.
Her eyelids never even drooped. There was too much adrenaline, too much to think about, too many opportunities for someone to sneak in and hurt you for her to even think about sleep.
So instead, she cycled through all of the possibilities of who the imposter Ghostface could be and who their target was.
Her first instinct was to say they were after her, but that couldn’t be true. No one knew that she was behind the murders earlier that year. No one.
There were no witnesses, no clues left at the crime scenes, and no reason for anyone to suspect her.
Next would be you. But she couldn’t think of a single person who would want to hurt you. You had no enemies, at least none that she was aware of. It could theoretically be someone who knew about your father, but no one in their right mind would be seeking retribution for that waste of oxygen, so she wrote that off as well.
Lastly, there was Sam.
Sam was the biggest unknown factor for Tara. She knew next to nothing about her sister’s whereabouts in the past 5 years, besides the vague knowledge about her residing in Modesto for most of that time.
But faux Ghostface’s words kept replaying in her head.
“I’m just somebody who knows your little family secret, Tara.”
In the meantime, I’ll keep your secret safe.”
Tara thought that those comments were directed toward her, that someone had figured out what she had done. But what if they were about someone else? After all, she wasn’t the only one in the family with a dark secret.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
She was hesitant to leave you alone, even when she knew you were safe, but this was a conversation she had to have with Sam alone. So she carefully untangled herself from you and laid you against the pillow before heading downstairs.
Her sister was lying on the couch with her eyes glued to the tv, looking every bit as tired as Tara felt. She sat up as Tara entered. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Tara muttered, sitting down where Sam’s legs had previously resided. She gave her sister a serious look. “I need to talk to you.”
Sam’s brows furrowed at her tone, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“I need you to be honest with me, Sam. Please.”
Another nod. “I will.”
Tara took a deep breath. “Is there anyone from your past that you think would want to hurt you?”
“You think Ghostface was here for me?” Sam asked.
“I’m thinking it could be a possibility, yes.”
“Okay, um,” Sam bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think so. I haven’t been involved in anything…bad for years now. What makes you think he might’ve been targeting me specifically?”
“He mentioned a family secret. Twice,” Tara explained, watching her sister’s reaction closely. “I’m not trying to accuse you, I promise, but is there anyone that you told about your parentage besides me? Anyone?”
After thinking for another moment, Sam paled. She looked away for a minute then, straightening up, she said, “I have to tell you something…”
“What?” Tara asked, trying to decipher her sister’s behavior.
“There’s…this guy that I’ve been talking to online. His name is Richie,” Sam said, voice unsteady.
Tara’s stomach dropped.
“Sam…”
“It was just casual at first, I swear. I wasn’t intending on getting too close, but I was struggling, and he offered to listen,” Sam whispered. Tears were welling in her eyes as the full realization hit her, but Tara didn’t care. She couldn’t, not with what she was hearing.
“Did you tell him?” she asked, heartbeat kicking up.
There was a beat of agonizing silence. Then, “Yes.”
Tara stood abruptly, fists clenched. Sam stood with her, hands hovering around Tara’s shoulders, but the smaller girl took a step back. Her mind raced. She was trying to simultaneously work out what was happening while actively refraining from strangling her sister.
A question rose to the forefront of her mind.
“How did he know where you lived?”
Sam looked away, shame radiating off of her. “…My birthday’s coming up. He said he wanted to send me something—"
Tara spun on her heels and stormed into the kitchen. Her sister was hot on her heels, the stuttered beginnings of an apology on her lips, but Tara couldn’t hear it over the blood roaring in her ears.
“Tara—"
“I can’t believe you,” she growled. “You risked not just your own life, but the lives of everyone in this house, and for what? A man that was just trying to use you? Jesus Christ, Sam. That’s pathetic, even for you.”
That nearly made, a few tears overflowed and spilled down her cheeks, but she kept herself together long enough to get out one more coherent sentence.
“I’m sorry, Tara. I never meant for something like this to happen, I swear.”
Shaking her head violently, Tara looked away.
She didn’t want to accept it. She wanted to go even further, to stick her finger in the wound and dig even deeper. Twist the knife even further and watch Sam squirm under the pressure. But she held herself back.
There was an unpredictable man in a Ghostface costume specifically targeting them. She needed all hands on deck. This wasn’t just about her feelings, even if entirely justified. You were here now, and your safety took precedence over her personal vendettas.
So she forced her tense muscles to go slack, wiped the fury from her features, and turned to pull Sam into her arms.
She disregarded the way her sister’s pathetic cries made set her nerves alight and whispered out meaningless we’ll be okay’s until the emotion passed.
Through it all, Tara tried to ignore how badly her palms itched.
-
Time passed in an odd, infrequent manner.
It was no longer a steady, unending stream of hours, days, and weeks. It trickled by in short, uneven bursts as if it was leaking from a broken faucet. Some days were long, the eight hours spent in school feeling like an eternity, while others seemed to last for minutes.
But eventually, the days added up until three entire weeks went by in paranoid quiet.
No sign of a lurking killer. No calls on the landline. Not a single glimpse of a white mask.
It was tormenting. Every day that passed without incident made her tenser, feeding her paranoia steadily until it was impossible for Tara to get a single good night of sleep.
Sam appeared to be suffering the same fate as her, but Tara didn’t care. She had offered the illusion of forgiveness in the moment, but they were on far from good terms.
They still saw each other every day since they lived in the same house, but apart from greetings and small pleasantries, Tara was trying her best to avoid interacting with her sister. The lingering anger and bitterness were still simmering beneath the surface, and she didn’t want to risk unleashing that in your presence, so she took to avoidance.
Sam noticed and tried to bridge the gap, mostly at dinner with incentivizing questions and comments, but her attempts were brazenly ignored by Tara, leaving you to awkwardly pull on the conversation threads in her place.
Of course, because of that, you picked up on the tension between the sisters. It was hard to miss, honestly.
Tara thought you would confront her about it, but you must’ve learned that head-on confrontation accomplished little when she was set in her ways about something because, suddenly, there were far more “family movie nights” than there were previously.
She participated half-heartedly, mostly for your sake but also because there was strength in numbers, and being together was safer than staying apart.
Tonight was one such night. It was 10 pm on a Friday, and you were practically buzzing with excitement beside her. For movie night tonight, you weren’t even watching a movie but instead finishing some Netflix show that you and Sam had gotten hooked on.
So you were snuggled into Tara’s side on the couch, pulling the show up on the tv while Sam made the popcorn (Tara’s personal favorite part of these nights, besides you).
“Ah, shit,” came Sam’s voice from the kitchen, and you both looked over to see what was going on. Sam closed the cabinet, a frown pulling the edges of her lips downward. “We’re out of popcorn.”
Your excitement tempered some, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You went to say something, but Sam straightened up, her frown disappearing.
“I can run to the store real quick and get some.”
Whether she was trying to dote on you to build rapport with Tara again or she just genuinely wanted to do it for you was unclear, but Tara didn’t like the idea of her going alone.
“Sam, maybe that’s not a good idea,” she reasoned. At her side, you nodded in agreement.
“Yeah,” you said, “it could wait till tomorrow.”
“There’s a convenience store a block or two away. It’s barely a trip.”
When neither of you responded, Sam pursed her lips, looking around briefly before grabbing her phone from the kitchen island and opening it. She spent a moment fiddling with it then came to kneel in front of you.
“Here,” she gestured to your phone, “accept the call, and I’ll stay on the line until I’m back.”
You hit answer, still hesitant. Tara said nothing, unease building in her gut steadily. It had been three whole weeks without a peep from Richie. And sure, the possibility of him losing his nerve and giving up was technically feasible, but was that really a risk worth taking?
“Are you sure you don’t want me or Tara to come with you?” you asked, worry tinging your tone.
Before Tara could say no, Sam shook her head. “No, you two stay here. I like knowing that you guys are safe with the security system in place. This should take no more than fifteen minutes and I’ll stay on the phone with you both the entire time, okay?”
Tara narrowed her eyes, flicking them over to you to see your response. For a moment you just sat there, looking worriedly at her sister, but you nodded slowly.
“If you hang up, I’m finishing the show without you,” you threatened with a small smile.
Sam laughed, patted your arm, and stood. Both you and Tara watched as she pulled her shoes and bomber jacket on. Tara was tempted to call her back but by the time the urge hit, Sam was shutting the door.
Throughout her journey to and inside the store, Sam kept her promise and didn’t hang up, keeping a steady flow of conversation with you even as she was being rung up by the clerk.
Tara stayed quietly by your side the whole time, trying to ease the pit in her stomach, but it didn’t go away. The dread persisted still as Sam announced that she was pulling into the driveway.
The muffled sound of a car door closing outside had you rushing over to the door. Tara smiled at your excitement, stepping up behind you as you pulled it open.
Outside, Sam was standing in the driveway, victoriously waving the popcorn in the air. “I got the last box!”
She started walking up to the open door when suddenly, a streak of black flashed across the yard, and before Tara could properly register it, her sister was being tackled to the ground. The sharp crack that accompanied her head hitting the ground barely resonated before Tara was slamming the door shut and twisting all the locks back in place.
You ran toward the door, but Tara grabbed you. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Sam’s out there, Tara. We have to help her.” You started toward the door again, but Tara wasn’t budging.
This is all her fault, she wanted to say but didn’t. Instead, she said, “We can’t. It’s not safe, but we’ll go back for her, okay? I promise.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, Tara.”
Tara inhaled sharply at the sound of the voice, while you dropped your phone with a gasp. But then the implications hit her just a second later and made her stomach drop to her feet.
The call was still connected. Sam’s phone was still unlocked, meaning Richie had full access to the security system app.
Seconds after Tara’s revelation, her phone dinged, and the voice notification automatically played.
Security System Disabled
A horrified gasp from her right told her that you heard it too. She tried to reenable it, but it was immediately disabled again, the green turning back to red while the mechanical voice taunted her.
Security System Disabled
There was no time. He was going to make his way in here, there was no stopping it.
Her greatest concern was making sure that you were as far away from him as possible when that happened. She grabbed your shoulders, caught your eye.
“Listen, take one of the kitchen knives and go lock yourself in my room. Hide in the closet and call 911. Tell them to bring police and paramedics, okay?”
You immediately shook your head and protested, “What? No, I am not leaving you alone with a serial killer, Tara.”
“Yes, you will. You need to.”
“Tara—"
“Please,” she begged, her voice strangled. She tightened her hold on your shoulders, thumbs digging into your soft skin. “Please, I can take care of myself. But I need to know that you’re safe. I can’t focus if you’re in danger. So please, just do as I say right now, ok?”
Reluctant, you nodded and pressed your lips to hers in a quick but firm kiss. After parting you held her gaze for another moment before running up the stairs toward the bedrooms.
Tara watched you go and once she knew you were safe, she ran into the kitchen and scoured through the cabinets until she found the large, cast-iron skillet she used for stir-fries. She tried to peer out the window, but with the curtains tightly drawn, there was no telling what was happening outside.
Tara paused, a strategy forming. She could use the lack of visibility to her advantage.
Quickly, she moved the knife block to the opposite end of the island then began to cut the lights in both the living room and the kitchen one by one.
She saved the kitchen for last, keeping her eyes on the door as she flicked the switch down and crouched behind the island near the knives to wait.
Minutes passed in eerie silence, then finally, she heard the tell-tale jingle of keys in the front door lock. The knob twisted and the door creaked as it was pushed open, soft and slow. The sound only put Tara even more on edge.
Light footsteps could just barely be heard even in the silence, and Tara’s ears perked. The sounds stopped momentarily, then started in her direction. Quiet footfalls neared at a glacial pace, giving Tara ample time to steady her grip and prepare herself.
Once the footsteps were practically next to her, she swung with all her strength to the left. She connected with the nearest leg, and the force of the blow sent shockwaves up her arms.
The pained shout that arose was distorted by the voice changer inside the mask, but the clatter of the knife he was holding falling to the floor was clear as day.
Tara stood and, as soon as she located the knife, kicked it away. She took another swing, but he seemed to hear this one coming because he jerked back, so she struck the hard counter instead. The physical shock of it made her drop the pan in surprise.
He stumbled to his feet, clearly favoring his left leg. Desperate, he swung wildly a few times. Tara backed away but in a stroke of luck, the last one connected with her cheek.
Pain exploded where his fist connected, echoing through her jaw. The familiar, addictively metallic taste of blood coated her tongue and teeth. The pain only served to ground her, focusing the smoldering fire of her rage solely on the man in front of her.
Breath heaving, he went for another blind punch, but she sidestepped and delivered a solid kick to what she hoped was his left knee. And if the groan was anything to go by, then she hit her mark.
He fell again, clutching his knee, and Tara circled him. She stood on his right shin, hooked her arms around his throat, and leaned against the counter behind her, pulling back as hard as she physically could.
Richie coughed violently. Flailing arms tried to pry her off, but she stood firm, eyes drifting to the knife holster on the island. She leaned down by his ear.
“You know, with all that talk about secrets, you really should’ve been more careful with your own.”
She squeezed her arms together tighter and braced her hands firmly on her upper forearms. The urgency in Richie’s movements increased, but he achieved nothing all the same.
“Because I know your secret too, Richie,” Tara growled, lips coiling into a malignant crimson smile.
He froze at the sound of his name and Tara took the opportunity to rip the mask off of his face.
Now that his mask of bravery was off, she was overcome with the need to turn the lights back on. Because she wanted to see it. She wanted to watch his weaselly face contort in pain, she wanted to watch those last bits of life drain from his eyes.
Violent desire coursing through her, her grip loosened, one hand reaching back to flick the light switch on. But that was all he needed.
A moment of hubris was enough to ruin the victory she had very nearly secured.
The instant the lights were on, Richie, with all his body weight behind him, lurched right, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
Because of her position, she was unable to get her arms beneath her in time, and her head hit the tile hard. She blinked against the white flash of pain, but by the time she got her bearings, Richie was already retrieving his knife.
Watching him struggle to his feet, Tara changed tactics. She backed into the living room to put some space between them so she could possibly get another weapon. But before she could assess the room, Richie rushed her with a loud cry.
He clumsily wrestled her to the ground in a mess of thrashing limbs. Because of his size, he gained the upper hand quickly and straddled her. Tara fought against him, lashing out violently with her hands, and her nails managed to catch on the side of his face.
Gasping, she dug them deeper into his skin and, with all her strength, pulled.
A yell of agony tore its way out of his throat, and Tara could feel his skin peel beneath her fingers and get stuck under her nails. But he didn’t let up. His fingers found their way around her throat and squeezed.
He had her pinned down. His fingers had a death grip around her throat and her vision was beginning to go dark around the edges.
She thought she saw a flash of something behind Richie, but she paid it no mind, keeping all of her focus and strength on punching and kicking and squirming. He pressed down on her trachea even harder, and Tara choked.
But then, Richie screamed and all at once his hands released her throat, and she could breathe again.
He careened to the side and only then did Tara notice the knife sticking from his left side. She looked back up and saw you with wide, terrified eyes. Despite the danger, she took a moment to appreciate the circumstance before her.
You had picked up his knife and stabbed him with it. She would have smiled if her throat wasn’t on fire.
Another ragged cough tore its way from Tara’s throat and that brought your attention from her attacker to her. Your eyes softened and you started toward her. But Richie wasn’t down just yet.
He wrenched the knife from his side with a grunt. With rage in his eyes, he turned to you, staggering unsteadily back to his feet with the knife tight in his grip.
“You fucking bitch!” he roared.
You froze and, without any other option, fled into the kitchen with Richie stumbling closely behind. Just as your fingers brushed the hilt of one of the knives in the block, he snagged the neckline of your shirt and yanked you back.
“Oh no you don’t.”
Richie pinned you against him, one arm steadily anchored around your ribcage and the other, the one with the bloodied knife, rising above his head. Tara tried to stand, but equilibrium was shockingly hard to regain at that moment.
She was just getting to her knees when he plunged the knife into your stomach. The pained scream that you let out would haunt Tara for the rest of her life.
Richie smirked, wide and unruly. “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
The only response you gave was a whimper. He grabbed you by the neck and slammed your head down onto the kitchen counter. Hard. A loud crack echoed off the walls and you fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious.
Words like rage, fury, and anger were far too soft to describe the feeling that overtook her when your body hit the ground.
The emotion that overcame her was rough and discordant, and primitive. It bled over her vision, tainting it dark crimson, and pushed her to her feet with a newfound balance and sick certainty.
At full speed, Tara ran and latched onto him, using all of her body weight to throw him back onto the living room carpet.
Richie tried to stand again, but Tara tackled him back down and straddled him. But Tara punched him once, hard, then again and again and again until his head lolled and his grip slackened, leaving the knife to fall onto the carpet beside him.
Seeing him lying under her, bruised and defeated, didn’t satisfy Tara, nor did the ache in her knuckles. Not after he hurt you so badly. She needed him to bleed. She needed him to suffer.
He needed to pay.
Steady fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife at her side. As she raised it above her head, she found a certain poeticism in it—the fact that Richie was going to meet his end at the hands of the true Ghostface, with his own weapon.
With a deep breath, she allowed the savage tidal wave of emotion to wash over her, and she saw more than felt the way she slammed the knife down. Time became a blur of movement. Red clouded her vision, but she could feel everything—the hard hilt of the knife, the give of the flesh beneath it, the satisfying crunch of bone.
The image of you being stabbed playing over and over and over, fueling the raging wildfire within her.
By the time she returned to herself, there was an all-encompassing silence; the only sounds impeding it were her labored breaths.
The knife in her hand was slick with blood. A fierce ache ran from her forearms to her shoulders. Tara looked down at her victim and her brows furrowed.
What remained of Richie’s head was a mess of jutting bone fragments, scattered clumps of blood-soaked hair, and chunks of torn flesh. Amongst the soup of blood, bone, and brains, there was an eyeball rolled off to the right. Distantly, she wondered where the other one was.
Looking further down, Tara noticed the amount of blood on the ground. The carpet was drenched in red, and given how saturated it looked, she wouldn’t be surprised if it soaked all the way through to the hardwood beneath it.
Tara exhaled sharply through her nose. That carpet would definitely have to be replaced.
Her eyes moved off the ground and toward the kitchen, where your limp form entered her vision. Immediately, she dropped the knife and ran to you, dropping to her knees beside you.
She scrambled to press her fingers to your neck, and thankfully, she found a pulse. It was weaker than she would’ve liked, but it was steady. You were holding on for her, and that meant everything to Tara.
Turning her attention back to your wound, she assessed the damage. The blade was still lodged firmly inside your stomach, and she hadn’t enough medical knowledge to know whether it pierced anything important based just off its positioning alone, but she knew not to take the knife out.
So she pressed her hands down around it as hard as she could. You let out a pained breath in your unconscious state but showed no signs of rousing. She wasn’t sure if that was good or not.
All that mattered was making sure that you stayed with her until the paramedics arrived. She knew you listened to her earlier, so authorities should be on their way with medical help in tow.
But she would be lying if she said her composure didn’t begin to slip with each passing second of silence.
What got her most was the blood. Tara was accustomed to gore and had long passed the point where anything like that bothered her, much less the sight of just blood, but this was your blood, and it was everywhere.
On her hands, slipping between her fingers, pooling beneath you, staining her pants, on your face, drying just beneath your nostrils.
All Tara could see was red, red, red, and not because of her anger, but because of her inability to protect you when it mattered.
The door opened, slamming harshly against the wall, and Tara jumped, instinctively putting herself between you and whoever was approaching.
She glanced back and saw her sister standing in the doorway, leaning against it slightly as she clutched her stomach. Their eyes met and Sam visibly relaxed. “Tara—"
Her gaze wandered left, and Sam stopped short by the door; eyes glued on the mess of human flesh laying limp on the carpet. Cursing silently, Tara squeezed her eyes shut.
She rushed to find any sort of justification, but it was hard when her world was falling apart before her eyes and beneath her hands.
“He—he hurt—” Tara broke off into a sob, the blood on her hands burning nearly as much as her throat.
Sam tore her eyes away from Richie’s remains and looked back over to her younger sister. Her eyes widened and Tara assumed that she finally noticed your worrying state. Tara kept her hands firmly pressed to your wound as she watched Sam, trying to figure out what her next move would be.
Finally, she said, “It’s okay,” sounding more like she was trying to reassure herself than Tara. She nodded to herself, repeated it, “It’s okay.”
Slowly, she moved from her place by the door and approached the body, looking like she was fighting the urge to be sick the closer she edged to it.
“What are you—” Tara started, eyes wide, but Sam interrupted.
“Listen, when the police come, you’re going to tell them that I did this.”
Tara blinked, lost. “W-What?”
Sam, with a pale grimace, reached down to the mass of flesh and began doing a mixture of spreading and splattering the warm, leaking blood on her shirt, face, and arms. Then she came to kneel on the other side of you, giving you a long mournful look before she spoke to Tara.
“When they ask you what happened, you tell them that he was trying to hurt you and I did…that to him because of it. Okay?”
Nothing was making sense. She wouldn’t take the fall for Sam if it were the other way around, so the fact that Sam was so willing to do it for her was…it was rousing feelings she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
“Why?” Tara asked, bewildered.
“Having this on your record, even if it was self-defense, will haunt you for the rest of your life. You have a bright future, Tara, and I’m protecting that.”
Traces of the affection she once felt for her sister flared up and to her surprise, Tara felt more tears well up in her eyes and spill over. Real tears accompanying the achingly real tightness in her chest. “Sam—”
Sam just shook her head. “You know how Sheriff Hicks feels about me; she’ll be more than happy to put this on my record. You’re going to be ok. Both of you will. I promise.”
Gently, she leaned her forehead against Tara’s and kept it pressed there until sirens blared in the distance. When Sam stood and went over to kneel by Richie, Tara blinked away her tears and pressed her hands down harder on your wound.
Police burst through the door, and everything blurred for Tara. The world became a cacophony of lights and sounds and movement, and she only snapped back to reality when paramedics started trying to take you away from her.
In her mind, she knew she should let them take you. That you were much safer in the hands of professionals that could properly tend to you, but the logical part of her brain was quickly overshadowed the moment someone tried to pull her away.
Because she needed to be next to you. She needed to feel your pulse, see the rise and fall of your chest with her own eyes to make sure that you were still alive.
So she fought every hold on her, twisted violently against the increasing number of hands clutching onto her, trying to separate her from you. And she nearly succeeded. She was so close, so close to making it back to your side.
A prick in her neck was the last thing she felt before the world faded to nothing, the last remnants of your name dying on her tongue.
-
A monotonous beeping in your ear was the first thing that you registered.
The second was how weird you felt. You felt heavy and weightless at the same time. You cracked your eyes open and instantly closed them against the blinding brightness you were met with. Briefly, you wondered if you died, but something told you that the afterlife didn’t smell like antiseptics.
Once more, you opened your eyes, going slower so your eyes could properly adjust, and finally took in your surroundings. You were in a hospital room and a glance to your left told you that the annoying beeping you heard was a heart monitor.
Awareness slowly crept back into your dazed mind. The moments came back one by one, flashing against the back of your eyelids as you blinked.
Ghostface attacking Sam. You going upstairs and calling 911. Running down and helping Tara.
Tara.
With a gasp, you jolted up. Your wound gave a powerful throb in response, cutting straight through the pain meds but you ignored it.
The last thing you remembered was the man—Richie? —thrusting a knife into you, then your face met the hard marble of the kitchen counter and that was it.
Was Tara ok? Did Sam make it? Was Ghostface caught and apprehended?
Those questions fueled you to sit up but you only made it halfway before strong hands were on your shoulders, pushing you back down.
“No, don’t move.”
Recognition sparked instantly. You knew that voice. Tara.
The need to know that she was alright nearly made you frantic as you looked at her, and took in her state.
She had a fading bruise on her cheek, and there was some much harsher, nearly black bruising around her neck, but otherwise, she looked fine, if a bit tired. You let out a sigh of relief.
You tried to lift your hand to her neck, but you only made it about halfway before Tara caught it and brought it to her lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.
“Looks worse than it,” she said with a small grin, but you could hear the strain. It reminded you of the ache in your throat after what your father did, the bruises he left behind.
You looked away, decided to focus on the other questions plaguing your mind.
“What happened to the man? Is Sam okay?”
Tara’s eyes flashed with something, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. “Richie’s dead.”
“The police killed him?”
She looked away then and played with your fingers. “No, Sam did.”
“Sam?” you asked in disbelief. That didn’t seem quite right, but you couldn’t pinpoint why.
You looked at Tara, saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was worrying her lip between her teeth, the tension in her brow, and you decided to believe her.
It had been a long, hard night for everyone, and you heard whisperings of something deeper going on with Sam, so maybe she was capable of that. After all, weren’t you?
And either way, it was self-defense. He attacked first, unprovoked. The world was probably better without him, as much as the thought put a bitter taste in your mouth.
Plus, Tara would never lie to you.
“Is she alright?” You decided on after minutes of processing.
Tara nodded. “Yeah, she’s stable. She’s in the room across the hall. The sheriff kicked me out to take her statement.”
“Can you tell her I said hi? And thanks for making sure Richie couldn’t hurt anyone else.”
That made Tara freeze. Just for a moment before she seemed to catch herself, but you saw it nonetheless. “Yeah, of course.”
Under any other circumstances, you’d have half a mind to ask Tara about her odd behavior or at least store it away for later contemplation, but as it stood, the pain medication was already sweeping the incident away.
Silence lapsed and you both just enjoyed one another’s presence, basking in the knowledge that the other was safe and sound.
The tempting call of sleep tugged at you. You tried to stay in the moment, but you were drifting. You could tell and so could Tara, who coaxed your attention to her with a gentle stroke of her thumb across your knuckles.
“Get some rest, sweetheart. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“Promise?” you slurred, eyes already drifting closed.
You could practically hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Of course.”
She lulled you to sleep with the promise and a final, tight squeeze of your hand, and you drifted off into a drug-induced slumber with thoughts of your gentle, loving girlfriend at the forefront of your mind.
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disillusioneddanny · 7 months
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Spread the Love Fic Recs <3
There's been a bunch of negativity lately and I think that means we as a fandom need to spread some love around. If you get tagged please add some fics that you think deserve more love, only request is that they aren't insanely popular fics (think like fics with less than 50k hits) this way we can get some other fics out there for others to read and enjoy!!
1.) Premeditation by Chromatographic (Lia)
The problem is that so few people are even able to see what the problem really is. The problem is that things that manage to find the balance on the knife’s edge of life are so, so hard to kill. The problem, Jasmine Fenton realizes, two weeks after she moves into Gotham, is one that almost no one, in any dimension or realm, is able to solve. The problem is simply put, though, even if it’s almost impossible. The problem is this: The Joker is a Halfa.
this fic has the hardcover ship (Jazz/Jason) and everlasting trio (danny/sam/tucker) it's beautifully written and keeps you on the edge of your seat as you watch the story progress. Absolutely amazing. The writing is just amazing, Chroma sucks you in with beautiful storyline that just blows my mind. And the ending is just absolutely perfect!
2.) Halves by TourettesDog
Jason wasn't sure why Dick thought it was a good idea to drag him along with Tim to Amity Park. His brother seemed to think the strange case would offer a decent opportunity to bond-- without Gotham (and Bruce) close at hand, perhaps it wasn't the worst idea he'd ever had. Unfortunately, Amity Park is far stranger than Dick anticipated, and Jason hasn't quite been himself since they arrived. Going to FentonWorks for answers was their first big mistake.
honestly one of my favorite fics atm, I just love Gothamites going to Amity Park, i'm just such a sucker for the idea and we just don't see it enough so this fic is just my dream come true!
3.) Pitch-Dark Shades by SummersSixEcho
Danny Fenton is trying to build a new life in Gotham after closing up the connections to the Ghost Zone. Not that all connections are entirely broken, still being able to perceive shades and give them strength when he connects to one of their prized objects. Tim Drake is trying to find his own place in the world, focusing on becoming a better detective by solving cold cases in his spare time. When Tim and Danny meet, a new (begrudging) partnership starts to bloom to solve even the hardest of cases. Or it would if only they told each other the truth.
I truly just love Danny and Tim together in literally any kind of capacity. They just cause so much chaos together and it's amazing. This fic is just absolutely lovely and the prose is amazing. Summers fics are truly enrapturing and just pull you in so easily.
4.) Beneath A Different Light by AKelaNakamura, SummersSixEcho, TourettesDog
When a convergent event hits unexpectedly, Damian and Danny find themselves in the last place they’d expected: In the body of the twin they’d thought long dead. With the after effects still coursing through them and danger lurking in both cities, the brothers must figure out who they can trust—all while slowly learning about the life their twin has led without them. Or, none of these bastards can catch a break.
Demon twins. Just--just Demon Twins my beloved. This fic is two chapters in and i'm just so utterly in love with it. Summers, Akela, and Dog are just a match made in heaven when it comes to cowriting a fic. The fic just yanks you in so easily and you find yourself thinking about it even after reading the fic. Just a wonderful fic!
5.) Come Little Children by Die_Erlkonigin6083
American Chestnuts were once one of the most important trees along the East Coast. The blight destroyed most of them, but not all of them. There was one chestnut tree, one that entranced a child, and then, what it wrought, enchanted an entire city or two
YALL when i tell you that the storytelling in this is absolutely breathtaking I'm serious. This fic has brought a tear to my eye because of just how beautifully it's written. It's got cool fantasy aspects to it, it's based off of an old fairy tale, it's just so amazing and it's one of my favorite fics to reread if i'm having a bad day. Just truly a lovely fic.
Now, I would like to see @halfagone @spite-sapphic-starlight @noir-renard and @midnightenigma recommend some of their favorite fics if they're willing <3333 let's spread some more love in this fandom!
also even if you aren't tagged--please feel free to recommend any fics you enjoy!!
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