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thehighladywrites · 4 months

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“JUST ONE MORE, I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT.”

⋆˙⟡ pairing: rhysand x reader, inner circle makes an appearance , madja makes an appearance

⋆˙⟡ summary: feeling ready to finally have kids, you tell rhys who is over the moon. madja gives you a special tea to help boost ovulation. how does that turn out for you?

⋆˙⟡ warnings: a fuckton of smut, fluff, rhys cries, so does reader, breeding, aphrodisiacs ( i think ), boosting tea, pregnancy, pregnancy smut ig, Big dick daddy construction worker Rhys😍😍, protective rhys like super protective, obsession and possession. Rhys develops a new obsession with reader🤷🏽‍♀️

⋆˙⟡ amara’s note: i need a break. holy fuck. also, can i go next🧎🏽‍♀️ Plus english isn’t my first language so if there’s any errors or mistakes, i’m sorry😭💗

“is that what you’ll be teaching our children, darling? To be snappy when someone asks you something?”

Rhysand took great pleasure in provoking a reaction from you. Your day had been rough, with even the slightest annoyances causing you to snap at him. From criticizing his breakfast chewing to berating his small handwriting in his reports, your frustration peaked when rhys playfully teased, leading you to unleash a stream of unpleasant words.

And now, he was dangerously close to you kicking him out of your bedroom. You stood there, making the bed with him on the other side as you tucked in the sheets on either side.

“Fuck off, Rhys. I'm teaching my kids that their father holds the title for being the most annoying ass in Prythian's history. They'll also be well-informed about your love for relentless teasing. I'll caution them to steer clear, as mommy doesn't want them influenced by your habit of being an annoying provocateur,” you flashed him a fake smile before tugging the sheets from his hands.

His laughter resonated through the room as he threw his head back, closing the distance with a confident step. Looking you up and down, he met you face to face, his eyes filled with mirth and a touch of affection.

“Let's pray to the Mother that they don't inherit your bratty behavior,” he teased, flicking your nose, enjoying your reaction.

“And yes, before you can come up with some crude insult, you're without a doubt the most pouty, bratty, headstrong person I've ever encountered.” His smile held a mix of playfulness and genuine fondness.

“I should feel insulted, but strangely, I don't,” you admitted with a smile. Playfully ushering him back to his side of the bed, you continued fixing the sheets, ready to settle in for the night.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Lying awake, Rhys's words echoed in your mind. The thought of having children together stirred a mix of excitement and doubt. The responsibilities of being the high lord and high lady of the Night Court loomed large, and the question of balancing it with parenthood lingered. Despite the uncertainties, a deep yearning surfaced – a want to put more focus on kids and maybe ease of the work load.

Unable to sleep, you chose to scoot closer to your mate as you put your head on his pillow, running your hand through his hair and finding comfort in the rhythm of his shallow breathing.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

The bell chimed as you entered Madja's clinic, finding it empty. You weren't supposed to be there; you had told Rhys you weren't feeling well to avoid going to the Hewn City with him. He grew concerned and insisted on staying, but after some persuasion, he reluctantly left. Now, you had the perfect opportunity to visit the healer in secret.

“Hello? Madja, are you here?”Your voice echoed in the empty clinic. After a long pause, you turned to leave, but just as you did, Madja opened a door, wearing gloves and a mask, looking confused.

“Y/n? What are you doing here? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” You all loved Madja deeply as she was like a second mother to everyone. She expressed concern, worry evident in her eyes. You reassured her, mentioning that nothing was wrong. She nodded, explaining she had a patient and would be done in a few minutes. Madja suggested making yourself some tea and taking a seat while you waited.

After a while, Madja finished with her patient and led you into her office. She took her place behind the big table, and you sat in front of her, ready for whatever conversation lay ahead.

“What can I help you with today?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened up about your desires. “I wish to get pregnant, and I wanted to know if there's anything to know beforehand. My grandmother was Illyrian, so I think I could carry the babe, but is there any more information I should know about?”

Your words hung in the air, waiting for Madja's guidance.

A warm smile graced Madja's face as she took your hand.

“Congratulations, I'm so happy for you. Fae pregnancies are rare, and it might take a few years of trying before you see any results. Don't get discouraged; it's normal, and it generally takes a few decades for couples to be blessed with a babe. But let me check your bones to see if you're ideal for pregnancy.” Madja's hands emitted a golden glow as she held yours, assuring you that your bones were indeed a match and that you would be able to carry your and Rhysand's children.

You thanked her with a hug and stood up, ready to leave to tell Rhysand that you were ready. But you were still nervous about how long it would take. Decades seemed like a long time and you just hoped you wouldn’t get disappointed in yourself.

Madja seemed to sense your sprialing thoughts and directed you to the medicine room. She handed you a packet of some sort or herb or leaf. You looked at her with confusion asking her what this was.

Madja explained, “It's a special tea made to boost ovulation. Both of you should drink it before trying, but I have to warn you, it does have side effects. The tea activates a primal need, making you both feel like the first day of the mating bond. There will be possession and jealousy, and a strong chance of fighting unwanted guests. Some patients of mine have almost killed someone because their mates were looked at too long. Males typically get very possessive during conception so don’t be surprised if he snaps at someone who’s too close. So, again, only do this when you're alone.”

The gravity of her words settled in as she outlined the potential intensity of the tea. You nod thanking her again before winnowing back to the house.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Rhysand was pissed off and tired as fuck. The entire night was a mess, thanks to the annoying council. He toyed with the idea of going back and killing them all but thought checking on you might be a better move. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him, and irritation etched deep lines on his face.

Rhysand walked into the house, absentmindedly unbuttoning his shirt until he halted in his tracks as he passed the kitchen. Something caught his attention, and he turned, curious about what was happening.

Rhysand was taken aback by what he saw. There you were, clad in tank top and shorts, preparing food in the middle of the night. He thought you were seriously unwell, given that you couldn't get out of bed earlier. Worried, he approached,

“Love, what are you doing up? Please, let me take you back to bed. I'll finish it up and bring it to you, okay?”

You warmly smiled at his concern but shook your head. “I'm fine, baby. I'm not sick. I'll explain everything. Just sit down at the table, and I'll be there in a minute.”

He raised his brow and you with amusement,

“So, you just didn’t want to go to the meeting? You should have told me; we could have skipped together. They were driving me crazy today. Kier wanted a higher position, Lord Orlon wanted more money, and everyone just wanted more and more and more.” His frustration with the incessant demands from the council echoed in his words.

You couldn’t help feeling guilty at the weariness in his eyes, you pouted and stepped closer, standing between his legs. Gently, you brought his head to your chest, cradling and kissing it. His arms wrapped around your middle immediately as you cooed comforting words, offering solace in the warmth of your embrace while stroking his hair gently.

“Aww, I'm so sorry, honey. I promise I'll never let you go alone. What can I do to cheer you up?”

He raised his head, mischief in his eyes, and his hands roamed up your tank top, grazing your waist and the sides of your boobs.

“I can think of something that'll earn you my forgiveness.” His playful tone sparked heat in you and you almost lost focus as you entertained the thought of Rhys’s offer. But you shook your head and smirked at him.

“Did you forget I had something to tell you? You’re quite insatiable, you know?”

He slumped his head on your chest, planting a kiss on the covered area as he warmly chuckled. Drawing you closer, he settled you in his lap, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. Rhys gazed up at you with enchanting deep violet eyes, their subtle twinkle a sight you adored.

Inhaling deeply, you contemplated ripping off the bandaid. It should be fine, right? He's always discussed future children, their names, rules for them, etc. Yet, despite everything, a touch of nerves crept in.

Rhys, sensing your hesitation, securely gripped your waist, assuring you that you could share anything with him.

“Rhys, sweetheart, I'm ready to officially try for children. Are you on board? I know you've talked about wanting kids, but is it still something you still want-”

Rhysand embraced you tenderly, tears of joy gliding down his cheeks. He buried his tear-streaked face in the warmth of your neck, softly murmuring his heartfelt thanks, each word carrying a sweetness only you could inspire.

His tears triggered an emotional response in you, prompting happy tears to well up as you smiled tenderly at him.

“It would be my highest honor to have children with you, my love.”

Rhys kissed you, chuckling, drawing you closer and peppering tiny kisses all over your face, eliciting joyful laughter from you.

“While you were away, I chatted with Madja, and she shared some tips about conceiving. She mentioned it might take a bit, so she's advising not to worry if it doesn't happen right away. She even gave me this special tea that's supposed to boost ovulation and help speed up the process. What do you say we give it a shot tomorrow or tonight?”

Rhys grinned mischievously, “Well, it's a bit surprising I haven’t already gotten you pregnant, but I guess Madja's tea might just be the secret ingredient we need.”

“I agree, Mr. Cocky, your charms might need a backup plan.” Your smile wavered as he got closer to your neck, and it completely faltered when he gently blew air on your neck before giving a playful bite.

You trembled, grabbing rhys’s shoulders to steady yourself as he kept nipping lower and lower. He palmed your tits through your thin tank, pulling and pinching on your nipples, marvelling at your scrunched up face of pleasure.

His finger moved to trail down the arch of your back while he unwrapped your legs from around his waist.

“Let's free you from these,” he murmured, gently hooking your shorts by the elastic and sliding them down to your thighs. Granting you a brief moment, he allowed you space to stand and shimmy them down to your feet, casting them aside with a tender ease.

Your confirmation to having kids flipped a switch in his brain. Numerous times had you stopped by nurseries to admire the cute babies, helped lost children find their mothers in the town square, babysat for your friends that had kids. Rhysand’s mind was filled with you carrying your child on your hip, you and him sitting down teaching them everything they needed to learn.

The mere thought of getting you full of his children, your heirs and the fact that you would carry your children, made him impossibly hard. You belonged to him, and soon, the world would see the evidence in your growing belly. It was his way of making sure everyone knew he had claimed you for good, in the most intimate and lasting manner possible.

Rhysand gazed up at you, his eyes veiled by thick lashes, filled with a darkened desire. His pupils dilated, larger than you'd ever seen, revealing the intensity of the lust that consumed him.

“I’m going to get you nice and knocked up by the end of the month, fuck what Madja said. I’m putting a baby in you soon enough, don’t worry about a thing. Just lay down and let me work on it, what do you say, sweetheart?”

His raspy, desperate voice sent cold shivers down your spine and arm. You mindlessly nod, begging for him to start.

“ Please, baby… make me a mother…” you ask so sweetly and nicely, rhys could never say no to you.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Throughout that night, the following morning, and the entire subsequent day, Rhysand kept you awake, leaving little room for sleep. In the span of those days, you only paused for food, as he fucked you to the edge of insanity. Perhaps you should have considered that you'd chosen the most powerful man in history as your baby daddy— of course he’d have no trouble fulfilling his task with relentless success.

Rhys's eyes had darkened with a singular focus – getting you pregnant. He worshipped your body, treating you like a deity with every touch, as if you were the subject of his devoted prayers.

He had stopped for maybe half an hour to research the most ideal positions for baby making and had put you in them atleast twice, much to your exhaustion and pleasure.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Reluctantly, you both knew you couldn't remain secluded from your responsibilities forever. The rulers of the court could only be inaccessible for a limited time, forcing you to eventually confront the outside world.

“Baby, we need to go soon, remember?” You found yourself trapped between his sturdy arms, lying beneath him on the soft bed with your legs wrapped around his middle. His kisses on your neck and grew more intense, leaving behind a trail of increasingly visible bruises.

Expressing disapproval with a sound, he playfully nipped at a sensitive spot on your neck, eliciting a mix of laughter and a gasp from you simultaneously.

Rhysand absolutely hated the idea of leaving the haven of warmth and love you two had created. He cherished the solitude you shared, not wanting to face the world's challenges.

All he wanted was to stay wrapped up in the tender embrace of his mate, savoring the moments of closeness and hoping for a future filled with just the two of you.

“Darling, I'd ditch the whole Night Court for a bit more of your love. The outside world's a drag compared to your warmth. What do you say we skip the ruling and responsabilities and keep our own little haven, just the two of us?”

Summoning the will to decline felt nearly impossible; you genuinely, sooo badly, really didn't want to leave the room until everything was done. Explaining your perspective to him, you made a deal that if you both tackled just dinner first, you'd be all his afterward. With reluctance, he got up, the two of you quickly freshened up, taking a hot shower and got dressed for dinner with your friends.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Making your way to the dining room, you were met by Cassian with a teasing grin,

“Well, well, well. Look who decided to rejoin the land of the living. I was starting to think you'd built a permanent nest in there. Ready for the real world or still basking in the afterglow?”

Catching a glimpse of Rhysand's impassive expression, it was clear he was beyond unamused as his eyes zeroed in on Cassian. You knew him well enough to sense that Cassian's continued teasing might push him to snap, especially considering his reluctance to be outside with the others now that he was trying to put a baby on you.

“Cass, I wouldn’t. Let's just enjoy the meal,” you said, clapping your hands with an exaggerated smile. Taking Rhysand by the hand, you guided him to the table, hoping to diffuse any tension and shift the focus to the meal.

You stuck to him like glue, even following him when he stood to get another bottle of wine. Sitting on another chair was out of the question. Instead, you made yourself comfortable in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. You purred at his warmth and safety, wondering why the hell you even accepted this dinner in the first place. You'd much rather stay under warm covers in your bed with him by your side.

In these past few days, Rhysand had become remarkably possessive aswell. Normally unfazed by casual gestures from friends like hugs or pats on the shoulder, he surprised himself. When you and Azriel reached for the salt at the same time, Rhysand instinctively pulled you back, narrowing his eyes at Az as if marking his territory.

Azriel, ever perceptive, observed the tension, smiled to himself and wisely chose not to escalate the situation. He sensed a new energy surrounding you both, noticing how much you clung to each other. He nodded toward the salt, indicating you should take it first, showing he had the sense not to get in the middle of whatever was transpiring between you and Rhysand. It was something Cassian would usually dive headfirst into. The guy had a knack for finding trouble, and Azriel clearly wanted no part in it.

The dinner proceeded with everyone staying clear from you and Rhys. Usually, you'd playfully scold him for being overly possessive, telling him to ease up on the overbearing bat act. However, you relished in his attention and protective demeanor. Madja had told you this would happen but you didn’t realize it would apply to your family.

Right, Madja. You had almost forgotten about the tea she'd given you, the one to speed up the pregnancy process. With your friends leaving after dinner, whether they wanted to or not, it seemed like the perfect time to test it out.

Gazing at Rhysand beside you, you communicated your thoughts silently, begging him to try the tea out with you and then going back to your previous activities. He nodded in understanding. Sitting up straight, he glanced at everyone.

“I need all of you leave, right now,” he stated calmly, sipping his drink with the usual nonchalance.

Everyone paused mid-chew, glancing at Rhysand with confusion. Azriel swiftly vanished into his shadows, and Amren departed without so much as a goodbye. Mor and Cassian remained, bewildered, as they questioned the sudden disruption.

“What? Why? I'm not even done eating,” Mor protested.

Rhysand narrowed his eyes, flicking his hand and cleared the table.

"There. I moved everything to your own table in your apartment. Now, get out," he gritted, and they hurriedly made their exit, with Cassian managing a loud laugh before leaving.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

The kettle's whistle grew louder as you were lost in Rhysand's lips. Seated on the table, his arms on either side of you, the moment was pure delight, your hands traveling his body as you toyed with the waistband of his pants. The whistle became unbearable, forcing you to reluctantly break the kiss as you sighed and made your way to brew the tea. The leaves, red and golden, intensified in color as you poured the boiling water in.

“Darling, that looks deceptively inviting. Like it would lure us in with its pretty colors and then make our hearts stop,” he joked, joining you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, playfully holding you in a mock chokehold.

“Huh, deceptively inviting... sounds a lot like someone I know,” you teased, lazily kissing the strong forearm wrapped around your throat. His laughter resonated, his chest rumbling, and you felt the vibrations, savoring the moment.

He kissed your temple before letting you go, guiding you back to the table to drink the tea. Both of you nodded in agreement before simultaneously downing the concoction. The taste left you both with a disgusted expression as you placed the empty cups back on the table.

“That tastes like shit. Did Madja say what it was made of?”

You scrunched your face at the aftertaste before replying,

“I find it best not to ask her anymore. Remember the time she had us all eating that soup with fermented fish guts as a cure for that winter fever?”

You shudder at the memory of everyone lying in the hospital, with Madja taking care of the lot of you. It dawned on you that she was feeding you stuff that would've made you even sicker if you found out then. The taste of the mysterious tea was the least of your worries compared to Madja's unconventional remedies.

Rhysand shook his head at the unpleasant memory,

“You’re right. I’d rather not know.”

You giggled at his words, before standing up and putting the cups in the sink. Turning around, you looked at Rhysand with a tilted head, wondering if he was feeling anything because you certainly weren’t.

“Rhysie, are you feeling anything? I’m not sure if it’s taking extra long for the tea to activate or something but I’m not feeling anything yet.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, pondering your words for a moment.

“Honestly, I don’t feel any different either. Maybe it's just a placebo effect or Madja's way of amusing herself with our reactions. Either way, we'll survive it.”

You nodded at his words, yes that made sense.

“Okay, let’s go to my office and catch up on some reports while we wait for the effects to kick in.”

You both headed to your office, the boring tasks providing a welcome distraction while the mysterious tea's potential effects lingered in the background. As you delved into work, the anticipation of what might unfold kept a subtle excitement in the air.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

An hour in Rhysand was starting to feel uncomfortable. His forehead and neck was starting to feel warm and he mindlessly unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt for some extra cooling.

You on the other hand still felt nothing, if anything, you started feeling very sleepy, eyelids heavy as you tried blinking back the tiredness that washed over you.

“I’m feeling really tired, rhys. Can you take me upstairs?” your voice was low and laced with sleep, complete opposite of your mate.

Not being able to find his voice, he stood up from the chaise, his movements more desperate, and walked over to you before bending down and picking you up.

Something that should've been a mundane task.

However, this time he couldn’t help but notice the difference in size, how easy he could pick you up in his arms, how your boobs moved under your shirt, the way the curve of your ass pressed against him with every move, the softness of your skin and the intoxicatingly sweet smell of you. A low, suppressed growl vibrated through him as he tightened his hold, relishing the warmth and unmistakable presence of his mate.

A possessive and obsessive surge overwhelmed him as he held you, an intoxicating certainty that you belonged to him, and he had earned every inch of your love and affection.

Rhysand was utterly obsessed with you, he showed in the way he was watching you like a hawk while he put you down on the soft bed, tucking you under a blanket.

Rhys knelt by the bed, his gaze fixed on your sleeping form. His pupils dilated so much, transforming the familiar violet of his eyes into a dark, almost black shade. His face and chest had taken on a dark shade of blush, as blood rushed to his cock at the sight of your peaceful form.

He couldn’t look away when you turned around, blanket having rolled up, showing him the lenght of your legs, so smooth and soft, Normally, the sight wouldn’t have made him behave like some sort of teenager seeing a girls tits for the first time and it made him feel like a disgusting pervert. Here his mate laid, unaware that he was lusting over something as juvenile as her leg.

Deep down, he didn’t really care. Rhysand felt like he was on top of the world.

Waves of pleasure surged through him, heightening his senses and intensifying every touch and sensation, the feeling of the sheets against his palms sent electric waves through his body. The world around him seemed to shimmer with and a blissful euphoria enveloped him, creating an intoxicating sensation that left him utterly captivated.

You stirred, sensing Rhys kneeling by the bed. As you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of him, his gaze locked on your sleeping form. His eyes, once a familiar violet, now darkened to a deep, almost black hue.

The effects of the tea finally kicked in, and your body responded with waves of pleasure. Your heartbeat quickened, the world around you blurring into a hazy backdrop as you fixated on the rhythmic sound of Rhysand's heavy breaths. A searing warmth pooled in the lower part of your stomach, almost like molten lava, urging you to clench your legs, all while a whimper threatened to escape your lips.

Feeling overwhelmed, you sought relief in the bathroom, flinging off the blanket and splashing cold water on your face and chest. Bracing yourself on the sink, you took a few deep breaths before returning to your room. As you opened the door, eyes lowered, you collided with something soft yet firm. Looking up, you found Rhysand, gazing at you with a tilted head, as if studying you like a puzzle.

“Oh, hi baby, didn’t see-”

Before you could finish the sentence, he pounced on you, grabbing the back of your head as he crushed your lips against his. Your eyes widened in surprise, hands instinctively grabbing his biceps to steady yourself.

His other hand wrapped around your waist, forcefully pulling your body towards him, leaving no room for any space. As his front pressed against yours, you felt his hard erection poking at your stomach.

A desperate need for more coursed through your veins like a wildfire, the tea intensifying every sensation. Your nipples tightened, craving his touch with an almost primal hunger. In his arms, you practically melted at his animalistic touch.

It all felt so fucking good, you thought you’d come just by kissing him. You moaned loudly when he started licking and kissing your neck, gently biting your earlobe before going back to giving you hickies.

Tears formed in your eyes as you brought a hand down your panties, hoping to relieve yourself before it got too much, however frustration filled you as your efforts were wasted. No matter how much you rutted against your fingers, it wasn’t enough. If only made you more needy and frustrated.

“no, t’s not working, please mate, please touch me. need you so badly”

Your tears eventually fell as you whined, face covered in salty tears as you begged your man for more, more of him, more of anything.

The desperation in your voice prompted Rhysand to pick you up and drag you to bed, gently pushing you into it. He swiftly undressed before pulling you towards the edge of the bed by your ankles, ripping of whatever clothes you had on. An animalistic move if anything but it made you even more wet.

“We’re not fucking leaving until I get you pregnant. I need you nice and round, filled with my cum, do you understand?“

His words were gritted, as if he was holding himself back, restrained by an invisible force.

You nodded, desperate for him.

“Please, let me make you a daddy.”

With a low rumbling growl he throws your legs over his shoulders and ruts into you so hard, the entire bed starts shaking. He bullies his big cock in you as you squirm, trying to initially get away as if you’ve never been fucked by him before. Rhys doesn’t slow down because he knows you can take it, he knows that you’re his equal, made for him as he is for you. And when you beg him to go harder he only smiles wickedly, satisfied that he knows you inside and out.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

You don’t remember know how many times he has finished in you.

You're crying uncontrollably and struggling to breathe. Rhysand gives you a gentle smile and plants a kiss on your swollen lips. His cock throbs at that fucked out expression in your eyes, and he has to look away to avoid blowing his load too soon. His mouth tucks itself into the curve of your neck. Your skin slapping continues as those quick thrusts fill the room.

If he didn’t have his hands around your legs to keep them up, they’d have fallen down ages ago. Your whole body feels loose and sloppy, a stupid, fucked out smile on your face as your teary eyes roll back in pleasure.

“Shhh, baby it’s okay. Let me fill you up again. I promise it will feel so, so good.”

You nod absentmindedly as you both come for the umpteenth time.

He was paying close attention to how your hole tightened around him, his sloppy thrusts making the white ring around the base of his dick drip with even more cum.

“You’re so fucking good to me, baby. Gonna look so pretty with your belly all round with my babies.”

His head was thrown back, eyebrows scrunched and jaw slightly dropped as he slowly thrusted in and out, milking the high before he pulled out and slumped forward, making you whine at the feeling. His sweaty body rested on top of yours, and his head lay on your rising and falling chest. His hair was damp, and with a shaking hand, you ran your fingers through it.

“I’ll clean you up in a second, darling.” Just as he was getting up you wrapped your legs around his waist. He scooped you up, arm around your ass as he brought you to the shower to clean you up. Rhys didn't put you down, knowing you might fall, so he washed you while you clung to him.

After the much needed shower, he wrapped you both in a huge fluffy towel and magically changed the sheets as he brushed you hair and put you in one of his shirts.

“Rhysie?”

“Yes, love?”

“That shower was a mighty waste. I think I need you to fuck me one more time, please?”

His eyebrows rose at your words. Never did he think you’d say anything like that. His initial shock was replaced by a proud laugh.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”

And he did.

He gave you two more orgasms, and just as he was ready to pull out after dumping his load, you wrapped your legs around him and begged him not to pull out.

Rhys gave you a soft kiss and pulled you closer as you finally slept, exhaustion pulling you into a deep slumber.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

There wasn't much surprise when he successfully put not just one but two babies in you, twins.

Rhysand's male pride was on overdrive. Twins were really rare, and the fact that he managed to knock you up with them in less than a month was almost cause for a celebration. Well, he would throw a party if he didn't grow so damn protective.

If you thought Rhysand was protective when trying for a child, then this Rhysand was on another level. He actually gritted his teeth at Madja after she put her cold fingers on your body, making you hiss.

Let’s not even discuss when your belly started showing…

The moment he learned of your pregnancy, Rhys acted swiftly, weaving layers of intricate shields around you. It wasn't merely about your safety; it was a manifestation of his deep obsession. The shields were a fortress protecting not only you but also the sweet new scent you emitted, a fragrance that had sparked an intense possessiveness within him.

Rhys had become utterly obsessed with that unique scent, ready to unleash his fury upon anyone who dared to get too close and catch even the faintest whiff of something that was sacredly reserved for him alone.

During the announcement for your friends, the presence of Rhysand by your side, standing assertively close, made them wary of getting close to you. As you both stood together, your radiant happiness contrasted against his dark, protective demeanor.

You were a bit bummed, wondering why no one wanted to hug you or atleast shake your hand, then you took one glance at him and let out a sigh as you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, please. They’re not going to eat me alive, baby. It’s fine I promise.”

You embraced Mor and Cassian warmly, reciprocating their hugs, though they avoided prolonged eye contact with Rhys. Azriel's shoulder clap and rare smile conveyed a similar sentiment to a hug, and Amren, nodding, raised her glass in approval, a subtle twitch of her lips indicating her satisfaction.

You skipped back to Rhysand and gave him a kiss, calming him down as he gave you an appreciative smile.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

Pregnancy had made you both extra needy. Rhys got hard everytime he thought about the fact that you were actually carrying his babies, and you got turned on because he was walking sex.

He built a new nursery from scratch, adding an entire new wing to the river estate. Initially, you doubted it would be finished in nine months, but you quickly learned not to doubt him – he always kept his word. Lo and behold, a whole new section of the house emerged, ready for the babies and any future additions to your growing family in only 3 months. His dedication spoke volumes about his commitment to you and the little ones on the way.

He channeled his inner builder during this project, and it never failed to amaze you how desperate he made you feel. Walking around the house wearing nothing but a work belt, sweaty from new constructions, he was a vision of strength and capability. Often, you stood from afar, watching him skillfully build things, savoring the sight before the need to get fucked took over.

Your lips were bitten in silent admiration as he stood there in nothing but linen pants, hanging dangerously low on his hips while building the crib. He looked absolutely delicious , and the appreciation for his craftsmanship would be handsomely rewarded by you.

“Are you going to stare at me all day, beautiful? Come inside, I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he stood up, sauntering toward you with a grin. His hand extended playfully, a silent invitation to join him.

Deciding to tease him back, because let's be real, you need him bad right now, you chuckle and let the playful banter unfold.

“And what if I do want you to bite? What if I ask you to get us back to our room and fuck me? Would you do it?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, attempting to portray someone innocently asking a casual question.

“Have I ever said no to you in my life, darling?” he teased, his smile darkening, before winking and leading the way back to your room.

Rhys had vanished your clothes, leaving you bare as he worshipped you. His teasing words and soft caresses brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“You're going to be the best mother ever, such a good mommy for my babes. Nurturing and caring for them. No one is better than you, my love. No one loves as purely as you, fuck,” he whispered urgently, his neediness and desire lacing every word.

His whiny, rasping words were the finishing touch you needed before coming all over his creamy cock with a cry.

Yet again, he took care of you, cleaning you up as he always did. Your mate, ever the loving and caring male, ensuring your well-being with a tenderness that spoke volumes about his deep affection for you.

꩜ ꩜ ꩜

The arrival of your twins turned into a joyous celebration, filling Velaris with happiness over the birth of the new princess and prince. Your friends, throughout your journey, provided unwavering support, guiding you through the hardships and challenges of being new parents.

Now, a new chapter of your life had opened, one you couldn't wait to share with your one true love, marking the beautiful beginning of your happily ever after.

🏷️ taglist: @callmeblaire @acourtofladydeath

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hotjaneaustenmenpoll · 29 days

Text

WHO IS THE HOTTEST JANE AUSTEN MAN ? THE FINAL

Propaganda...

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

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I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

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Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

LOOK

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HOW

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YEARNS

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The yearning the yearning - JLM gives a great look but Captain Wentworth is the king of longing stares. He's trying sooo hard to hate her sooo hard to get over her - 8 years and he thinks he's ready to face her and move on but no he has to notice she's exhausted on the walk, that her nephew is being overwhelming, that she should be dancing and not just playing the piano for everyone else. And even though he's jealous later on when Mr Elliott gives her an "admiring look" in lime he's pleased for her because he knows she deserves to be admired and cherished even if he's angry that he wasn't able to be the one she let admire and cherish her. I just this man - he loves Anne so much and it's so so hot.

Propaganda for Captain Wentworth.

I've always loved Persuasion and so I was voting for him in his polls anyway, but I had never seen the 1995 adaptation. So because of this blog I decided to check it out.

Well. Now I'm obsessed. I came into this tournament fully expecting to vote Firth Darcy to victory. Ciaran Hinds suddenly showed up and sparta kicked him to curb. His every look, every gesture is laden with longing. He's so tender with Anne but then the barely restrained rage in his voice when he speaks to Lady Russell. He's rugged and manly yet tender and considerate.

I BURN, I PINE, I PERISH

If you're wondering why you should vote for Wentworth 95 in the @hotjaneaustenmenpoll, it's because he's got something hot for everyone.

Do you think it's hot when a man dresses up fancy? He looks very dapper in his uniform! Or do you find it more sexy when a man is more casual, a little mussed up, maybe even a little grimy? He does that perfectly too!

Do you find men hot when they're being tender and restrained? Or do you find men hot when they're losing control a bit, maybe getting a bit passionate with anger or jealousy?

Do you like a refined man of culture? Or a rugged outdoorsman?

A warm smile? Or something more broody?

Someone who's the life of the party, boisterous, laughing, charming? Or the strong silent type, serious, calm, mysterious?

Hinds's Wentworth does all of these sexy things brilliantly! You cannot lose with him, he's got it all!

II ranked Wentworth as the #1 Austen man in terms of fuckability, and I stand behind that when it comes to Wentworth 95 versus Knightley 09.

Is Wentworth 95 angry sometimes? Yeah. But that's hot, at least coming from Ciaran Hinds' ruggedly handsome face. Have you heard of makeup sex? Tell me Wentworth 95 and Anne don't have the most scorching hot angry makeup sex imaginable 🥵

And yet Wentworth 95 is also super tender! The slow, gentle, worshipful way he kisses Anne at the end?? So beautiful and hot. The longing way he looks at Anne in silence. The way he is so solicitous of Anne's comfort to put her on the carriage with his sister! You can just tell he's gonna take the time to worship his wife in bed.

And let's not forget that he writes the most romantic letter ever written! The depth of passion in this man, my god! 🔥💕🔥

This is not a who is the better man contest, or who is the more faithful to the book, or who would you most want to marry. This is a hotness contest, and Wentworth 95 is so fucking hot.

Mr Darcy (1995):

Colin Firth (1995) is book Darcy brought to life. He uses tiny gestures and looks to communicate with us and Elizabeth… his struggle is so subtle but so palpable. A beautiful asshole with a creamy nougat center. Just perfect.

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Those heart-eyes right up above☝️? Hot!

Passive-agressively drinking tea? Hot!

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The way he rushes over to see Elizabeth at Pemberley on those delicious long legs of his with that slutty wet curl hanging over his forehead? Hot!

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Fencing? Hot!

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The way he is so concerned about Elizabeth crying and takes her hand even though he shouldn't? Hot!

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This dimple-y smile of pure joy because he knows he's married to Elizabeth freaking Bennet? Hot!

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Colin Firth Darcy is simultaneously immaculately put together and entirely falling apart internally. The wet shirt scene is so iconic not (only) because ‘oooh almost-shirtless sexy man’, but because it’s a metaphor for how he’s absolutely falling apart!!! This is a private moment, when he doesn’t think anyone can see him. And then he bumps. into. Lizzie. At his house!! And the entire sequence that follows with him rushing out still doing his jacket up to catch her before he leaves. They are both on the back foot and it’s THAT moment of confusion that opens a more honest dialogue between them.

Without Firth in a lake you wouldn’t get Macfadyen in a downpour!

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There's a reason why Colin Firth is forever known as Mr. Darcy above all other roles he's had and will have! Even ignoring the wet white shirt, which has become A Thing now, he is so hot with his curly hair and his little half smiles and his intense looks of longing and his legs that go on for milessss.

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This cannot be real. My fellow Jane Austen people. Without Colin Firth’s Darcy we wouldn’t have 90% of modern JA content. He opened a door and there was no turning back for modern culture. There would be no MacFadyen standing half undressed in a field at dawn without Firth jumping into a lake first. There would be no hand flex if there hadn’t been Firth doing his best impression of a man undressing Elizabeth Bennet with his eyes and hating himself for liking it. There would be no Bridgerton without Bridget Jones. Let’s face it people. We wouldn’t be here having these arguments if Colin Firth had not been Mr Darcy.

Colin Firth understood Mr. Darcy in a way no other actor ever has. He is awkward as fuck in a way that comes across as snooty and judgmental on a first watch-through, then can be read as awkward and longing on a second time. His performance had such depth while looking extremely shallow at first glance. This man WAS Mr. Darcy. (I love 2005, as well, and I love Matthew McFayden, but he was awkward for awkward sake.) Colin Firth made Darcy's awkward look snooty and aloof.

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THE socially awkward Darcy is the 1995 Darcy - look at him coming and sitting in awkward silence with Elizabeth pointedly asking her if she wants to live a long way from her family (to obvious relief) and then abruptly leaving - vote for him please 😭😭😭😭

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Colin Firth served so much as Darcy that when they did Bridget Jone's diary, they brought him back.... AS DARCY. The smoulder. The angst. The man is the quintessential Darcy.

“Firthing” is an actual term that is used now to describe someone yearning intensely. It is named after Colin Firth’s Mr Darcy performance.

Colin Firth all the way. He's known in our household as Owl Eyes because in every frame he's mooning over Elizabeth Bennet. Unsurpassable, unmatched, golden television (and some of the worst dancing you've ever seen).

Colin has beautiful, touchable curls.

Link

My high school English teacher was very into using movies to teach alongside literature, which was a great teaching tool. When we read Pride and Prejudice, he used both 2005 and 1995 for various scenes. What stands out to me all these years later was when it got to the part when Lizzy went to help Georgiana after Caroline dropped Mr. Wickham's name and Darcy gives Lizzy this look:

My teacher stopped the film and pointed at Darcy's face and said, "See that? That is THE look. If someone ever looks at you like that, you know they're in love." And what is hotter than that?

Also this teacher had two cats named Lizzy and Darcy. Not relevant to the poll but I wanted you all to know about them.

Colin Firth dazzles and amazes in the nuanced performance that just blows all other attempts away.

The best thing about the Colin Firth wet shirt scene is actually the scene that follows where him and Lizzie are both just dyinggg of embarrassment but Darcy pulls himself together refuses to lose his advantage and runs to get dressed and chase her down before she leaves - just the mix of cringe and hopefulness at seeing her again is so well done and so attractive!!! (this is just the bit where he's running after her but I love it all!)

#hotjaneaustenmenpoll #the final #take two (SORRY)#captain wentworth #mr darcy #persuasion 1995 #pride and prejudice 1995 #ciaran hinds #colin firth #persuasion #pride and prejudice #jane austen #frederick wentworth #fitzwilliam darcy #Youtube

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penvisions · 19 days

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 6}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Chapter Summary: With the splinter of wood and a muttered insult, you're done. You're done with the town; you're done with the hot and cold from Joel. You're tired and you don't have anymore fight left.

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, illusions to past death, illusions to past trauma, heavy angst, blood, mild injuries, description of stitches, reader had a mild injury, the holidays are hard, a lot on internal monologue in this (both joel pov and reader), hurtful language, town gossip, rumors, negative feelings, pining, heart of gold joel, though he is a bit daft in this, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, lots of feelings, hurt and comfort, casual intimacy, urges to kiss joel miller get their own warning, adult content, kissing, yearning, protective joel, fluff, this is so unbelievably angsty, reader loses her cool, argumentative language, heated arguments, threatening language, fighting, wwe smackdown, reader is described as smaller than joel (bc c'mon), reader has a commonly used nickname but no assigned name, joel and reader pov

A/N: okay, this is the penultimate chapter! this series grew into something way beyond a cheeky handful of scenes that were just a random thought six months ago. it's been a joy to write for these two, i've put so much of myself in olive and for y'all to root for her and love her really warms my heart. the interaction with this has been insane and i love all of it, i love y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Sleep was such a pull on your psyche as the wind outside howled, battering anything that wasn’t secure and echoing loudly through the empty streets of Jackson. The habit of waking up throughout the night to peer outside your bedroom window and toward the small slip of the front street over your backyard fence periodically had been amplified in the storm. Unease settled in you, the storm bringing back memories you would father let fade into nothing. Inclement weather had been a challenge back when the world was whole, when safety measures were in place, when medical aid was abundant, when homes and buildings were constructed with them in mind. But even back then, they had been devastating.

And now?

They were as deadly as the virus.

Incessant snowfall all through the night, the light sprinkle of it last night turning into slanted sheets of downpour. It was blindingly bright on the other side of the windowpanes.

Despite the lockdown put in place by the council, you had told Maria depending on the streets that you would still make it to the mess hall. The intention of baking some breakfast casseroles hard to shake, of wanting to provide for those who may not have stock in their homes, or who relied on the mess hall as a main source of food. Layering as much as you could to combat the below freezing temperature, you pulled on your boots by the front door. Grabbing a knit cap and a scarf, you opened your front door and trudged through the snow drifts that had formed overnight.

Joel is panicking before he’s even fully conscious. His heart feels like it’s stopped but knows that it’s beating far too fast. His entire body feels weak and achy, his head pounding and overflowing with too many things. He felt nauseous, the drag of his lungs and the slushing of his stomach too much for him to handle. He groaned, pressing his face further into the pillow, the scent of his body wash wafting up and making it even worse.

He fucked up. He knows he did.

You had raised your voice at him, refused his help, his touch. Even as you laid collapsed on the ground because he had accidently knocked you down. You had been so worked up, so angry, but he had seen the way you clutched to your middle as you fled from him for a second time. He cursed low, the words a growl as he kicked the blankets from his sweating body despite the chills crawling down his spine.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He knew that woman was bound to be nothing but trouble. She was always a little too chatty for him, too willing to burst his bubble of personal space. But she had wiggled her way into his life and coerced him into a huge project that had taken so much of his free time leading up to the holidays.

He was a giving man, having been influenced by the acceptance he had been given here in the settlement, wanted to do what he could to help establish himself here. Not wanting to go back to the eat or be eaten mantra of the outside world or a collapsing quarantine zone. He had wanted to be everything he could manage for Ellie, to keep her safe here in a place that would allow for her to heal from the things they endured together. To survive in a way she hadn’t had the chance to, to have a life that wasn’t all bad. He had done his best to integrate, to be someone she could look up to and feel safe around. All of it had been for her, to have holidays, to have friends, to have a chance at finding out who she was without the undercurrent of survival being the only inspiration. And maybe ha had wanted it for himself too.

He had wanted to invite you over, try his hand at making you something for a change. If you had teased him over it, so be it, he would’ve taken it without argument. Just to see your lips quirk up and your soft laughter ring in the air of his kitchen. He would give anything for it to be his to witness.

The faux image of the domestic scene melted away, replaced by the one of you on the ground at his feet, with fear in your eyes. He hadn’t thought you were afraid of him, so open and willing to be in his space.

To tease him and lightly berate him when his answers were less than appropriate or too gruff.

Joel had never shown violence or distaste toward you, but yeah maybe he had been quieter or moodier on some patrols. But he wouldn’t get the chance to speak with you today. Patrols cancelled until the blizzard raging outside calmed down. A safety precaution that had been made lightly by the council. The risk of a group or pair getting stuck, of horses unable to handle it, of snow drifts forming and virtually undetectable, all of it had been taken into consideration. He wasn’t sure you were even cleared for patrol with your stitches. No pain killers you had said, reserved for extreme cases with how the supply was dwindled down to too little for a town of a few hundred.

Groaning as his head hammered, Joel shoved up from the bed, the blue sheets showing damp spots from his sweating and aching body. Scowling, he stripped the bed and made his way downstairs with them bundled in his arms. He felt a weird sense of déjà vu as he stuffed them into the top loading washer, reaching for the jar of powdered soap and pouring in a scoop. It was all so fucking normal. But his whole world felt like it was tilted, off kilter. Even more so than normal.

And it was because he knew he fucked up. He had hurt you, he had seen in it your eyes as you took in the way Marsha was clinging to him in her drunken state. The way she had deemed herself important enough to impinge on his time with you, so rare within the walls. Both of you so busy and both of you so afraid to ask after each other’s time. He knew he was, because he didn’t want to intrude on the way you kept to yourself, how you let your errands build up to take a whole day sometimes. And he knew some of that was because of the way people wouldn’t hold conversations with you, let alone start them. Opting to keep to yourself as a coping mechanism. Not wanting to feel like you were imposing yourself on the people who didn’t want to interact with you. He knew, because he had felt much the same way back in the quarantine zones, even if it was more born out of fear than distaste like it was for you.

He knew when you stumbled over your words to ask after him crafting something for you that you had worried yourself into a state before you even did it. Worried about taking up his time, taking up his resources, even if you had supplied him with the wood for the project. He had felt like a complete ass when you shut down and walked away, having felt comfortable enough to ask for something more when he had agreed to the first.

But Marsha. Marsha and her ill-placed infatuation with him had ruined the moment last night. You had told him you liked him, liked him. The heat he felt from you as he leaned in close and wanted to tell you he felt the same way. Shared and stolen kisses could only infer so much. And he groaned at the memory of pulling your hand over his erection the other morning. He was a damn fool to have done that, you had been pulling your hand away, but you had been touching him in his sleep. When he wasn’t able to tell you no, when something inevitably broke the moment, when something startled you or you thought too hard about it. You had just done it and the dilation of your eyes watching him, the hitch of your breaths, it had all been too tempting. He wouldn’t have told you no and he would’ve ignored the world ending all over again if it meant he could be with you in that way, even just once.

The older woman broken another tentative moment between you two. With the courage of alcohol flowing in her veins. It had made her bold in her words to him, her sentiments, her actions. Hell, the only reason he hadn’t heard your steps on the street was that he had been in shock. She had surged up and pressed her lips to his after he had denied her offer of a nightcap. He had just been trying to walk her home and make sure she was safe, even if he wasn’t overly fond of her, her friends had all been too unaware of themselves to help her.

Anger had overridden the shock; how dare she think she could do that. His heart wasn’t his to give, it was yours. And he had been about to tell you so.

The weak arguments of the woman defending herself and the gift she had gotten him even if she hadn’t gotten his name in the exchange for today had blurred his senses even more. His mind focused on the holiday, on taking you the gift he had made along with his heart. Hoping that today would be the day things were out in the open, plainly spoken and accepted. He only worried about how well you would receive him after being caught with Marsha last night.

Today.

Today was Christmas and the town was in a semi-state of lockdown with the strong winds and flurries of show raining down to collect along the streets. The bite to the air the worst of the season so far. Turning the washer on, he moved toward the coffee maker. Only to discover that he was out of grounds to brew.

With a string of muttered curses, Joel bundled up and braved the weather to cross the street.

He needed coffee and the gift he had left with Maria yesterday.

Tommy was pacing back and forth, waiting for the second pot of coffee to finish brewing. It had been an early morning, Maria rising hours ago and taking off with another neighbor to trek toward the mess hall where you had diligently showed up for your shift. Everyone had been advised late last night to remain indoors unless absolutely necessary.

A knocking barely echoed through the still howling wind. Thankfully, the snow had stopped, though it was built up deep all around the settlement.

A few moments later and both men were seated in the living room, the tea light candles flickering underneath two names etched in chalk above the mantle.

“She won’t be home much today.” Tommy supplied, reading the anxious silence Joel was stewing in beside him. “She trekked through one of the worst bouts of this weather to get to the mess hall. Wanted to make sure everyone had something to eat in case the power stutters or goes out. Her, Maria, and a couple others are gonna deliver meals door to door.”

“She’s too good for how people treat her.”

“From what I hear, you haven’t been treatin’ her too good either, brother.” Tommy took a long pull from his mug before he set it down on the coffee table. “She was over here after that overnight patrol, helpin’ with Macon. Was so tired she was rambling about how much she appreciates everything you do ‘round here, how talented you are, how nice you are to her. But then if you’re so nice, why doesn’t she have one of the cutting boards that was her idea.”

“It ain’t that simple. I can be nice to her and not have one of ‘em for her.” Joel couldn’t turn to look at his brother, knowing how easily he would read him. Read the anxiety and worry he felt over the entire situation. All the miscommunication. All the mixed signals he had been giving you without realizing it. He thought you had opted to not talk about the kiss because you were uncomfortable, because you were worried he hadn’t liked it or wanted it. Because he hadn’t exactly told you that he did, that he dreamt of kissing you, of holding you, of protecting and providing for you. Spending quiet evenings in with homemade meals, nights out at the bar, helping you with the harvest again next fall. All of it, he thought about all of it with you.

“Why don't you just make her one, I don’t get it."

"Drop it, Tommy, she's not getting one."

"I thought you liked her, I thought...I thought I saw you two kissing the other night. Sure as hell looked like she had been caught red-handed."

"We…we were. We have, a few times., but she thinks I’m with Marsha because that…insane woman has taken such a liking to me. Saw me walking her home from the bar the last night because she downed far too many shots and Millie was nowhere to be seen.”

“She knows you, trusts you not to do that to her if you’ve shown interest. Just give her a cutting board and I’m sure it’ll all blow over. That's all she wants Joel, to feel included. Like she's a part of something.” Tommy was wringing his hands in, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought over his next words. “A lot of people have them and she doesn't. It's basically an insult thrown in her face."

“Fuck, I didn't think of it like that."

The sip of coffee Joel took turned bitter in his mouth. He really hadn’t thought of it like that. He had just been trying to hone his skills with the new craft before gifting you the best one he could make. He set down the mug, stomach turning as the acid settled heavy. Rubbing his palms roughly over his face, rustling the thick hairs of his moustache.

"She's going to ask to be taken off patrol, Joel. She did ask before you showed up, stop it altogether and just focus on the mess hall. She feels like it would be easier to avoid the looks and gossip. We know about it, the council, but there’s not much we can do about it.” Tommy was obviously upset, his voice thick as he divulged something you had gone to him in a moment of weakness. He recalled the way you had been in tears, hurt beyond words by the acceptance that Joel and Ellie had been given as newcomers when you had been here for years and how upset you were at yourself for being jealous of it.

“But she kept at it as a favor for me, to help me keep you alive. To help me feel okay with not being by your side out beyond the walls when I couldn’t be. Because I worry, I worry so damn much about you brother and I just want you to be okay. She saw that, she saw that and took it onto her own shoulders because she cares about me.”

Joel sighed, his brothers words blossoming warmth in his chest.

“I am going to make her one, Tommy. From that piece of trunk I had you help me get from her yard. But it’s drying, the slabs I got from it. Already lost one and the other two need to dry.” He huffed out, chest tight as he thought of how long it would take. “She said the wood she brought me for those spoons took months to dry.”

“They’re beautiful, the whole set. I’m sure she’ll love them.” Tommy nodded to the box that contained them on in the kitchen. Of course he had looked them over, finding them when he had woken up and curious as to how they ended up in his own if your name was scribbled on the top of the box.

“But she came to me and asked for them, Tommy. It’s not gonna be the same if what you’re sayin’ is true. It’ll feel like a consolation when it’s not. It’s just the beginning of what I’m willin’ to give to her.”

“Then you should tell her that. She deserves to hear it.”

You ignored the knocking at your door, sleep keeping you weighted to the couch in your living room.

But the crack of wood and the clash of metal following a loud gust of wind had you surging up to your feet.

“Shit-“ A grunted curse was the only greeting you got before the door swung open to reveal the large shadow of Joel just outside of it.

“Joel? Why the hell would you break down my door?”

“It was an accident, I was just knocking and the wind got me-“

“Forced your way into my home? I thought I told you to leave me alone.” You hugged yourself, arms tight as you tried to shield away from the chill creeping into the living room.

“I-I-I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry. Please, I wouldn’t-“ He stumbled over his words, turning his back to you in order to try and set the door back into the frame. The wood was splintered around the lock, preventing it from shutting completely. He leaned down to get a closer look at the damage. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna have to probably make you a whole new door.”

“Just go, Joel. Please.” You clenched your eyes shut and walked away from the honeyed drawl, ignoring the pull it had on you to move closer. The kettle in the kitchen was just beginning to whistle and you removed it from the stove. But instead of gathering up a mug and the loose leaf tea from a cabinet, you flattened your palms on the table and hung your head.

You flinched when a wrapped box slid between your arms, pushed by a tan, weathered hand.

“’s for you.” His voice was so tender, his eyes wide and beseeching when you glanced up.

“No, thank you.” You pushed it back toward him, standing on the other side of the table.

“Olive, please. You said your name always gets thrown out of the exchange. I wanted to and it’s what you asked me for.”

He lifted the top of the box, setting the lid down beside it, the ribbon atop it looking far too cheerful for you. Set inside, amid a soft looking swath of cloth, was a set of wooden utensils tied together with a thick string. He held them out to you, a slight tremble in his hands. They were beautiful, the wood crafted expertly and you shook your head to rid yourself of the image of Joel sat in his desk chair face focused as he took the time to carve them from the block of wood you had taken to him.

“I pushed a lot of stuff back to make sure they were just right. Was so careful with the wood you brought to me, it was dense but I managed to sand it down without altering the look of it too much. I didn’t stain it, to keep the natural color, the grain is really beautiful-“

When you didn’t say anything, eyes focused on his chest, he trailed off. He set the gift back down on the table and took a step back, his mouth snapping shut. His gaze heavy on you as you tried to focus and keep your temper under control. But you were at the end of your patience. This time of the year already hard on you. Paired with the hot and cold from Joel, the judgment from the town, the lack of inclusion on anything going on and you were just tired. Deep down in your bones, exhausted.

“Joel…” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re a good man. But I really don’t want to do this with you right now. I need some space because whatever I do, I can’t get you out of my head and it’s ruining me.” Your voice had started off at a normal volume, quickly growing as the words rushed from you. Anger flaring overwhelmingly, leaving you panting, chest heaving and hands clenched at your sides. The set of tied spoons resting on the table between you both, like a line not to be crossed. Like a mockery of the things he was offering you a little too late. Surging, you reached for them and hurled them in a display of anger you had thought you had managed to control. “Take your things and go, Joel Miller!”

They clattered to the floor across the kitchen, skidding along the tile to slam into the baseboards. The wood splintering and covering the floor behind him. But he hadn’t ducked, hadn’t brought his hands up to shield himself. Knowing, knowing that you wouldn’t have aimed them at him even as anger and hurt lit you from the inside out. He saw the remorse flash across your face the second they had left your hand.

Knowing that it was all an act of self-preservation. A way to save face, to save the fact that you had been hurt by his actions, his indiscretions. The memory of turning down the street, his hand wrapped innocently around Marsha, guiding her toward their shared street in her drunken state. And when he had declined the offer for a nightcap, she had pushed into his personal space to crush her lips to his. Of running smack into you when he had tried to put distance between them, his back colliding with your front and crushing the wrapped gift in your hand. The sound of it thudding to the ground and your surprised shout warbling off into a deep breath of realization.

But the woman before him now was the same one who had taken the time to wrap the gift labeled with his name on it. Had taken the time to hand write recipes on a long-forgotten pack of index cards. Step by step instructions for things easy to combine and make nutritious means from. Had taken the time to include little, silly names for the meals that had pulled a tearful chuckle from him as he read them through in his inebriated state.

“I just want to be left alone. I just want, for one measly second that someone doesn’t watch me and wait for me to screw up, to give them a reason to feel disappointed. I-I can take it from the others, but Joel…I can’t handle it if it’s from y-you. Please just go.”

He didn’t go. He moved closer, into your personal space and he was thankful for the way you didn’t shy away from him even as tears raced down your cheeks. For the way you allowed him to cup your face in his hands and press his lips to yours, thumbs brushing away the tears. For the way your own moved against his as he tilted his head and really kissed you. There was no heat behind it like that last time, just adoration and reverence.

Pulling back, he whispered, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

He kisses the fear from you, pleading with you to understand that he's not going to turn his back on you.

He only hopes you can feel it. But your hands don’t rise to caress or cup his face, they don’t rise to rest on his chest, they don’t rise to run through his snow dampened hair. Your lips are barely moving against his and his heart sinks. It chips and shatters on the floor to settle with the pieces of broken olive wood.

But it wasn’t enough. It hurt that his attention wasn’t enough when you thought it would be. It was about his actions. How they had made you feel the last couple of months, since summer. The back and forth, the constant miscommunication, the humiliation of wanting a man who had so much more in his life, who was pulled in so many directions. The respect he had from the people within the settlement for the things he could do, for the things he provided to them. The issue of your reception, the possibility of it affecting his own if he were to be seen with you or you seeking out more of him. All of it was too much, the constant internal turmoil, it was heavy.

It was so heavy and you had to put it down.

“Joel,” Gently pushing him back, but not away, his body willingly moving with the motion. “Why didn’t you make me one, a cutting board?”

He froze.

When he sputtered on a few words before falling silent, you detangled from him. Crossing your arms as shield to your heart.

“This is why I keep to myself. It doesn't hurt when there's no one else involved.” Your voice was a low rasp, giving away the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill, the hot throb of them in your throat. “And even if you did try to be my friend, it's okay that you really don't want to be. You share things with people, you're a giver Joel, but I've had to ask for everything you've given to me.”

He could only watch as you closed yourself off, and you hoped he noticed the dark circles under your eyes. That he noticed just how much his attention had ruined you, because it had. You had been okay with how things were before he came along, content to keep to yourself, to spend patrols with Tommy and Maria. You hadn’t longed for companionship before he showed up and rode alongside you and asked simple questions about the town that developed into questions about yourself. Offering answers of his own in return. You hadn’t wanted before him.

“And that's not who i am, someone who asks for things she deserves. So…you standing there with no answer is you telling me that I don't mean anything to you. You don’t get to make me feel like I mean something and then not follow it with actions. I didn't take you for a cruel man. You say you’ve done things to stay alive, to fight for yourself and those in your care. And I wanted to believe that you changed, that you turned over a new leaf here. But you hurt me, Joel. You hurt me in a way that really…was so unfair.”

Once you let the words flow from within you it was hard to stop, they were a flood being released. Voice not stuttering or scrambling over them like you know you tended to do. Mostly from lack of interaction, of not using your voice most days as you spent it alone in the kitchen, home, or garden. The stuttering an anxious thing born of fear of interacting and it turning sour like it quickly tended to do. Words and sentiments always more ammo for those to use against you. And you could see it, in the man across from you, that he had things to say in response to the many words you were giving him. But you couldn’t, you were tired.

“I deserved better than the treatment I received by the people of this community, of this safe haven for those willing to contribute and who wanted something better for themselves. But the truth is…I’m better off alone.”

His voice cracked on the shape of your name on his lips.

But you shook your head, tears flowing freely and breathing labored.

“Just go, please.”

“Well hey there.” A figure approached you, where you were seated on the same stool at the long bar in the Tipsy Bison for the second night in a row. It was the man of the brother and sister duo you had convinced Joel to trust and bring back to the settlement. They had settled in well, Millie taking to the pregnant woman with a swiftness that had surprised you. But they were both close in age, something rare these days, to find friends you could relate to easily.

“Oh, h-hello.” You looked up from the book you had been reading, hearty sandwich on a plate beside your drink. Only a few bites taken out of it. The book holding your attention far more than the simpering hunger in your stomach. You hadn’t eaten all day, stewing in forlorn silence on the couch until your stomach rumbled. Only to find you didn’t have anything that would make a meal in your home, prompting you to brave the calmer but still whipping winds and intermittent snow fall.

“I just saw you from across the room, Tommy Miller said we could grab a bite here since the mess hall was closed for the day with the bad weather from this morning.” Nolan, you recalled his name. Nolan was nice, polite. You didn’t fault him for pointing a gun at you or Callie for managing to injure you. It was a sick, twisted world out in the wasteland of what was, especially if there was an unborn baby to worry about. They had just been doing what they needed to survive another day. “Guess no one wanted to risk working and getting stuck. I’m grabbing something to go I just wanted to thank you again, for helping us.”

“It’s no big deal. Everyone deserves a chance at something more.” You tried to smile, but you felt drained. From the early morning of cooking and delivering meals to front doors for people. Maria had enlisted the help of a handful of people, but it had been time-consuming to prep and make everything yourself. To bundle it all up into packs that would be appropriate servings.

“Would you mind if I joined you?” He moved to sit beside you, startling you at his forwardness. There was a wry glint to his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting off a smile. “While I waited, that is.”

“Oh, t-that’s probably not a good idea. I’m not the most popular here, you’d have better luck integrating with-“

“Whore.” A female voice whispered as someone walked by behind you.

“Excuse me?” You whipped around, shocked at such a blatant display of behavior. You were used to whispers, to errant rumors springing up once you had left a store or a gathering, asked an impertinent question during patrol and general meetings. But this? A direct confrontation was a new level and you were far too tired to handle it. Especially with the day being what it was.

“You heard me, praying on the newcomers to try and sway them on your side.” It was Millie. She was sans coat, having removed it to enjoy her evening in the toasty bar with her gaggle of friends you could see gathered in a booth on the other side of the room. She must’ve come up to the bar for a refill when she decided to imitate her mother and impinge on your rare interactions with people. “I’d be careful if I was you, she tends to get people killed. Don’t want to find yourself the latest victim.”

“The council said that they’re selective of who they let in. Surely they-“ Nolan was trying to be polite, to not overstep his place being so new in such a large community. But you could see the anger in the furrowing of his brow, the frown pulling his lips down, the way his hands were twitching. It was sweet of him to feel the need to try and protect you but this is exactly what you had been worried about. That the two most instigating occupants would try and ostracize him and his sister for associating with you.

“They do, but in her case they should’ve left her out in the woods and let the Infected get her. Be better for everyone if they had.”

You had moved without even thinking. The force of your hand hitting the woman’s cheek loud across the room. The hush of conversation lulling, a tense silence following.

Scrambling to correct the huge mistake you just made, to save face, your words were a breath of stuttered apologies. Your stomach had dropped, no longer a part of your body as your mind moved through the outcomes and ramifications of your thoughtless actions. You had never been one to needlessly lay hands on someone. But…the time you had spent fighting to survive had changed you, altered you beyond what you had been. Your instincts honed and deadly, and you silently thanked whatever force of the universe that was still alive that you had left your knife at home. Otherwise, it would be hilt deep in her chest right now.

It was ugly and it was cruel, but someone could only take so much.

“Millie, oh-oh my god, I’m so sorry. I-“

You didn’t even get to finish your rushed words before she returned the slap, her hand connecting hard with your own cheek.

The sting of it hot, skin throbbing.

And it was like a damn broke. Filling the tunnel and making you desperate for a chance to crawl out.

But instead of breaking out of it into the town, you were transported outside the walls. Relying on your instincts, relying on fighting with everything you had to survive.

You were on her in a flash, not even a second had passed. Both of your knees knocking into the ground around her body. Your hands making contact with any part of her you could. Sounds of her struggling underneath you fly into the air with every punch, every pull of her hair, every push of your body against her. You didn’t care about her nails digging and tearing into your arms, her knees kicking up and colliding hard with your back, her elbows jutting into your ribs. The searing pain of your stitches popping loose.

You didn’t care. You didn’t care. You didn’t care.

Strong arms wrapped around you and pulled, while another held your legs down. Restraining you as you realized you were shouting out that same set of three words over and over again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, calm down.” Soft words, not harsh. And you shouted at them, forced the words from your aching throat, demanding that they let you go. That they leave you alone. Fighting against the people trying to hold you down. You felt your elbow connect with something hard, your knee with something soft and suddenly you were able to stagger to your feet.

Eyes not seeing details, just blurred faces and people standing all around you. Watching. Always just watching. Whispering things behind your back, not interacting with you, ignoring you. And you were done, you didn’t care. And you shouted it for everyone to hear as you took in the sight of Millie crumpled on the ground. Having turned on her side to try and make herself smaller. Bruises were already blooming along her pretty face, her loose hair a tangled mess. Her nails were chipped and broken from digging them into your skin, the faint sting of them long lines down your arms. Her clothes were rumpled, the exposed skin of her stomach showing signs of bruising as well.

You just stared, unable to draw your gaze away from the whimpering woman. She wasn’t even trying to get up, she wasn’t even trying to fight back anymore. She was just laying there, bellowing out her hurt and looking so pathetic. And it made you feel bad, because she was nothing, would be nothing without the settlement of Jackson. She and her family had been here since the outbreak, safe in their secluded location, safe in the quick thinking of others, safe because of sheer, dumb luck that allowed her to continue being who she had always been.

But even despite the glitter of remorse beginning to shine through, you needed her to understand that you were done. That she had crossed a line she shouldn’t have. That for all the things she said and all the hurt she caused, you were the reason she was allowed to strut around town and act that way. You were the reason she was safe behind these walls and had an abundance of food. You were the god damn reason.

“Don’t you ever lay another hand on me, you understand? I will put up with your words, with your gossip, with you stealing every chance for me to have something good. But you will regret ever thinking of putting your hands on me, you hear me? I will fucking end you and make all your rumors true if you do it again.”

Her shuddering breath was the only response you got from her, but it was enough. You turned your back on her, grabbing your coat from the back of the stool you had been occupying, and walked out into the still falling snow.

“JOEL!” The bellow of his name, loud and alarming, startling him from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. He had collapsed there after returning from your place. He had frozen, all the sentiments he had planned to share with you died on his tongue the second you shared with him how much he had hurt you. It seemed it’s all you had experienced since coming here long before he and Ellie did. He hadn’t wanted to argue with you or belittle the things you had said, so he hadn’t. No words or feelings he had would have righted the wrongs done to you.

He felt unworthy of you, having played a part in it. He felt like he failed you, tricked you into an easy camaraderie when he knew after that first smile it would never be enough for him. He should’ve been honest from the beginning, told you he wanted to be someone to you. But instead, he had botched it, he had fucked up.

“Holy shit, dude, you need to come quick!” Ellie hollered as she barged through the front door, the handle slamming into the wall of the entry way and he had the errant through to put a piece of wood there to prevent it from happening again before it tore through the drywall.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” He was hurtling up, hands reaching for the panting teenager as she came into the living room. Her eyes bright and shining, her hands trembling. She allowed him to pull her into his chest, his heart thudding, anxiety humming through him harsh and hot.

“It’s not me, it’s Olive.”

His heart stopped, his heart stopped because it was no longer in his chest. It was on the floor, bleeding and immobile between their feet.

“Is she…?” He didn’t even know how to finish his sentence. Gone? Hurt? Injured? Stood in front of Marsha or Millie just taking their words directly? The worst thought of all being shaken from his head because he couldn’t bear to give it life.

“She freakin’ lost it. She went ballistic on Millie at the bar. It took two people to pull her off and then she hurt them too. She was shouting all this stuff about how shit people treat her and then she took off.”

“Took off, Ellie, where?” He pushed her back to duck his head and caught her eyes. Worry spiking and making his mind run through all the possibilities. He needed to know where you went, even if you had sent him from your home with a hollow and broken heart.

“I-I don’t know, she just ran out the door and was gone by the time I tried to follow her.” Ellie reached up and held onto his wrists, her fingers wrapping around them and he realized for the thousandth time how small she was. How much things affected her, how her own trauma showed in ways they could both anticipate and in ways they could not. Seeing violence first hand since settling here seemed to have triggered her and he didn’t like it for either of you.

“It’s okay, baby girl. I got you, you’re okay.” He hushed, his words pressed into her forehead. She was trembling and he hated that he couldn’t do anything to help her. She clung to him, the winter already a harder time for her than the rest of the year. Awful memories associated with it that no matter how hard she tried to tamp them down, rose to the surface. He held her, offering his built up warmth to sooth her and when the sniffles stopped he lowered them both to the couch.

“Y-you should go find her, Millie tore her stitches open. They took that ungrateful dumbass to the infirmary. But Olive took off.”

“Okay, but we’re taking you to Tommy’s okay?”

Minutes later they were across the street and knocking on the front door.

“Tommy, listen, I know it’s late. Believe me I know but Ellie needs to take your guest room and I need to know where Olive would go if she’s upset?” Joel didn’t waste any time, speaking as soon as the door began to open. Tommy just looked at him for a second, eyes taking in the thinly veiled panic on his normally calm and collected brother.

“Joel, what in the hell, what’s going on, what are you talking about?” His eyes snapped into focus, lack of sleep vanishing as he realized something happened.

“Olive, she snapped. Something about Millie starting something with some insults that turned into the two of ‘em going off on each other at the bar. Word is she took off, but she’s not at home and she didn’t come to me. Tommy, where would she go?” Joel ambled into the house, his hands soft on his brother’s shoulders as he tried to get the man to focus.

“She, uh, she’s never done anything like this before. She, um, she could have…” Joel could see that his brother was trying to focus on the situation at hand brought to him in the middle of the night, trying to think on so little sleep and energy.

“Tommy!”

“Maybe the cemetery?”

“The council needs to hold thar girl responsible. She should have to go on Olive’s patrols until she’s healed. I mean it, Tommy. I want it done.” Joel gently guided Ellie to the couch, urging her to sit down so he could wrap the throw blanket on the back of it over her. He moved into the kitchen and started a kettle for a cup of tea. Something soothing for her to find sleep easier.

“Joel, I know you’re upset. But Millie’s never been beyond the gates. Her entire family has been here since the walls went up.”

“And that’s why she feels entitled to act the way she does. Slinging insults and making fun of Olive, holding things against the woman like it’s her fault that despite the walls there are still very real threats out there. Not every one of them is avoidable. She needs to learn somethin’ and she needs to do it quick.”

“I can talk to Maria about it, but yeah, you have my word she’ll be put on patrol. Are they okay though?”

“I can’t say much for Millie, but Ellie said Olive pulled her stitches ‘n I gotta go out and find her.” The kettle began to whistle, and Tommy took over on making tea for himself and his niece.

“Then go find her, make sure she’s alright.”

Joel tried to tamp down his anger as he knocked on the front door. It was a momentary stop on his way to where Tommy suggested. The weather had calmed down, but not enough to make it an easy trek. The winds were still howling, though they weren’t nearly as devastating as earlier, snow floating down in soft waves.

“Joel? Oh, it’s so late, is everything okay?”

“I told you I wasn’t playin’ games with you.” He didn’t try and tamp down the frustration in his voice, it needed an outlet and the woman in front of him was a worthy for it. He cut off her startled question.

“Your daughter instigated a fight with Olive tonight. Called her names for the whole town to hear. Raised her hand and physically accosted her. That your best attempt at helping to ease the tension you’ve caused? That how you think people should be treated after spending hours to ensure everyone in town got breakfast in the midst of a blizzard?”

“Joel, Olive hit first. I’m sure of it.” She moved away from the door, from the bulk of him to shove her hands into a thick jacket and her feet into a pair of boots. Joel slammed his hand on the door frame, anger flaring at the woman’s nonchalance toward you.

“It doesn’t matter! Do you have any idea the torment you’ve caused her over the years? Millie is lucky Olive walked off. Talking to her and approaching her like that unprovoked. Olive was just defending herself. She was minding her own damn business like she always does!”

“Joel, do not raise your-“

“I’ll raise my voice when I damn well want to! You need to hear me and listen: both of your little stunts resulted in Millie going on the roster. She’s Olive’s replacement on my morning patrols now. To ensure she learns just how much of a responsibility it is to protect the settlement and deter her from further disrespect to those that go outside the gates every single day to protect this town.”

“No, no she can’t go outside the walls. She-“ The woman’s hands grappled his arm, desperation making her forget everything else in that moment.

“She will learn that there is more to living in a broken world than hurtful gossip and petty vendettas. Take it up with the council, but they’ve made their decision. Olive is missing. Your daughter is at the infirmary.”

He stalked off, not willing to wait around to hear what other nonsense the woman had to say. He had to find you, You hadn’t gone to his brother’s, which he would’ve thought to be the obvious answer. You hadn’t gone to his, of course maybe you would’ve before this morning. His body aching from sitting on your small stoop waiting for your return only to go there for a moment to find it dark and empty. The winds whipped around him, snow blinding and chilling when flakes got stuck on his eyelashes and in his scruff.

He needed to tell you. He needed to tell you that he’d pick you over everyone in the whole damn settlement if you’d have him. But first he needed to make sure you were okay in order to do that.

Everything was so fuzzy, the edges of your vision fading. The bright snow all around the streets, falling from the sky, it hurt to look at. It hurt to keep your eyes open, but you did as best you could as you clutched to your bleeding middle and stumbled down empty streets. Blood was warm between your fingers, against your palm. The stitches put in place a few days ago now pulled from your skin and tearing even more damage across the wound there.

It wasn’t cold anymore, not by the time you had made it through the creaking iron gate and settled in front of a headstone. Everything was numb and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as you realized.

The look of shock on Millie’s face shouldn’t be funny, it was sad. That no one had ever given her a taste of her own medicine. You didn’t hold anything against her, it wasn’t in your nature. But you wouldn’t say you liked her, that part of you had died along with Aiden. You had tried to continue to be her friend after everything, that fateful patrol. But she had pushed you away, had been quiet and reserved in her grief.

Until she hadn’t. She had shifted to harsh glares and sharp words. Basically heading the town to lay the blame on you. Her mother dutifully at her side. But you didn’t fault them. You knew loss was hard long before they had. You knew that it twisted people up inside and made it hard to feel okay. But you had never taken it out on anyone, instead closing in on yourself. But that had backfired, turned into a spectacle at the bar amid most of the town’s older occupants. Entertainment for them. More ammo for gossip and hurtful words.

In trying to ignore them, you had made it worse. Of course you had.

You lay slumped against the headstone, consciousness wavering as the wind pressed you into it. The snow began to settle over your legs and in your loose hair. Hat and scarf left behind in your rush to get out of that damn bar. You don’t know how long you laid there, pressing your face into the headstone, tears falling from your eyes and stinging as they froze on your cheeks, on your lashes, around your puffy eyes. Coughing, you felt the warmth of a thick liquid and taste of metal as blood splattered over the name etched into the stone.

You were tired, exhausted. Your body no longer hurt and it was a relief to be without the low thrum of anxiety, the smoldering heartbreak in the shape of broad man weighing down your chest, the ache in your hands from hours of chopping and stirring and mixing, the swelling in your legs from standing for hours everyday to prepare meals for people who couldn’t care less about you. It was all gone and it was a relief.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but they were so heavy. Unseeing when you managed to, it was so dark around you. There was no way it should be that dark in the late hour with the snow blanketing the town and the sky swathed in snow clouds. But it was and it didn’t bother you. You didn’t want to see anything anyway. Not when you closed your eyes against the darkness, you saw a soft smile tugging at plush lips that had felt good against your own below a pair of sparkling brown eyes. You saw Joel Miller and that was good enough.

You weren’t aware of the darkness being a shadow falling over you, a body dropping to its knees as it spotted you on the ground. You weren’t aware of the shout of your name, your actual name, nothing breaking the unconsciousness you had succumbed to. Joel was frantic, his hands hovering over you as he worried touching you would cause more damage. The blood shining on dark on your lips, the sallow complexion of your skin, the hand that had been pressing to your stained and wet middle limp in your lap. All of it was too much and his heart felt like it was humming in his chest as it beat in time with memories of loss and pain flashing before his eyes.

He couldn’t, he couldn’t lose you too. Not now, not like this.

Ignoring his worry, pushing it down, he scooped you up into his arms. The fact that you didn’t startle awake or shout out in pain at the movement didn’t sit well with him, his stomach dropped and his head pounded as he realized how cold you were to the touch, how limp you were. He gritted his teeth against the biting wind, the snow flying all around and began to move through the headstones.

“I made you one.” He croaked. “I made them all for you. All of them, every single one” His hands were warm, cradling you close, trying to tamp down the bleeding from your middle as he walked. “C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.”

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 days

Text

Incubus fyodor 1

Dom!priest!reader x sub!incubus!fyodor

Warning: pegging, CNC, against a wall, in a church lol, also taking virginity??

Sometimes I use strap, most of the time dick or whatever. Then anyone can feel included? Idk?

This was requested by 🍮 anon, like a loooong time ago. Gonna repost it now :> (was too lazy to do so but now that you are back-)

Fyodor was just wandering around, looking for his next victim. It was boring to keep staying at one place, he always craved something grandiose and better. One day he ended up at a church after going around town, he detested those places due to his nature. But then he saw you through the windows, a diligent priest working for god. Proud, hard working and kind. What a sight, you must have never known the pleasures of the flesh. Oh how he pitied you, guess he will just ‘enlighten’ you then~

The incubus was wandering inside the building, looking everywhere for you. Until he found you in the chancel, the sacred place. Perfect, let's see how sacred it will be after he defies god’s little helper. Protecting one’s innocence? How laughable.

Fyodor walked inside, wrapping his hands around you and holding you from behind. Hands running all over your torso, grinning in delight as he said, “come on, let's have a little fun~ I can fulfil all your fantasies...” before he could even react to it, you took hold of his hands, turning around and twisting them in the process. “aAHH-”he yelped, falling backwards and taking a few steps back, his body hitting the wall. Your hand pinning his wrists over his head, knee pressed against the wall in between his legs. He felt you apply pressure to his crotch.

The boy gritted his teeth, showing his fangs. "Are you a demon?" You asked nonchalantly, while he struggled against your strength. Fuck, why were you so strong? “Yea and? What, gonna exorcise me? Haha.” “An incubi probably, by the way you were touching me.” You came to that conclusion, not an ounce of emotion present in your voice.

Continuing on as if you didn't hear him, thinking for a second. “I suppose you wanted to feast on me?” He stared at you with a skeptical look, why did you seem so interested? Before he got the chance to ask you, you commented, “I'm sorry that you were born this way, having to rely on such sinful acts to survive.. what a pitiful being.” “What, oh no you are the pitiful thing here, I bet you don't know what pleasure is, all because of some prideful faith. Want me to teach you?” Fyodor said cheekily, grinning as he looked up at you, his knees bend slightly due to the position.

“Don't get me wrong, I don't detest your kind. God has taught us to accept anyone. In fact, i’d be willing to help you, so that you don't need to bother other innocent souls. It's the duty of a priest.” He didn't understand what you were hinting at, for him you were talking garbage. “You aren’t going to seal me or anything?” The demon was genuinely confused, you want to help him? Why? “No need to fear anything, I'm sure you have experience in this field after all.” Next thing he knew you turned him around, his back arching like a crescent moon. “What are you…” suddenly you pulled his pants down, exposing his plum butt. “Huh?! wha-" poor him, that incubus was super confused now, this can't be what he thinks it is right?

Seems like his worries came true, it was what he feared, he knew when he felt your tip press against him. “Hu-huh? Wait a second..! I-I thought you were...” “I've learned many ways to deal with succubus or incubus, don't worry I'm quite experienced too.” Then you entered him, yearning a surprised moan from the male. “Ahh..!” Fingers desperately gripping the wall, looking for anything he can clench onto, eyes looking back and trying to understand the situation. He was getting… topped? By a priest nonetheless??

Him? Up until now he has only ever been on top. What experience, this is his first! Fyodor felt another push from you, the strap slowly driving into him. “You are so tight... ah, what's your name?” “Why do you care, pull it out!” “I'm sorry, I can't do that.” “Why?!” “Because I have to subdue you first, to make you submit.” Your voice was serious as you said that, pushing more of your dick inside him. “UgHh! Slo-slow down...gentle, gentle! Ah, hu-hurts..” the boy whined now, crying softly as his dick twitched in excitement. “Oh? It is your first? Maybe you aren’t as dirty as I thought.” Still using the same emotionless voice as before, you kept unintentionally leave snarky remarks behind. All while your free hand collected the slick around his rim, covering the toy with it.

“So wet already, more than many others of your kind.” Were you mocking him? He wanted to insult you, if only the dick wasn't making his mind go blank. “Ahh...you, I won't-mhm! Fo-forgive you.” “I don't need your forgiveness, only gods.” You said, before starting to move and trust into him. Then you explained, “in order to excuse this sin I had to commit due to your existence, we will have to work hard to beg for forgiveness.” “AhHh! Ah-aHh.ah. Oh-uhh..uhm! Nghh..!” Each trust was paired with whimpers or a moan. Cute squeaking sounds escaped him, face and shoulders flushed red and figure covered in sweat now. His filthy fluids were running down those slim and shaky legs, eyes rolling into the back of his head. What was he doing, didn't he plan on fucking you at first? So how was he getting dicked down now. It was still too hard to comprehend. Yet it felt so good.. it was melting his brain, he has never felt anything this amazing before.

“Such inappropriate noises you are letting out, i guess you are enjoying yourself?” The hand which you used to collect his slick was now on his hips, holding him in place since he kept trying to wriggle his way out, trying to escape those blissful sensations. “Ah..wait..ah-Uhm! This is..no-no good..stop aHh!” He whispered, shortly after tears started rolling down his blushing face. You only picked up your pace, going faster and rutting into him roughly, sometimes you'd brush against his prostate which made him cry out even more. “Ah-aAhhH! OOHh! I'm c-close.. m’gonna cu-cum.” Fyodor breathed out, his entire being quivering in pleasure. This was heaven. Don’t get him wrong, he knew nothing of heaven but this is how he'd imagine paradise to be like. He was filled with pure ecstasy, it was damn addicting and he doesn't think he will ever get over it.

“You have to beg for forgiveness, and to excuse your pathetic self.” You whispered into his ear. Like a spell he couldn’t disobey, he immediately began pleading with.. whom? God? You? Ugh.. to think he had come this low. “AhhHhAA!! ohHh! For-forgive meHHnghh~..!!” His release came in torrents, coursing through his veins and making his legs go weak. He felt so helpless, so exposed and vulnerable with you. And it was the best feeling he has ever experienced, never in his life did he knew something like this was possible. Those noises were filled with desire and longing, loud and clear as he painted the wall white, “aAhHahhhH~!” A shudder ran down his spine, hole clenching down onto you.

The slick was all the way down to his knees now, and he was still lost in subspace. Guess the climax was pretty intense, rendering him to such a whiny mess. You weren't sure if he could understand you, but you tried it anyway. “So, may I inquire the name of you pitiful thing?” There were no answers, only breathy whines and pants. Eventually he gasped out his name meekly, mumbling, “fyo-fyodor…” After blinking a few times, you leaned down to his ear and uttered in a seductive, as well as sadistic voice. This was the first time he heard your tone change. “I'm going to keep you here, so that you wont cause troubles for others. You don’t mind being my pet fyodor, isn’t that right?” And you let go of him after finishing your sentence. Hands leaving his body. Ahh..another shiver travelled down to his core, how could he ever refuse such an enticing offer? Without your help, his legs finally betrayed his body as he crashed down onto the ground. Sitting there looking all ravaged while a sticky white puddle formed beneath him. Fyodor looked at you over his shoulder while panting heavily, tongue hanging out from his blushing face like a dumb little pet.

Part two

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yumeka-sxf · 5 months

Text

I've been waiting to see Yor's epiphany chapter in the anime and it did not disappoint! I felt like analyzing more than usual because I loved this episode so much~ 💖

I hope that any anime-only viewers who at this point still had the opinion that Yor's just ditzy/submissive, one-dimensional, or whatever negative traits associated with her, have changed their minds. Throughout the cruise arc we've seen so many sides of her character: how she's struggling to understand the exact reason why she's taking on these dangerous assignments when her original reason for doing it (supporting Yuri) no longer exists, how her internal desire to seek her own happiness - live a peaceful life like Olka - is at constant war with her diligence to complete her mission, her yearning to be with Loid and Anya and how sad she looks when she has to tell herself that they're just a cover-up family and she'll have to leave them without a word if anything drastic happens, and how much more confident she is when doing something she excels at - assassinating - yet still retaining her kind and polite demeanor (Unlike Twilight, who dons the mask of Loid Forger, Yor Forger is not a mask for Thorn Princess, at least not in terms of personality. So everything she says as Thorn Princess can be interpreted as her true feelings, including the now two times she's hesitated during fights because of the thought of having to leave the Forgers).

And, in the moment where she's facing death right in the eye, all the doubts she's had since getting this assignment culminate, not only causing the samurai assassin to get the upper hand, but causing her to take a deep, introspective look into her reason for fighting...if it's not for the same reason as the other assassins, what is it?

What's even more amazing is that these things about her character did not come out of nowhere just for the sake of a flashy climax. We saw in previous episodes that not only does she understands that being in the Forger family makes her happy, but most importantly, how she's lived her life only thinking of the happiness of others above her own. And what's most tragic is that, upon finally realizing that her original reason for being an assassin is gone (since Yuri no longer needs support) she's ready to die then and there...until she remembers Olka's words about wanting to live a peaceful life, which in turn makes her remember her core reason for becoming an assassin was to not only support Yuri, but to make the world he lives in all the more peaceful by eliminating the villains in it.

Despite how naive Yor is about many things (due to her upbringing), she's certainly not ignorant about the needless tragedies that exist in the world. And here is where she makes her decision to keep doing her assassinating, not because she enjoys killing people, but because the result of it will make the world a better place...because now, she has even more people whose happiness she desires to protect.

Even if she sacrifice her own happiness by leaving the Forgers, that's not as important to her as preventing tragedy from befalling her loved ones, or the world in general. And these thoughts are so similar to Twilight's reasons for becoming a spy! Coincidently, as Yor has these thoughts, she thinks of how Loid complimented this aspect of her personality way back when they first met...and the thought that the man who she trusts and respects so much would approve of her decision, gives her the final push to keep on going (I love that they reanimated this scene too and didn't just use the exact frames from episode 2).

So yeah, if anyone who wasn't sure of how much depth Yor's character has, I hope this episode shed a lot of light! This is the right way to make a character both cute/sweet but also a total badass who's strong on the outside as well as the inside.

(I will probably reword a lot of this for my upcoming Twiyor analysis posts but I couldn't wait until then, lol).

#spy family #spy x family #sxf #spyxfamily #yor forger #twiyor #sxf anime

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cowyolks · 6 months

Note

I would like to make a request

Knight Soap X Princess Reader. I've been dying for it. The King König is amazing!

AN OATH OF ROSE BRIAR

Pairing: Knight! John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Female!Princess! Reader

Prompt: It was always nightfall when he’d sneak into your chambers, yearning for love that tears apart at the seams. You didn’t know forbidden love could taste so divinely sweet.

Words: 6.8 K

Warnings: Violence, Gore, Graves is a creep, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (receiving), fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, hint of voyeurism.

A/n: don’t come at me for the action scenes, I know they’re bad lmao. Otherwise I’m proud of this, even though it took me years.

“Hold your breathe, My Lady.” A sharp tug pulled against your waist, securing your corset even tighter to your body, almost like a second skin. You’d been exclusively told you had to look perfect this week, as your father, the King, was inviting possible suitors for you.

It left an irony and rotten taste in your mouth.

You’d lifted your arms, feeling the soft and thick fabric of your crimson dress fall over the enlarged swells of your breasts and hips. It was gorgeous, laced and embroidered with golden roses. Gold jewelry proudly sat at the hollow of your throat and smooth skin of your wrists.

The maids had done well making you look the part. It was just a shame all of this was in vain. You’d never love any of your potential suitors, for there was already a man that had thieved your affections and ran with it like a sly fox.

And it just so happened he was someone you could never have. Ah, forbidden love.

A sharp tug on your scalp alerted you of the busy hands weaving your ruby crusted diadem over your temples. They’d spritzed your body in perfume and oils, using berries to bring out the plumpness of your lips. You felt beautiful, but a type of beautiful that would burn if you stood too close.

A knock on your chamber door startled you from your daydream.

“The King has requested your presence at the harbor docks, Princess.” His voice warmed your very soul and burned your beating organ. There was no possible way he didn’t know the true affect of his voice, his body, his affection. It was killing you from the inside out.

He was a spectacle.

In the eyes of the public he was Ser MacTavish, first of his name, and knight of the Royal Guard. To you, under the cloak of darkness and seclusion, you referred to him as John, chanting his name as you panted against his lips. He made you feel good, a rush of freedom and adoration that pooled in your gut like rolling waves.

Your maids stepped away, offering you tight and practiced curtesies as you thanked them with a smile. You shifted closer to the heavy door, one of your ladies in waiting pushing the door open.

You adjusted to the gentle summer sun, squinting in the rays and enjoying the balmy warmth of the air. Breeze blew from the Sea, fluttering your hair laced with pearls and beads.

A shift of metal drew your attention to your knight, someone who swore an oath to your father to protect him. Instead, he settled on protecting you, being your main guard and secretive lover. John stood tall and proud in his chainmail, your house crest displayed across his chest.

He had his helmet off, the piece of armor hanging loosely in the crook of his arm. He had a passive expression on his features, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was dreading this day as much as you.

You would be married off in less than a week, still you couldn’t help but look at him with greedy infatuation. He’d shaved for the occasion, jaw sharp and shining. His rosy lips contrasted the tanned richness of his skin. Even his eyes, the color of the restless sky, shone in sheer strength and power. His high rank was exposed through the gold beads and occasional shells that were braided through his ebony hair. The middle part was much longer than the sides. He always clipped it after a victory, and you’d never known him to have grown it out.

“Good Morn, Princess.” His deep voice twanged with the lit of his accent, making slight goosebumps ripple through your skin.

“How do you do, Ser?” You stepped forward, falling into step beside him as the two of you climbed down the steps to the bay. Gulls called out from above for their partners, stooping downwards to feed their young.

“Been better, I have. The lady I love will soon love another.” He muttered, hands clenching at his side with what you could detect as wretched jealousy. You noted he was just as miserable about your arrangement as you were. At least he still had his oath—nothing would change there. But you, you would bear a blood bond to your potential suitor. To obey him and provide him with heirs.

You felt bile rise up your throat just thinking about it.

“I doubt she will ever love anyone more than you.” You admitted, knowing then by the twinkle in his eyes it satisfied and gutted him at the same time. The scent of saltwater and seaside jasmine flooded your nostrils as John led you to your father, who was patiently awaiting for the approaching ships.

Ships of different houses, all set upon winning your hand. There would be a festival held all week, the kingdom was already decorated in crimson silks and glowing lanterns for the occasion. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t for such horrible terms. With the festivals came the games. It was always fun to see the men compete in such activities despite the reason.

You distinctly remember watching the flex of your knight’s biceps and thighs as he tossed a caber the farthest and had won. Pride surged through your veins that day, and you made sure to reward him in the dim glowing light of your chambers.

Now, your suitors would compete for your hand. While it wasn’t necessarily determined that the winner of said games would earn your hand, it was more so a tool to help decide. The Royal Court and your father would pick the best with the most assets.

The only saving grace of this tournament was the fact that several knights under your Father��s command could compete as well. Not for your hand, but just to show the strength of your kingdom. Your eyes would be on your John, as they always would be.

Your knight stopped in front of your father, bowing his head low with one hand clutching the iron hilt of his impressive sword. You performed your own curtesy, gold jewelry clashing together as you moved.

“Daughter…aren’t you the prettiest gem in the Kingdom.” And isn’t that just what you are? A shiny object meant to barter away.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” You spoke clearly, something you were taught at a young age.

“Come here,” Your father gestured to the docking ships. You stepped forward, just as John stepped backwards, always one to watch your back. You could feel his fiery stare bouncing on the bare skin of your spine. Attempting to hide the rush of blood flowing to your cheeks, your eyes pinpointed the rush of banners heading down the enormous dock.

All your potential suitors came from the East, a district called Kortac. The land was split into three countries, all ruled by different Kings.

First, there was King Kim, dubbed Horangi. Most referred to him as the Tiger King, for his ruthlessness in battle that was reminded of a big cat. You’d met him before, he was respectable and kind despite those rumors, but he certainly wasn’t your John.

Then there was King Philip, while he was definitely pretty, you’d only heard bad about the wealthy King. He was the richest of all, as he had his own battalion deemed his shadows. You met his eyes slowly, almost immediately picking up on the greedy gleam of it. It made you shiver thinking of marrying him.

Lastly, was the most mysterious of the three. You didn’t even know his full name, just that everyone referred to him as König. He covered his face, although it didn’t stop the stares. Anyone would be drawn to a man of his massive structure. You’d never met him, but you’d heard how he fought alongside his soldiers, as if he didn’t give a damn about his Royal status.

Your father held his arms out wide, almost as if he was hugging his whole kingdom. “Welcome! It’s an honor to host your districts in hopes of winning my lovely daughter’s hand. You all must be tired from your journey, my guards will show you to your chambers. Rest up, because tonight will be our first game that the princess has the honor of choosing!”

All eyes settled upon your pampered form, making you shift slightly from all the attention. Subtly your eyes met John’s— what was he the best at? You wracked your mind quickly. He was a simple stable boy once upon a time, someone who loved horses and worked hard for the hope of something better. He was tall and strong, quick and witty. You thought of the callous on his hands, from hours of wielding metal and clutching reins. Yes, you had it.

“I chose jousting.” You exclaimed, not noticing the wicked smirk that wound its way across John’s lips. Cheers and war cries broke out amongst the men and common folk, all of them excited to watch the entertainment.

“Excellent! The games begin tonight before the feast to honor the princess.” Your father informed before clapping once as his guards escorted him to his chambers. John approached you again, bowing politely in show of all the new eyes.

“Back to your chambers, princess?” He asked, eyes flickering every once and a while. He looked stiffer than normal, ever the vigilant force at your side. You could tell he didn’t like all these outsiders, specifically around you.

“No, not yet. I feel like going on a walk through the gardens.” You’d always found solstice around the sweet smelling rows of briar and petal.

Afternoon bled into evening. And with the evening time came the air of excitement. You’d been fiddling with a strand of crimson fabric, the ribbon twisting between your digits absentmindedly.

You tilted your head behind you, wishful stare settling upon your guard, who walked several paces behind. He was dressed in full armor now, the helmet covering the soft flesh of his neck and head. Dark hair still curled out the bottom, whipping around against his tanned neck.

Your eyes flickered around, spotting no one in the private gardens. Still, you cautiously shuffled into the shade and privacy of the marble pavilion, a place where you and your knight’s lips locked and fiery touches met before. John knew to follow you, his form barely making a sound despite the heavy armor.

“Princess?” He uttered, eyes full of what only could be described as pure want and adoration.

You surged forward, lips immediately settling upon his own. A large arm wrapped upon your waist, pulling you off your feet and into his scent and warmth. His bottom lip parted, allowing his tongue to swelteringly lick across your own. You parted for air, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before it broke away.

“Please win tonight.” You begged, knowing that it would mean nothing despite the victory. John had sworn an oath— an oath that sealed his fate. No children, no wife, no lands. He’d have his head on a chopping block if anyone caught him.

“Aye, I’ll do just that, flower.” He swore, smothering eyes falling downwards to your moving hands at his chest. The scarlet ribbon you fiddled with snaked it’s way under armor. You’d tied the knot against the loose end of his tunic, your personal favor. The pads of your fingers brushed his chest, feeling the strong thudding of his heart.

He had your favor, your love, your time all symbolized in that red piece of fabric.

“Go,” you whispered, nodding towards the south, where the growing arena was likely filling up with spectators. He nodded his head once, grasping onto your hand that still stubbornly clung to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss upon your knuckles.

“Goodbye for now.”

You watched him leave, following the horizon to the stables, where his mare awaited. You’d rushed down to the stands, keeping your head covered and away from prying eyes. After shifting pass several soldiers you collapsed down into the forged steel of your throne, similar to your father’s.

He’d been waiting for you, a disappointing look crossing his features.

“Why were you late?”

“I lost track of time in the gardens. You know how much I love the roses.” You excused, hoping it was enough for your father to put on his act of King and host again. He hummed, before standing. The audience immediately dropped volume upon the gesture of the King.

“Let the games begin!”

Loud uproars broke out though the area, cheers and shouts for their own kings escaping the many districts. You stayed seated, straightening out the sheer fabric of your gown.

A large black Stallion trotted proudly into the area, a knight with gleaming armor the color of obsidian upon the saddle. John’s second in command, Ser Simon. Some called him the Ghost, for his shifty speed and impressive strength in battle. He nodded to your father beyond his visor, shouldering the large lance he held.

His opponent’s horse moved forward as well, a buckskin shire so large you could almost hear it’s thundering steps. Large horse for a large man—König shouldered his lance with precision. You had no doubts he could out muscle Simon, but the Ghost certainly held fast in his speed and intelligence. König’s armor was coppery in color, long since used and well worn in his victories. It was admirable in a queasy kind of way.

A bugle sounded to your left, kick starting the joust with a burst of added cheers.

You watched as Simon’s horse reared excitedly, happy to speed towards the oncoming opponent in long strides. You watched as the Ghost twisted his shield, jamming König’s lance narrowly, avoiding splinters to his chest. You let out a breath as the two made it to the opposite ends unscathed.

The two approached again, this time Ghost was on the offense, shifting his shield before jabbing his lance in the opposite direction that caught König on his arm between the subtle crease of his armor.

Cheers erupted from your own subjects, chanting out the name “Ghost” over and over, with a thumb up, your father declared Ghost the winner.

Next was King Graves and Horangi. A match you were looking forward to as much as watching paintings dry. But alas, you had to look interested for they were your suitors.

Horangi looked on with flashing intelligence, something you admired greatly. If he could think quickly, he’d know that Graves’ left side was always weakly guarded and possibly strike there.

The first bugle sounded, allowing Graves to lead off first with his expensive looking mare. Horangi took off a second later, visor dark and covering the movement of his eyes. The two flew forward, speeding pass with no damage done.

The crowd cheered as Graves boasted from the opposite side, his raised arms making your nose wrinkle in disgust.

The second bugle sounded, this time Horangi was faster, shouldering his shield in determined might. His lance favored and aimed to Graves side, which he narrowly missed after the wealthy king twisted away. The crowd bursted into relieving calls, while the other half sighed in disappointment.

Finally, the last horn blew, and with gaining speed, Horangi aimed to Graves’ unprotected side again, but with a dirty trick, Graves juked his lance to the side, then with a vicious twist brought his shield straight onto the nose of Horangi, essentially flattening him and having the Tiger King fold to the ground with a wounded puff.

It was dirty, but essentially fair. It made unease reside in your gut as your father held up a thumb for King Graves’ victory. Cheers and boos broke out, making you shrink back in your seat with a huff. But then, your eyes caught on the sapphire blues of your knight. He rode on his fiery mare dubbed Themis, tribute to Justice. She was a handsome bay that loved when you gave her sugar cubes in the seclusion of the stables.

John would take on the Ghost. A battle that you knew would be entertaining and competitive, yet harmless. No ill intention would breakout among the knights, that you were sure of.

John rode to his side with a determined exhale, gripping his lance tightly as Themis pawed the dirt in anticipation. The bugle sounded as you shuffled to the edge of your seat, resisting the urge to worriedly bite your lip. He clicked his tongue, urging Themis into a speedy canter as he maneuvered his body in the right position.

Simon, who definitely owned the strength, brought himself tightly together, using his blunt force to push John’s lance away with his shield. The audience sighed in anticipation as the two knights rode to the opposite side unscathed. Under their visors, you could see the hints of amused smiles. At least they were having some competing fun.

The next round started, this time with John taking up a defensive position instead of offensive. Simon aimed his lance at John’s armored chest, anticipating that he’d block with his shield. Themis galloped onwards, huffing steaming smoke like a fiery dragon.

With a heave, Simon thrusted the lance inwards just as John brought his shield up a few inches. Then, with a lightening quick speed, he lowered it again, shoving his lance instead into Simon’s side, effectively teetering his balance. The Ghost fell with grace, landing on his feet in a disappointed dull thud. You resisted the urge to cheer too loudly as your John circled, a fist pumped in honorable victory.

Your father held his thumb up to John, likely the only approval he’d ever receive from the King. You only wish he’d approve of you wanting John’s hand. But Princesses weren’t people, they were tools of power. A simple pawn in the decade game of chess.

The tourney was drawing to an end— just John and Graves left in the competition. You’d completely dropped your resolve, chewing upon your lip as King Graves pranced out on his horse again.

There was a dangerous look in his eye, something that made your stomach spin in knots for your John. Regardless, your own knight held a hard and determined scowl, his chest likely breathing in pure desperation for a victory.

The deafening horn blew again, and John took off in a thunderous offense. He looked calm and collected, ever the cool demeanor when it came to a fight. Themis whinnied in disappointment as both lances missed their marks respectfully, making you let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding.

Time sped up, your own surroundings moving much faster than your panicked thoughts. The next thing you knew, Themis was squealing, rearing up on her hind legs as John scrambled for a tighter hold on her reins. But you knew your John, your sweet, selfless, passionate John— it didn’t surprise you in the slightest that he dismounted in a cloud of dust. He was always selfless like that, disqualifying himself to check upon his panicked mare.

Themis seized her bucking as John cooed at her in reassuring words, a quick pat pressed into her withers.

Then you noticed the searing red of a laceration. The bleeding wound leaked crimson, but it wasn’t the blood that made your nostrils flare in anger. No, it was thin stripe of such a cut. A cut only made by a stealthy swing of a short sword.

The bastard king had cheated.

Roaring applause and boos echoed across the arena. You had to bite your tongue to resist a uproar of your own, so much so that you tasted warm blood upon your tongue.

You met John’s eyes, his filled with so much apologetic sorrow you had to blink to stop your own from watering too much. It wasn’t that you were upset that he lost, more so that it wouldn’t matter regardless. He was sweetness you could never taste, love that would only burn you.

You’d realized this now. Now so more than ever, when the sight of your own summer roses extended in front of your line of sight.

A crown of beauty and fertility. You couldn’t help but focus on the wicked thorns that pierced your temples as King Graves, the victor, declared you the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. It made you sick that he was the most favorable of the Kings. You’d never wanted to run away more, to spend your days on the highland coasts in a homey cottage your knight had built by hand. Saltwater between your toes and John’s body to keep you warm on the stormy days.

Perhaps, now would be the time to throw away your titles and fortune and replace it with freedom, love, and yearning.

The evening blurred into darkness illuminated by glowing starlight. A time you relished and anticipated when your knight would slip into your chambers and kiss away the stress and pain of expectations, orders, and rules.

Now, you wanted nothing more than to be excused from this wretched dinner and to sleep until dawn.

The crown of roses sat uncomfortably upon your head, despite all the compliments you had received from the nobles. You’d see it more fair to chuck the bloody thing in the roaring fires bordering the stony hall. Sorrow crept into your soul when you couldn’t find your knight in the sea of feasting people.

Your own roast chicken and vegetables lay untouched. It was hard to even think of eating when King Phillip sat next to you, boasting and smiling with his too white teeth. You wanted to get sick when his hand subtly touched your lower back.

“Father.” You blurted, drawing attention upon yourself. Graves’ retracted his jeweled hand begrudgingly upon the careful look he received from your king. Visibly you gulped, now having the divided attention of not just your father but the three other Kings as well.

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to return to my chambers if it is quite alright with you.” You asked, nearly squirming at the sharp look he sent you. He didn’t appreciate your resistance to being wed, but you did happen to look a tad lighter than your typical shade. He sighed heavily, but nodded anyways.

“Go get some rest. I’ll have Ser Riley escort you since your own knight is still tending to his mare.” Your heart jumped as your father confirmed where John was. But you knew, in your heart, he wasn’t just taking care of Themis— he was shouldering his defeat badly.

Despite this, you stood, making careful eye contact with Ser Simon. You’d always observed him from afar, growing unnecessarily nervous with the helmeted knight. He was strong and mysterious, not belonging to a house or clan but was simply a nomad that sworn oath. Your John liked him, that was enough for you. After all, He wasn’t so bad when he cracked morbid jokes you likely should never hear as a Princess.

The Ghost held out the crook of his arm, signaling for you to take the cold metal of his armored forearm. You did so quietly, holding the stiffness of your posture until you were through the large doors of the hall.

Simon was always quiet, really only speaking when he needed to. John told you one time, when the two fought under the same battalion that Simon wouldn’t shut up or stop cracking jokes as he dragged a wounded John through the battlefield. Your knight realized then that Simon only spoke to keep him conscious and laughing. Respect and gratitude bloomed in your heart for the Ghost.

“I assume your sickness has left?” The Ghost spoke in his rough voice that reminded you of scratchy bark on Oak trees. Your heart jumped at such an accusing question.

“Pardon?”

“The damn parasite king? Leaching onto our Princess like he’s some Messiah.” He growled.

“Shhh! What if someone hears you speak that way, Ser?” You panicked for his safety, eyes flickering around in a familiar practice of looking for wondering eyes or ears. Simon, didn’t seem bothered, only shrugging in nonchalance.

He steered you down the hall, bicep gently flexing under your palm. It was then when you noticed he took a wrong turn, instead following the lantern light to the stables.

“You turned the wrong hall, my chambers are this way.” You insisted. Simon shook his head, continuing to usher you gently down the cobble path to the growing sound of whickering horses.

“Ser?”

“You speak too much.” Simon imputed, leading you into the old wooden building that housed all the guard’s prized mares and stallions. It was dark inside, the area barely lit with gentle candlelight. Still, you made out the shuffling outline of a familiar body.

John.

It took everything in you not to sprint in his direction. To pull him into an embrace and kiss the worry lines of his face. Instead you stayed planted next to Simon, who gingerly dropped your arm with a knowing look in his eyes. You should have been worried that he knew, but you could care less at the current moment. He was friend, not foe.

“I think I hear the sound of impending doom. I must go before it’s too late.” Simon monotonously quipped in a low voice, tilting his masked face just enough for you to see his wink before he turned on his heel and left you alone.

Your eyes swiveled around, only catching on the taut muscles of John’s back, who didn’t seem to notice you over the sound of Themis’ affectionate whinnies.

You took careful steps forward, not caring that the bottom of your expensive crimson gown was being caked in dust and straw. Instead you couldn’t help but admire your knight. He was shoveling loose hay into Themis’ trough, back muscles rippling in strain. You caught the white material of bandage wrapped tightly and professionally around his horse, obviously the work of his experienced hands.

“John?” You spoke softly, as not to startle his usually alert self. It appeared he only cared about his surroundings when you were his to guard and protect.

Immediately he dropped the pitchfork, the sound muffled by the hay below his feet. Then he turned, so fast that you missed the pure looks of sorrow, surprise and adoration cross his features.

“Princess! I- you shouldn’t be here.”

Your heart strained at the rejection, nevertheless you knew he was frustrated and self loathing. You couldn’t help but approach him, just as he took a leaping bound forward, pushing pass the gate to follow you like a loyal hound.

It was common practice for the two of you to find the dim part of a room. A place where no eyes or ears could possibly look.

Here, his stiffness fled, eyes nearly glowing against the flickering flames.

“I failed you.” His head hung low, knees almost buckling from the sheer disappointment that pushed heavy on his heart. He avoided your approaching form, not taking the time to meet your gaze or see the shaking of your head.

“You could never fail me, John. Not now, nor ever.” Your palm settled upon his stubbled cheek, his body instantly reacting to the touch by pushing further against you.

“But I-”

You cut him off, placing your thumb upon the chapped line of his lip. He’d immediately stopped speaking, his hand going upwards to delicately take a hold of your own. His palm nearly swallowed your entire hand, his calloused fingertips stopping just above your wrists.

“I don’t deserve you, Princess.” He’d absentmindedly brought his thumb across your knuckles, comforting and true that made your body buzz in love and adoration.

You reached upwards, tilting your head just enough to ghost your lips over his own. You’d let him chose if he’d like to take comfort in your warmth. A small grunt of frustration fluttered down his throat, but he took you anyways.

Arm wrapping tightly upon your waist to hold you to his warm body, firm with countless hours of training and bloodshed. His other hand settled upon the back of your neck, fingers sprawling with the purpose to expand you towards his awaiting mouth. A sharp gasp of surprise exited you as he kissed you. It wasn’t his typical sensation of passion and sweetness.

John kissed you hard. His teeth clattering against your own, with his tongue pushing down your throat in a one-sided battle of dominance. He was chasing his frustration through your very body, and you certainly liked it.

“Don’t know what you do to me…” he breathed out as he broke away, only to steer you against the far wooden wall, protecting the back of your head with the back of his hand.

“I think I know.” You quipped back, the heat coiling in your stomach roaring at the sharp look you received.

“Cheeky little thing…” he hissed, one of his hands holding you steady while the other trailed down your collar bone to the top curvature of your breasts. His mouth followed after. Lips pressing searing kisses against your exposed neck, down to the hollow of your throat.

“John.” You sweetly aired, exposing your throat even more to his awaiting mouth.

“I know, flower, I know.” His voice growing even deeper with the lust that coated his tongue like sweet honey. “Turn around.” He muttered, maneuvering your hips so that you could rotate with your back to him.

His fingers quickly found your corset in a familiar action, loosing it enough to help pull down your undergarments. His mouth pressed open kisses down the curve of your spine, making you gasp breathlessly and arch further against him. You felt the hardness of his cock press against your lower back, just as he hissed at the stimulation.

“Fuck…Need to taste ya’.” He growled in a command, typically the only time he did order around his superior. You had no problem following his experienced lead.

You heard the gentle thud of his knees hitting the straw bedding, just as his hand pushed on your hip to pivot to face him. Eyes once the color of the sky now raged like a stormy hurricane, dark and ravenous. It was enough for you to widen your legs more in an invitation.

The tips of his fingers traced the warm skin of your thighs, just as his head disappeared from under the soft silk of your dress. Hot air escaped onto your uncovered heat, making your eyes flutter shut in bliss.

“John,” you whined, oblivious to what he was planning beneath the drape. A growly chuckle sounded, until his lips made direct contact to your throbbing clit, his warm tongue flicking upon the bead in a teasing stroke that had your legs locking as they became pliable at his touch.

“Easy….” His palm made contact with the soft swell of your backside, molding his fingers into the skin that ached and buzzed for just him.

A soft sigh left your lips as he petted you, fingertips touching and caresssing with such accuracy despite the darkness under your dress. You mewled when a thick finger prodded your entrance, sliding nearly effortlessly into your wet heat.

“Fuckin’ hell, Bonnie, always so tight for me.” He growled, voice so heavenly you couldn’t stop your muscles from clenching yearningly against him. You cooed in response as he curled the digit, your own palms finding his shoulders to steady yourself from his burning touch.

“Just for you.” You pleaded, neck pushing back against the wood of the stable wall. Your throat bobbed when his tongue licked a hot stripe, body shuddering in ecstasy. John chuckled at your words, the vibration sending jolts across your core.

“That’s right, Flower. All mine, no sod of a King can have you. Just me, right?” He added another finger, relishing in your loss of control at his confident touch.

“Right, yes.” You gulped, losing yourself embarrassingly quick under his skilled tongue and fingers dipping into you. He picked up speed, noticing the tell tale signs of your body responding to his.

“Oh, John,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he curled his fingers skillfully, the movement being enough to allow the coil in your abdomen to finally snap.

You gushed around him with a carnal moan, his tongue hurriedly lapping it all up greedily, just as he hummed at the taste. You barely had time to heave out an exhale before his hands found the flesh of your hips, taking hold of you in a lovestruck desire. He placed a sweltering hot kiss upon the inside of your thigh. His massive hands pushed you upwards, allowing himself time to escape from under your crimson gown.

He looked like Eros reincarnated.

Crysaline eyes the color of deep-rooted glaciers bore into your very soul. He had a look to his face, such as a painting crafted of faithful devotion, as if he was staring at something so enchanting everything else dulled in comparison. Your own slick coated his stubble and lips, allowing the light to catch as he licked the nectar off with a satisfied hum.

He squeezed once, twice, upon your hips, signaling that he was to move backwards, his broad shoulders falling backwards upon the straw with a huff. He settled you down upon him, your thighs slotting between his hips as your dress spilled over the both of you.

“Yer’ so beautiful, flower.” He praised, candlelight catching in his blown out pupils. Your heart fluttered at the compliment, as did your weeping entrance.

“Mhm,” You preened, a soft smirk spreading over your lips as you leant to kiss him. With confident fingers, you reached under your dress, making contact with his waistband, sliding the material downwards before reaching his cock. He was scorching at your touch, already throbbing and prepared.

John let out a hiss muffled by your mouth, as your fingertip slid over his tip, smoothing the large bead of pre-cum that had gathered.

A delighted chuckle left your lips as he twitched, you pumped his length slowly, curving your wrist just how he liked it. He pulled away from your kiss with a heave, a growl leaving his throat as he saw the teasing look in your eyes.

“Think you can play with me after all that’s happened today? Watching all those men stare like you’re a piece of meat? You do this after I licked your pretty cunt? No, Bonnie, your going to take my cock like a good obedient princess.”

You didn’t have time to teasingly retaliate, instead you could only gasp as his head slid unforgivably into your heat, a low moan leaving the both of you at the joining. His hands guided your hips, until all of him was sunk around your fluttering walls. He paused, glancing up to see if you were alright.

“I can’t help their stares, I did-” his finger found your lips, pausing your words.

“Don’t speak of them when your full of my cock, eh?”

You couldn’t help but nod, rolling your hips against him in a slow way that mimicked the words “yes I understand. Only you can see me like this.”

“Good.” He aired, his hands once again finding your hips as he roughly guided you against his own bucking hips, starting a fast pace that had your eyes fluttering shut and soft coos leaving your mouth involuntarily.

“That’s it, princess.” He praised, a hand leaving your hip to play with your breasts that threatened to spill out from your undone corset. His palm squeezed the sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves down your skin and goosebumps to rise in ecstasy.

You picked up speed, now rising inches off the straw covered ground before slamming back down upon his length. He cursed, adam’s apple bobbing as his tip met the start of your womb. A ravishing hunger filled your very souls, only satisfied by your intertwined touch and the sound of squelching skin.

He gripped you harder, his climax drawling to a burning close. You felt the all familiar tightening again, knowing that John would only stop fucking you until you finished around his swollen cock.

“You going to cum for me, princess?” He growled, hand falling under your skirts to draw slow circles upon your puffy clit with his calloused thumb.

“Yes!” His circling thumb pushed you over the edge, along with the deep and ruthless plunges of his cock, your eyes fluttered shut, just as your vision blurred from pure ecstasy. Your knight clenched his teeth, but could hardly contain his whine as he plowed deeply, spilling into you warmly.

Together the two of you heaved, lost in each other and not wanting to break your intertwined hold quite yet. You settled, bringing a palm to John’s sweaty cheek as his eyes fluttered shut.

“I love you.” You whispered, stroking the skin in all the passion you could muster.

“Well…. Isn’t this sweet?” A shadow hissed into the night, startling the two of you as you struggled to get up off of your knight in horrified shock.

Before you could separate your hold, your hair was tugged from behind, forcing you to stand and whimper at the fiery hold. Your knight struggled to stand, hastily making himself decent before scanning for a weapon. Except it was too late.

A dagger pressed coldly to your flaming jugular, halting John in place as he glared holes into your captor. You glanced downward, noticing the hand had familiar jeweled rings upon his digits.

Graves.

Bile threatened to expel as John attempted to step forward, until the dagger drew blood and the sharp sting made a lone tear fall down your cheek.

“Ah, ah. Stay where you are, or I kill the whore.” Graves threatened, holding his ground and forcing John to stay planted where he was.

King Graves tutted, a disappointed clicking noise that traveled from his chest to your back in vibrations.

“I always figured you were a whore, had the looks of one. But with your knight…” he laughed, no humor behind his tone as John switched between glaring and panic between the two of you. “You’ve just handed me another kingdom on a golden platter. Once the King knows of this scandal your knight will be hung, and you will be cast out as a whore, unfit for any royalty. That will leave the Kingdom to me, after I kill your worthless father.” Graves growled, a playful lit to his voice as you silently cried.

“Don’t cry….” Graves cooed heartlessly, pressing himself into you with a dull hunger. Your knight growled, eyes darkening as he could only helplessly watch.

All at once, you felt the shallow cut of the blade as a dull shrunk came from behind you, you leant forward at the lack of pressure, knowing you were no longer held captive as John rushed to your side, examining you for any horrific injuries.

You could only turn and watch as Graves’ body fell to the ground, a shrouded figure holding a knife shadowed the area, another person standing close to him as well. One wore a signature mask pulled up to his lips, the other was flushed a pink color, much like you had been before.

König and Horangi.

They had saved you.

“Go. Before your father sends out hounds looking for you.” Horangi spoke, voice airy as he subtly placed a hand upon König’s waist. Huh. Maybe they wouldn’t be so devastated as to not have your hand in marriage.

Tears welled in your eyes as realization set in. You were really doing this, really running away from all the blasphemy that was royalty. You could be free, could be with your John as you always hoped. It would be hard, but your mind was settled the moment you kissed your knight for the first time.

“Thank you.”

A steel knife sliced its way across stew vegetables. It was amateur chopping at best, but you’ve been practicing for the oncoming winter.

With a hum, you moved to place the potatoes into your pot of boiling cream. The fire burned comfortably in the small cottage made by hand. Stones were masoned expertly to create a fireplace, among with the strong boards of Oak to keep out the salty sprays from the sea.

The door opened with a creak, cold air blowing into the homey space in frozen waves. You suppressed a shiver, but felt warm at the sight of your husband.

He held a stack of firewood in his arms, biceps bulging as he placed the logs down into the crate next to the flames. He shook from the cold, but it seemed he was already warmer as his crystalline eyes locked with yours. It had been two days since he had left for a hunt, the longest you’ve gone without seeing him as of late.

John was growing nervous as the days grew shorter. With the shortening days, came the higher probability of giving birth.

“How are ye’, flower?” Your husband asked eyes falling to your swollen belly with so much love that your face couldn’t help but break out into a smile.

“I say we are better now that you are home.”

John laughed heartily, the sound booming through the whole cottage as he hugged his family close to him.

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #call of duty #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john soap MacTavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish

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14buddy22 · 3 months

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Hello!! Can i request an angst to fluff hotch x reader fic. Basically hotch and bau! reader are together and then something comes up from reader’s past that makes hotch question their relationship, they have this huge fight and hotch says something that hurts the reader so much, a bunch of yearning later the two make up. pls make it really angsty with a very fluffy end!

Getting His Last Name

Warnings: angst, fluff, guns, stalkers, blood, hospitals.

Aaron's P.O.V. is italicized :)

Your relationship was a fairytale. Well, not exactly a fairy tale, but he treated you like a princess. He was your Prince Charming.

You were certain about that.

You knew you loved him. You had ever since you laid eyes on him. Actually, no, not since you first laid eyes on him because you were in a relationship with someone else.

You fell in love with him when he showed up at your apartment to check up on you after one of the worst days in your life. You were held hostage, the person you were held hostage with died, and then your boyfriend broke up with you that night. Saying that he had cheated on you and he had to come clean since he felt guilty. He hadn't even asked about your day.

Aaron told you that night that he just so happened to be walking by your apartment. He had your favorite take out food that you and him had ate in his office to work on case files together.

When he saw your mascara smeared and running down your face, he knew he was not leaving your apartment that night. He wasn't going to leave you alone until he knew you were okay.

He didn't know about the boyfriend part until he asked you what else was making you upset.

That was the moment you fell in love with him. When he knew something else was going on and when you realized he wasn't going to leave you alone for the night.

Here you are now, you two had been dating for 2 years, engaged for 3 months. You two were cleaning your home, Jack was spending the weekend with a friend.

When you were singing and cleaning the bathroom, Aaron began to call your name. Pausing your music, you followed his voice into your shared closet.

He was holding a case file. You knew what that case file was. You never wanted him to find it.

"Aar-"

He cut you off. You hurt him. You could see it in his eyes. You had a past. You didn't want anyone to find out. You're afraid Aaron just had.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't. You have to understand. Please."

"I let you know my son. I let you know me. I've told you things about me that no one else knows, and you couldn't tell me this. Tell me that the woman I'm engaged to is in witness protection?"

"Aaron. I'm sorry."

"No -Y/n. Wait, is that even your name? You know what. It doesn't matter. You should have told me this."

"I'm no longer in witness protection."

"What do you have to say for yourself, Y/n/n? Why couldn't you tell me this? What made you feel that you couldn't trust me?"

You were teary eyed. You never thought that the man you loved would ever make you upset. But here we were and it's all because you had a secret you never told him. You never wanted to tell anyone.

"Since you don't have an explanation for me, we'll finish cleaning the respective rooms and uh, I'll sleep in the guest bedroom."

You weren't going to let him do that. This was his house to begin with. You moved in. You could at least tell him you'd at least be sleeping in the guest room.

"No, Aar. I'll sleep in the guest room. This is your house."

He dropped the case file on the table and walked out past you.

You hurt him. He's been hurt before and you promised you'd never hurt him again. But you broke him. After slowly helping piece him back together, you broke him apart. This broke him and it's your fault. You saw his look of disappointment, despair, heart break.

You waited until the light turned off in the hallway. A sign that he was heading to bed. You pulled out the case file. Looking over your past, what made you into who you are today.

Being in witness protection changes you. You have to lead this life you never wanted to. Come up with small, but smilier lies about your life just to fabricate this made up story to keep you safe.

You had an unsub who was obsessed with you before you entered the BAU. In a different unit, yet, you interviewed him when he wasn't a suspect. Then he became obsessed. Would send you flowers, chocolates, would leave notes on your apartment door.

It freaked you out and that's when you entered witness protection. You changed your name, just your last name, though. You changed little life of your details, but you were going to stay this way. You never wanted to go back to who you were until your stalker was dead.

However, your stalker wasn't caught until a year into your witness protection. That had been the 1st year you joined the BAU. You've been working for the BAU for 4 years.

Your stalker had been in prison for 3 years. Your relationship with Aaron being together for a little over 2 years. You should have told him. You knew that. You felt bad. But you wanted to protect him as well. You knew if you told him, he'd go looking into it. Possibly even go visit the prison your stalker was at and intimidate him.

You never wanted that. He told you what happened when Haley and Jack went into witness protection. Granted that was 8 years ago. But it still hurt him to this day.

You decided to cry yourself to sleep. Not knowing how you had royally fucked it up between you and Aaron. You never wanted to hurt him but you did. You were going to have to live with that for forever.

Waking up the next morning, you decided you'd get a head start. You and Aaron could drive separate instead of together. You didn't know how he'd be.

But when you went to grab clothes, you noticed the hallway light on, which meant he had left already. It was only 6am. Yes, he was up early, but he never left early ever since you moved in.

Getting showered and dressed for a casual day, you decided to stop and get breakfast for everyone. You knew the team was going to be in for a rough one today after yours and Aaron's event last night, so why not try to make it a bit better?

Leaving the house and arriving at your favorite coffee shop, you saw a little kid crying. You couldn't just ignore it being an agent and just being a good person.

You knelt down to the little boy and said, "Hi, I'm Y/n. What's going on today, buddy? Can I help you?"

Aaron's P.O.V.

Rossi said, "Where's Y/n?"

"Her and I drove separate. I didn't want to wake her up."

Strauss came knocking on my door with the director of the FBI trailing behind her.

"Where's Y/n?"

I explained that we drove separate. I made up the excuse that I didn't want to wake her up since I got here early. I didn't have the heart to tell them that it's because I was so hurt by her last night that I wasn't ready to see her again this morning after I found out the truth she's been hiding.

"She'll be in shortly, but as her unit chief, what do you need her for?"

"Agent Y/l/n, was in witness protection when she came into the BAU. There was a prison break last night. Y/n's stalker was one of the prisoner's who escaped.

I knew that all the color had drained from my face. She would have been at work now, surely she would have. She was amazing, always on time. Usually early. But now that she wasn't here, I was scared. What if last night was the last conversation I had with her. I was upset by finding out she was in witness protection. She should have told me. I would have protected her more.

"I-I don't know where she is. Let me try and call her."

"We tried. She didn't answer."

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and found her contact name. I called her, praying she'd pick up before it got to voicemail.

You saw Aaron was calling you. You knew if you didn't pick up, that'd be cruel for him, but you were trying to help this little boy. You decided to pick it up.

"Don't answer it."

The little boy looked at you, but you recognized that voice from anywhere. You ID'd that voice, you testified in court, you were put in witness protection from that voice.

"Hello Y/n. Did you miss me?"

Aaron's P.O.V.

Voicemail. Damn it. Where the hell is she? We need to get all the information we can on this guy and dig into her past life. Unfortunately I wasn't an expert on her as I thought I was. I thought I knew everything.

But was everything in our relationship a lie?

It was weird to be at a house that you once kicked the door in. Arrested this guy. it was weird. But you were here. In a home, tied up in the basement.

You were scared. You knew what he did to the women. He raped and tortured them. He stalked them first. And now he had you at his mercy. If you wanted to survive, you had to comply. Fighting would make it worse. He liked it when they put up a fight.

You had blacked out again and you don't know from what. You remember drinking water in the car. He must have roofied you.

Rossi walked in with Garcia and said, "We got her last known location, we got security footage, we were able to track his plates. He went to the home that Y/n arrested him at. He didn't try anything tricky. Which means..."

I stopped in my tracks. Knowing exactly what it meant.

"It means that my fiancé is his end game."

Chills ran down my spine. We didn't have time to waste. If I wanted to find her alive, we had to go now. When we looked through his case file, he was not sticking to his routine. The love of my life was his end game. He knew it, I knew it.

Speeding to the house, I just needed her to be okay. Her and I would be okay. Jack needed her to come home. I needed her to come home. She was the love of my life. Not was, I had to hope she's still alive. She is the love of my life.

I got out of the car, pulling my gun out. My bulletproof vest feeling tighter than ever. Did I tighten it too much? Has it always been this tight?

My mind was racing. As I kicked in the door, I thought about Y/n kicking in this door 3 years ago. Except today, I'm afraid someone isn't coming out alive.

My team checked the house until we found a hidden door to a basement. As I opened the door, I made my way downstairs. Finding a room. When I walked in, Y/n was there. Her stalker, Chris, was holding her at gun point.

I held my breath in my throat. I couldn't be scared. I had to be strong right now. Y/n was looking at me.

"Aaron."

That's all you could muster up when you saw Aaron. Sweating a little bit. Worried written all over his face. Tears filling his eyes. You put him in this situation. You should have been more careful. You should have told him that you were in witness protection.

"I'm sorry, Aaron. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry. We're gonna be okay. I love you."

Chris said, "You can't have her. I want her. I've wanted her for 4 years Hotchner. She's mine now."

"I will never be with you."

You looked at Aaron. He was reading you right now. You were hoping he knew what you were going to do. You saw him slightly shake his head no, but you wanted to just be by Aaron.

You kicked your foot to Chris' ankle and he knelt to the ground. It seemed like everything happened in slow motion. He let you go, you began to run to Aaron when you felt a piercing pain in your lower back and abdomen.

You saw Aaron's eyes widened and then you heard another gun shot. You think it happened at the same time you hit the ground. But all you could focus on was Aaron.

You saw the tears roll down his face now. Everything was muffled. Maybe it was the gunshots still ringing in your ear. Aaron had to have shot him, right? Chris was dead.

Then you saw Rossi leaning over you as well.

"He's gone. Chris is dead and you're going to be alright. Right kiddo?"

You felt the blood you were losing. This wasn't a normal amount, right? Maybe it was. You hadn't been shot before so you weren't sure.

"Aar."

As you began to talk, you felt blood coming from your mouth. Was this right? No. It couldn't have been.

"Hey. Hey sweetheart. The paramedics are here. You're going to be okay. I love you so much. Okay. Chris is dead. You're free from witness protection. You're so strong. I'm not mad at you."

"I'm sorry, Aar. I never meant to hurt you."

Watching her lose that much blood scared me. I didn't lose this much blood when I was stabbed 9 times. Blood coming from her mouth wasn't a good sign. I was going to lose her. I was right when I said someone wasn't coming out of this house alive. I was hoping it was Chris. While he was dead, I didn't want to lose Y/n either.

She was losing blood and losing it fast. She was coughing up blood next. This wasn't good. No, no, no. Please, no.

"I need you to keep your eyes open for me. Please honey. Please."

I leaned down to kiss her forehead. Giving me something to hold onto. I watched her eyes closed. She still had a pulse, but where the hell were the paramedics. We're losing her. We're losing her too fast.

The paramedics arrived within the next 5 minutes. Their training took over. All I could do was sit back and watch. The blood from Y/n's words staining my shirt.

The ride in the ambulance was terrible. I watched the love of my life lose her life. Flatline, then be brought back to life. Still losing blood.

As she was rushed into surgery. All I could do was wait. I sat there. Watching everyone else around me. My world stopped and their world was still going on.

After multiple hours of sitting there, a doctor came out to be met with me and my team.

"Y/n Y/l/n?"

"I'm her fiancé. Is. Is she okay?"

"It was touch and go for a while, but we managed to stop the blood, give her blood transfusion and she's alive, and expected to make a full recovery. She's awake and she's asking for Aaron."

I felt a sense of relief wash over me. She was going to be okay. I'm going to marry her. It didn't matter what her last name was before she met me. It doesn't matter what her last name was now, she's going to be Y/n Hotchner someday.

Walking into the hospital room, she looked small and fragile in that bed. But that was the opposite, she was strong. I'm so proud of her, she had to know that.

"I'm so sorry we went to bed mad last night. Let's never do that again. I love you, Y/n. I want to know all about you before witness protection. I want you to tell me everything that you will let me. Just never leave me, okay?"

"I love you Aaron Hotchner. Now let's get married the minute I get out of here so I can get rid of this last name I never wanted. I've always wanted yours."

He got next to you in the hospital bed and held you in his arms. Both of you sharing a kiss. You felt so happy to be alive. You felt so relieved that he loved you. You felt excited that in three days, when you did leave the hospital, you were on your way to the courthouse to officially become "Y/n Hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner

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rosewine-5 · 3 months

Text

𝑽𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑨𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 (2)

Billy the Kid x b!woc reader

Being the pastor’s daughter meant you had to always be on your best behavior, never stepping off the right path, walking the straight & narrow path, and her eyes towards heaven. That was until a certain outlaw rode into your life, and taught you sometimes it okay to have a taste of hell with a little bit of heaven.

A.N: reader’s last name is Bennett.

A.N2: Thank you all for the likes & feedback from part one, here’s part 2!

UPDATE: Part 3 is here!

Word count: 1.1k

divider by saradika

Over the next few days, you tried to ignore Billy like the plague. He had a different idea, he would follow you like a lost puppy, never close enough for you to see, but you knew his eyes were on you. Going into town: you knew he was there. Working at the bar: you knew he was there. Even in church: you knew he was there and it drove you crazy. You all were taught to not look behind you during service, eyes forward and towards the pulpit at all times.

You were yearning to catch a glimpse of him, just to know you weren't crazy. However, you couldn't risk getting scolded by your mother for improper behavior. So you sat still, the burning of his eyes on you nagging you the entire time. As you waited for your father to finish saying goodbyes, you heard a voice behind you. “I should’ve known the pastor's daughter could clean up so well,” Billy said, looking you up and down.

“I didn't know the cowboy knew the Lord’s word either.” you responded, looking at him. “We all have our secrets, darling.” He said, a smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth. “So what are yours, Billy?” you asked, leaning on the wall and looking up at him. “I'm not telling mine if you're not telling yours, Ms. Bennet.” He grinned. You peeped inside the door and saw your father still in the middle of a conversation, so you had time. “Alright, I'll let you ask 3 questions about me, and I'll do the same with you, deal?”

“Deal. First question: Have you ever had a drink, and I ain't talking about wine?" Billy asked, to which you nodded in response. "Never. Have you ever taken someone's life?" you asked, noticing a slight twitch in his eyes. "Yes, I killed men before.” he replied, making your blood freeze. You felt your eyes go wide. “Let me guess, it goes against one of the Lord’s rules?” Billy asked, a tone of sarcasm laced in his voice. “Yes, a pretty big one!” You shouted, making him chuckle.

“Don't worry sweet thing, I'd never kill something so pure and innocent as you.” He smirked, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I'm not so innocent, murderer.” You snapped, the grin never leaving his face. “Oh really? So you’ve held a gun before?“ Billy asked, raising his eyebrows. “Of course I have!” you answered, making him gasp loudly and putting his hand over his heart in a mocking manner. “I thought you were a proper lady Ms. Bennett! How dare you touch a gun!” he said, adding an exasperated gasp to his sentence, making you laugh.

“Shut your mouth! I know how to use one, I've just never shot one.” You said, seeing him side-eye you. “You poor soul.” you heard him whisper to himself. “So, why do you bother me so much?” you asked, giving him a sharp and challenging look. “You intrigue me, little Bennett. I don't get how you've had such a protected lifestyle.” be answered. “Having a stable life isn't protected.” You said, shrugging. “Yeah? Because I've seen those brothers of yours in the bar, and they have the same rules you do I assume.” said, making you nod.

“Bull. Shit.” he said, chuckling. “You don't even see how deprived you've been of fun because you’ve had your eyes set on heaven the whole time.” Billy said, and then you saw his smile change, his eyes darkening. “Oh. You poor little thing. You don't know what you're missing out on.” He said, making you look at the ground in embarrassment. “Eyes are up here, little girl.” he said, tilting your head up. “So then answer my last question. What do you want from me?” you asked, annoyance laced through your words.

He smirked and then grasped your necklace and tugged it slightly so you were almost nose to nose. “I thought I made my thoughts clear from the start, honey. I want you.” He said, hearing the desire in his tone.

You stepped away from him like he was a raging fire, and yet you stayed close enough to still be within arms reach. You both didn't say a word, you didn't need to. His word rang in your ears. This man was a walking sin, the devil in the form of a man: a very handsome man. His eyes glued to your face, waiting for your next move.

Just like that the word faded away. You were no longer outside the church, you were in your own little paradise. The one that surrounded you when you got lost in his eyes. Your dress softly flows in the wind, yet you don't feel the chill of the breeze. You didn't feel anything actually.

“I want you”

He didn't know how those 3 words and 8 letters affected you, but then again, maybe he did. Did he want to make you get flustered like this? Possibly. Would you slap him if no one else was around? Probably.

At the same time did you think about what he was saying? Definitely!

Before you could give him an answer, he spoke up first. “Don't you wanna live, honey?” Billy asked, giving you that same signature smile. Fuck him and his cowboy casanova ways, God excuse my French. As a matter of fact, fuck his pretty smile. Fuck his beautiful eyes. Fuck his large strong hands and make you lose your words with a simple touch. And fuck yourself for crushing on him.

Before you could answer him, you were happy to see your father walk out with your mother and father in tow. “Thank you Jesus!” you thought. “Ah! Billy. I see you've met my daughter.” He said, putting a firm hand on your shoulder. “Lovely daughter you've raised, sir. She was just helping me understand the message today, wise girl you have right there.” he said, giving you a kinder smile, but the true intentions remained a secret, one only you two knew.

“Well if you ever want to study the word more, she’ll talk to you about it. Won't you, dove?” he asked, the stern look in his eyes daring you to say “no” along with his palm on your shoulder. “Bringing a man closer to God and Jesus gets you to heaven as you always say.” You said with a nervous smile. Billy, who was now leaning on the wall, gave a knowing look in his eyes. “Closer to heaven” you say, Ms. Bennett?” He asked, a playful edge showing through his words. “Amen to that.” he said, taking your hand and kissing it softly. Before you walked away with your family, he whispered to you one last time. “Now I have a veiled excuse to have you to myself.” And with one last smirk, he walked away from you, leaving you shaken.

Your dad had no idea what he had just done. For a man of God, he seemed to be blind to the works of the blue-eyed devil in front of him.

The man who preached on saving souls from temptation just presented the blue eyed silver tongued serpent with his new Eve.

And the apples were looking riper by the minute.

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writeformesinpie · 2 years

Text

A-Z Yandere Prompts w/ Dialogue Starters

A is for... Appetite

“I want to know how you’ll taste between my teeth.”

“I can never get enough of you. I’ll drink you down to the last sip.”

“You look delicious. I won't stop until I’ve eaten every bite.”

B is for... Brand

“I’m going to engrave myself into your very being.”

“We won’t stop until you’re so covered in my scent, no one will dare touch you again.”

“With this tattoo I’ve claimed you.”

C is for... Consequences

“Don’t play with fire if you don’t want to burn.”

“Don’t complain now – you did this to yourself.”

“You reap what you sow.”

D is for... Delusion

“This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

“Why are you acting like you don’t know me?”

“Why are you running? I did this for you!”

E is for... Eradicate

“You don’t need a job, baby. Your job is being mine.”

“You’re better off without them anyway.”

“I removed the problem. You should be thanking me.”

F is for... Forbidden

“You knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.”

“They will never let us be together unless we make them.”

“It’s only taboo to those who’ve never loved like us.”

G is for... Game

“Here kitty, kitty.”

“I don’t know how to lose.”

“One, two, Daddy is coming for you. Three, four, knocking down your door.”

H is for... Harmless

“I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Why are you scared?”

“You’re the only reason worth living for.”

I is for... Isolation

“Why would you want to leave? I’m keeping you here for your own good!”

“There’s nothing left for you but me. Everyone else is gone.”

“No one will ever find you here.”

J is for... Jealousy

“If his filthy hands touch you again I’ll kill him.”

“Shouldn’t you be spending more time with me?”

“I can’t control how I react when your eyes wander.”

K is for... Kidnap

“You say kidnap, I say date. Who’s really to know?”

“It’s not kidnapping when your soul yearns to be here.”

“There’s no use trying to run. This is your home now.”

L is for... Lies

“The truth would have just hurt you.”

“I’m not lying – I bent the truth a little to protect you.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

M is for... Manipulation

“I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me?”

“If you leave me now I’ll die. I can’t survive without you.”

“I told you they couldn’t be trusted.”

N is for... Neglect

“Stop ignoring me!”

“Look at you, you’re skin and bones.”

“If you won’t take care of yourself I will be forced to do it for you.”

O is for... Obsession

“It’s our anniversary! How could you forget? There isn’t a single thing I don’t remember about you.”

“So it's a little crush when you fawn over him but it's an obsession when I pay attention to you?”

“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. You’re all I can think about.”

P is for... Persistence

“To my dying breath, I’ll never let you go.”

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Q is for Quid Pro Quo

“If you do this for me I’ll think about helping you.”

“Well, I guess it pays to have friends in high places.”

“You owe me.”

R is for... Restraints

“I’ll let you go when you understand this is where you belong.”

“Your poor wrists… Maybe next time you’ll do what I say the first time I ask.”

“The cuffs will come off when you start acting like someone who doesn’t need them.”

S is for... Spoil

“I’d do anything for you, babe. Anything.”

“Is this okay? Did I do well?”

“Nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

T is for... Training

“We can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s up to you.”

“Haven’t we already moved past this? Do I have to train you again?”

“Patience is a virtue. We’ll keep going until you learn.”

U is for... Unending

“No matter how long you make me wait, our love will never die.”

“The only way out of this house is death.”

“There is no end. We are eternal.”

V is for... Voyeur

“Don’t act as if you don’t know me. I've been watching you watch me.”

“I like you best when you’re sleeping.”

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen?”

W is for... Worship

“You’re my whole world, my Goddess. You're more than divine, you’re celestial.”

“Let me show you what adoration truly looks like.”

“No matter what you do to me, I’ll worship the very ground you walk on. That's what it means to love someone.”

X is for... XOXO

“I want to hold you but I can’t. Once I do, I know I’ll never stop.”

“I need to kiss every inch of your skin.”

“When we part, every caress becomes more agonizing than the last.”

Y is for... Yearn

“I’m aching for your touch.”

“You’re my oasis. Please don’t leave me thirsting.”

“You don’t know true pain. I’ll show you what it really means to crave something.”

Z is for... Zealot

“You are my religion.”

“Words like radical and extremist are just a pseudonym for enthusiastic.”

“No matter the world, we are fated. Through time and space we will always find each other.”

~Feel free to reblog and use~

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m4tthewsgf · 3 months

Text

Birthday wishes

Matt Sturniolo x fem y/n !bday girl

Warnings: this one's kinda dark so tw for implied sh and suicidal thoughts/tendencies

Author's Note: today marks my 19th year of living and what's better than writing a story based on your feelings and hoping that it will provide you some comfort? 😃 yeah idk just felt the need to do that I guess so there you go, sorry if this is a bit much. Enjoy!!! You matter!!!

---

The day I've been dreading the most for the past 7 years arose. The day that I was brought into this world, a place I always wanted to leave behind. Ever since I was a teenager, I hated my birthday. Sure, when I was younger I did throw parties and got excited about it, but growing up sucks every ounce of innocence and pure joy that's left in one's body, just like a vampire that craves blood. Growing up sucks. The feeling of standing still while the years go by sucks. Everything sucks, but my birthday quadruples that emotion.

I find it ironic how I am supposed to celebrate my existence on a random day in January when I've been yearning to vanish for years. I mean, my age may change every year but I don't, and that scares me. To me, birthdays are like a second New Year's Day where you recap the year that went by only to realise that you did nothing with your life and that you had, in fact, stood still while the whole world was making any sort of progress. The constant feeling of hopelessness and sadness exhausted me. I had waisted so many birthday wishes the past few years for that matter, hoping that they would someday, somehow work and I'd get better, but it was no use. So, I just stopped wishing. Stopped wishing to get better, stopped wishing to be enough for someone, stopped wishing to finally be happy and loved. I stopped because I realised that I was doomed, and what can one do when their destiny has been prescribed to them from the moment they were conceived?

Now, don't get me wrong, I do find parts of life beautiful. Inside this dark, scary cloud that I have found myself drowning in, there certainly are some sun rays that peak through every now and then that remind me that there's beauty in breathing. Beauty in existing. They may not shine as bright for the most part, but when they do, it's always in the right moment when my evil thoughts and emotions take a hold of me. Music, dogs and cats, chocolate, books… Friends. My friends are the most beautiful people in this life. Well, my boyfriend is the most beautiful one out of all, but don't tell Nick and Chris.

Nick, Matt and Chris are basically the people that saved me. I met them when I was at my lowest and they were like a breath of fresh air, like a sip of clean, cold water after wandering around the Sahara desert. Somehow they just showed up in my life and pulled me out of my misery and darkness without even knowing. Sure, I'm still struggling mentally, but they gave me a reason to keep going when I was sure that there weren't any left. I still cannot understand how they did that, but I'm glad they did. Maybe they are superheroes whose superpowers are spreading kindness and hopefulness to the one’s who suffer. Or maybe their hugs are their superpower; when these guys hug you, they wrap their arms so protectively around you that not even your own thoughts can touch you. I don't know what it is, but they are for sure not normal, mortal people.

Even though I love them all equally and they make my days brighter, Matt, my boyfriend, was the one who actually showed me that maybe, just maybe, I am capable of living the life I always dreamed of. I may be 19 now with no dreams and desires, but I once were 7 as well, and little me always wanted to discover what love was and how it felt. She, in fact, wished for it; love. She wanted to be just like the Disney princesses she was so obsessed with, wanting to be wrapped in her lover's arms and find out herself if those butterflies everyone talked about tickled her stomach or not. And Matt did just that. He became her prince who saved her from the monstrosity of a mind her skull ironically protected. He saved her from an ugly, evil version of herself that older her viewed as a monster. It may not was a wicked witch or a fearsome dragon, but it was someone that was still a threat to her.

Matt knows every part of me. Hell, he knows parts of me I haven't even discovered yet. He knows every dent of mine, every scar and wrinkle and mole. He knows how my hands start to shake when someone raises their voice at me and how I pick the dead skin on my bottom lip until it bleeds when I'm stressed. He knows every single ugly thing about me and yet, he sees beauty in it. He sees humanity in the parts that I've baptised as ghastly and abhorrent, the parts I've spent my whole life hating on because they made me, me. At times it didn't feel real. How could someone as pure as him willingly be with a person who always ought to save others while she couldn't save herself? How could have he endured all of me and still choose to stay?

At first I thought it was pity. I assumed he felt sorrow for me and my patheticness, but that worry of mine was shorty discarded when he kissed every scar I had put on my body. He kissed every single one of them, from my thighs to my sides to my arms, caressed them with his fingertips so delicately that I had to question myself if I was some sort of porcelain doll, and whispered sweet little nothings while doing so. He still does that when I'm feeling down or when I'm doubting his love for me. I mean, who wouldn't? My whole life, all I knew was roughness and I was sure that I was incapable of receiving something other than that, but there he was, treating me with so much softness and warmth I didn't think I deserved. Matt was able to heal wounds he never created. His lips, arms and voice were the strings that stitched them together and made them go away. And whenever new ones opened, his kind and reassuring words were the bandages he put over them before stitching them, opting to keep them disinfected so I won't be in any more pain.

Matt was aware that on Christmas and my birthday I needed more care than any other day. He knew how on those two days I just wanted to disappear and my emotions consumed me, so he was extremely loving and comforting. We had multiple conversations about it, about what it was that made me so upset in those days so he could find a way to help me in any way, shape or form. The day I finally opened up to him about it still replays in my head.

Flashback

“Baby?” He asked as he entered the living room and closed the door behind him. I was curled up on a couch with a fuzzy blanket wrapped all over me with tear stained cheeks and red eyes. Once he heard my sniffles, he quickly made his way up to me and sat right next to where my tummy landed.

“What's wrong, beautiful? Did something happen?” He softly spoke as he wiped away a few more tears that escaped from my eyes. I didn't answer, I just shook my head and stared at the movie I was watching. He exhaled sharply and looked over at the TV screen, noticing that I was binge watching my favorite animated film I always put on when I needed some comfort.

“Hey,” he whispered and grabbed my chin to make my eyes fall on his, “you can talk to me, y/n. You're safe with me. Whatever it is, we will go through it together, I promise” he scanned my face.

“I'm sorry” I mumbled as more tears blurred my vision. Matt was quick to grab my face with both of his hands and shushing me. He knew I always apologized when I was feeling down.

“Hush dear, no need to apologize,” he cooed, “I just want to make you feel okay, hm? Let me take care of you, let me cherish you” he pressed his soft lips against my temple, slowly making his way down to my lips.

“I got you something,” he said against my parted lips, hands still on each side of my face. I just looked up at him with frowned eyebrows.

He got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen counter. In an instant, he was right back in front of me with his arms tucked behind his back, hiding whatever my surprise was. With a loving gaze, he brought his hands right in front of me, revealing a bouquet of white and lavender babybreaths with a few lilies, my favorite flowers, along with a basket that consisted of my favorite snacks and books that I wanted to read. My jaw hung open.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart” Matt breathed with a toothy grin. I just stared at him with a lost expression.

At this point, we had been together for only 3 months and I was pretty sure I hadn't mentioned any of the things he was gifting me. I couldn't recall a moment where I had vocalized my love for those flowers or my desire to read those books. How did he know?

“Matt” my voice broke. I tilted my head at him and sat up as I felt a familiar lump in my throat. With a quivering lip, I broke down, my shaking hands covering my tears.

“Oh baby, c’mere,” he put the things down and quickly pulled me into his chest. His grip on my back was firm yet not hard enough to hurt me, but to reassure me that he was there. He rocked us back and forth as I sobbed into him, placing sweet kisses on the top of my head and whispering comforting words that only made me want to cry even harder.

He was the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me. My blessing and curse. Those ocean blue eyes of his that pierced through my soul and filled me with strength were the same ones that made me cry the most because I loved him. And love doesn't come without pain, or at least that's what I knew.

“Talk to me, y/n” he mumbled against my hair, his body still moving back and forth with me still clinging on the fabric of his shirt for dear life.

“I just-,” I sniffed and pulled out of his cozy embrace and wiped my eyes, “I hate this” I embarrassingly admitted.

“I'm sorry, I thought you'd like it I'll get you-“

“No! No, I didn't mean your gift!” I shook my head. I truly didn't. It was in fact the most thoughtful gift I've ever received. And also the first time I ever got flowers, something I always wanted to be given.

“I mean my birthday. I despise it” I chuckled at how pathetic I sounded. Matt's expression did relax at my confession but confusion was obvious in his face.

“Why?” He breathed. I looked up at him to meet his gaze that was already on me, soft and loving.

“It doesn't matter,” I tried to wash away his concern but it didn't work.

“It matters to me,” he shrugged, “I want to help you, baby. But in order to do that, I need to understand you first and I cannot do that if you don't talk to me” he simply said.

“And I don't want to hurt you,” he continued, “but I will unwillingly do that if you don't tell me what hurts you. It's like stepping on a minefield; how would I know where to safely step if I don't know where the mines are?”

“I don't want you to get scared and walk away” I choked on a sob. Matt tilted his head at me with a sad smile on his lips.

“You will not, I promise. You're too well tangled in my soul for me to just walk away” he chuckled. I felt my cheeks turn red at his words and bit my lips to fight back a smile that was threatening to form in my face. He grabbed my hand and interlocked our fingers, his thumb drawing lazy circles on my flesh, an act of reassurance and encouragement.

I did trust Matt. Hell, I trusted him more than I trusted my own self. I knew I had to talk to him about it. I loved him. He had to know.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I spoke with a trembling voice that was almost as quiet as a whisper.

“Ever since I was 12 I've hated that day. Before I hit 18, I didn't want to celebrate my existence because I simply didn’t want to exist,” I trailed off with my gaze locked in our touching hands, “I was so sure that I wasn't going to make it till then, but here I am, I guess” I forced a laugh but it soon faded.

“It just doesn't feel real, you know? And I don't mean that in a good way. I feel like a coward,” I breathed while a few more teardrops fell, “it was honestly kind of like a goal of mine, not turning 18, which I obviously failed to accomplish,” I shook my head in disappointment, “my birthday just reminds me of those feelings and it just triggers me, I suppose. And now that I turned 19 and I'm still here... it's just a lot of feelings I can't quite describe. And apart from that, why would I celebrate a life I never wanted?” I tried to joke but I didn't earn a laugh from Matt. Scared of his reaction, I slowly lifted my head to look at him with guilt.

His eyes were watering, his forehead creased and an obvious frown on his lips he didn't even try to hide from me. He just stood there in silence for a minute or two, eyeing every feature that my face had to offer, before enveloping his shaking hands around me once more. This time, however, his grip was harsh and his whole body was trembling. He held me so tightly that I could barely breath, his grasp against my skin so tense I was sure it would leave marks. This time, it wasn't me he was trying to comfort, but himself. Knowing that his pure and genuine heart couldn't take that much hurt, I placed my own arms around him securely.

“It's okay, baby” I repeated over and over again as my fingers played with his dark hair. His face nuzzled in the crook of my neck where I felt wetness in. I hated seeing him like this, but I understood that it was a lot to take in. His reaction was more than understandable.

“I'm so sorry, y/n” he pulled away with wet cheeks.

“It's not your fault, you don't have to apologize.”

“Yeah but,” he choked, “it isn't fair! You were a child, you shouldn't be feeling this way!” he reasoned.

“I know, but I managed, didn't I? I'm still here,” I wiped away his tears with my thumbs. He just looked at me and nodded. His gaze mirrored his troubled thoughts. I could tell it hurt him; hearing the person you love the most admitting such things isn't an easy thing.

“I just…,” he trailed off, “I just want you to know that I'm glad you're still here. You may not believe what I'm about to say, but you do make a difference in this world. You make a difference in my world. The fact that there's probably a version of myself out there that doesn't have you in his life makes me feel sorry for him, because you truly are a gift, baby” Matt spoke.

“I promise you, I'll make it feel better. I'll find a way to make the pain go away, I swear,” he cupped my face and brought it so close to his I felt his hot breath on my skin. Not giving me a chance to speak, he pulled me against him. I let out a sigh before allowing myself to relax under his touch and comfort.

“You're so strong” he murmured against my hair. I laughed.

“I'm not strong, Matt, I am weak. If I were strong, I wouldn't be here today” I blandly told him and I felt him shake his head violently, obviously disagreeing with my statement.

“D-Don't. Don't say that. Please, don't say that. You are strong. Despite everything, you're here. You may not have chosen to stay, but you did. You're strong for not caving in and letting your mind control you, you're strong for handling all of these big and dark emotions ever since you were a child, you're strong for telling me. You may not see it, but there is so much strength in you, y/n, that inspires others. I know you don't get what I'm saying, but I also know how draining it is to feel like this. If anything, you're strong,” he argued and pulled away from the embrace to look me in my eyes. Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't give myself enough credit for it.

“I'll get you help. I'll find a therapist for you, the best one there is. I’ll pay for your sessions and everything you need. And I'll find ways to help you myself, I'll do my research, read books…I'll do anything for you, angel. I just want to make sure that you're safe. And if there's anything that I do that makes you feel unloved by me or hurts you in any way, please tell me. The last thing I want you to do is question my love for you” he said with puppy dog eyes.

Matt was a sincere and emotional man, two traits that made me fall in love with him instantly. His sympathy was something I've never came across with before meeting him. He was truly an angel sent from heaven.

“Thank you” I smiled sadly at him.

“I am here for you, baby. I will always be. No matter what happens, you'll always have me, I promise. I love you,” he breathed and kissed me with so much passion that made my head spin.

End of flashback

That was the day we muttered that phrase to one another. To some it may seem too soon, but I don't care. I needed to hear it and I needed to hear it from him. And I also felt the need to say it back because I did love him. Probably the most I've ever loved anything and anyone in this world. That was also the day I showed him my scars. Before that, I refused to get naked in front him even to just change my clothes, because I was scared of how he was going to react. Even though I wanted to have sex with him and show him how much I craved him and his body, my fear always consumed me. He didn't put any pressure on me though, he was very respectful of my boundaries and he made sure that I knew he wasn't upset or angry at me for not wanting to do anything sexual with him.

“You could tell me to never touch you again and I'd still feel the same way about you,” Matt used to tell me, and still does, whenever I apologize for not being in the mood to sleep with him. How could I not fall for this boy?

So here we are, a year later in our shared bedroom in his and his brothers' apartment taking in each other’s presence. Our legs intertwined, my face buried deep into his chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. Matt was a peaceful sleeper and in my opinion, he looked the most beautiful when he was asleep. He looked so comfortable and relaxed, his cheek squeezing against the soft pillow that supported his head and mouth slightly agape. Even in his sleep, though, he made sure to keep me close to him. He was always hugging me or touching my hand which I dearly appreciated. Whenever I woke up before him, I just stayed there and admired him until his eyes opened, and that's what I'm doing right now.

Lifting my head up, I look at his dreamy face. I smile fondly at the sight in front of me and I can't help myself but place soft, loving kisses on his features, neck and collarbones. I hear him shift under me, his body slowly stretching, which indicated his awakening. I look back up at him again and see him sheepishly smile down at me, a smile that never fails to make my heart jump and flutter.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up” I apologise softly.

“Mhm” he hums and brings me back against his body. I giggle at his clinginess but allowed myself to turn into a paddle under his touch and loving embrace. He rubs my back and caresses my hair before he places tender kisses on my forehead and lips.

“Happy birthday, my love” he wishes me in between pecks, making me smile against his pinkish, plump lips. I kiss him back passionately.

“How are you feeling?” Matt whispers as he pulls away, resting his face just a few inches away from mine. I smile at him. A genuine, gentle smile.

“I'm good” I whisper back.

“Yeah?” his lips take an upturn curve.

“Yeah,” I breathed before kissing him again. I hover on top of him with my body still laying beside him though, and his hands reach to take a hold of the sides of my face. We both smile into the kiss which ends up being interrupted by the door bursting open, making me jump.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Nick and Chris exclaim at the same time. They're even wearing birthday hats. These kids. I look down at Matt whose face was filled with pure shock. I laugh.

“Thank you, boys” I shoot them a toothy smile.

“Oh wait, I forgot the cake!” Chris says before running back to the kitchen. I look at Nick who stared at his younger brother in disbelief.

“I'm so sorry, I told them not to do-“

“Baby, it's okay,” I whispered, “I'm okay.”

“I'm so proud of you,” Matt says softly before sitting up and placing a kiss on flustered my cheek.

“Here! Make a wish!” Chris says as he came back with the cake which, in reality, was just a few pancakes with a lit up candle on top.

All those years, I thought that birthday wishes weren't a thing until I got blessed with those 3 boys. I don’t know what or who brought them to me, if it was God’s or any other celestial’s work, but I thanked them every night for allowing me to have such people around me. I was so grateful for them and for once in a while, I was grateful to be alive.

I was grateful for not giving up when I felt like it was the only way out. I was grateful for not losing the battle because if I had, I wouldn't have met them and I wouldn't know what love and happiness felt like. I couldn't be able to give little me the love she deserved. She wouldn't have met Matt, she wouldn't have felt the butterflies every time he landed his eyes on her which indeed did tickle her stomach, she wouldn't have known how unconditional love felt like. The thought of that made me uneasy. I couldn't take that away from her and I was more than happy I didn't.

I look around me and cherish this moment. Yes, there is still a lot of healing I need to do still, but I'm getting there. With the help of my friends, I will get there. Their smiling faces give me strength everyday to keep going. And so before blowing out the candle, I make a wish. I wish for all the people who feel just like I once did to get better. I wish for their pain to vanish and be replaced with happiness and peace. I wish for them to realize that their existence matters more than they think. And most importantly, I wish for them to not lose the battle because yes, life may be tough, but they're tougher. Because they are needed and beautiful and unique. Because they deserve a happy ending. Because they do make this world a better place just by being in it.

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simpforfandom231 · 3 months

Text

I don't forget too well PT1

Slightly obsessed with Reneé Rapp.

warnings: this will be a multi part. ADHD, Fluff.

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The soft glow of the television illuminated the cozy living room, casting a warm ambiance over Renée Rapp and her girlfriend, Y/N. The room was filled with the familiar scent of popcorn, evidence of their movie night ritual. Renée reclined on the couch, her tough exterior momentarily replaced by a relaxed posture as she cradled the remote control in one hand.

Y/N nestled against Renée, finding comfort in the warmth of her girlfriend's presence. Their fingers interlaced, creating a silent connection between them. As scenes of an action-packed movie unfolded on the screen, Renée couldn't help but share her thoughts in her characteristic no-nonsense style.

"Did you see that move? That's how you handle business," Renée remarked, a hint of admiration in her voice as a particularly badass character dispatched a group of enemies on screen.

Y/N chuckled, lifting her head to meet Renée's gaze. "You know, babe, that's just like you. Tough on the outside, but a total softie deep down."

Renée smirked, a playful glint in her eyes. "Softie, huh? I'll have you know I'm as tough as they come."

Y/N grinned, unconvinced. "Oh please, Renée. I've seen you tear up during those emotional scenes. You're a total marshmallow."

Renée feigned offense, placing a hand over her heart. "Hey now, those scenes are just... emotionally charged. Doesn't mean anything."

As the movie continued, their banter seamlessly blended with the on-screen action. The dialogue between Renée and Y/N was a delightful mix of teasing and affection, creating a dynamic that was both entertaining and heartwarming.

In the midst of the movie, Y/N snuggled even closer to Renée. "But seriously, babe, it's one of the things I love about you. You're like a tough cookie with a gooey center."

Renée couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her lips. "Well, you're my princess. Gotta protect that gooey center of yours."

The final credits rolled on the screen, signaling the end of the movie, yet Y/N had no intention of relinquishing her spot on the couch. She remained nestled against Renée, her reluctance to move evident in the way she tightened her grip on Renée's hand.

Renée, ever the multitasker, pulled out a book and began to read. However, her eyes couldn't help but stray from the pages to steal glances at Y/N. There was a subtle yearning in Renée's gaze, a desire for the kind of affection only Y/N could provide.

"You know, princess, I can't focus on this book when you're looking so cute over there," Renée teased, a playful grin on her face.

Y/N chuckled, squeezing Renée's hand. "Maybe I don't want you to focus on the book, Mommy."

Renée raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Oh, is that so? Well, I can't resist my princess's wishes." She set the book aside, giving Y/N her full attention.

As Y/N settled back into Renée's embrace, she decided to change the mood. A soft melody filled the room as Y/N selected a playlist. The gentle strains of a familiar song began to play, and Renée's eyes lit up with recognition.

"Ah, 'Tattoo.' This one's personal for me," Renée remarked, her fingers tracing the invisible ink on her skin that held stories only she could decipher.

Y/N, being an empath due to her ADHD, felt a knot tighten in her chest as the lyrics unfolded. The emotional depth of the song tugged at her heart, and she gazed at Renée, trying to navigate the surge of feelings coursing through her.

Renée, however, saw it differently. For her, "Tattoo" represented a chapter in her life, a story that had been written and resolved. She didn't carry the pain of the past like she did when she first penned the song.

As the song progressed, Y/N couldn't help but ask, "Babe, how do you manage to stay so composed when your own song plays?"

Renée smiled, her eyes holding a mix of nostalgia and contentment. "It's like revisiting an old chapter. It shaped me, but it doesn't define me anymore. I'm in a different place now, with you."

Y/N nodded, still grappling with the emotions stirred by the music. "It's just... I feel everything so intensely. Your pain becomes my pain."

Renée reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N's face. "Hey, I appreciate that. But remember, I'm okay now. You don't have to carry that burden. Focus on the present, on us."

Y/N nodded again, taking a deep breath and trying to anchor herself in the present moment. The remainder of the song played out, and as the final notes faded away, Y/N snuggled even closer to Renée.

"Thanks, babe," Y/N whispered, her voice filled with gratitude and love.

Renée pressed a tender kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Anytime, smooch. Now, let's create some new memories, ones that make the old ones fade away."

As they embraced, the room bathed in the soft glow of the music, they embarked on a journey of their own, weaving a narrative that surpassed any movie or song—a love story uniquely theirs.

The night continued, with Renée and Y/N immersed in the comforting cocoon of their shared space. The glow of the television had faded, leaving only the soft ambience of the room's dim lights. Y/N, still in the midst of their embrace, couldn't shake a persistent restlessness. Her fidgeting was a telltale sign for Renée—Y/N's ADHD was on the verge of spiking.

Renée, ever the attentive partner after four years together, gently caressed Y/N's cheek. "Babe, what's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

Y/N sighed, her eyes flitting around the room. "I don't know, it's just... I need something, you know? Like, right now."

Renée chuckled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Ah, the ADHD cravings strike again. Anything specific or just a general 'something'?"

Y/N paused, her eyes widening with realization. "Food. Definitely food. I can't stop thinking about it."

Renée smirked, realizing this was going to be a night of spontaneous adventures. "Alright, what are you in the mood for, princess?"

Y/N's face lit up with excitement. "Pizza. Definitely pizza. And maybe some ice cream after. Oh, and those cheesy breadsticks!"

Renée laughed, pulling Y/N up from the couch. "Well, it looks like we're embarking on a midnight food quest. To the kitchen!"

As they navigated the kitchen, Renée couldn't help but tease, "You know, we had plans for a date tomorrow. Could've saved this food adventure for then."

Y/N shot her a mischievous grin. "Well, tomorrow is a different day. Tonight is all about indulgence."

The aroma of pizza filled the air as they eagerly waited for it to bake. Y/N couldn't contain her excitement, bouncing on her toes in anticipation.

"You really know how to keep things interesting, babe," Renée remarked, grabbing a bag of popcorn to snack on while they waited.

Y/N, unable to stay still, replied with a playful smile. "Life's too short for predictability, right?"

Renée chuckled, realizing the truth in Y/N's words. "True. And you, my love, bring an endless supply of surprises."

Finally, the timer beeped, announcing the completion of their late-night feast. Y/N practically skipped to the oven, pulling out the pizza with a triumphant grin.

Renée poured some drinks, raising her glass in a toast. "To spontaneous midnight feasts and to my amazing, unpredictable princess."

They clinked glasses, savoring the warmth of the moment. As they settled back on the couch, devouring slices of pizza and sharing laughs, the room was filled with the joy that came from embracing the unexpected.

Renée leaned in, stealing a quick kiss from Y/N between bites. "Tomorrow, we'll go on that date, I promise."

Y/N nodded, a twinkle in her eye. "Deal. But for tonight, let's revel in the spontaneity of our love."

The night wore on, and the energy in the room shifted. Y/N's ADHD, heightened by the stress of a demanding day at school, reached its peak. Her usually vibrant energy became a torrent of restlessness, and Renée, ever attuned to her girlfriend's moods, sensed the struggle beneath the surface.

Renée set aside her work, concern etching her features. "Hey, princess, everything okay?"

Y/N sighed, her hands fidgeting with anything within reach. "Yeah, yeah, just a bit wound up, you know?"

Renée furrowed her brow, recognizing that there was more beneath the surface. "Babe, you can tell me. I can see it's more than just 'a bit wound up.'"

Y/N hesitated, torn between wanting to shield Renée from her worries and the undeniable need for support. Finally, she opened up, "It's just... school was overwhelming today. Presentations, deadlines, the whole package. I didn't want to bother you while you were in the studio."

Renée cupped Y/N's face gently. "You're never a bother, love. We're in this together. Your stress is my stress."

Y/N managed a small smile, appreciating Renée's understanding. "I know, but I didn't want to add to your load. You're working on your music, and I'm proud of you for that."

Renée kissed Y/N's forehead, her love evident in the gesture. "And I'm proud of you, too. But let's tackle this together. How about we take Winston for a run? A little evening jog to shake off the stress?"

Y/N's eyes lit up at the suggestion. "That actually sounds perfect. I need to burn off some of this excess energy."

Renée grinned, grabbing their dog's leash. "Winston's in for a treat. And you, my love, are in for a well-deserved release."

As they stepped outside, the cool night air enveloped them. Winston, their lively canine companion, wagged his tail in excitement. The three of them began their evening run, the rhythmic pounding of their footsteps echoing in the quiet streets.

Renée glanced at Y/N, who was fully immersed in the physical activity, her fidgeting slowly transforming into a more purposeful movement. "Feel the stress melting away, babe?"

Y/N nodded, the wind tousling her hair. "Yeah, it's like I'm leaving it all behind with every step."

Renée couldn't help but admire Y/N's resilience. "You're incredible, you know that? Handling everything with such grace."

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of Renée's praise. "And you, Mommy, are my rock. Always there to steady me."

They continued their run, the moon casting a gentle glow on their path. The rhythmic beats of their steps matched the cadence of their conversation, creating a harmonious symphony of support and understanding.

As they reached the end of their run, Y/N's breathing had steadied, and the tightness in her chest had loosened. Renée, catching her breath, pulled Y/N into a tight embrace.

"Better?" Renée asked, her voice a soft whisper against Y/N's ear.

Y/N nodded, grateful for the healing power of a good run and the unwavering support of her partner. "Much better. Thanks for always being there, babe."

Renée kissed Y/N's forehead, their bond stronger than ever beneath the moonlit sky. "Anytime, smooch. We're a team, remember?"

With Winston by their side, they made their way back home, leaving the stress of the day behind and embracing the calming embrace of the night—a reminder that, together, they could weather any storm.

The night continued its gentle descent, and Renée and Y/N found themselves in the comforting routine of getting ready for bed. Renée, typically not one for meticulous planning, had adopted a routine that involved listing the events of the next day—a routine inspired by Y/N's need to prepare and avoid overstimulation.

"Okay, babes, let's go over the plan for tomorrow," Renée said, grabbing a notepad and pen.

Y/N smiled, appreciating Renée's effort to make their lives more organized. "Sure thing, cutie. Lay it on me."

Renée began listing the events with a serious expression, trying to mimic Y/N's method. "So, we have two interviews for the Mean Girls movie in the morning. Then, you have that presentation at school about economics in the morning as well. After that, I've got a studio session for two hours in the afternoon."

Y/N nodded, mentally preparing for the day ahead. "Got it, snuggles. Sounds like a busy day for both of us."

Renée smirked, still getting used to these pet names but secretly enjoying the endearments. "You know, I never thought I'd be into this whole planning thing, but it does make life a bit easier."

Y/N chuckled, wrapping her arms around Renée. "See, babes, organization isn't that bad. And you're doing it all for me."

Renée pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead. "Anything for you, my love. If it helps you, I'm all in."

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of gratitude for Renée's willingness to adapt. "You're amazing, you know that? I never thought someone like you would accept someone like me and my chaos."

Renée's eyes softened, and she tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. "Chaos or not, you're the best thing that happened to me. I want to take care of you, make things a little smoother for you."

Y/N felt her heart swell with affection. "And you do, every day. I'm lucky to have you, babes."

With their bedtime routine complete, Renée turned off the lights, and they snuggled under the blankets. As they drifted off to sleep, the room was filled with a quiet contentment—a reflection of the love and understanding that defined their relationship.

The next day arrived, with its whirlwind of activities. Renée, in between interviews and studio sessions, sent Y/N encouraging messages, making sure she was doing well with her presentation. Y/N, in turn, sent virtual kisses and words of support, grateful for the bond they shared.

As the day unfolded, filled with moments of chaos and calm, Renée and Y/N navigated the challenges together, a team in the truest sense. The interviews, the presentation, the studio session—all were conquered, not as separate tasks but as shared victories.

And as they reunited at the end of the day, exhaustion giving way to the satisfaction of overcoming the day's hurdles, Renée whispered, "We did it, cutie. Teamwork, always."

Y/N smiled, snuggling closer to Renée. "Always, snuggles. I couldn't have asked for a better partner in this crazy journey."

#renee rapp #renee rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x reader #reneé rapp x fem!reader #reneé rapp x reader #reneé rapp #fandom #fanfic

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