That Fanfic Stuff

All the fandoms. Canon is dead here. See pinned post for tag list. I'm a couple of decades past 18. Main is @kdcollinsauthor

[thatfanficstuff]

Hello Lovelies! Welcome to my blog. 

Things you need to know:

Main is @kdcollinsauthor

Be forewarned that I am foul mouthed and blunt most of the time.

I write in many and multiple fandoms. Canon is dead here.

All fics are afab reader unless otherwise stated.

Dark and explicit fics will be clearly indicated

Tag list is here. If you want tagged in everything follow @thatfanficstuffwritesstuff​ and turn on notifs.

My inbox is always open. Send me an ask. I love to talk about random shit.

Requests are temporarily closed until later this summer.

I do not write super detailed requests. It's not fun for me and the end product usually ends up not being that good.

I only accept x reader requests

My AO3 is here

Current Series

Masterlist Rabbot x Curvy Tattooed Reader

Widow!Jack ficlet series Jack Abbot x Wife!Reader

Current Obsession(s)

Masterlist

Shawn Hatosy Characters Masterlist

Noah Wyle Characters Masterlist

Everything else below

Misc. Fandoms A-L Masterlist

Misc. Fandoms M-Z Masterlist

Masterlist

Masterlist

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[hotdocsandcowboys]

TAG LIST REQUEST

Trying something a little different with my Brett fic... the first part is done! But I wanna let my Titus fic breathe a little and get ahead of the next part of this one SO in the mean time....tag list? I haven't done a formal list before, but I figured I'd try it out!

Diamond Rings, Pearl Necklaces, Two Bengals, and a Tabby.

This series is a collection of stories about Fire Chief Brett Richards and his younger wife, as they move through life together. Reader is early 30's, hyper-feminine, whip-smart, rich girl of the Clean Energy industry, and the only impulsive thing Brett has ever done in his life is marry her after only 6 weeks of meeting. Original little Inspo Blurb is here. Reader is inspired by @thatfanficstuff's reader from her fic That's My Girl! Go read it's cute!

Here is a preview of the tags of the first part!: Tags: fluff, nosy coworkers spying, age gap, reunited sex, dom!Brett, use of SIR and baby girl, sex on a counter, fingering, ✨✨squirting✨✨ ;), this first one is mostly smut...

COMMENT BELOW IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE TAGGED!

[nellasbookplanet]

Something so funny about rereading one's own unfinished fics. Like wow this is pretty good! Almost as if it was written exactly according to what I personally like in fact! Someone should finish it!

[booksinmythorax]

This blog is a safe space for transgender people.

The owner of this blog believes all libraries should be safe, accessible places for all transgender people.

[permanent-fire-hazard]

Jack slams to a halt the second he sees him. It’s not possible. He’s snapped. He’s hallucinating. No matter what he thinks he’s seeing, there’s no way in hell a twenty-something Michael Robinavitch is standing in front of him.

The pup is damn near identical to the mate Jack never had. His alpha wants to grab him and drag him away, get on his knees and apologize for giving up on them so easily. He shouldn’t have let Robby end their courtship without a fight, but he was so heartbroken his brain wouldn’t work and his perfect omega was out the door before Jack could even begin to wonder what he’d done wrong.

“Dr. Abbot,” the department head says. Jack hadn’t even noticed her, all his attention was wrapped in the ghost standing in front of him. “This is Dr. Carter. He’s one of our MS4s.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jack rasps. He shakes the ghost’s hand, they’re softer than Robby’s ever were, but that warm smile is exactly like he remembers.

“Nice to meet you too,” Carter says. “You know, it’s funny, my—“ The doors of the ambulance bay spring open and shouting overwhelms whatever he says.

“I’m sorry?” Jack needs to sit down, but there’s never a chance here.

Carter waves him off. “Not important.” He heads off to the trauma and Jack follows foolishly behind.

Every time Carter is on Jack’s shift he spends the whole time staring at him, wondering if he actually is his Mikey’s pup. He must be, the odds of someone else having a pup that looks exactly like him down to the crinkle by his eyes when he smiles are slim to none. Jack imagines what Robby would look like now. Stunningly beautiful, he’s certain. Those lines Jack loved would be permanently etched on his face, and he bets his thin waist has fattened sweetly with age. Jack would give anything to have seen him pregnant.

When they were courting, Jack would curl behind Robby and rub his palm over his stomach, picturing how it would feel when it expanded to grow their pup. Now, he lays in bed alone between shifts and tries not to vomit at the thought of some other alpha getting that instead.

He does the math on Carter’s age and pinches the bridge of his nose to stop himself from crying. How soon after their courtship did Robby get pupped? Was there some other alpha waiting for him while Jack thought they were planning a life together? Or worse, had already taken Robby while he was still Jack’s?

Pathetic as it is, he can’t stop the tears. Fifty years old, spending his day off sobbing in bed over an omega that had forgotten about him when their lives were still intertwined.

As gruesome as it is to see Carter happily bouncing around the ED, Jack won’t deny that he appreciates the small distraction from his pity party. He often eavesdrops on Carter’s chatting in the hopes of hearing something definitive about his mother.

One day, he overhears Carter mention that his first name is John, which is salt in the wound, but it gives Jack enough to google him like a creep without risking his coworkers finding him digging into their student’s private life.

John Carter is an unfortunately popular name, but after an hour of searching, Jack finds an Instagram account under jcartera. Carter doesn’t post very much, but there is one photo that takes Jack’s breath away.

Michael Robinavitch, twenty-five years older than the last time Jack saw him, hugging his pup tightly as they celebrate Carter’s graduation. He’s even more gorgeous than Jack imagined. His eyes shine proudly, and his smile is just as hypnotic as Jack remembered.

He clicks the photo for a closer look, and takes it in like oxygen. His eyes dart to Robby’s neck; he can’t see a bite. What idiot wouldn’t mate Robby?

Jack scrolls to the next photo and it’s as if a knife is driven into his heart. Robby looks almost exactly how Jack remembers him, the only difference is the bit of weight remaining around his jawline, and baby Carter snug against his chest.

A heavy weight slams into Jack. He wishes so badly he could’ve been the alpha that gave Robby that smile; that they could’ve had a pup and treasured them together.

Or even Carter. He’s such a wonderful young man, Jack would’ve been happy to claim him regardless of who his actual father was. He was always so weak for Robby; Jack would’ve raised any pup of his if for nothing else than to keep his dream omega in his life.

Jack goes back to the graduation photo. There’s an account tagged on Robby’s shoulder, m.robby; Jack gnaws his bottom lip and considers if this is a bridge to far, but figures he’s already past inappropriate.

Robby’s account is even emptier than Carter’s. He’s posted the same graduation picture, and a photo of a sunset with no caption. Jack sighs and goes back to Carter’s account. He stares at the two photos and imagines a whole different life.

He sees that life every time Carter’s name is mentioned for the next month. The first break he gets from the taunting fantasy comes after hours of working on the victims of a six car pile up.

Jack is taking his first real breath since the trauma was called in, sitting alone on a bench outside the ambulance bay, when Carter comes out, cheeks red and hair sticking to his forehead.

“Oh, hi, Dr. Abbot,” he smiles. Jack wonders if Carter got his ability to bounce back from his father because Robby had a nasty habit of taking every lost patient to heart.

“Hey, Carter. How you holding up?”

“Been better.” He takes the spot next to Jack. “I’m really glad that girl pulled through. She had me scared.”

“You and me both.”

Carter hums. “Maybe it’s an Abbot thing.”

Jack’s eyebrows furrow.

“I’m making a joke,” Carter laughs. “Because we have the same last name.”

All the air evaporates from Jack’s lungs. “What?”

“Just, because we were thinking the same thing and both our last names are Abbot.” Carter shrugs. “It’s stupid. There’s a reason I’m a doctor and not a comedian.”

Jack blinks, hard and heavy. “I thought your last name was Carter.”

He shakes his head. “No, Carter’s my middle name. I went by it in school, and when I continued for this rotation to avoid confusion after I found out there was already a Dr. Abbot.” He frowns. Good God, he is the absolute spit of Robby. “I thought you knew.”

“No,” Jack says, breathless.

“I told you on my first day.”

Jack’s head is spinning. “I’d definitely remember that if you did.”

Carter, Abbot, John Carter Abbot, looks at him strangely before brightening. “Oh, yeah! The trauma came in and I forgot. Huh. Doesn’t matter, I guess.”

It does matter. It matters more than anything in the world. “Your name is John Abbot,” Jack says stupidly.

“Yeah?”

“My name is John Abbot.”

Carter’s frown returns. “But… I swear I’ve heard the other attendings call you Jack?”

“That— yeah. That’s the name I’ve gone by since childhood,” he laughs shallowly. He could wake up in a padded cell at any moment. “I’m named after my uncle, so I got called Jack to avoid confusion.”

“Oh.” Carter stares at his feet. “I’m named after my dad…”

Jack grabs the back of the bench to avoid giving himself a concussion when he inevitably passes out.

Carter at him with wide, somewhat frightened, eyes. “Do you… um, did you know a Michael Robinavitch?”

“Yes,” Jack whispers. His grip on the bench tightens.

All the color in Carter’s face drains. “How well?”

“Extremely.”

A far away glaze covers Carter’s eyes, he looks as dizzy as Jack feels. “Jesus Christ.”

[thatfanficstuff]

Just thinking about the time my kids came to my work to visit and loudly announced. "I'm sorry you don't like your job, mommy."

That was fun

[fangirl-dot-com]

Words Can Hurt . . .

summary: victoria javadi is a lot of things, and being mindful of what she says is not one of them. when her voice carries a little too far, and you hear exactly what she thinks of you and your coworkers, jack is left to pick up your shattered pieces and try to put you back together.

tags: jack abbot x reader, angst, sooo much angst, I'd say this is ooc, but if I heard someone calling me a time bomb or the angriest person she's ever met, I'd call her them for it too, hurt/lots of comfort, medical/medschool inaccuracies, reader struggles with depression and self worth, suicidal ideations (nothing ever comes of these), mentions of jack's ptsd, age gap (non specific), apologizing but sorry really is a bandaid over a gaping wound, 18+ MDNI

notes: after the success of my last angst-filled fic, I decided I wanted to write another. I will be making a smut-filled part two, so just heads up for that one! I am currently in the process of moving, so forgive me for my absence! my requests are open, and my tag list is sadly closed! please enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

You thought that you were one of the easier residents to work with. 

Each harder case to come through the front doors went right over to your eager hands without any arguments, you taking the tablet with a nod and steeled nerves. Robby knew you could handle anything that got thrown at you, and his trust meant a lot, his nods and compliments healing something deep in your chest. 

With you, patient satisfaction scores came up, much to the appeal of your seniors. And again, that little twanging flutter made you push to feel it more often. It made you want to be someone that everyone could count on to be there. 

In the Pitt, friendships and comradery were two things that got everyone through shifts; whether they were easy going ones where the worst case through the doors happened to be a broken leg, or they ended with death and loss over and over in a seemingly never-ending cycle. Everyone needed someone, and you always wanted to be the person that others could come to when they needed a hug or a shoulder to cry on. A smile always seemed to be on your face, and even through the worst traumas, you rarely cried, needing to at least be one strong person in a room full of broken souls. 

However, that meant that sometimes, people forgot that you were able to break too. 

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop after what seemed like the longest 4th of July shift you’ve ever experienced while working at PTMC. The hours were filled with an abandoned baby, two new med students, obnoxious assholes, your boyfriend coming in with a bullet wound to the back, a brand-new attending and her AI charting system, the cyber-attack taking away said AI charting system, and probably most draining, Robby acting like he wasn’t going to come back after his three-month sabbatical, putting everyone on edge and making it seem like they had to walk on egg shells. Even you, after many suggestions of trying to talk him into staying local from multiple different people, weren’t able to get a clear answer from him, and that made it all worse somehow. 

Since dating Jack, you’d weirdly been able to form a closer friendship with the older chief attending that ran farther than a normal boss-coworker relationship. Trying to count the times he came over to Jack’s for dinner or a late-night Steeler’s game would be impossible. You got to see another friendlier and more open version of the man that had only ever been reserved for his closest confidant. So, to not be able to know if he’d come back safely, had your heart racing the entire day. 

Add on everything else (still backtracking to Jack getting shot at—he made sure to tell you that there was indeed a difference), you were closer to a breaking point than you’d been in a long while. 

“Here you go, hun. I think this is the last one before you can get outta here,” Dana sighed as she handed over a paper chart. “To think that we started out the day with robots taking over the chart, and we end it with writing each one individually.”

Your hand cramped at the thought of writing another chart, but you took it from her anyway. “Remind me to keep a hand brace in my locker at all times,” you groaned. “I think my fingers are withering away.” 

“Shocking Abbot doesn’t have on in that go-bag of his.” 

“He has an emergency trach kit but not a measly brace.” You rolled your shoulders, the muscles tight and thickened with nerves and tension. “I’m taking his card after this and booking us both massages.” 

“Amen, sista,” Dana muttered, eyes transfixed on her hand-written nurses board. “At least he’s good for something.” 

You snorted, the sound unfamiliar for the day. “Don’t tell him that, or he’ll want to come with us. I made a monster the last time I brought him with me for a facial, and now he insists to join me every single time.” 

“Uh, Dr. (L/n)?” Dennis asked, his voice carrying over your shoulder in a nervous tone. 

Your neck twisted, and you winced slightly at the pop it gave. “Yes, Whitaker? Still haven’t found your badge?” 

His lips pursed. “No; still haven’t found it, but I actually had a question for you.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Not to throw her under the bus, but Trinity might have mentioned you had an extra energy drink?” he said as more of a question than a statement, and it made your lips curve at his nervous nature. “A-and I was maybe wondering if—” 

“If you could have it?” you finished. “Sure. It’s in the fridge with my name on a sticky note.” 

Dennis smiled largely, and his chest fell with a big exhale. “Thank you so much. I swear I’ll pay you back.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved a hand through the air. “Can’t have you falling asleep here during the last leg.” 

When you turned back to Dana after Dennis left in the direction of the breakroom, she already had a knowing look on her face, eyebrows cocked and grey eyes trained on you over her glasses. Heat rushed to your cheeks. 

“What?” you asked, doing your best not to meet her gaze. “I wasn’t going to drink it anyway.” 

“Sure you weren’t. It’s not like I heard you tell Abbot earlier about how much you were looking forward to drinking it.” 

You glanced over your shoulder. “He obviously needs it more than I do. Plus, he has other things like his bills to worry about. If a can of Monster gets him through the evening, then I’ll let him take mine.” 

Because your eyes had gone back down to the chart midway, you missed the downcast of Dana’s expression. “You still have to worry about bills too, hun. Until you’re Jack’s age, they’re going to forever be a pain in your ass.” 

You huffed. “One Monster isn’t going to make me go broke.” You paused. “Plus, Jack bought it, so his loss really.” 

She tapped her pen on the counter twice. “Then you can take it up with him after you finish that chart. But don’t go too hard, Lord knows you’re one of the hardest working ones here. Abbot better get you the nicest Uber home.” 

A warmth bloomed in your chest, matching the heat rising in your cheeks, always one to get a reaction out of the simplest of words. Dana could tell you that you did a good job tying your shoelaces, and her praise would mean more than anything else. 

In response, you only shook your head before clicking a pen open to start writing in the chart. The words came easily enough, your fingers actually cooperating with you to make the lettering legible enough that someone could easily transfer your notes once the systems were fully back on. To your right, you heard a crisp crack and chuckled. 

Dennis certainly wasn’t one to wait when a cold Monster dropped right into his hands. 

Almost to the halfway point in the chart was when you heard both Dennis’s and Victoria’s voices carry over the loud ED. You tried your best to concentrate; once you were finished, you got to kiss Jack goodbye and then go back to your shared home where you knew your bed and dinner were waiting for you. You could almost imagine it: the post-work bath, the warmed up left overs, then drifting right off to sleep only to wake up twelve hours later in Jack’s arms, something that only happened when you both had the day off, and July 5th happened to be just that. 

“Did you ever find your ID badge?” Victoria asked Dennis, and you couldn’t help but frown; the poor kid had been looking for it all day. 

“Uh, no,” Dennis answered after taking a sip from the can. “So, you any closer to deciding what’s next for you?” 

“Uh, yeah. I’m seriously considering law school.” 

Your brow quirked. Law school? Well, she was young enough to switch everything if she wanted to. 

Dennis choked on a swallow. “What? What are you talking about? You’re going to be a great doctor.” 

She scoffed lowly. “I mean, no offense, but look what this place does to you.” 

Your pen stopped against the page, and your stomach tightened. By now, you were listening with purpose, unable to quit even if you knew better than to eavesdrop in on their conversation. Yet, they were talking rather loudly in the middle of the hub, so you probably weren’t the only one who caught their words. 

Victoria continued. “Langdon’s an addict.” 

You blanched. What? 

Dennis was quick to correct her. “Is a person with substance use disorder.” 

“McKay was on house arrest,” she continued, not heading his words at all. “Dana’s a time bomb.” 

A frown took over your mouth, and an ugly feeling roared its head in your center. If there was one person who wasn’t a time bomb, they’d be Dana, the charge nurse who had seemingly never-ending patience, a caregiver who rushed into danger moments after hearing Hula Hoop!, a woman who pushed herself up and worked through a mass casualty after a man abused her in the ambulance bay. Through it all, Dana had persevered, and Victoria had the audacity to call her a time bomb. Your fingers curled white-knuckled around the pen, and you had half a mind to turn around and speak up, but you stayed silent, wanting to hear what she had to say about your coworkers. 

“Santos is one of the angriest people you are ever going to meet.” 

“Woah. Sarcastic, yes. Cynical, definitely. I don’t know if she’s, you know—” 

“Mel?” she interrupted before pausing like she couldn’t come up with something vicious for a the most innocent of your colleges. “Samira has no life. Abbot’s an adrenaline junkie who gets shot at for fun.” 

Now, anger roared its head and bubbled under your skin. What does she fucking know about Jack’s need to keep going because he feels like if he stops, he’ll quit living. You’d been there to hold him through the bad days, through all of his deepest darkest fears and doubts that if he didn’t have a purpose, no one would want him. You swallowed thickly, and when you blinked, the chart suddenly became blurry through glossy eyes. 

“Robby’s got, like PTSD or something way fucking worse.” 

Your breath hitched high in your throat. For more years than Victoria had even been alive, Robby had seen the worst of the world. You knew he’d been abandoned at a young age, but everyone else knew he had to make the decision to take his mentor off life support in hopes to give a younger life a fighting chance, only for them both to end up six feet under. He carried the responsibility of every single employee on his shoulders even if they didn’t want him to. He was tired, he was scared, he was angry, and all she could say was that he is basically fucked mentally. You shifted your weight, ready to turn around and speak your mind, but like self-torture, your name was next on her list, and this time, the ER went silent to hear it all.  

“And don’t get me started on Dr. (L/n). The poor girl has an obvious case of validation addiction and depression, plus, dating a senior attending? Talk about daddy issues.” 

It was as if all the breath was stolen from your lungs, and inhaling became immensely difficult. You tried your best to take in deep inhales, but your chest refused to cooperate with your brain’s need for oxygen. A high-pitched ringing overtook your hearing, fogging up and overpowering anything that followed. Slowly, you looked up from where your eyes had stayed glued to the chart, and your stomach dropped even further when you met not only Dana’s eyes, but what felt like the whole departments’ including Jack’s, who had just managed to make it in before Victoria had even said your name. 

He had been there for all of it. He'd heard her.

Your jaw dropped, and your shoulders hunched in jerky motions as you tried to say something—anything, but she had managed to rendered you speechless in three measly sentences and make you feel the most vulnerable you’d ever been. Everyone who was looking at you now knew something you’d tried to hide through consistent smiles and a small dosage of Lexapro to get you through the day. But now, with your soul bared wide open by someone who didn’t understand what loving an ER did to a person, nothing seemed to make it all feel better. 

You shakily looked around the room, pen dropping from your hand as you began to back up from the counter. For a split second, you met Victoria’s dark eyes and guilt-ridden expression, but it was too late for her to take anything back. In a shuddering breath, you turned and hastily walked in the direction of the stairwell, failing to meet Jack’s eyes after brushing right past him and Robby, taking two steps at a time to get somewhere with air once you got to the stairs. 

And you had only one place in mind with enough air to last a lifetime: the roof. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Jack’s jaw clenched to the point his teeth hurt as the med student’s words rang through his head. 

He could probably piece together that you weren’t the only one she talked loudly about, but in that moment, you were the only one that mattered. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag. He left Robby standing there with his arms crossed against his chest and walked over to where she and Whitaker were standing. 

By the time he reached her, the Pitt had delved back into quiet motion, however, that didn't mean a few had stuck around to possibly hear what Jack was about to say or see what he was about to do.

Loudly placing his bag down in a thunk that echoed through the hub, the room still reeling with the too-loud ill-thought words thrown at you, one of their most trustworthy residents they’d ever had. Jack made sure to square his shoulders to be as intimidating as he hoped he could come across. His hazel eyes burned with an unfiltered rage as he looked down.

“I don’t know what led you to this little . . . gossip name-calling session at the end of your shift, but what you have just said is completely inappropriate and absolutely disrespectful to one of your superiors,” he stated lowly, voice close to a growl. “And frankly, I don’t care if you’re tired, or if this is a slip up of not thinking straight. You have just made a very strong accusation about my partner. And once her name came out of your mouth, all bets of me reprimanding you as an attending flew off the table.”

Javadi felt the blood drain from her face. “Dr. Abbot, I didn’t mean—” 

“But you did,” he cut her off. “You’re only backtracking now because we all heard you—she heard you. Do you know exactly what you’ve done?”

When she failed to answer, Jack scoffed. 

“Fine, I will tell you what you’ve done so that it can sit with you for the rest of your weekend. Dr. (L/n) works her ass off to be approachable. She never complains, never staggers under pressure, and is one of the best fucking people within these walls, and you have just belittled everything she does for this damn hospital. She gets praised because she’s great, not because she’s a little attention seeking med student,” he cracked, not holding back at all. “You should know a bit about that. You graduated and went to college at what? Sixteen?” 

Jack knew he lowballed it just for her to quietly correct him with a meek thirteen. He clicked his tongue loudly against his cheek. 

“What do they call you kids these days too? Nepo-babies? Your mom works upstairs, and you’re down here desperately trying to hide away from her and make a name for yourself. Well, let me tell you something, kid, this—” He gestured to her and then around the hub with a flick of his wrist. “—this is not the way to go about things. You don’t get to loudly judge others and expect there to not be reprimand and get away with it.” 

He leaned against the counter and tilted his chin back. “You’re studying to be a doctor, for fucks sake. What if you’d been saying this shit about a patient, and their family overheard you? Your scores would tank, and then you might have to repeat a whole year because you couldn’t find the dignity to keep your thoughts to yourself. This is not the standard of care we’d give to patients and certainly not one we give to coworkers who have never given us, and especially you, grief for anything.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jack tried to relax, but just remembering the devastation on your face kept the fire rolling. 

“My relationship with Dr. (L/n) is and will always be no one’s business. If she wants to date an older guy, one who happens to be me, it doesn’t automatically mean someone has daddy issues,” he spat, the words curdling in his mouth. “It means that she was comfortable enough to go for someone who knows the right way to treat a woman, and I will not stand here and let you think for one more second that she is not capable of carrying for herself.”

Jack pushed off the counter and really looked into her eyes one more time, making sure everything really stuck. “Most of the superiors in here have been working in medicine longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve had to live with the repercussions of war far longer than you’ve been alive. Once you’ve gotten a true taste of what this world can do to a person, come find me, and we’ll have a real discussion about how adults find ways to cope with it all without killing ourselves every night.” 

He turned around without a second thought, leaving behind a more than embarrassed med student and a hub full of coworkers who understood every word he had said deeper than they’d like to admit. But he couldn’t think of any of them now, not with you and the roof on his mind. He hated the way his stomach flipped and twisted as he rode the elevator upwards, leg not able to handle the stairs so early into putting his prosthesis back on after working the few hours after the SWAT raid he manage to do plus little sleep in time to kiss you goodbye after your shift. 

Jack was never one for religion, but he prayed that he’d find you behind the railing instead of in front of it. Hell, he’d rather you be on the other side than not even on the roof anymore. His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he willed the machine to go faster. He didn’t dare breathe even when it finally dinged open, body rushing forward through the familiar motion of the journey to the roof, one he’d taken way too many times to count. 

When he pushed open the heavy door to reveal the roof being swallowed in the setting sun, the tension in his body bled out only slightly at the sight of you standing there, closer to the edge than he first hoped. His steps crunched into the gravel, and he guessed that you knew he was there even if you refused to turn around. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said carefully but not like talking to a spooked animal. Jack knew better than to treat you like that, or he’d be going against everything he just said downstairs. “Mind if I stand here with you?” 

You sniffed loudly, and Jack watched the way your one hand rose to rub a hand at your face, indicating that you were crying. Your neck bent as you looked down at the road below and all the glowing ant-sized cars and people, mind running with the thought of how long it’d take to get down to the bottom. 

“I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking,” Jack started again, taking a full step forward to be closer to you. “But I know you, and I can take big guess that you’re telling yourself that she’s right.” 

The smallest nod of your head sent Jack’s heart down to his toes. 

“Cause she is,” you warbled, voice thick with emotions too big to keep inside. “She is right. I-I thought I did a better job at hiding, but she read me like a damn book.” 

“No,” he responded. “No, she didn’t. She’s far from right, and I hate that you think she is, because how she described you is nothing like how I or anyone else sees you, baby. You’re strong; you don’t have a validation addiction. Fucking everyone loves a compliment, and in our line of work those are few and far between. So, when you get one, it’s special.” 

You sobbed a bit harder at his attempt to make you seem normal . . . at least what normal meant in your mind. 

“And who gives a shit if you do like them more than others; just means you’re more in-tuned with what you know you like. I, for one, am grateful for that because instead of telling me to fuck off, old man—” He spoke in a higher pitch that wasn’t anywhere near your voice to speak. 

You gave him a small giggle as a reward, and Jack smiled. 

“You let me take you to dinner; you let me, a tired, grumpy old man who’s still wears his wedding ring because he’s scared of forgetting and being forgotten, love you.” 

That finally got you to turn around, and the glare you tried to send his way was a bit more pitiful than you were probably trying for, but his heart fluttered as your personality slowly peaked through the sadness. 

“You’re not that old . . . or grumpy,” you muttered before holding your hand out. 

Jack took it without hesitation, fingers curling around yours, arm holding up your weight while you stepped over the railing. He wasted no time in tugging your hand once your two feet were planted to wrap you in a hug. He felt you sigh heavily against him, body dropping into his chest as everything drained out of you. Jack pressed a small kiss to your temple. 

“Baby, I’m fifty. If that’s not old, I’m scared of what old feels like in twenty years.” 

You laughed softly before going quiet. “I don’t know why I came up here. I shouldn’t have run away like that.” 

Jack huffed. “You needed to get out and get some air; that’s not running away. I’m actually proud that you came up here.” 

"I'll make sure not to take your spot." Your cheek shifted until the top of your head tucked beneath his chin. “I want to go home, but I don’t want to face any of them.” 

“Can always sneak you down the outside stairs.” 

“But then I won’t get to say goodbye to Robby.” You inhaled sharply. “God, I hope he didn’t hear what she said about him,” you whimpered, suddenly overwhelmed with the weight of Victoria’s words. 

"Mike's a big boy. If he couldn't take a few harsh words, he would have quit a long time ago." Jack squeezed you a bit tighter. “But, I talked to him, and he’s going to stay in the area for a bit longer. Still needs that vacation, but he owes us at least one more movie night. We’ll walk down together and get you home.” 

You pulled back enough to look him in the face. “Your shift?” 

“I don’t care about my shift right now. Plus, with the fireworks, I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate as well as I could. John’ll cover if I bribe him with free Dunkin' for a month.”  

"Maybe I'll add in to make it two," you muttered, sighing at the end. "Let's go back down the normal way." 

Jack's brows pinched tightly together. "Sweetheart, we don't have to—" 

"It'll be better for me to rip the Band-Aid off than worry about this for the rest of the weekend." Your eyes cast downward to your feet. "It's not like she can say anything worse." 

"If she even tries—" 

"Which she probably won't," you gently said in attempts to placate him, hand rubbing gently rubbing at his chest. "I just want to go home . . . please." 

His heart melted just at bit, the please resonating in his soul, quenching the fire to replace it with the need to provide for you. So, instead of fighting, he nodded. 

"We'll get you home, sweetheart." 

Without waiting, you pulled on his hand, leading him back toward the door. Unlike the first elevator ride up, Jack was less anxious, however, he disliked the way you seemed to be moving with nerves, hand shaking, body swaying. Confrontation had never been your strong suit, and he never hesitated to step in if you needed. 

He heard the shaky breath you sucked in right as the elevator doors opened. His hand kept a tight hold on yours while he led you back through to the lockers, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone. Thankfully though, the hallway was empty, and it took you no time to put your code in, grab your stuff, and slide your hand back into his. 

You were almost home free, the side door in sight that led to the employee parking, when a shout of your name behind had you freezing, eyes widened as the voice computed in your brain, the one that would now be etched forever with venom dripping from her lips. 

"You don't have to turn around," Jack muttered, but you had already started twisting. 

"Yes, Javadi?" you asked softly, not being able to ignore her even if you tried. 

Her hands wrung together as she looked at you with big eyes. She looked like she was about to say something before she halted. 

"I just . . ." she trailed, obviously not ready to say what she wanted. "I want to apologize for what I said in there. I have no excuse, and I wanted to say sorry before you left. So, I'm sorry." 

Your tongue ran across your lips, but your mouth was left dry. Your mind ran with so many things to respond with, but nothing would form enough for you to actually speak them. 

"It's fine," you settled on the familiar excuse. 

Jack tensed at your side. "It's not fine—" He stopped when your hand squeezed his a bit tighter, silently telling him to drop it. 

You pursed your lips. "Have a nice rest of your weekend." 

Jack finally took that moment to turn you back around and lead you out the door, leaving Victoria in the empty hallway. The sight of Jack's truck felt like heaven opening up with an angel chorus. 

One small trip, and then you'd be home, and Jack had a whole evening to prove that you were more than demeaning gossip. And he'd make sure by the end of the night, you'd be nothing but mindless enough to agree with everything he told you.

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[thatfanficstuff]

six non-selfie photos in my camera roll!

Thank you for the tag @shoniebalognie! Y'all are getting the most random pics from the psych museum I just went to.

Np tags: @thedamnqueenofhell @orphanbird95 @trashshart @tanely and anyone else that wants to do it

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[willowcrowned]

reader LIKED the fic? reader left thoughtful comment because they thought there was something worth analyzing? oh! oh! love for reader! love for reader for one thousand years!

[hotdocsandcowboys]

Ultimate Revenge

Titus Danforth X Le Domas Bride!Reader

Follow Up to: The Loophole: Dark Wedding A Solstice Sacrifice The Debut Little Bite One: Spend. His. Money. Mating Rituals Little Bite Two: The Nightmare A Danforth Wedding Tradition Little Bite Three: The Twins, 2000 Little Bite Four: White Feather Hawk Tail Deer Hunter

Summary: Titus takes you on a private Babymoon to his family's England estate, the place where the Danforth's first met Mr. Le Bail. But in the dark corners awaits an old foe ready to get what they think they're owed.

Tags: age gap, pregnancy talk (not explicit but i know not everyone is into that), graphic violence, attempted murder/threats on reader's life, Priscilla gets her own warning lol, murder!, so much blood!, stabbing!, sex in the woods!, choking!, sex covered in blood (again lol), slapping, rough sex, daddy kink!, subby titus, and then kinda dommy titus lol, mommy stuff mentioned but explicit, mentions of other sexual situations, non-con voyerism idk how to describe it but priscilla is a creep who watches...., so i guess also stalking, idk!, fluff!!!!, HAPPY ENDING!!!

A/N: guys this is the FINAL PART!!!!!!! :((((((( but it's been such a fun journey, i love all of y'all for coming with me!!!!! Now let's kill Priscilla lol that's not really a spoiler y'all know it needed to happen ;) almost 19K words...

AO3 Link if that's your preference.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Priscilla Cavendish is not used to being rejected. 

Her family, though not members of the High Council, has been given a relatively privileged life thanks to the gifts of Mr. Le Bail, and she has spent her whole existence reaping those benefits.  

She got every car, horse, designer dress, and vacation her heart desired. She wanted to go to a prestigious school? Her parents bought a library and she never had to fill out application. She wanted to be head Cheerleader? No other girl would dare challenge her anyway. Boys and Men? She’s tall and gorgeous and thin and rich, why would anyone ever say no to her? 

They didn’t. That’s the thing. She got everything and everyone she ever wanted. 

Titus Danforth was not an exception. For many years, he was not an exception. Sure, there were times where even she got tired and bored of his bratty behavior, times where they’d break up and she’d find some other toy to play with, but she was always able to grab his attention again. 

This last break up was a little more...definitive than others, sure. Annoyed at his lack of commitment, as she usually was, Priscilla decided to try her luck with Ignacio El Caido instead.  

He was a widower who lived the fast life, and was on the High Council as well, so she figured he’d be an easy mark. They hooked up a few times, he bragged to Titus about it, but instead of awakening any sort of jealousy in the man, Titus Danforth simply laughed and wished them both good luck. 

Needless to say Priscilla was livid. He didn’t care at all. She’d spent so much time trying to get her hand on the Danforth name, and he only ever saw her as a hobby. The things she did for him too, sexually. She lived up to almost every weird appetite of his, in ways she knows his other flings would never dare to, and still he threw her out. 

And then came you. 

First, you encroach on Francensca’s territory by stealing Alex Le Domas, and you don’t even have the decency to die during Hide and Seek. Then, you fucking steal Titus Danforth right out of bachelor life because? What? You’re young and pretty and in a desperate spot? 

Priscilla will never understand what he sees in you. Sure, you suffer from some similar mental psychopathy that he does, but you’re...you’re an outsider. Mr. Le Bail tried to kill you twice. 

Maybe you’re some sort of witch and you’ve cast a spell over Titus. Whatever you are, she will never accept that you’ve won. In her mind, you haven’t.  

This is just a pause. Time to recover after hours of plastic surgery to prevent scarring from where you’d smashed her face with glass, like some deranged gremlin. She’s waited patiently, face bandaged until her beauty returned, holed up in her family’s old country estate in England. 

She read that article about Felicity and Fitz’s deaths, anger rippling through her chest. A drunk driving accident? Sure. She knows what happens after a Danforth wedding. Priscilla just knows you’re the reason she’s lost another ally in that family. 

And now you’re with child. A halfway unworthy spawn of a girl with no important name, no important family, will one day rule this world?  

No. Not if she can help it. 

Not when she finds out the two of you will be coming right to her. 

+ 

+ 

+ 

They call it a Babymoon. 

From what you’ve read, most people save it for a month before the baby is due, but of course Titus Danforth has to go above and beyond for you. 

After all, you are carrying the next set of Danforth Twins. 

So, at only just under four months along, he whisks you away on the private jet to the family’s oldest home in the countryside of England. The little castle where everything began.  

You told him he didn’t need to take you on any trips yet, he’d already given you enough gifts to celebrate your pregnancy. From an entire new yet-to-be-released designer maternity wardrobe, to an in-house personal chef to specially make all of your meals, to a revamped 1960 pink Cadillac, Titus has not been stingy on spoiling you. 

Your morning sickness has mostly subsided, so the travel wasn’t so bad. You have a little soreness, but so far everything is going easy. Titus doted on you the whole ride over, giving you orgasms and kisses to your little bump. 

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but we will be making our descent in just under an hour,” the captain’s voice said over the intercom. 

You sat up from where you’d been laying on Titus’s lap, a pout graces your face as you look at the door, like you’d be able to frown at the pilot through it. At least this jet had a private bedroom for you to enjoy your flight at all. 

“Darn, it was just about to get good,” you sigh, “Well, good again.” 

Titus looks up at you with a smirk. “He said an hour, Baby, that’s plenty of time to go one more round.” 

“Hmmm, I guess we should enjoy our free time while we can,” you purred, laying your body back down over his, grinding your hips down into his lap. Titus’s hands fly to your ass, grabing you hard and moving you at a slow pace. “Once they arrive, we might be too busy for each other for a while.” 

“I’ll never be too busy for you, Little Lamb,” Titus grunts, breath coming out in short huffs, cock already stirring again. “We’ll hire a nanny just to look after them whenever I need to fuck the shit out of you. You know, so we’re not disturbed.” 

You snort. “That’s ridiculous,” you say as you giggle into your next kiss. 

“You’re right, we’ll make Ursula do it,” Titus says, flipping you over onto your back. His hand slides down to your tummy, then past your bump to pull at the bottom of your dress. 

You shiver as his thick fingers press to the skin on your inner thigh, and you grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, eyes closing and mouth dropping open. Your voice is breathless and higher when you continue teasing him. “You wouldn’t let them be left with some stranger, anyway.” 

“Fuck no,” Titus grunts, teeth grazing your neck. 

He wasn’t raised by nannies, not really. Violet and Chester paid for the best tutors and coaches that money could buy, but the Danforth children were never left to learn their important life lessons from random European women. 

Not until Violet died, but by ten years old they didn’t need to be watched all the time, and were old enough for boarding school. So that’s what Chester did. He sent them off to school, and when they were home he made sure to be the one instilling his believes and life lessons in them, no matter how cold those lessons were. 

“Of course not,” your voice breaks into a whine when you feel his fingers at your folds, and your legs spread for him. “They’re going to be all yours,” your voice is light, “just like me,” and you nudge him into a kiss.  

His breath is swallowed into your moans, as his fingers enter you slowly, thumb rubbing circles on your clit. Titus’s warm body ruts against yours, cock rubbing deliciously against your thigh. “Yeah, Baby, ‘d do anything for you, for all of you.” 

“Hmm, I know,” you sigh, rolling your hips down onto his fingers, the wet squelch sending a rush of pleasure up your spine. “You’ll be such a good Daddy.” 

Suddenly, Titus lets out a low, stuttered groan, and his movements stop as his eyes roll back. “Shit, Baby.” 

You feel a patch of wetness against your thigh and your eyes go wide with a shocked smile. “Did you just...” 

Titus doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed. “Okay, you can’t ever call me that in front of other people.” His fingers are still inside you, and he flexes them in that way that drives you crazy. “Gimmie a minute, Baby.” 

You start to giggle, laying kisses to his cheek. “Or what, Daddy?” 

“Fuck,” Titus groans, dick twitching slowly back to life in his pants. “Keep going like that and I’ll be able to fuck you again real soon...” 

When he’s finally able to get it up again, he lasts all of two minutes inside you. After the first “Fuck me so good, Daddy,” he’s a goner. 

+ 

The Danforth Castle, which has been in Titus’s family for centuries, sits along a river, hidden away in a vast wood, in Suffolk England. The area is remote and quiet, but almost never empty, various members of the Danforth family staying in its expansive halls throughout the year. There’s also live-in staff, of course, some grounds keepers, and minor security. 

None of the family are going to be staying there right now, however, and the staff has been briefed already on staying hidden. Titus wants you to have your privacy, with absolutely no stress from nosy family. 

The halls of the castle are made of old dark grey stone, which have been finished and refinished over the decades to accommodate updating technology, electricity, and all that. They’re lined with old paintings, family portraits, weapons, taxidermy animal heads, and statues of armor. You feel like you’re on some movie set about Tudor era England. 

There’s a cold air that passes around you, not eerie but rather an echo of how old the building is. Your feet make a clacking sound that bounces off the stone as you’re led into a great foyer, brightly lit by tall stained-glass windows that arch all the way up to the ceiling. 

You’re not looking at Titus as he watches with a proud smirk the way your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open. A row of butlers whisk passed you with your bags, and three maids wait at the bottom of a winding staircase with warm smiles. 

They’re the ones who’ve been here the longest, the ones who have watched Titus grow up, the ones who have been at the mercy of his brutish ways and attitude many times, and the ones who were relieved when they heard he fell in love with someone who apparently tamed him. Of course, you haven’t really tamed anything, just given him something to channel all obsession into, a reason to be just a little nicer. 

“Master Titus, it’s so lovely to have you back here,” one of the maids, and older woman with short white hair greets. She smiles at you, bowing her head just slightly. “And you must be Mrs. Danforth, it’s wonderful to finally meet the new Mistress, I’m Winnie, the head of the house.” Her eyes fall to your belly, where your bump is a just barely visible swell under your dress. “You are simply glowing.” 

“Thank you, Winnie, it’s so nice to meet you,” you say, shaking her hand. 

She introduces you to the other maids, and then leads you two up the stairs to the Master Suite. It hasn’t been stayed in by any other members of the family since Chester’s last visit, but now it is rightfully yours. 

Again, a movie set comes to mind. Where your old fashioned Estate in Rhode Island looks like a classic americana turn of the century mansion, the Master Suite of this Castle looks like something Queen Elizabeth would live in. 

Winnie and the other maids roll in a cart and pour you some fresh tea, something to settle your stomach and calm the babies after the flight, and then leave the two of you to decompress. 

Titus helps you out of your coat, and you let out a relieved groan as you flop down on your back on the bed. You stare up at the ceiling, arms outstretched on the satin sheets, as you breathe in the scent of old wood. 

“So...” you say, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at your husband. “Just how haunted is this place?” 

Titus snorts, shrugging off his own jacket to leave himself in just a white button up, and he starts to roll up the sleeves as he approaches the bed. “Pretty fucking haunted, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen any ghosts.” 

“But you’ve heard them?” you ask, scooting over to make room for him to lay at your side.  

His hand goes to your stomach, fingers softly spreading out. “Oh sure, all kinds of creaks in the floorboards and wind moaning through the walls. Winnie used to bust me sneaking around at night trying to catch a specter.” 

You let out a small giggle. “I can picture it. Little baby Titus with crooked teeth and mischievous eyes, hiding in all the dark corners...you probably just scared the staff half to death.” 

“Hmm, well, I was just practicing,” he says. “You know for later when I’d have to hunt down and kill all these people who try to get into our family.” 

Or, even better, the ones he now hunts down to sacrifice for each season. The Spring Equinox hunt had been especially riveting, since the chosen sacrifice was the Priest who’d told Felicity your business about the mating ritual. Titus had taken immense pleasure from breaking each bone in his body before bringing him to the Black Temple for the sacrifice. He even cut out the man’s tongue and burned it in the fire. 

Titus shifts down the bed, lowering himself so he can kiss your stomach. One of your hands immediately goes to his hair, twisting your fingers into his soft, silver curls. “You know,” he starts, “This is where it all began for my family. It wasn’t always a castle, though, it started as a small cottage. It’s said Mr. Le Bail walked out of the darkness of the woods, while our ancestor was hunting down a bear or a wolf or something, and he asked if he could join in on the fun.” 

You haven’t actually heard this story before, even though you assumed Mr. Le Bail had been a patron of the family for a very long time. 

“They caught the creature together, killed it, slit its throat and all that, and Mr. Le Bail had such a fun time, that he offered The Deal. Our family would sell their souls to him, play his games when needed, and he would give them all the riches and the power in the world. They didn’t have much, so they agreed. Built this up, expanded into High Society and all that, and here we are. 

The part of the woods they met in is still marked off, my great grandfather or whatever had some stone memorial made for it.” 

“I want to see,” you say. 

Titus smirks as he presses his lips to your belly again. “Of course you do, and you should. Mr. Le Bail’s favorite should get to see where it all began.” 

You squirm a little at the comment. There had been a short time where you didn’t think Mr. Le Bail cared anymore about the one person who outsmarted his games twice. But then you remember how his hands had been on you, how his eyes had seared into yours from where they appeared in flames, how soft his lips were when he kissed your face...Titus has no idea just how favored you are. 

“Tomorrow, will you take me on a tour of the grounds then?” 

“I don’t want to tire you out, you shouldn’t be on your feet for too lo—” 

“Titus,” you whine. “I’m not that far along, I’m still perfectly mobile. At least take me to the memorial, or I’ll just run out there and take myself.” 

His body freezes up, hand tensing where it lays on your stomach. “Little Lamb...I’ll take you, but you need to promise me you’ll be good, don’t exert yourself.” 

“Oh, okay,” you say, rolling your eyes. “So it’s okay to exert myself on the jet while you make me come like, ten times in a row, but I can’t just go on a nice walk in the woods anymore? How does that make sense?” 

“Are you saying you didn’t like that?” He asks slyly, shifting his touch down your belly, to the hem of your dress. 

Your breath catches and your eyes widen just slightly, legs subtly spreading on instinct. “N-no...” 

“No? You didn’t like it?” he asks, as his body moves again, settling comfortably between your legs, hands more boldly pushing at your dress. “So, I should stop?” 

“I-I,” you stutter, sucking in a deep breath when you feel him grab your thighs hard, and pull them apart even more. You can barely make a sound as he lowers himself down, nosing along the hem of your panties, humming into the fabric. “No, no don’t stop, please—ahh!” 

A high-pitched whine cracks through your words as he kisses along your already soaked panties, licking his tongue over them to suck up what juices he can. “That’s what I thought.” 

Titus pushes your dress up passed your stomach, pulls your panties down over your legs, and goes to town. He licks and kisses and moans into your dripping pussy like a man starved. You try to hold in your sounds, not wanting to scare this household staff on your first day, but it’s hard when he knows just what you need, knows how to make you feel so good your brain goes fuzzy. 

You’re late for dinner. 

+ 

You can’t sleep. 

All that jetlag and Titus keeping you up for the flight has your mind completely alive in the middle of the night.  

So naturally you beg Titus to take you on that tour of the grounds right now under the stars. You’re both so used to being out in the dark anyway. 

The forests of the English countryside are so much different than back home. Maybe it’s because the spirits that fill them are so much more ancient, the trees have witnessed the violent actions of man for so much longer. You feel like they all have eyes watching you as Titus leads you through the dark path, his hand laced in yours. They loom over you, blocking out most of the stars in the sky, the light of the moon cascading down in clear rays through their deep branches. 

The path he takes you down is written with old cobble stone, lined with a stone wall about three feet tall. It twists and turns deep into the wood, the same path Titus’s ancestor had taken the day he met Mr. Le Bail. Every turn is a surprise, winding deeper and deeper, until the orange light of the Danforth castle is just a small fleck when you turn back to it. For the first time in a long time, you feel unsettled in the wilderness. 

But still... 

A familiar chill runs through your bones. Shadows dance in the corners of your mind that you feel like you’ve seen before. Even the sounds of animals, from owls to distant howls of wolves, sound like you’ve met them at some point already. 

The path ends, and Titus walks behind you, a hand on your lower back to lead you into the trees, and he takes you a few feet into a clearing.  

Your heart nearly stops as you take it in. There’s a circle of trees around a small boulder and a tree stump. You know you’ve been here before, and yet it’s impossible to be true. 

“That is where they met,” your husband’s gravelly voice rumbles close to your ear, lips caressing your skin.  

He points to the boulder, where a small message has been etched onto a gold plate. There’s a small goat carved into the metal, at the center of a pentagram. A Latin phrase lines the top, one that translates to Loyalty Through the Fires, and below that a message in English: 

THE MEETING PLACE OF A TRUE GOD TO MEN, THE BEGINNING OF A BEAUTIFUL FRIENDSHIP. SWORN THROUGH BLOOD. FOR ALL BRANCHES OF THE TREE. 

You don’t remember this being here last time. You don’t know why you should remember it at all. 

“This is where it all began,” Titus continues. His head rests on your shoulder, unaware of the nerves that have overtaken your body. “Two men meet in the woods, and now I stand here with you, someone I wished for, my perfect equal...” his hands slide over your sides until they rest on your belly. “Mother of my children, the next leaders of our family line.” 

You hum softly, eyes closing as you let your body fall into his, the cold of the night can’t reach you here in his arms. You’re about to say something about the weird feeling, but Titus continues speaking. 

“I’m so glad I could take you here while it’s just us,” he mumbles, kissing the low end of your neck. “It’s so isolated out here, nobody to bother us, nobody to stick their nose in our business.” 

A soft laugh escapes your lips. Anyone else, any other circumstance, and it would sound like he’s brought you here to kill you. 

“How far is the closest neighbor, anyway?” you ask, eyes open again and scanning what you can through the dark tree line. 

Titus shrugs. “About five miles up north are the Whitmore’s, they’ve got a nice little hunting ground and cabin. East is the water, when you finally hit that there is a small fishing village. Ten miles west is the Pembroke Mansion, they’ve been here almost as long as we have, but they’re not in the organization. And then south is—" 

Titus stops suddenly, body tensing as he backs up from you, and you hear him swear under his breath. Your arms cross over your torso as you turn around, suspicious frown on your face. “What’s wrong?” 

“Shit,” Titus lets out a long sigh, running a nervous hand through his hair. He looks up at you with uncharacteristically worried eyes, lip bit between his teeth. “Okay, don’t be mad at me.” 

“Why would I be mad?” You ask slowly, keeping your voice even. 

“Well...” Titus groans. “Listen, Baby, it’s no big deal, their property is miles away and the woods are very dense here...” 

“But...?” 

“But...” he exhales, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tightly. “Well, six miles south of here is the old Cavendish estate. That family acquired it in the mid-nineteen hundreds from some down on his luck lord or whatever. I’ve probably only been there a handful of times, years ago.” 

“Okay?” You say, pursing your lips. “Cavendish?” 

“As in...Priscilla Cavendish.” 

You immediately drop his hands with an angry gasp, backing up a foot as you laugh incredulously. Your hands come to your face, ignoring Titus’s repeats of your name as you continue to back away from him. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me.” 

Titus’s voice is tight and desperate as he approaches you, “Baby, it’s not a big deal—" 

“Not a big deal?” You spit. “Your ex, who hates me, who tried to hook up with you and steal you back in our house, who was friends with your piece of garbage cousin, lives right next to your family estate, and you think that’s not a big deal?” 

“She doesn’t live there, her family owns it. She may not even be at the estate,” Titus says.  

“The last we heard, she was in Europe! I doubt her family owns as many houses as yours does!” You groan and look up from your hands, hormones causing a well of tears to bubble behind your eyes. A chill surges through you as you finally realize why this place looks familiar, and you cover your mouth as your gaze darts around the trees. “Oh my god, this is just like my dream, my nightmare. Th-this is where she...where you.” 

Titus quickly gathers you into his arms at the look of fear on your face, “No, no that wasn’t real, Little Lamb, nothing is going to happen to us.” 

One of your hands flies down to your stomach, and you think if it weren’t for the twins you’d already be sprinting the six miles to the Cavendish estate to finish this once and for all. “Y-you don’t know that. If she’s there, and she finds out we’re here...she’s going to do something, I just know it. W-we can’t stay! We have to go home, we—" 

“Stop, stop it!” Titus hushes, placing his hands on your cheeks and forcing you to look up at him. “We are not going anywhere. I am not going to let anything happen to you.” His hand joins yours on your tummy, pressing down comfortingly. “None of you. I’ll call in extra security, and we’ll send someone to the estate in the morning to see if she’s there.” 

“And if she is?” 

Titus lets out a long, frustrated sigh. “Then...then we’ll go to London instead, to the Townhome in Westminster. I’m not letting her ruin our trip.” 

“Titus, I don’t know if I can stand being in the same country as her.” 

He chuckles, kissing your hair. “Well, I can call Ursula and see what we can do about getting her kicked out, but that still might take a day.” 

“Titus, that’s not funny.” 

“Yes, I wasn’t joking.” 

Of course he wasn’t joking, you should have known they’d have influence in all world governments. “Let’s just...let’s just wait until we know if she’s there.” 

“Alright,” Titus says, tightening his grip around you. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I wasn’t thinking...I was too excited to bring you here.” 

“I know,” you sigh. You stand up on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, and you let him capture your lips instead.  

There’s no way your jetlag is going to be solved now, and as you make it back to your room and lay down in the bed, Titus’s arms are wrapped around you as your eyes stay wide open, staring at the wood ceiling. 

+ 

Outside the Cavendish Estate is a gravel horseshoe-shaped drive, surrounded by a line of prickly pink rose bushes. A black sedan drives up to the house, observed by the doorman, who is smoking a cigarette. 

He’s completely unmoved by the large security agent who exits the passenger side sporting a very large machine gun strapped to his chest.  

The doorman throws his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out under his boot. “Can I help you, sir?” 

The security agent looks past the doorman and up to the windows of the estate instead, surveilling what he can through the dark glass. There’s no movement inside, from what he can see. “Are there any members of the Cavendish family staying at the estate currently?” 

“I don’t think I have to answer that,” the doorman snorts. “Who’s asking?” 

“Titus Danforth.” 

The doorman’s eyes go a little wide, but he keeps his same dry tone. “No. We are not expecting any family until after the summer season is over. I believe most of them are at the Hamptons.” 

“Is Priscilla Cavendish currently staying at the estate?” The security agent asks. 

The doorman sighs. “No. Like I said, no members of the family are expected until after summer. You are welcome to come check the home and the grounds, if you feel the need.” 

“We do, actually.” The agent looks over at his shoulder and nods to the other guys in the sedan. Three more men and big guns join him at the door. “Lead the way.” 

The doorman takes them inside, leading them men all through the house, stopping at every corner for them to point their guns around in case of an ambush. He takes them upstairs, opens the doors to every bedroom, bathroom, closet. Takes them to the lower level where the wine cellar is, into the food storage, the regular storage. Takes them through the kitchen and out the backdoor, where the small garden waits. He waits while they follow the treeline and check in the small shed. Nothing. 

He shoos away any maids, cooks, groundskeepers (of which there are very few) that comes across them. Every single one of them is ID checked, in case Priscilla is trying to get away with a disguise. But they’re all just the servants. 

When every single inch of the estate has been checked over, the security agents join the doorman at the front of the house once again. 

“Like I said, the Cavendish family is in the Hamptons,” the doorman says, pulling out another cigarette. “Can I do anything else for you boys?” 

The head agent gives the doorman a stern look, before shaking his head and leading the group back to the sedan. 

The doorman watches, craning his neck to make sure the car gets all the way up past the gate, before putting out this cigarette and running back into the estate. He heads to the small library, and pulls out one of the sconces from the wall, releasing a secret opening behind a set of bookshelves. 

“Miss Cavendish, they’re gone,” he calls into the dark room. 

Priscilla emerges with a wicked smile on her face. She pets at the man’s cheek, long perfectly manicured nails scratch softly at his skin. “Thank you, my darling. You’ve done a very good job for me.” 

+ 

“So, she’s not here?” you ask.  

You’re sitting at the end of a long dining table, poking at your breakfast and morning tea, as Titus receives the report from your security.  

“Correct, we searched the whole grounds, and then had our guys in the states follow up in the Hamptons. It appears her whole family is at their beach house. There is no photo evidence of her being there, but that is on parr with her behavior since, um, well last year.” 

Titus and you share a smirk. Yes, she’s been in hiding from the public for several months, ever since you busted her face up. 

“We have no reason to believe she is in this country.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, sipping from your tea with a little more energy. 

“Get me pictures, however you can, just in case,” Titus instructs, before waving them out so you can have your privacy again. “See, Little Lamb, I told you there is nothing to worry about.” 

“Fine, but you still should have told me about her house before bringing me all the way to a foreign country. You’re gonna have to do something big to make it up to me.” 

Titus licks his lips, hand reaching for your thigh under the table. “Think I can come up with some equitable solutions.” 

Before you can respond, your phone goes off from where it sits on the table. You hold up a finger to silence him when your husband’s mouth drops open to protest, as you pick it up to check the text. 

“Do not answer a text from my sister while I’m trying to fuck you,” Titus says, staring at you with bewildered, annoyed blinks. 

“It’s Ursula updating me on the babies’ suite. She said the painting should be done by the time we get home, so we won’t have to worry about fumes or anything. Isn’t that nice?” 

“I guess,” Titus mumbles. 

You shoot him a stern look before sending a thank you in reply. As a gift to you and Titus, Ursula is having an entire portion of your wing of the house torn out and rebuilt to the ultimate nursery for the twins.  You told her what you wanted theming and coloring wise, but you’re letting the end result be a complete surprise from her. 

“Maybe we should go down to London to do some shopping for the suite ourselves, you know? Ursula is going to have most of it covered but we could find some little stuffed animals or decorations we like,” you say, putting your phone down and running a hand into Titus’s hair, soothing the annoyance out of him. 

His lips twitch and he smiles, gently grabbing your hand to kiss your palm. “How about this weekend? We’ll look for gifts for the babies...go to the designers’ show rooms and get something nice for yourself...but just one night, okay? The point of this trip is to keep you to myself.” 

“You always keep me to yourself,” you joke. It’s not that true, anymore. You’ve made a couple friends in the organization, you’re much more social than you used to be, but also you’d be the last to complain about being tucked away in the giant Danforth Estate with only Titus’s attention. “What plans did you have for us here, anyway?” 

“Well, we have horse stables, you can still ride if we take it slow,” he licks his lips and you roll your eyes at the double entendre. He wraps his foot around the leg of your chair and jerks it towards him, pulling you closer. “We can get in the pool, send the staff away to do some skinny dipping...or I can just take you skeet shooting or something boring like that.” 

You burst into a fit of giggles. “Skeet shooting? Seriously? I thought that was something rich people only did on like TV shows.” 

“Yes well, I think you know real rich people do all that kind of shit. Father used to make us do it as part of training.” 

“Of course he did,” you say with a frown. 

Titus stares at you, lips pressed together in a stressed line. “What?” 

He’s told you about his father. Emotionally distant for most of his life, raised him and Ursula to be ruthless killers, everything you know about Chester Danforth makes him sound like a monster. “Your father...I don’t understand him. I don’t understand how you can...” 

“Love him?” Titus asks, voice quiet. His expression is pulled in, brow furrowed and eyes worried, looking so young like he always does when he’s stressed. “It’s complicated, but he wasn’t so bad. We aren’t like normal families, we couldn’t be. He needed me and Ursula to be ready for this part of our life. The part where he’d be gone and we would take over the High Seat. And I wish he...” Titus’s voice trails off, eyes growing distant. He wishes his father would have seen him more, would have treated him equally to Ursula, prepared him and trusted him in the same way. “He was my father and I loved him. It’s too late to care about everything else.” 

You crinkle your nose, running a hand softly over your husband’s cheek. “I’m sure it must have been terrible, having to kill him.” 

“It had to be done,” Titus says. “He was old and weak. And if we’d let him fight for the High Seat, he would have just died anyway. And you...fuck, Little Lamb, who knows what would have happened to you, to me?” Titus reaches a hand onto your belly. “Everything happened the way it was supposed to.” 

You give him a small smile, placing your hand over his. “Still, I don’t want to raise them like how you were. I don’t mind the training and all that, I want them to be fighters, I want them to know how to survive. But I’m going to love them for whoever they turn out to be.” 

“We will,” Titus insists. “I want to be a better father than mine. I want our children to know for sure that they’re loved, just as much as I love you.” 

Your smile grows brighter as you bring his hand to your lips and kiss his palm, before sliding out of your seat to stand above him. “So, skeet shooting?” 

“You really want to try it?” Titus asks with a smirk. 

You shrug, “Sure, it always looked fun in the movies. Besides, I think I’m a pretty good shot already, you’re going to have very stiff competition.” 

+ 

The day passes slowly, sun bright in the sky, birds singing, creatures running through the trees around the two of you. Titus showed you how to shoot, but his teaching was wasted considering you’d been forced to have plenty of practice in your past hunts. He did his best to hide his frustration at losing to you. 

After the skeet shooting, the two of you relaxed poolside, enjoying tea under the sun and just sitting in each other’s company. Ursula called to video chat before dinner, taking the two of you on a virtual tour of the work in progress on the nursery suite. You sat by and giggled as Titus and Ursula argued over one of the babies being named after her. 

“Should we just name them Titus and Ursula two? Both of them? That’s incredibly stupid.” 

“No, just name the girl Ursula, the boy doesn’t need to be named after you.” 

“They’re my children! Not yours! Your name shouldn’t come in at all!” 

“I’m going to be their favorite aunt—" 

“You will be their only aunt!” 

This went on for some time, and you giggled at them the whole time, until finally you broke it up by reminding them that you actually get the biggest say, and you haven’t even begun narrowing name options down.  

Dinner was held in the dining room, just like at home the two of you sat together at the end of the table, catching each other up on gossip, making plans for the next couple days. Instead of an after dinner cigar, Titus has done what he’s had to do the last couple months and have an after dinner glass of whiskey, while he waits for you to finish your night time routine. 

But also like he has the last couple months, he gets impatient and lures you out of the bathroom with sweet words from his smooth voice, gets you on the bed so he can worship you the way he knows you deserve. 

And after a couple of orgasms, you’d fallen asleep almost instantly, left Titus with the task of carefully cleaning you up, dressing you, and tucking you into bed. He fell asleep not long after with you in his arms, the smell of your freshly cleaned hair seeping into his nose.  

Which is why his heart nearly stopped when he woke up at about 3 AM, cold and arms empty, you nowhere in sight. “Baby? Where did you go?” 

His calls cannot reach you as your feet carry you away. In your mind, you’re wandering into the woods, sun shining above you, morning doves cooing in your ears.  

Your dream has you following Titus’s voice in the opposite direction, down the hill, across a stream, and slowly in and out of a winding path. You think he’s just up ahead, but every time you make a turn, it’s like you’ve just barely missed him. His teasing laughter comes from the trees, and you just sigh as you call back to him. 

“Titus! You’re not being fair!” You say as your feet start to hurt. You’re wearing your flowy white nightgown, which is now stained green at the bottom from the grass. 

Beams of sunlight part through the trees, guiding your way as you continue to chase your husband’s voice. You stumble down a hill, just barely keeping your balance once you reach the end, and you spot another clearing just up ahead. The sound of his laughter is closer now, as the trees seem to part for you to enter. 

You hear Titus call your name, over and over, both in the distance and right in your ears. Your face scrunches in confusion at the different levels, but as you enter the clearing, you see him only feet away. Your hands reach up as though to embrace him... 

When suddenly he’s right in front of you, yelling your name right in your face, and your whole body jolts. In an instant, light changes to dark, the smile on your husband’s face turns to a concerned frown, the beautiful trees morph into dark, painted walls, and the warmth of the sun dulls into the chill of night. 

Your head hurts and your eyes feel strained as you blink them, Titus’s hands gripping hard at your arms as he shakes you awake. 

“Little Lamb? What are you doing?” He asks, voice filled to the brim with worry, eyes darting all around your body. 

Your mouth drops open and you shiver, vision adjusting to the dark as your head shakes. You look down at your bare feet, your completely clean white nightgown. “I-I don’t...where am I?” 

“You’re downstairs, my love, almost out the back door,” Titus says slowly, looking over his shoulder at the grand wood door that leads to the back garden. 

“H-How did I get here?” You ask, voice shaking as you begin to hyperventilate.  

“You were sleepwalking,” Titus concludes. He doesn’t miss the stress and worry on your face, and pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping tight around you as you press your face into his warmth. “You’ve never done that before, have you?” 

“I-I don’t think so...” you whisper, eyes wide as you look at the back door. Something inside tells you that your real destination lies far beyond it. “I was dreaming that I was following you into the woods.” 

“Like your nightmare?” 

“No...no it wasn’t like that at all,” you say, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “It was day time, and you were laughing, and nothing bad happened, but you were leading me somewhere...I think.” 

You watch as his face twists through confusion and worry, studying your face and your words. He’s never encountered anything like this, not from you anyway. Maybe mother experienced something like it when she was pregnant with him and Ursula? Did she ever tell him a story like this? Did Ursula? He can’t think of anything. He can’t remember reading anything about it either, not in any book about any ritual or family member. 

“M-maybe...maybe because we’re far from home. We’re in a sacred place for the family and Mr. Le Bail...” his voice trails off. Why would Mr. Le Bail try to trick you into going anywhere with Titus, especially when you carry the heirs to the High Seat? 

“Yeah...maybe...” you say, though you sound just as unsure. “It wasn’t a bad dream. I-It must be some weird side effect or something.” 

“Right,” Titus sighs. Neither of you are confident in your conclusions. But he kisses your cheek and scoops you up into his arms to carry you back up the stairs, your own wrap around his neck tightly. “Let’s just get back to bed, Little Lamb. I’ll lock the door in case it happens again.” 

“Okay,” you respond, voice small, as you keep your eyes on that back door the whole trip up the stairs. 

Titus tucks you back in bed, arms tighter around you this time. He stays awake to listen to your breaths even out until he knows you’re back asleep, and then he remains awake for the rest of the night. 

+ 

Mere meters into the woods, far enough that she won’t be seen from the home or security, but not so far that she cannot cast her control, Priscilla huffs out her frustration through gritted teeth. 

The white smoke of the totem she lit fades away, as the time limit for the hex runs out. You were so close to the door. She almost had you.  

Her jaw clicks as she throws the totem to the ground and stomps it under her foot, before burying it under a large stone. 

She knows there are no protections over the home, but Titus being able to wake you from the Hex Sleep was an unforeseen obstacle. He must really love you after all. 

No matter, she thinks to herself, I’ll just have to try a stronger spell next time. 

+ 

After another nervous and quiet morning breakfast, Titus and you try to shake out of the looming dark thoughts from your sleep walking by taking the horses out. 

The Danforth’s have a long history of breeding horses in England, and have even worked with the former Queen on creating prize winning racers. There is a branch of cousins who specialize in it, and spend the most time at this family home out of the year to take care of the horses, but of course a few are especially raised for Titus and Ursula to ride. 

The twins’ horses are, naturally, two twin black stallions, with white hair on their ankles and tails, named Azazel and Nyx. The only difference between them is the little white star shaped spot in the middle of Azazel’s forehead, which is why Titus had chosen him. 

Now, Azazel comes with a mate. For some time, the trainers say about a year, he has refused to breed with any other horse but a beautiful grey and red mare named Lilith. 

And Lilith took to you so quickly. 

You’d taken one look into her eyes and you could have sworn there was understanding looking back. She’d let you pet a hand down her hair without any hesitation, and when you climbed onto her saddle, she stood extra still to give you no trouble. 

“Do they have any foals yet?” You ask the trainer on hand. 

“Not yet, but she’s in month eight right now, so you’ll both have to treat each other gently.” 

You give Titus a bright smile as he mounts Azazel, and leans over to give your cheek a kiss. At the same time, you watch as the horses lean their own faces towards each other, nuzzling at each other’s necks. 

“They’re precious,” you coo, patting Lilith’s side. 

“She’s perfect for you,” Titus says. “When the babies are here, we’ll come back so you can really ride her around the land. I hear she’s a real spitfire.” 

“Is that horse trainer code for pain in the ass?” You ask with a smirk. 

Titus winks, then snaps his reins to direct his horse out of the stable. He keeps the pace slow as he leads you and Lilith through the forest path, until you hit a clearing to a long field over some hills. It’s a bright day, warm but not too hot, clouds covering most of the sun, and the grounds look extra green. Titus’s silver hair shines as the sun reflects in it, and you can’t stop thinking about how beautiful he truly is. 

You two ride all the way into the small town, where Titus pays for you to have full privacy in a little pub for lunch. It’s dark and old and the food is amazing, and the owners leave you two in a corner to your own devices until you decide you’re ready to go. 

This happens all the time, Titus and you renting out an entire space for just the two of you, part of the perks of being the richest and most powerful family. The magazines and tabloids have tried to follow you, tried to get some sort of scoop on the most elusive Blue Blooded, Old Money family in America, but Titus buys his way into full privacy. 

Times like now it feels more romantic and overprotective. 

You ride the horses back the same way, as the sun begins to set in the sky, turning everything orange and pink and picturesque. Any worries you have about ex-girlfriends and sleepwalking completely leave your minds. 

Before dinner, you video chat with Penelope, who has been going a little overboard with buying baby presents. She shows you every single designer outfit she’s already collected, from newborn to toddler. 

That night when it’s finally time to sleep, Titus locks the door again, and holds you tight again, but he falls asleep a few hours later when it’s clear you won’t be trying to go anywhere again. 

The sleepwalking doesn’t come back for the next couple days, actually. And Titus accepts that maybe it was just a weird one-time thing. He has the security around the estate reduced so your privacy can return...mostly so he can go back to fucking you by the pool or in the woods without having to worry about the security agents as an unwanted audience. 

+ 

The trip goes by without any other weird incidences for you.  

A doctor comes by to check in before your weekend excursion to London, and everything with the babies is perfectly healthy. Titus makes him do extra tests on you, but everything appears to be normal, so his anxieties finally settle. 

The flat in London is just as beautiful as the country home, if less private, but you imagine none of the neighbors are going to argue with Titus Danforth of all people over his wife being too loud in the throws of wild sex at midnight. 

He takes you to designers’ show rooms during the day, and you buy a whole wardrobe for the babies, as well as maternity clothes for yourself. You even make Titus pick out things for himself, and he’s so adorably annoyed when it’s you who treats him like a doll to dress up for once. 

But secretly you know he loves to be doted on. He loves that he has your attention constantly, loves when you go to fix his hair or his suit jacket, in ways that when Ursula used to do it made him feel like a child, from you it makes him feel loved. From you it’s not about having to put on a show or not embarrass the family, but rather because you want him to look his best for you.  

The same way you love to look your best for him. The same way you love to sneak into a high-end lingerie store while he’s finalizing a new car purchase, just so you can pick out some sets to show off to him later that night. 

And oh boy, he loves the surprise from you after your shower, when you come into the bedroom in nothing but a silk robe, which is promptly dropped to the floor to reveal a gorgeous red lacy set. Titus’s mouth waters at the sight of heart-shaped cut outs around your breasts, and a matching heart over your already dripping pussy. 

His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest when you climb onto his lap, rounded tummy pressed to his, and you push him down roughly on his back. 

Your voice is low and sultry when you start to whisper about how protective he is, how safe he makes you feel, how he takes such good care of you, and you bite the shell of his ear. Your hand reaches between your bodies to rub at his bulge, and he moans as he kisses your neck, grabs your jaw to keep you still to look right into your eyes. But you slap his hand away before slapping his cheek, and you grab his jaw instead. 

Your fingers carefully free his cock from his boxers, as your wet tongue licks up the side of his face, and you moan in his ear, “Lay back, Daddy.” 

A full body shiver climbs through Titus as he moans and his eyes roll back, cock twitching fully to life in your hand. He does what he’s told, laying back on the bed, eyes still intensely on yours the whole time. Your start to inch of his body, and his eyes widen with sheer excitement as he realizes your destination. 

“Fuck, yeah baby, gonna sit on my face?” Titus says, hands flying up to your thighs. He licks his lips, tilting his chin. “C’mon, Little Lamb, use me.” 

You whimper at the first feeling of his tongue on you, at the hungry groan your husband lets out as you ride his face.  

By the time you’ve come twice on him, and Titus is able to take back control to bring your cunt down on his cock instead, you’re pretty sure the neighbors had to have put noise canceling headphones on. There’s no way they’d be able to sleep through all the cries of pleasure he brings out of you. 

+ 

Getting back from London, in a different car than what you’d left in, feels like coming back home for you. Already your mind and body have adapted to ownership of places you’re barely familiar with that hold the name of your husband’s family.  

It’s nice coming back to the quiet, and for the next week, things continue on peacefully. Titus teaches you how to use every old weapon in the family’s arsenal, you take the horses out a few more times, you spend peaceful afternoons around the pool to escape the hot sun, and you indulge on everything you could possibly want from food to jewels to insatiable sex with your incredibly hot husband. 

It’s just the break from everything you’d needed. Back home, you’re still working with Ursula, still tending to Violet’s garden, still keeping up with responsibilities. But here on this quiet hideaway, Titus treats you like the princess he always refers to you as. 

The fact that the staff of this house are good about actually leaving you two alone, and there is no chance of interruption from Ursula has been incredibly freeing for both of you. 

Back at home, Titus never lets you skinny dip. His whole hang up about people seeing his wife’s naked body gets in the way. 

But here...there really are no prying eyes, so he doesn’t put up a fight when you throw your bikini top at him. He’s trying to read the paper poolside, and it gets completely ruined by your wet suit. Titus isn’t exactly mad though, when he sees your tits, already growing from the babies, wet and welcoming, nipples peaked, as you wade towards him in the water. 

“Come on, Ti, get in here with me,” you call with a pout. “It’s too hot to stay out there all by yourself.” 

He looks like a giddy teenager as he tosses his paper aside and climbs down into the water with a toothy smile. “Aww, my baby, you don’t have to beg.” 

You watch him closely as he climbs in, sun shining on his freckled body. You bite your lip and you feel a warm tightening between your legs, as your eyes follow a line of scars down Titus’s torso. He’s so...thick. Everywhere. All that muscle. You’ve seen his body a million times by now, but something about having him in the sunlight just accentuates every piece of it.  

His body is strong, hard, a wall of warmth when he’s got you under him, or up against a wall, or a tree...wherever he can get you. His body is littered with grey scars from hunts and fights over the years, and fresher ones from you, especially your nails and teeth. His body is...decorated with sprinklings of grey hairs, but that’s the only indication of his age, with the way he takes care of himself he manages to have the body of a much younger man. 

You float up on your back and swim backwards away from him, and Titus follows you through the cooling water, all the way until he has you backed into a corner. The water splashes around you when he grabs you hard by the hips and pulls you into him, and you giggle into the kiss he lays on you. 

Your hands reach between your bodies and under the water, where you make quick work of undoing the tie on his swim trunks, swallowing the vibrations of his moan into your mouth. 

“So fuckin’ needy, Little Lamb,” Titus chuckles, lips tracing down from your mouth to your neck.  

“We gotta enjoy it while we can,” you whine, tossing his trunks out of the pool. You feel his cock under the water, already half hard, and you wrap your hand around him, giving it a few tugs. “You just look so good, want you all the time, Daddy.” 

“You got me whenever you want, Baby,” Titus groans, tongue licking into your mouth as his hips buck into your hand.  

He reaches down and rips your bottoms off, letting them float away as he hoists you onto his lap. Your legs wrap around him as your kiss deepens. Titus’s fingers dip between your folds, and you whimper as he starts to rub circles on your clit. Titus wraps an arm around your back, using it to cushion your body against the side of the pool, as your hips start to roll down against his fingers. 

You pull back from the kiss with a gasp, mouth dropped open as stuttered breaths escape your lips. You look into Titus’s eyes, met with his usual determined hunger, the look at sends excited shivers surging up your spine. Water circles around you from the movement of Titus’s arm, and your eyes fall to the rippling muscle of his bicep, before rolling back in your head. 

“Ti, oh god, Titus I’m—” you gasp, heat pooling in your belly. 

“Yeah, yeah, Baby, come on,” Titus goads you on, leaning down to bite at your neck, heat of his body encasing you. 

Your legs shake and your hips buck as white sears your vision and you cry out his name, splashing water around as you come on his fingers. “Titus! Fuck, oh god, thank you, oh fuck—" pleasure ripples through you, but you’re not done yet, your legs tighten around Titus’s waist. “Fuck me, fuck me, please, Titus!” 

“Fuck, gonna fuck you hard, Baby, don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” Titus grunts, jerking his cock under the water, rubbing the tip up and down your folds. 

“Don’t care, want you inside me now,” you plead, eyes opening wide, wet at the corners with tears. “Just fuck me, Daddy.” 

“Christ,” Titus swears, shoving his cock in you in one go, before grabbing onto the edge of the pool for leverage. “Definitely not gonna last, so fuckin’ tight, baby, so perfect for me, always.” 

Water splashes all around you and out of the pool as Titus fucks you, no thought and all haste. Neither of you are interested in this moment in dragging this out, lost in the spontaneity and heat of the afternoon. No matter how long, every time you and Titus fuck it reassures and reinstates the love and connection between you. It’s spiritual, and beautiful, and fills your heart with pure love. 

You can’t stop the rambling of Titus’s name over and over through your whines and whimpers, which grow louder and louder with each thrust of Titus’s hips. He moves fast but deep, fucking into you hard, cock kissing your cervix. He lifts you more against the side of the pool, just enough to get his mouth on your tits, and he whines from somewhere deep in his throat as his lips wrap around one of your nipples.  

Your head is thrown back and you wrap and hand into his damp hair, breathy moans escaping your lips as he fucks you. The sunlight glistens on your wet skin, birds fly overhead, but the only thing you can feel is your husband all over you. 

And you feel so free. 

You’re distracted enough, isolated enough, that neither you nor Titus notice the pair of dark, rageful eyes staring at you from beyond the trees. 

She’s getting sick of catching you two like this. Her stomach is in envious knots at the sight of his hands on you, his lips and tongue leaving marks on your body, your cries of pleasure from his touch. If there was one thing she could always count on with Titus Danforth, it was to be the best fuck of her life. 

The fact that she’s been out here long enough to watch this little tryst from the start, from the moment your slutty, pathetic, attention seeking, gold digging hands threw your top at him, to now as you scream like some overzealous porn star, only tells Priscilla one thing; 

Titus sent away the security, and you two are finally vulnerable enough.  

Enjoy that sense of security while you can, she thinks with a terrible smirk on her face, as she slips into the darkness of the forest. 

+ 

The moon is full, big and orange in the sky. The stars twinkle around it like little fairy lights. There’s barely a cloud in sight. 

You and Titus are sleeping soundly in bed after a romantic, candlelit dinner and then about an hour of fucking on the dining table and the floor and the stairs on your way back up. 

You only have two more days on this babymoon before it’s time to go home, and Titus doesn’t plan on wasting any second of them. As soon as you’re home it’s back to working and running the world, and Ursula pushing her way into baby prep, and you won’t be only his anymore.  

These couple weeks of just the two of you have been paradise. 

The door to the bedroom has been unlocked for the last couple nights. Titus believed the sleepwalking really wasn’t going to happen again. There was no reason for it to happen in the first place. 

You have been sleeping soundly, especially tonight, tiny breaths on Titus’s neck lulling him into his own peaceful slumber.  

In your dreams, you’re tending to the garden at home, watering the flowers and digging up weeds, rearranging the pots in the greenhouse so your carnivorous babies can get equal sunlight. You’re wearing a red sundress, that rides up to the top of your thighs, and gives a peek of your cheeks when you bend down or reach up high.  

There’s a cool breeze around you as you carry supplies from one end of the garden to the other, and you smile as you spot Titus waiting for you up ahead. 

“Going to actually help me, or just enjoy the view?” You playfully ask. 

Titus answers with a smirk, but there’s something...uncanny in his smile. From far away, it almost looks too wide, too toothy, and you can’t see his eyes behind the shades on his face, but you can tell that the smile isn’t reaching them from the lack of crinkles. 

“How about you take a break a join me over here? Got a surprise for you, Little Lamb.” 

You’re pretty sure you answer verbally but your mouth feels like it’s full of marbles, and the words come out in a gurgle. The smile on Titus’s face doesn’t fade at all, hands reaching out to beckon you to him. 

“Come on, my Baby, this way.”  

Your feet carry you before your mind catches up to the action, and before you know it, you’re placing your hands in his. With a gentle tug, Titus guides you down the path and into the woods. You try to pull him closer, to take his sunglasses off and look in his eyes, to kiss him, but he moves like smoke wisping out of your grasp. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice comes back again, but it sounds distant even from your own lips. 

“Somewhere special,” is his only response, voice warped.  

It causes your smile to fall just slightly, and you hesitate before stepping into the woods. There’s a darkness just beyond the first line of greenery, shadows fading to black nothingness, and all your movement stops. 

Your head starts to hurt, and your neck twitches, as a buzz starts to form in your ears. “W-wait.” 

“Come on, no need to be afraid, Little Lamb. You don’t ever need to be afraid again.” 

His voice is syrupy, low and gravely like usual, but something is just off about it. You try to back up, the tiniest bit of motion away from him, but he yanks you forward.  

With a gasp, you shove Titus away, and you stumble back as he disappears into the darkness of the trees. “N-no, this isn’t right. Y-you're not—” 

“Not what?” Titus’s voice appears right in your ear, breath hot on your skin and it sends a shiver up your spine. You feel hands wrap around your waist, strong, tight, but still wrong in some way. Where Titus normally grabs you tight to connect to you, to make you feel him and his weight, these hands are trapping you, caging you. “It’s alright, Little Lamb, I’m right here.” 

But something in the way his voice warps sets off all alarms in your brain, and you turn with a fist raised, but as you take a swing your hand meets nothing but air. Your feet catch on the ground and you trip in your effort to run away, landing hard on the ground. 

The impact jolts you, and suddenly you’re surrounded by darkness and cold. The light daytime breeze replaced by the wind chill of night, owls hooting and crickets chirping in the sky. 

Your home garden path is replaced by the forest path Titus had led you down the other day, the one that leads to the place his ancestor first met Mr. Le Bail. Your eyes adjust to the lack of light as your chest heaves, breaths coming out hard, sweat forming on your brow in your panic.  

“Wh-what the fuck?” you gasp, head darting around in every direction to try to figure out how you got here. 

It must be the sleepwalking. 

But the doctor said it wouldn’t come up again...Titus said you hadn’t even tried to leave the bed since that night. 

Titus had left the door unlocked. 

You look down at your body, white nightgown glowing under the moonlight, feet bare and already a little cut up from rocks and sticks that you’d stepped on during your journey. Your hand instinctively flies to your stomach at the sound of a twig snapping behind you, and you whip your head around in its direction. 

“Who’s there? What the fuck is going on?” You shout, voice cracking frantically, disoriented. 

Another crack echoes from your side, and you turn to it, breathing deep to stop yourself from hyperventilating. Then another from the right, from behind you, all around, and you turn to each of them, twisting your body around, biting your lip to keep in any panicked sound you might make, heart racing so fast you think it might burst right from your chest. 

“Show yourself!” You scream into the void of trees.  

Everything goes silent for a few moments, until the sudden sound of cold, hollow laughter emerges from behind you. 

You feel the blood drain from your face as a sick knot twists from your stomach and painfully up through your throat. You know that laughter. 

“Good god, little girl, enough of the fuss,” Priscilla’s icy, reedy voice says through her laughter. 

You quickly turn around, backing up as you swallow that knot and replace any hint of fear with anger. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re not supposed to be here!” 

She’s wearing a white gown similar to yours, her long black hair slightly disheveled, black rings under her eyes. There is just the slightest hint of scarring on her cheek from your last encounter. Her smile is crooked and wild, the loss of her sanity shining through it. 

“Hmm, no?” Priscilla mocks. “Why? Because the servants who have loyally worked for my family for decades said I wasn’t? Because they showed your idiotic security an empty house? I mean, they certainly showed them most of the house, but these old mansions have so many hidden passageways, it’s very easy to get confused and miss things.” 

You suck in a breath, eyes widening just slightly. When you get back to Titus, you’ll have to tell him to add that head of security to the list of future sacrifices.  

“Doesn’t matter, I was being nice before when I fucked up just your face last time,” you spit, fist clenching at your side. “Come any closer and I’ll make good on my promise to fucking kill you, I swear—" 

A flicker of light at Priscilla’s side catches your eye, derailing your train of thought. Her smile only widens, sharp teeth glowing pearly white, as she lifts a long knife with a bejeweled handle up.  

In an instant, Priscilla catches up to you, pressing the sharp point of the blade into your chest. “Did you think I’d lure you out here without being prepared for you? You’re a fucking savage monster who caught me off guard last time, but you’re not the only one who can fight.” 

“L-lure me?”  

Priscilla laughs again, loud and maniacal, shooting dread up your spine. 

“Darling, you live in a world of Satan worshipping and rituals, and you never considered other dark magic might be out there? Sleepwalking hexes are so easy to put together.” 

She twists the knife as she steps closer, not pressing hard enough to break your skin, but it doesn’t stop the bile from forming in your throat. You know the Danforth’s have all kinds of ritual books and grimoires in their collections, and you curse yourself for not looking further into them before.  

She’s got you cornered, but you’ll be further damned if you let Priscilla sense your fear.  

“Doesn’t matter, Titus will notice I’m gone any minute, and he’ll—” 

“Come save you?” Priscilla says, cutting you off. She grabs you by the shoulder, dipping the knife down to your stomach as her boney hand digs into your skin. The knife is pressed right to the middle of your bump, and you flash back to that nightmare, to Priscilla plunging it into your womb, and you freeze. “That’s what I’m counting on, little girl.” 

+ 

The sudden sound of his phone ringing lurches Titus out of his slumber and the very first thing he notices is that you are missing. 

His arm reaches out to your side of the bed, frantically feeling around but coming up with nothing, and his body sits upright in an instant. 

He shakes himself out of his confusion, rubbing sleep from his eyes as his phone continues to ring from the bedside table. 

Unknown number. 

“Hello?” Titus grumbles, voice raw from waking up. 

“Ti?” 

“Baby?” All feelings of sleep drain completely from him, and the hot, liquid feeling of dread seeping up his throat replaces it. “Baby, what’s going on? Where are you?” 

“I-I’m at the place... Le Bail’s clearing.” 

He’s already on his feet, throwing on his sweatpants and white undershirt, “What are you doing out there, sweet girl?” 

His voice is far too gentle, far too even, but the hair standing up on the back of his neck, and the bumps overtaking his body tell him something is deeply, terribly wrong, and he has to remain calm. 

Titus rushes to the duffle bag he’s kept on the other end of the room, one hand pressing the phone to his ear, while the other rummages through. He grabs his gun, shoving it in the back of his pants, and a long, serrated hunting knife. 

“S-sleepwalking again—”  

“Fuck’s sake, you’re taking forever! Tell him to get his sorry ass out here!” 

Titus freezes, face going pale. He’d know that frigid voice anywhere, been on the receiving end of that ire many times. “Is that?” 

“Yes,” you cut off quickly, a shake in your voice.  

He swallows. She must be threatening you for you to sound so scared. His girl doesn’t scare easy, not at all actually. “Did she hurt you? The babies?” 

“We’re okay for now. But you need to meet us here—" 

“Fucking hell, give me that,” there’s a rustling on the other end of the phone, and Titus winces when he hears the sound of something thudding against skin, and your soft groan of pain. “Titus, Darling, we need to talk, now, or I’m going to carve your little bastard spawn from your whore’s belly and feed them all to the wolves.” 

“Priscilla if you lay a hand on her—" 

“Already have, idiot. Her pretty face just took a nice hit, not nearly close to what the little monster did to me, of course.” 

“Priscilla, I swear on all the fires of hell, if anything else happens to her, I’m going to make you regret it.” 

“Promise?” She mocks. “Don’t take too long, I’ve got a newly sharpened blade just begging to rip into Mrs. Danforth’s skin. Ta ta!” 

Titus yells through the clicking of the phone. He grips the knife tight in his hand as he darts down the stairs, not bothering with socks or shoes.  

His heart pounds as he runs into the dark of the night, the black void of the trees. He hasn’t felt this helpless since the night of your hunt, when he desperately chased after your path of carnage throughout the resort grounds. Just like then, all his thoughts are consumed by his need to get to you, to protect you. 

+ 

Your hand cradles your cheek, a slight bruise already forming from where Priscilla had punched you when she snatched the phone. You still look at her with a dark scowl. “He’s not coming unarmed, you know.” 

Priscilla clicks her tongue and traces the knife up and down your belly. “I don’t care. I’ve got the advantage no matter what, little girl,” she says as she slinks around your body, keeping the blade pressed against you. Her cold hand wraps around the back of your neck, as she secures her position behind you, and she yanks your neck back. “Just feel lucky I’d rather he watch while I gut you, or you and those things growing inside you would already be food for rats.” 

Your breath hitches, but it’s not panic that runs through your veins. No, the adrenaline of a fight is surging through you, fusing with your blood cells as your mind races for a way out of her grip. You’re not some helpless thing, and you will not let this pathetic hag outsmart you.  

If it weren’t for the babies, you’d already be risking a piece of your body against her blade. It wouldn’t be the first time you endured the highest pain, and you doubt she’d be anywhere worse than the Le Domas’s. But your hand stays firmly on your belly, where you can feel the softest fluttering under your skin. 

You take in a deep breath, anything to keep your heartbeat even, so they don’t feel the danger you’ve walked them into. You can only hope Titus gets here soon to give Priscilla a good distraction. 

+ 

Titus’s heart is racing, hot and big, thumping so hard in his chest it feels like it’s going to burst right out. His feet sting from the cuts he gets running over rocks and sticks, but he stamps down the feeling, not allowing himself to register it. The only pain that matters is the sting in his heart, the sick bile that burns his throat, as he runs to you. 

His vision is in a tunnel, zeroed in on the path he’s walked hundreds of times in his life, the one that goes to where all of this began for his family. The place that used to bring him so much proud and truly connect him to his family’s power, now feels like a distant grave, haunting and heavy as he gets closer. 

A beam of light shines down from where it reflects off the moon, and just ahead Titus can see the clearing, like a twisted version of his recurring childhood dream. Your laughter isn’t waiting for him beyond the trees, just dead silence. 

He slows down his steps and raises his gun, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He takes smooth, methodical steps as he approaches, readying himself for anything he could find. 

The first thing he sees is you, beautiful in your white gown under the moonlight, fingers tapping your tummy, almost angelic in the way you glow. The light catches through the fabric, and he can see your bare body underneath, wishing more than anything this was just a romantic moment for the two of you. But there is a fire in your eyes, a caged smolder as your lip is bitten between your teeth, face scrunched in anger and frustration.  

You’re holding back, Titus knows, because his girl would never back down from a fight so easily. 

Priscilla is behind you, hand around your neck and knife firmly pressed to your stomach, using your body as a human shield. Titus swallows a lump as the two of you make eye contact, your brows raising just slightly in relief that he’s here. 

“Oh, Titus, so nice of you to join us,” Priscilla says, licking her lips. “I was beginning to think you finally came to your senses and realized the little thing was too much trouble.” 

You scoff. “You haven’t begun to see trouble—" 

“Shut it!” Priscilla hisses, squeezing down on your neck. “You stupid—" 

“Hey!” Titus barks, clicking the safety off his gun. “Enough! Priscilla you’ve gone too fucking far, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Something in her face cracks, every muscle twitching at once, and Titus has never seen her like this. She’s completely deranged, gone completely mad, and when she speaks it's with an uneasy whine. “I’m taking what should be mine! You were supposed to be mine!” 

Titus keeps his gun up, and his eyes quickly dart to you as you both share a look of understanding. There isn’t going to be any reasoning with her. Your body starts to buzz, the need inside to tear apart begins to wake up, that gnawing voice in your mind that wants to kill starts to sing. But the knife is still at your belly, and even though you can’t actually read his mind, you know Titus wants you to wait until he can open an opportunity for you to attack. 

“You’re doing all this for my attention? To get me back?” Titus asks, voice softer than he’d ever thought possible. At least, he’s never spoken this softly for anyone but you. 

“Yes,” she whines again, nails digging into your throat, but she’s not blocking your airway. “I-I’m sorry, Titus, I should have never let you go. Nobody is more perfect for me than you, and I was made for you. I always did everything you wanted, Ti, you remember? The amount of times I let you mutilate and defile my body, and I always wanted more, always gave in to your appetites.” 

You watch as your husband’s jaw clicks, and your lips quiver into a frown. You know those appetites well, you’ve fed into them so many times, and craved them for your own body. You know he’d certainly tried to unleash his most sadistic fantasies completely on her, but he’d told you he could tell she wasn’t as into it. Not the way you are, his perfect, sick match. 

“I can do all of that again, whatever you want. You want to tie me up in the ropes? You want to hit me with a paddle until I bleed? Choke me?” her voice drops in a tone more desperately seductive with each suggestion. “I’ll pet your hair while you suck on my tits and call me mommy. Or I’ll let you fuck me in the ass and call you Daddy, whatever. I just want you back. I want that life back!” 

“And you thought this was the way?” Titus asks, doing his best to put on an air of pity to disguise the disgust he feels at her words. Sure, there was a time where her promising all of those things would have made him putty in her hands, but not anymore. Not when he has you. 

You wish you could laugh at how easily she’s falling for his act.  

“O-of course,” Priscilla sniffs, hands starting to shake. Her grip on you loosens subtly, and you know your chance to break away is coming soon. “I-I know you, Titus. I know your soul. I know what you need. You want someone who could be worthy of Mr. Le Bail? Someone who would do what needs to be done? That was always me.” 

“Cill,” Titus coos, taking a step toward her. He pauses, then continues when she doesn’t try to back away this time. He looks to you for a moment, a pain flashing in his eyes at what he has to do, and your chest burns seeing him be gentle with someone else, especially her. “I know that. I know all of that.” 

Priscilla gasps, lip wobbling as she pouts, “Th-then why...why are you bothering with her?” 

Titus clicks his tongue, stepping into both your spaces. The hand that’s not on his gun subtly brushes your stomach, a movement so small Priscilla doesn’t catch it. She stands up straighter, looking up at Titus with wide eyes as he stands right in front of you. 

“You know how I like to play my games, Cill,” Titus says. “Are you going to tell me you really forgot how I love to torture the mind just as much as the body? Look at you, look at how badly you want me, what lows you’ve stooped to, to get me.” 

His face is so close, but his attention is all on her behind you, as he raises his gun and holds the barrel of it right to your head. A tear runs down her cheek as she sobs, “You’re so cruel to let it go on this long.” 

“I know, Sweetheart, but it’s time to finish this, don‘t you think?” Titus whispers, and for just a split second, you can see a flash of revulsion in his eyes, before he dips his face down and presses a kiss to her lips.  

She finally drops her hold on your neck. 

At the same time, he carefully brings your hand to his pocket, where you feel the hard metal handle of his knife. That’s your signal. 

You scream as you swing at her, and Titus drops his gun to back away with his hands up, smirking as he watches you nail her right in the face. Priscilla cries out in pain and lifts her knife to try to cut you in any way that she can, but you manage to dodge it in time, kicking the knife from her hand.  

The force of it knocks her further to the ground, and you jam the heel of your foot onto her hand for good measure, crushing the bones with a delicious crunch. 

“Ahh! You fucking bitch!” Priscilla screams in agony, broken hand clutched close to her chest.  

She tries to go for the knife again, but you kick it away from her, turning to grab Titus’s from his pocket instead. She tries to get up in the one moment you take your eyes off her, but you’re back in time to hit the hilt of the knife onto her forehead, jamming it onto her skull several times while she falls to the ground, moaning and crying. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You spit down at her, grabbing her by the shoulders to yank her body off the ground.  

“I deserve the life you’re living! I put all that fucking time in! You just walk in some broke, no-name, no-life, pathetic loser orphan, and think you get to be handed it?” Priscilla cries, the tears mixing with blood as they trail down her cheeks, and a huge gash oozes from her forehead. “Titus, baby, please, look at what she’s doing. She’s a fucking animal. You can’t bring children into the world with someone like—" 

“SHUT UP!” You scream at her, punching her in the face, breaking her nose. The metallic smell of the blood has you licking your lips. “Do you know what I’ve done to earn my place? How many people I’ve killed?” 

She tries to look behind you, to plead with Titus again, but he only stares hungrily at you. She knows that look, the ravenous, desperate starvation he would get when he had her tied up and seconds away from defiling her body in ways she’d only let someone of Titus Danforth’s status perform. 

The things she let him do, only to lose out on all the power in the world to you. 

And now he looks at you like that, the hunger coming from anticipation of violent acts you’re going to perform.  

Still, she tries. “Titus!” 

Desperation drips from her cries, but when he finally looks at her again, it’s with an emptiness of feeling. His eyes are indifferent to her, like she’s some object in the way of his goal. Like she’s a rotten fruit he has to waste time throwing in the trash. He wipes the taste of her from his lips with the back of his hand. 

You’re tired of her looking at him like she has any entitlement to his soul. You own that soul, signed in blood. 

You grab her by the jaw and force her to look at you, nails digging into her skin until it breaks, and the blood stains under your nails. “I told you, if you ever tried to destroy my family again, I would fucking kill you.” 

Her eyes go wide, and she opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, as if there were any more arguments she could make that would actually convince you to spare her life. 

All the wind is knocked out of her when you plunge Titus’s knife into her chest. A bright splatter of red flies through the air as you rip it from her, and her mouth drops open in a shocked, silent scream. 

Time freezes, for just a moment. You stare into her terrified eyes, your heart beating so loud it’s the only sound in your ears, and you feel your body fill with a sick sense of strength. That fiery need to act, to attack until your limbs give out takes over. You felt it the first time you’d smashed Mrs. Le Domas’s head in with that stupid game box. 

Senses flood back into real time, and you enter a trance as you raise the knife and lower it into her again. 

You stab her over and over, eyes never leaving hers, blood flying all over your white nightgown, your face. You can feel the muscles of your cheeks twist and contort into a smile, and you hear yourself start to laugh, as the light fades from Priscilla. 

Her body falls to the ground, lifeless and pale from loss of blood, the sound it makes it heavy as it lands. There’s probably about a hundred stab wounds from her chest to her lower belly, and this time you didn’t black out. You felt and saw every single one of them.  

Behind you, Titus is absolutely rocked. His mouth is dropped open from heaving breaths, eyes blacked out, hands sweaty and twitching from the need to touch, to grab.  

His eyes trail down from you to Priscilla’s body. Her eyes are blank, mouth opened in a scream, but completely baren. Her soul has already been ripped to hell, and he wonders if Mr. Le Bail smiled when he took it. 

Titus remembers a moment they had very early in their...entanglement. He wasn’t sure at the time what they were, nor what he truly wanted from her, and he’d asked if she could love someone like him. 

Priscilla had laughed. 

“People like us don’t have any use for love.” 

That was when he’d cut off any chance of trying to feel something for her. Their time became transactional almost, because she was one of the very few who could scratch an itch with him and come back for more. He knew why she would, he knew it was because she thought one day she’d sit next to him at the top of the world. 

How wrong she was. 

He looks back at you, the woman who loves him. The woman who is bringing his children into the world. 

The woman who gives it to him just as good as he gives it to her. 

Yes, Titus has great use for love. 

You’re covered in blood, drenched in it so much that most of your white gown is stained pink. And you’re fuming, chest rising and falling quickly with deep, loud breaths, eyes looking wide and angry and wild. 

Without a second thought, Titus practically floats over to you, caught in your trance as he takes you in his arms and kisses you. 

You drop the knife and wrap yourself around him, whining into the kiss, eyes closed desperately tight. Priscilla’s blood coats Titus’s skin as you run your hands all around him, clawing your way to ripping his shirt off, so you can scratch down his chest.  

He tastes that same blood on your lips in your kiss, and he resists the urge to lick up your face, clean you with his tongue. His lips trace down your neck, biting and moaning, reclaiming your skin, as you push your body flush up against his warmth, as though you could fuse to him. His cock is hard against your tummy and it sends an aroused thrill right to your core. 

“Oh, my terrible little Lamb, my baby,” Titus whimpers pitifully, as he yanks down the straps of your nightgown, freeing your blood covered breasts. Your nipples are peaked from the cold air, and he looks at you with wide eyes, mouth dropped open and drooling from his need to latch onto them. “Such a fucking monster, so strong and so fucking sexy. Need you so bad, wanna fuck you hard.” 

He tears down the dress the rest of the way, and it pools at your feet to reveal the rest of your naked body into the moonlight. Titus licks his lips at the sight of the glistening between your legs, the act of the kill has you dripping.  

Before he can get his mouth where he really wants it, you grab onto his jaw hard, enough that your fingernails leave crescent shaped indents in his freckled skin. You force his face back, make him look at you, and he yields his control as you slap him on the cheek, the crack echoes loud through the night. 

“You want to fuck me, Daddy?” You sneer at him meanly, grabbing his face again.  

He nods his head and whimpers again, dick twitching in his pants. “Yes, baby, want to so bad.” 

“Show me,” you say, voice low, seductive, pulling him closer to you. Your hands snakes around to the back of his neck, and you bring him in for another violent, biting kiss. It’s messy and wet and you don’t know who’s more desperately needy in their moans, but Titus dips his tongue into your mouth and you suck the mixture of blood from it willingly. Your grip moves to his shoulders and you push him back with both hands, eyes blown dark and wild. “Get on your knees.” 

Titus smiles wide, white teeth shining like blood covered fangs as he drops to the ground, arms out and ready for your instruction. You think about the things Priscilla had offered to him, the ways she’d let him use her. All you think about is how you’ve done each of those, not just for his pleasure to appease him, but because they are all things that make you feel worshipped. 

That’s all you want right now, a reminder that he is obsessed with you above all else, even the devil himself. 

“I hated seeing you kiss her,” you say, pouting as your hand grazes down his cheek. “I know you had to, but you need to show me how you love me. Show me how you worship me.” 

Titus already knows the way to show you, as he grabs you by the back of your legs and brings your body to him, kissing along the small swell of your belly. His fingers dip between your legs, and he moans at feeling of your slick seeping around his fingers. He takes a moment to rub the tips of those fingers along seam of your pussy, before dipping them between to slide into your entrance. 

You moan, high and sudden at the way the fill you, so thick, and your mouth drops open. He’s looking up at you, eyes sparkling from the stars in them, lips pressed to your belly, fucking you slowly.  

“I’ll worship you, my love,” Titus whispers, nuzzling his cheek to your skin. He lifts one of your thighs over his shoulder, and you grip into his silver curls for balance. “As long as I get to fuck you, but I already worship you for all time.” 

"Make me come on your tongue the way I like,” you whine, “and you can fuck me as hard as you wish, any way you want. Be good for me, Daddy.” 

And with a hungry grunt he’s on you. His fingers start to fuck into you hard and fast, curling up to that spot that drives you crazy, as his tongue dips between your lips to lick circles around your clit. 

His moans are ravenous and low, vibrating into your pussy as he eats like a man starved. Eyes closed and lost in it, drowning in your juices as he works little whines and mewls from your lips. He uses all his strength to hold you up, as your balance starts to falter, while your head falls back and you roll your hips into his mouth, chasing that growing feeling of pleasure that pools in your belly. 

“Fuck, oh fuck, that’s it Titus,” you moan, mouth dropped open, breath coming out in little catches. “Yeah, Daddy, just like that.” 

Your legs start to wobble and your moans quickly shift into high pitched whines, chest rising and falling. Your fingers press harder into his hair, keeping him against you as he alternates between sucking on your clit, and rubbing with his thumb so his tongue can dip inside your pussy to drink you up like nectar.  

His hand that grips your thigh is already leaving bruises, stained from Priscilla’s blood that covers both your bodies. He holds you tight to keep you up when there’s a turn in your breathing, and you let out a loud cry of his name into the night.  

“Fuck, fuck, just like that, good boy,” you moan, as your pussy clenches around his fingers, and gush down his hand. 

You quickly lose your balance, and collapse down onto his lap, legs on either side of him, where he easily catches you into another kiss. Your heart races, hands grabbing his cheeks, and you lick your slick from his mouth, the mixture with blood sweet on your tongue. 

Below, you can feel Titus’s cock hard, twitching and aching to be buried inside your tight cunt. He’s holding you so hard by the hips, subtly moving you back and forth on his lap as the two of you make out on the cold ground.  

“Baby, little lamb, so fucking good for me, all fucking mine,” he grunts into your mouth, voice cracking on almost every word from how desperate he’s grown. “Lemme fuck you, please.” 

“Yeah, Ti, were so good for me, fuck me like you want.” 

His muscles ripple as he quickly maneuvers you onto your back in the dirt, while he holds your wrists down with one hand. He doesn’t bother taking his pants off all the way, just shoves them down enough to get his cock out. 

You scream out as he guides himself into your warm cunt into one hard thrust, smiling as he starts to fuck you roughly, no frills. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder as the other wraps around his waist, thrusting his hips in and out of you at a brutal pace.  

He’s holding your wrists down above your head with both hands now, looking down at you with a dark, voracious intensity. “Look how deep you take me, Little Lamb. Pretty pussy just made to be ruined by me.” 

“Yeah, Daddy,” you moan, fingers clawing at the ground below where they’re trapped. Your back arches up to him, and you can feel where the nature has scratched you up. 

Titus lets out a long groan, eyes shutting as he tries to hold back from coming too soon, “Fuck, baby, c-can’t call me that, want this to last, shit. Doin’ so good for me.”  

You smirk, but you hold to his request, also not wanting the moment to end too soon. It’s been so long since you’ve really been able to unleash on each other, and even now you can feel him holding back for the sake of the babies.  

Still, the snarling and the growling and the moaning the mixes with the slap of his skin against you, the screams you release, and you know you must sound like animals. 

Titus finally lets go of your wrists and you tug him down into a kiss, tugging hard at his curls as your pussy clenches around him. His hands are everywhere now, painting even more of your body in blood and bruises, covering you in his touch, erasing any sense of someone else on your skin.  

"All mine, all fucking mine,” Titus repeats, whining frantically like he’s trying to remind himself more than you. He can’t shake the feeling of almost losing you again. His need to claim and to feel you, to keep you close and tangible, to make sure you both know that you’re still here, you’re always his. 

His head dips down to your chest and he bites at your tits, sucking on your pert nipples, moaning and whimpering around them, while you beg him to fuck you harder.  

“Say it, Little Lamb, say you’re mine,” Titus begs pathetically, sitting up to look at you. 

You whine at the loss of his heat, and you bite your lip as your eyes go wide, nails scratching hard down his chest. You cover the angry marks from earlier with fresh lines, and roll your hips down into him, pussy pulsing from need. 

Titus grabs you by the neck, stilling your movements in an instant as his own slow down. He fucks into you with slower, harder thrusts, cock hitting deep, and forcing the air from your lungs. “Tell me, Little Lamb. You already know I worship you. You know my soul is owned by you, nobody else, my sweet girl.” 

His hand squeezes down for a second, and your head goes a little hazy as you smile. You hope his handprint is able to stay till the morning.  

When he releases, you gasp for breath and choke, but your eyes are filled with a wild joy as you whimper, “’m all yours, Titus. My soul is yours, my body is yours, it’s all for you. Please, come inside me, fill this pussy, it’s all for you.” 

“Shit,” his eyes roll back and he goes back to his rough pace, body collapsing on yours again. He can feel it building, that ball of pleasure that starts in his heart and climbs down, and he kisses you through it. “That’s it, Little Lamb, that’s right. My girl, come for me, my good girl.” 

He brings a hand between your legs and rubs your clit, cock twitching inside you, body begging for release. 

An entire night’s worth of adrenaline hits you all at once, white hot pleasure sparks through every nerve ending, and you let out a scream of his name again, back arching up into him, so you can feel his entire being consume you all over.  

“Titus! Fuck!” your pussy clenches down hard, gushing around him as you come again.  

You’re alive, truly alive, no matter what anyone has tried to do to you, tonight or all the nights before, and you feel it all the most right now, with your husband’s cock deep inside.  

And Titus feels it too, biting down on your neck and crying, tears falling as his cock releases inside you. “Shit, baby, god you feel so fucking good.” 

Both of you shake through it, coming down slowly as pleasure runs through both of your veins, energy passing between each other. Titus’s hand wanders down from your breast to your stomach, where his fingers spread possessively on the bump. You both take in deep breaths, as your hand joins on top of his, thumb running circles on his skin.  

You kiss his cheek, drinking up the tears that fall. “Oh, my love, I’m still here.” 

“Could have lost you, I’m a fucking idiot,” Titus mumbles, voice shaking like he’s a second away from sobbing. “Don’t know what I’d do with out you in this world. Can hardly remember who I was before.” 

“I know,” you say, because you understand. Too often you have felt exactly the same. “But you haven’t lost me. You came for me, for us.” 

You press down on his hand to make your point, and you feel his gasp on your neck when your tummy flutters under his touch. His babies, all three of you, are right where they are meant to be, here with him. 

You lay together quietly for a few more minutes, your hands petting through his hair to calm him, his fingers tracing shapes on your tummy, until the bodily fluids that have covered both of you finally start to feel foul. Titus pulls out slowly, licking his lips at the sight of him leaking out of your cunt, one of his favorites to watch for as long as he can. 

But quickly you tell him to get you into a bath, and who is he to argue with you after all he’s put you through? 

He doesn’t bother to try to redress you, the dress will have to be burned anywhere, so he just stands up and scoops you up into his arms. He holds you like a new bride as you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, before he begins to make the trek back through the woods toward the estate.  

For just a moment, you turn back, looking at the place where his family’s legacy began, and where yours could have ended. Well, if that bitch had been just a little smarter. 

Priscilla’s body lies cold, vacant eyes staring off into space in your direction, and you scrunch your nose in disgust at the sight of her.  

“What do we do with that?” You ask, tapping on Titus’s shoulder. 

You feel him shrug as he carries you up the path. “Leave it. The wolves will consume her, and our people will clean up what’s left in the morning.” 

You plant a satisfied kiss to his cheek, finally relaxing in his arms. “So, do you think there will be any other family members or ex-girlfriends that will try to kill me, or are we finally done with all that shit?” 

Titus snorts. “Baby, you know there’s always going to be family to contend with, but I promise she’s the only psycho ex I have. Not that you couldn’t handle them anyway.” 

“You’re hiding them so you get to watch me kill them again, aren’t you?” you ask with a suspicious frown, eyes squinted.” 

“Ha!” Titus laughs, shaking his head. “Little Lamb, I promise I would not let you get into the this situation again, no matter how fucking hot it is when you kill someone for me.” 

You roll your eyes, but nuzzle closer to his neck anyway. “Seriously Ti, I thought I was done fighting. We’re about to have children, I can’t go through this again.” 

And a sick, guilty coil forms in Titus’s stomach. “I know, and I know I promised you wouldn’t have to fight again, but I mean it this time. You’ve really proven yourself enough. No more games to play.” 

There’s an air on hurt and pain in his voice that makes you believe him. You know he doesn’t actually want to see you in danger, no matter how much you can handle it. You’re the gift brought to Titus Danforth by Mr. Le Bail, the Devil himself. You’re something just as precious as you are dangerous. 

A monster whose heart was designed to match his. 

+ 

+ 

+ 

Four Years Later. 

The sun is shining down on the garden, warm and orange from the afternoon, while butterflies flutter around the new blooms. A soft breeze whisps through the grass, creating a gentle shaking sound from the blades. It’s a perfectly peaceful, quiet day. 

At least, it would be quiet if it weren’t for the pair of screaming, laughing toddlers running through the grounds while their father chases them. 

“Ahhhh! Daddy no!” a little voice screeches happily into the air, as she attempts to escape the strong arms of Titus scooping her up and tossing her into the air.  

“Gotcha!” Titus shouts back, cackling wildly. 

It’s quickly followed by the sound of high-pitched laughter, and you lower the book you’ve been reading to find your husband twirling your daughter around in the air, as she giggles so hard her face turns pink. Her red hair, pulled into pigtail braids that curl at the end, is starting to come undone, and you’re pretty sure you can see little twigs and leaves stuck in the strands. 

“What are you doing?” You ask with an amused shake of your head.  

“Daddy chased us through the bushes!” Your boy piped up as he runs up to Titus with a big smile, tugging on his pants leg. 

“Mhm, even though we have a very important and fancy lunch to go to in an hour?” You ask, but it's more of a very stern reminder statement.  

Titus cringes, looking at the mess he made of his daughter’s hair, and he carefully puts her back on the ground. He kneels down with her to straighten out her little navy dress, gives her a kiss on the cheek, then sends her over to you to get fixed up. 

She walks over with her head hung low, arms behind her back, and apologetic pout as she climbs into your lap. “Sorry, Mommy, but It's all Daddy’s fault.” 

Titus makes a soft, offended sound that you ignore, and you give her a soft smile as you start to pick the nature out of her hair. “Oh, I don’t doubt that, Daddy is very naughty.” 

“Hm,” Titus scoffs again, but when you make eye contact he simply smirks, as though to point out you’ve never complained about his naughtiness before. “Yes, because you’re always on your best behavior. Should I remind you about two weeks ago when you got them to play that prank on me during a work call?” 

You smirk at the memory of dressing the twins up in creepy masks you found in the attack, and having them run at Titus with fake knives. In your defense, he’d been working nonstop, and nothing you were doing could distract him from it, so sadly, yes, you did have to use the kids. Ultimately, he found it to be completely hilarious, even if he spanked your ass raw that night in revenge. 

Dahlia Violet and Prescott Chester Danforth were born just after midnight, the morning of Halloween. It was dark and stormy, lightning striking through the sky when you gave birth in one of the lavish baths of the Danforth Estate. Absolutely the perfectly way to bring your twins into the world.  

They both came out crying, with striking red hair and big eyes, and both instantly calmed as soon as they were passed into their father’s arms. You’ll never forget the look on Titus’s face, the awe and wonder that someone like him could make two tiny things so beautiful. He’d been filled with the instant love he hadn’t felt since the first moment he saw you. 

Even with time passing, his love for them hasn’t changed. Many a critic in your lives, the people who always misunderstand Titus, have said that his interest in all of this would pass. Titus Danforth can never be held down by a family, he’s too wild. 

They simply don’t get it. They may know he has a monstrous side, but they do not know his heart. 

You see his heart as Prescot reaches his hands up with a small, face-scrunching frown, and Titus pulls him up into his arms. Your boy has always been the more quiet one, not sensitive, but smart and inquisitive, always watching and studying any situation. He knows how to express anything he feels, very directly, and Titus has joked that he’s just like you and Ursula. 

“You shouldn’t make Mommy mad,” Prescott says, pressing his little face into Titus’ cheek. 

“Yeah?” Titus asks with a soft laugh. “Why’s that?” 

Prescot shrugs. “Because she’s in charge.” 

You snort at the same time that Titus lets out a raucous laugh and kisses his son’s cheek. “Smart boy, but what about me? You want to make me mad?” 

“Daddy, you’re never mad!” Prescott proclaims. 

Again, you can’t stop the snort that comes out, and you bite your lip to not laugh any louder. 

Titus shakes his head at you as he walks over to the little patio area, and he sets Prescott down carefully in one of the seats. He straightens out the boy’s blazer jacket, and tips his face up to look at him. “I’m never mad at Mommy, or Dolly, and I am never mad at you, sweet boy. No matter what. Unless we get so messy we’re late to Mommy’s lunch.” 

“You’re also going to make us late to stay with Auntie Ursula!” Dahlia whines.  

Where Prescott stops at being calm and collected, Dahlia takes after her father, a little girl of action. She’s always buzzing to do things, to find new adventures, and to get into trouble. Spending a long weekend away in the city with just Ursula is exactly the kind of adventure she’s been needing. 

“That excited to get away from us, Dolly?” Titus asks with a faux pout. “My little princess trying to escape the castle.” 

“Auntie Ursula said her house is on top of the world!” Dahlia exclaims, clapping her little hands together. “But I’ll still miss you, Daddy!” 

As soon as you release her hair, she hops off the seat and runs over to snatch her brother away from Titus, and you both smile as you watch them run, shouting something about racing to the town car. 

Your heart has never been so full. 

Titus comes over to help you up, and you pull him in for a quick kiss, enjoying the brief moment where the twins won’t interrupt you. You pull away to rub the lipstick from him, and his crinkly eyes never leave yours. He’s only gotten more handsome with age, still in that same shape you met him, still covered in freckles, with the same silver hair, only a hint of age from the last few years you’ve known him. 

“Excited for a weekend all to ourselves?” he asks, wrapping your arm around his to walk you to the car. “Not that I won’t miss them.” 

“No of course, I’m going to miss them every second,” you say. Still out of earshot of the twins, you stand up on your tip toes to whisper into Titus’s ear, licking the shell and tugging on the lobe, “You'll have to come up with some pretty big distractions for me.” 

He cocks his brow at you and smirks. “Little Lamb, you have no idea what you’re in for.” 

Before you can tease each other more over the promise of your first child free weekend in so long, the anticipation of being able to dabble in your old ways of running through the woods like animals heat, Titus is off to scoop the twins up again. 

He gives you a sly wink over his shoulder, shouting, “Love you, my baby!” 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” you say with an amused shake of your head. And you can’t help but smile as you watch the three of them together, still a little in disbelief that this is your life. 

Off in the distance, in the shadows of the tree line, your eyes catch sight of the shadow of a man. He smiles at you and gives you a nod, before disappearing with a whisp of leaves in the breeze. 

For a moment you pause, then still looking at where you could have sworn he just stood, you smile, and nod back. 

FIN. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N 2: again, thank you to everyone who has been reading this series!!! i have had sooooo much fun with Titus, and I'm glad you all have too ! PLEASE comment and REBLOG!!! reblogs do more than likes!!!

[thatfanficstuff]

Finally had the time to sit and give this one the attention it deserves.

I have adored this series from beginning to end. A fantastic titus fic.

Definitely read it if you haven't yet.

[sergeantangel]

* = 18+. 2026 Lists. 2025 Lists. Some Tags.

The Pitt

Gossip - Jack Abbot + The World Was On Fire, And No One Could Save Me But You - Titus Danforth - @se7entyrell

Helping Hand Part 4 - Jack Abbot - @rynwrites4fun

* Off The Deep End - Brendon Park - @yournamesnob

* Team Bonding (Reread) - Jack Abbot - @oceantornadoo

* Same Time Next Month - Brendon Park - @moonjellin

* I Just Really Like You - Jack Abbot - @inkdippedquills

Everything Else

I Can’t Live Without Her - Bucky Barnes - @heldbybarnes

Road Trip - Andrew Cody - @pope-codys

Proposal - Titus Danforth - @chvoswxtch

The Best Distraction - Titus Danforth - @thatfanficstuff

* The Will Of The Gods - Ormond Hightower - @lovebugism

* Taking Care (Reread) - Papa Emeritus IV - @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe

Enjoy

[thatfanficstuff]

thank you for the mention!!

[thatfanficstuff]

Y'all paragraphs are your friend. Embrace them. Use them.

[thatfanficstuff]

It's taglist time again

Jack Abbot x Reader series

warning: mentions of abuse and the aftermath.

When his son's girlfriend shows up alone in his ED at 03:00 Jack knew something was wrong. Discovering his son was the reason for the visit broke his heart and infuriated him in ways he hadn't anticipated. He has no intention of letting you navigate what follows on your own.

This series started from this one shot. I'm not sure the total number of parts (it's looking like 10 additional chapters right now) but it will start posting late August (finally).

Current taglist is below even if all of you won't be notified of this post as there are too many. If you want to be added, you can add yourself here or comment below.

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[in-ky]

you pressed the napkin to your mouth, wiping away any remaining oil from the blackened fish and rice you had just finished. you waited a few moments for the flavor to settle on your tongue before scribbling your final notes into your notebook. it was good, a proper mix of meaty and soft. the seasoning was even, but a little too strong on the lemon when combined with the juice of the slice it was garnished with. clicking your pen closed, you looked up and signaled your waiter, confirming that your three-course meal was done and you were ready to talk to the chef.

a few moments later, grant stepped into the main dining room. he gave greeting nods to customers as he made his way over to your table. he had that stupidly charming half-smile on his face.

"how was it?" he asked, folding his hands behind his back and tilting his head. you pursed your lips and nodded.

"you know i can't give you my secrets, grant." you smirked.

"oh, come on, you can't give a preview for your favorite chef in the city?" you pursed your lips and hummed.

"you're right," you agreed "i'll swing by marco's and let him know." grant rolled his eyes.

"you're so funny." he bit out sarcastically.

"i know." you rearranged the plates on the table to make it easier for the bussers to collect them. "don't worry," you soothed "the food was good. but...don't you think the prices are a bit...exorbitant?"

"well," grant chuckled "we are a michelin star restaurant." his smile widened. "plus, you know, i have a wife i have to spoil."

"right. she must be very lucky." you sat there smiling at each other for a few moments. until grant's eyes flicked down to your open notebook. his mouth dropped and his brows furrowed.

"too much lemon?" he read with a frown "i thought you liked citrus." you immediately snapped the notebook closed.

"i do!" you assured "it's just-" you cut yourself off. no. you had rules. "you'll see it in the review." grant tossed his head back for a groan and you got to your feet, gathering your things.

"can't believe you're making me wait." he grumbled and pouted. you took a step toward him and ran your hand along his bicep.

"you're right, i'm so mean." you mocked his pout. "i'll make it up to you, promise." you pressed a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his arm. before you pulled away, you whispered, "i'll see you at home for desert." grant took a deep breath and closed his eyes. a deep hum rumbled from his chest. you waved goodbye to the cooks watching the exchange from the kitchen window and walked out the door.

grant watched you leave, eyes locked on the subtle sway of your hips. his tongue ran along the seam of his lips. in a few hours, they'd be covered in you. a bell jerked him back into reality and he fought the blush that crawled up his neck as he returned to the kitchen. his shift couldn't end soon enough.

[sugartalk-ing]

Saw you wanted little blurb requests! What about Andrew Cody x reader who wears dark lipsticks and kisses his cheek, leaving a mark? He never wipes them off and his brothers are just like 😳😮

send me some blurbs and drabbles to write!

andrew calls out your name when he finally walks into your apartment. he was supposed to be here two hours ago, but the meeting with j and his brother ran later when they got tipped off they'd have to hit their new job earlier than they initially though, so their meeting turned into an impromptu scouting session.

"bathroom!"

when he finds you, he can't help the frown that pulls at the corners of his mouth. you're dressed to go out, swiping your new deep, dark red lipstick on as you readjust your top. he was hoping to stay in with you tonight, hoping to convince you to just get into bed with him. for a man who doesn't sleep much, he's developed an obsession with keeping you in bed.

"where you off to?" he grumbles, leaning against your doorframe.

"deran's bar..." you trail off, your voice lifting in confusion. "right? adrian's birthday is monday, they're having a party at the bar."

andrew groans, his head lolling back and hitting the door softly.

"do we have to? i just spent all day with all of those morons," he huffs, walking up behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder. physicality doesn't always come natural to andrew, even after being with you for almost a year. but when he gets needy, the way he is now, he's learned to channel it through physical affection. he's learned how easily it sways in his favor, the public display always making you weak for him because it conveys some sort of trust he has for you.

"yup," you say, popping the p at the end. you reach your hand back and pat his cheek, spinning around to face him. "it's adrian's birthday."

"so? i'm not having sex with him, why should i care?"

"andrew!" you gasp around an incredulous laugh, a hand coming up to slap his chest.

"what?" he smirks, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. "i haven't seen you all day."

"we spent all morning together, and you left the house at, like, one." you smile when he groans again, linking your hands behind his neck to tug his face closer, your lips brushing against his. "two hours max. we have one or two drinks, drop off the gift, and then we're out."

"promise?" he mumbles against your mouth, pecking you gently as to not mess up your lipstick.

"promise!" you pull away completely and only lean back to press a hard kiss against his cheek.

"i'm setting a timer," he grumbles, shutting the bathroom lights off after you walk out, following you with a hunch of his shoulders toward the front door.

"adrian!" you squeal, throwing your arms around his neck in a crushing hug, causing him to laugh and lift you up a little. "happy birthday!"

"thanks for coming," he says softly, nodding at andrew. "hey, pope! surprised she got you to come out."

"i'm not," deran scoffs, coming up behind adrian to give you your next hug. "lucy's already got your drink goin'," he mumbles, giving you a little nudge toward the bar.

"beer?' you ask over your shoulder to andrew, continuing your journey to the bar where j and craig are when he nods.

"oh you, uh, you've got..." adrian's voice trails off when andrew's chin dips to stare at him.

"here," deran say, rolling his eyes as he hands him a napkin.

"don't need it," andrew says, starting to walk around both of them.

"you've got lipstick," deran argues, reaching over again to just wipe it off himself. "what the fuck, man!" deran pulls back when andrew shoves his outstretched hand away. deran gives up, following his brother and leading adrian back to the bar where the rest of his family is.

"you okay?" you jump a little when you hear andrew's voice in your ear, leaning back so your back is pressed against his chest when one of his arms loops loosely around your waist.

"pope, what the fuck's on your face, man?" craig cuts in, stopping you from answering. your brows furrow in confusion as you pivot a little, looking at andrew for the first time since you two left the apartment. you gasp a little, your fingers coming up to subconsciously touch your lips.

"oh, andy, i'm sorry," you start, reaching for a napkin on the bar top and dipping it into your glass of water. when you reach up to wipe his cheek, he gently wraps his hands around your wrist to stop you. "andrew, you've got lipstick on your cheek."

"i know," he says simply. "leave it," he leans down again, his lips brushing against your ear, "it's like you marked me. i like it."

your face flushes at the confession and you let out an embarrassed giggle. "yeah?" you tease, leaning up to press a kiss on the same spot.

"you guys are disgusting," craig groans, reaching over the counter to grab another beer. "whipped."

"come say that to my face," andrew threatens casually, only softening his features when you wrap your hand over his that's still resting on your hip.

[kingsqveen]

michael robinavitch x jewish!reader

wc: >500

michael robinavitch doesn’t usually keep track of the people living in his building. he spends most of his time at home on the couch or in bed, trying to gather up the energy to start again tomorrow, another twelve hour shift, another day of seeing the worst the world has to offer.

he knows when someone new moves into the apartment across from him. he’s vaguely aware of it, the information catalogued away in his mind but not thought twice about.

until he sees the mezuzah at the door. such a small thing, insignificant looking to anyone who doesn’t know, but it hits him in the chest because if he steps away and lets his vision blur, it looks like the one his bubbe had.

robby pays attention after that. notices you leaving your apartment, headphones in, hair pulled back. he sees you in the elevator and you introduce yourself to him with a kind smile.

you’re lovely, he thinks.

he gets a knock on his door on a friday. he’s just gotten home from work, his feet aching from a day of constant movement. he’s ready to throw himself onto the couch and order takeout, drink a few beers, and then go to bed.

instead, he forces himself up and towards the door.

his tired mind clears when he sees you standing there, hands clasped together. your expression relaxes at the sight of him.

“hi,” you say.

“hi,” robby repeats. he doesn’t know what else he’s meant to say, has no idea why you would be at his door when you’re nothing more than neighbours, friendly acquaintances maybe, but not friends.

“this might be presumptuous but uh, i was wondering if you would want to have shabbat dinner with me?” you ask.

he blinks, surprised.

“why?”

“robinavitch,” you say slowly, “you’re jewish, right? i don’t know if you’re practicing but i noticed you don’t usually leave your apartment after you come back from work on fridays so i assumed you don’t have anyone else to have shabbat dinner with. so i was just… wondering.”

you slowly lose steam as you speak, like you’re realising this might be considered creepy or he might find you annoying.

the truth is the exact opposite. he hasn’t believed in god for a long time, but that doesn’t get rid of all the memories he has from his childhood. the offer hits like a punch to the chest. your kindness, reaching out because you thought he might be lonely and offering him community he hasn’t had in a long, long time.

finally, he manages to force out, “i’d like that.”