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casualhedonists · 4 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

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honeyedmiller · 9 months

Text

Law of Attraction — Chapter Two: Exposition

series masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!Joel, student!reader, (consensual) professor x student relations, joel miller au, reader is mentioned to be plus sized, drinking, jealousy, age gap (reader is late 20’s, joel mid 40’s), smut (m oral receiving, fingering, face sitting, unprotected piv), fluff, no use of y/n. 18+, minors dni.

word count: 5.3k

chapter synopsis: only one student gets chosen to go on an all-inclusive trip to the criminal justice expo that’s held at a different location every year. what happens when professor miller happens to be the attending staff representing the university of austin?

Your phone pinged in your lap, and you tore your eyes away from the TV screen to see what it was. You and your roommate, Adrienne, who also happened to be your best friend, were watching reruns of Gilmore Girls.

It was Saturday night and both of you felt like staying in, which ended up with both of you making dinner and filling up wine glasses before you settled in on the couch to watch the beloved show.

“Holy shit.” You say out loud, not believing the student e-mail you received in your inbox.

“What?” Adrienne questioned, gaze slowly moving to you.

“I got accepted– my application,” You started, completely dumbfounded. “I get to go to the criminal justice expo.”

“What? No fucking way dude! Isn’t that like a one-student-only type deal?” Adrienne questioned, turning her body to fully face you.

You nod, looking down to your phone again. You scrolled down the email, looking for the details of where it was going to be this year.

“It’s in California this year,” You say, chewing on your bottom lip to find out the attending staff from your school. You froze when you saw his name pop up. “Professor Miller is the attending staff.”

Adrienne’s face lit up, and she nudged you with her foot. “Are you kidding me? Free drinks, free food, free flight, and you get to bone again with your hot Professor?”

“Adri!”

“What? Oh, come on, you said that the sex you two had was mind blowing. Now you guys can, you know, fuck on an actual bed instead of a desk.” She snickered, and you rolled your eyes.

Adrienne knew how hot Joel was. She never had him as a professor, but people talked regardless. She was an alumni now and when you told her you two fucked, she nearly lost her mind. She told you to give her all the juicy details, and congratulated you for finally allowing yourself to have something like this.

You and Joel had been texting back and forth every so often within the past couple of weeks, and when it came to seeing him in class, he could barely look your way. He told you that if he did, he’d just get way too turned on to even carry on with the lesson.

The trip was over the beginning weekend of spring break, which was in a week. You sighed and toyed with your bottom lip between your teeth, contemplating on telling Joel if you were the chosen student.

“So are you gonna tell Professor Hottie that you’re going to California?” It’s like Adrienne could read your mind sometimes.

“Actually, I think I’m going to keep it a surprise.”

She raises her eyebrows, “Will there be a bar there?”

You look up the hotel listed on the itinerary— J.W. Marriott in Los Angeles.

“The hotel has a bar.”

“So what I’m hearing is we need to go shopping for a nice little number that’ll make him wanna eat you right up.” Adrienne cocks an eyebrow up at you, and you purse your lips into a thin line. You knew you wouldn’t win this argument if you told her no.

“I mean, I’m going back home. Might as well shmooze some potential employers too, right?” You crack a grin at her, and she cheers while clapping her hands.

“You’re gonna look so hot in California. Professor M won’t know what’s coming to him.”

The following week went by swiftly. Your flight left at six in the morning to Los Angeles. As soon as you got to the hotel, you showered and napped before you had to get ready for the convergence of the first night.

The black dress Adrienne helped you pick out defined your curves, giving you a sexy silhouette. You took your time getting ready. You wore your hair down, put dark brown shadow in the crease of your eye, dusted gold shimmer over the top of your lid, and painted your lips red. You slipped on your trustee black heels and gave yourself one last look-over before you decided you looked hot enough to woo the richest man in the room.

You knew Joel was going to be downstairs, as staff and faculty had to pair with students from their own school. He texted you that he’d miss you since he had to go to this event before spring break, so it meant that he had absolutely no clue you’d be here. Unless he did, and he was just playing coy.

You put your keycard in your clutch, spritzing your favorite perfume on yourself, and walked out of your room to head for the elevator. Your heels clicked against the wooden floors of the elevator, and the glossy metal surrounding you gave you a good view of your reflection. You hit the button to take you down to the lobby, going back to looking at yourself a little bit longer.

You felt confident if you were honest with yourself. You usually adorned your body in looser clothing, something comfy and casual that wouldn’t show off too many of your curves. That was just your comfort zone—but, after the way you’ve been feeling lately, it’s elevated ten times more.

The elevator dinged, signaling you were down at the lobby’s level. The convention room wasn’t too far off, veering to the right. There were already so many students and faculty members from all kinds of different universities, mingling and drinking and having a good time. Nerves overtook your body for a split second before completely dissipating when you realized you were the one turning heads.

You decided it was safest to head for the bar first, just to get a little bit of liquid courage into your system. You ordered a Mai Tai, graciously thanking the bartender as you slipped onto a stool and deliberately sipped on your drink.

You turned your body so your eyes could casually scan the crowd, but in all reality, you were looking for Joel. Not even a few minutes later, and you spotted him. He looked deliciously handsome, with some dark slacks that hung low on his hips with an aqua blue button-up that complimented his tan skin tone exquisitely. His black glasses that framed his face matched his shiny black shoes. But, there was just one thing.

He wasn’t alone.

Some woman, who looked to be around his age, had a gentle hand on his bicep as she was laughing at something he said. They were talking with two other gentlemen whom you didn’t recognize.

You felt it. The ugly green monster slowly crept into you, seeping into your bones the longer you stared at Joel and the woman. They actually looked really nice together. Someone his age, more experienced, and really pretty. Someone his type.

You sipped on your drink some more, hating how you felt this way. He wasn’t even your boyfriend or anything of the sort. You two’ve only fucked once. He doesn’t owe you anything, and he can see whoever he pleases. So why did this make you so uneasy?

You sighed and slipped off of the stool, heading to the check-in area to get your lanyard that was supposed to say your name and the school you represented.

That’s when Joel spotted you from behind. He could recognize those beautiful curves anywhere. He excused himself from the conversation briefly as he made his way over to you, leaning against the table. You jumped at his presence, putting a hand over your heart, which was now racing.

“Joel.” You spoke softly, and he looked confused.

“Darlin’, what are you doin’ here? Are you the student that got chosen? Why didn’t ya tell me?” He asked all at once, his words coming out in a rush.

You simply shrugged. “Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, it’s definitely one hell of a surprise. Look at you.” He whistled, eyes trailing down your body. You looked incredible and the more he looked at his surroundings, the more he saw men staring at you. They looked at you in an almost perverted way, and Joel frowned.

“Thanks, Professor. You clean up nicely too.” Your smile is lip tight, and you’re secretly begging the alcohol to start taking effect. Joel’s eyes roam down to your drink, and he quirks an eyebrow.

“C’mon, I have someone I want ya t’meet.” He holds out his arm for you so he can escort you to his previous spot, where the same woman you saw with him earlier stood talking to another woman this time.

“Joel! I was just telling Misty that their food at the breakfast buffet here is amazing. Will you join us tomorrow morning?” The woman asks, and Joel smiles.

“Of course, Tess. I’d love to.”

“And who might this lovely young woman be?” The woman, who’s name is apparently Tess, gestures to you.

“My student in my criminal law class. The one I told you about last week.”

So he talks about you?

“Mm. Well ain’t you a beauty. Even prettier than Joel described you to be.” Tess smiles at you, holding out a hand for you to shake. You take her hand in yours, giving it a shake as a shy smiles comes over your lips.

“Tess and I go way back. Went to college together. She’s my best friend. She works for the FBI now, actually.” Joel chuckles, and Tess waves a hand to ward his words off.

“That’s impressive. Hope my background check came out clean.” You joke, and Tess laughs.

“She’s funny, Joel,” Tess nudges him. She then turns to you. “Lovely woman you are, sweetheart. This here is my partner, Misty. She also works for the FBI.”

Her fucking partner. You feel so stupid. Why the fuck would you be so presumptuous when Joel’s been nothing but honest with you about everything you’ve asked him?

“It’s nice to meet you, Misty.” You say, shaking her hand.

“You too!” She beams, and you can already see the sunshine and realist dynamic between the two women. “You should join us for breakfast tomorrow.” She offers, tossing you a warm smile.

“Uhm,” You look at Joel for a split second. “I don’t want to intrude, really.”

“Nonsense! You’re not intruding at all, sweetheart. I wanna get to know the woman Joel’s been gushing about to me all week.” Tess teases, and Joel’s face immediately turns crimson.

“Okay, Tess. Enough.” Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

You quietly chuckle as you lightly pat his back.

“Didn’t know you were so fond of me, Professor.” You tease, and he looks at you with an amused expression.

Tess laughs lightheartedly at the interaction between you two, telling you both that she’ll see you both tomorrow before her and Misty bid you two goodbye.

You sipped on the rest of your drink, avoiding trying to talk. The air between you and Joel shifted, and you could feel the tension radiating between both of you.

“Let’s go get you another drink, yeah?” Joel offered, smiling softly down at you. You eyed your empty Mai Tai and nodded, making your way over to the bar with him.

“Another Mai Tai for her. I’ll take a whiskey, neat please.” He told the bartender, and he got started on your drinks.

“Lotta fellas lookin’ at you tonight, darlin’. Y’sure are stealin’ the show.” Joel looks down at you, then to the many eyes staring at you before glancing back to you. The amused expression on his face told you that he wasn’t jealous, but you saw the way his jaw clenched and the muscle ticked in annoyance.

Before you could say anything, the bartender handed you both your drinks. You thanked him and turned back to Joel, who was gripping his whiskey glass rather tightly.

“Are you jealous, Professor?” You quirk your eyebrow at him, taking the drink out of his hand before he could react. You sipped it once, leaving a red lipstick stain to coat the top of the glass. You smirked and slid the drink back into his hand, and his eyes widened as he wearily looked around the room to see if anyone was watching your flirtatious endeavor.

It’s not like you two would particularly get into trouble, because after all, you two were very much legal, consenting adults. However, professors sleeping with their students was a bit… well, frowned upon. Plus, the last thing Joel wanted was for anyone to think that you didn’t get into this expo due to hard work—which was the truth—but rather, by sleeping with him to weasel your way into the one student slot.

“Not here, darlin’.”

“Still didn’t answer my question, Mr. Miller.” Your voice was thick with lust, the idea of Joel getting jealous over you extremely gratifying.

You felt the stickiness of your arousal coat the thin pair of panties you had on, and you started to squirm in your seat.

Joel noticed this too, but he remained collected. “Yes, alright? I don’t like when others look at what’s mine.”

“Yours.” You repeat slowly, a small scoff behind your words. It came off as if you were unimpressed by his wording, but in reality, your stomach erupted with butterflies.

Joel leaned closer to you, not liking your response to his words. “Yes,” He hissed, “Mine. That delicious, tight little pussy is all mine, n’ I mean it when I say I don’t like sharin’.”

You swallowed thickly as he pulled back, studying your face. He took a nonchalant sip of his whiskey, smirk hidden behind the glass.

The smart ass in you wanted to tell him that it was modern times and you weren’t his fucking property, but you refrained. If that’s what it took for this man to fuck you again, then so be it.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Mr. Miller.” You crossed one leg over the other as you sipped on your drink. The bartender had a heavy pour, so you were quickly feeling the affects of the alcohol now.

“Not dangerous when I know how to finish it.” He grits, downing the rest of his whiskey. You sip the rest of your drink nervously, all remembrance of being a lightweight being thrown out the window.

Joel could sense the nervousness that overtook you. You hated yourself for making it so clear that he affected you so much this way, but who could blame you with the way he looked at you?

He nods his head toward the exit. “C’mon, let me walk you to your room.”

Your heart sank in disappointment. Surely his words were just teasing words, and you almost pouted at him. How were you supposed to tell him you wanted him to fuck you until you saw stars?

You silently planted your heels to the ground once more, and with the convergence still in full swing, you doubt you two would be missed. Joel followed you into the elevator, and you let your body sink against the wall. You closed your eyes briefly, exhaustion slowly creeping over your body.

“What floor?” Joel asked.

“Fifteenth.”

He pushed the fifteenth floor button, and only about three floors up, you felt Joel’s hand on your waist. You peeled your eyes open and gasped softly at the new proximity between you two.

“You know how crazy you’ve been drivin’ me all night lookin’ like this, baby?” His whisper is hoarse, dangerously low. A glint of arousal flashes across the dark pools of his brown eyes, and your body instinctively moves closer to his. You’re flush up against him now, breathing uneven as you try to balance yourself.

“Joel.” You whine softly, clutching onto the collar of his shirt.

“I know, baby, I know.” He leans down to kiss you softly, and you completely melt into him. It’s like your body instinctively morphed into his as soon as he got close enough. You couldn’t help it. You craved his touch, his kiss, his expert tongue like nothing you’ve ever craved before.

He was intoxicating, and intoxicated off of him you were.

He took a free hand to slowly slide in between your thighs, already feeling how wet you were between your legs.

“Fuck, sweet girl.” Joel groaned, and you whimpered when he rubbed your clit over the fabric of your panties. He moved them to the side, knuckles teasing your slick folds as you clung onto him for dear life.

You started to grind your hips onto his knuckles, desperate for any kind of friction you could get. Joel chuckled at you, kissing your temple as you used his fingers to pleasure yourself.

“Such a needy pussy, baby.”

“Need you, Joel.”

“You’ll get me, baby. Patience.”

You groaned as he pushed a finger into you, pumping it at an expert pace. You felt the tight coil of release building up so much quicker than you anticipated, and right before you were about to cum, the elevator stopped with a ‘ding’.

Joel pulled his slick-soaked finger out of you, slipping it into his mouth as he sucked your arousal off of his digit. He pulled down your dress quickly before the doors opened, and you were practically trying to drag him to your room.

You made sure the coast was clear before unlocking your door with the keycard, tossing your clutch onto the table beside the door. As soon as the door closed, Joel pushed you up against it.

You had a moment of déjà vu, feeling like you were back in Joel’s office with you up against the door as he hungrily kissed you.

Your hands tangled into his styled hair, greedily tugging at it. You moaned against him, pushing yourself off of the door to lead Joel back to the king sized bed in the middle of the room. The back of his knees hit the bed, and you gently pushed him down so he’d sit.

“Take this dress off, baby. I wanna see you.” You turned around so he could help you with the zipper, and he happily obliged. He kissed the middle of your back once it became bare, and you turned around to face him again as you peeled the straps off of your shoulders. You were moving slowly on purpose, giving Joel a bit of a sensual show before you wanted to make him feel good.

Once the dress was completely off, you got down on your knees in front of him and began undoing his belt buckle. He ran a hand through your hair, cupping your jaw as you fiddled with the button of his slacks next.

“Y’don’t have to, baby.” Joel whispered, searching your eyes for apprehension. You shook your head at him.

“I want to. Wanted to since the day I laid eyes on you.” You confess, and he groans softly as you tap his hips, signaling him to lift them so you could take the clothing off of him. You palmed him through his boxers, giving his cock a slight tug over the cotton material.

If it’s one thing you were determined about, it was giving Joel the best head he’s ever had in his life. You slowly peeled off his boxers as well, tossing them somewhere in the room.

His erection sprang free, head swollen and leaking pre cum. You whined at the sight, biting your faded cherry red lips in anticipation. You looked up at Joel who looked at you expectantly, and you smiled up at him shyly before taking his cock into your hand, giving the silky flesh a few tugs. You kept doing that as you leaned down to trail kisses up his tan thighs, free hand rubbing circles into his skin before using your tongue to lick your way up to the base of his cock.

You moved your mouth away from him so you could finally give the tip a kiss, kitten licking it softly for a few seconds. The salty taste of pre cum melted onto your tongue, and you hummed up at him. You took the tip into your mouth, tongue swirling over it before moving further down his girthy shaft.

“Mmph– fuck, your mouth feels so goddamn good, baby.” Joel groaned, cradling the back of your head with his hand. You moved your mouth all the way down, being met with the coarse, unruly hairs at the bottom of his cock.

You moaned around him as you felt him twitch in your mouth, and you moved your mouth back up while squeezing your lips around him. You continued this motion for the next couple of minutes, bringing your free hand to gently fondle his balls.

His hips bucked up, causing you to gag around him. “Fuck, darlin’, ‘m sorry.”

You hummed against him again as you looked up into his eyes, brow furrowed and jaw clenched.

“Look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock like that, baby.” He was panting now, and you stuck your tongue out of your lips so you could lick the underside of his cock with ease.

Joel gripped the bed sheets with such sheer force that you thought the threading was going to rip. His uneven breathing was apparent now, and his head tossed back as he held onto the back of your head, moving it up and down faster.

“Fuck baby, ‘m gonna– shit.” He cursed, and you swallowed every last drop of cum that spilled onto your tongue. You let go of his cock from your mouth with a small pop, leaning back on your heels to look up at him. His eyes met yours after a brief minute and he hummed, chuckling while he shook his head.

“Christ, babydoll.” Was all he said before gently tugging your arm so you’d stand up. You looked so divine like this in front of him—all lace and heels and curves and a sex appeal he just couldn’t fulfill himself enough with. He needed you in every way all the time. He couldn’t get enough of you.

“You sound so hot when you moan for me, Joel.” You say, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah?” He pulled you closer to him by your hips. You nod, biting your lip. He smirks as you as your hands trail down to the buttons of his shirt. You undo them one by one before slipping the aqua material off of his body, leaving him completely bare for you.

“You’re so handsome.” You whisper, and he smiled shyly up at you. Joel Miller? Shy? That’s a new one. You concluded that he didn’t get told that often, so you made a mental note to tell him as much as possible from now on.

Joel moves back on the bed to lay his head down where the pillows were. “C’mere.”

You moved to sit on your heels on the bed next to him, and he tugged at your wrist. He brought you down for a kiss before mumbling against your lips. “I want you to sit on my face, sweet girl.”

You pulled apart from him quickly, puzzled and completely mortified. “What?”

“I want you,” He repeated, tugging you back down to him, “To sit. On. My. Face.” He emphasized each word, and you felt yourself clench around nothing at his request.

“Joel, are you sure? I’m– what if you can’t breathe? What if I’m too heavy?” Insecurity started to flood your mind quickly, and Joel shook his head.

“You’re not too heavy, baby. You’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. Just, please, sit that pretty pussy onto my goddamn face.” He begged, and your brows furrowed at him in disbelief.

You trusted him, though, so you sighed as you straddled Joel’s chest carefully. You shuffled forward before stopping right below where he wanted you most in that moment. He grabbed your thighs and forced you to move upward so you were hovering over his face.

“Sit.” Was all he said, but you hesitated for a second. His hands slid up to your hips, forcing them down so his breath fanned over your slick-coated pussy. He kissed your soft flesh over the lace of your panties, moaning at how your hips bucked at the slightest touch.

He brought one hand up before moving the lace of your panties aside, kissing your bare pussy this time. You moaned softly, grabbing onto the headboard before Joel licked a long stripe up your folds. You moaned louder this time, relishing in the heat of his skilled tongue as he lapped up your arousal. He started to eat you out like a man starved, dipping his tongue into you before moving it up and circling around your clit. His hands moved down to grip the soft flesh of your thighs once more, moving them back and forth to encourage you to ride his face.

“Use my face, sweet girl. C’mon.” His voice was muffled, but you got the message loud and clear. You decided to let go of your fears and started to grind your soaked cunt into his face, clit catching onto the hook of his strong nose.

“Fuck, Joel.” You cried, mouth falling agape as you used his mouth for your pleasure. He brought a hand down to your ass and squeezed it, moving his hand back to give your soft flesh a smack. You moaned at the feeling of your stinging flesh, moving your hips in circles.

Joel moaned from underneath you, shooting vibrations up and through your body. You felt that tight coil rapidly approaching again as Joel settled on sucking your clit once more, and you couldn’t hold it anymore.

It was like a dam bursting and the floodwaters came rushing in, unstoppable and forceful.

Your hips rutted against his face as you rode out your intense orgasm, crying his name like a prayer. All that was on your mind was exactly what was coming out of your mouth: Joel Joel Joel.

“Did so well f’me, honey. So fucking good.” He praised, bringing your body down to be leveled with his on the mattress.

Joel looked at you in your already blissfully fucked-out state, brushing your hair out of your face. Your eyes were glossed over as they stared at him, body still convulsing at certain points as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

“Think y’got one more in you, sweet girl?” He asked, and you were confused at his initial question before it quickly dawned on you that he meant another orgasm. The exhausted part of you wanted to say no, but the insatiable part of you wanted to be filled and stretched by his intoxicating cock.

You nodded your head, and he smiled down at you with mischief. “Good. Wanna see those pretty eyes of yours roll back when I make you feel good.”

Fuck, he was really going to be the death of you.

He moved to unhook your bra from you in one easy motion, tossing the lace item somewhere in the room along with the rest of the clothes already in disarray. He maneuvered himself on top of you, and you looked up at him with such adoration. He smiled down at you as he moved down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, a hand cupping your jaw gently as you two just simply kissed for awhile.

It was nice that Joel brought the balance of sweet and sensual to the rough and sexy parts of having sex with him. Though you’ve only fucked once before this, you knew he was a tender lover when he really wanted to be.

Your felt Joel’s hardened cock against your inner thigh, so you took it upon yourself to gently grab it and start gliding his shaft against your folds. He moaned into your mouth as your thumb swiped over the tip, bucking your hips against him to get him soaked with your sticky sweetness.

“You ready, sweetheart?” He asked, taking his own cock into his hand before lining the tip up with your entrance. You nodded, and he gently pushed inside you until he reached the hilt.

The stretch was just as delicious as you remembered. So fucking full that it nearly knocked the breath out of you. You grabbed onto his biceps, jaw slack and brows furrowed.

“Look at me, sweet girl.” He murmured, and your eyes snapped open to find his. He smiled down at you before he started to move his hips, thrusting slowly at first before he started to pick up the pace.

“Feel so good, Joel.” You mumbled, intertwining your hands into his hair.

“So do you, angel.” He moaned as you clenched around him, savoring the feeling of you so warm and wet. He continued the tortured pace of his hips for a couple of more minutes before you decided you wanted, no, needed more. You wanted to see aforementioned stars.

“Faster Joel, please. Need you to fuck me faster.”

“Needy little cunt.” Joel chuckled, and you nodded in agreement.

“Please.” You whisper, and his hips doubled in pace.

“This what you want, angel?” He asks through gritted teeth, knowing he probably wouldn’t last long if he kept fucking you at this pace.

“God, fuck, yes!” You cried, gripping onto the bedsheets as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head. The tip of his cock was kissing that oh so sweet spot inside of you, and you got what you wanted: you were seeing stars.

You clamped your eyes shut as the sound of skin slapping on skin and lewd moans from the both of you filled the cozy hotel room. Joel brought his middle finger to your mouth, and he didn’t even have to ask you to suck on it. You just did.

With Joel, it was this invisible push and pull that drove you crazy. It truly bewildered you how well your body listened to him without him having to say a single goddamn word.

He popped his finger out of your mouth before moving it down to your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles around it. Your body felt like it was on fire as your orgasm built up inside of you. The pit in the depth of your core was licking flames up your spine, ready to burst at the seams at any given time.

“Joel, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You choked out, and he groaned in response.

“Cum with me, baby.” His voice sounded pleading, and you nodded quickly. You felt yourself come undone in the blink of an eye, Joel following suit.

You brought down Joel’s face to smash your lips with his, swallowing each other’s moans as you both rode out your earth-shattering orgasms.

Joel pulled apart from you and dropped his head onto your shoulder as he pumped into you twice more before pulling out. Joel immediately brought you into his side, stroking your bare back with his hand. Goosebumps raised onto your skin, and Joel smiled.

You both laid there for a couple of minutes trying to catch your breaths, enjoying the peaceful aftermath of it all. You turned your head to press a kiss to his chest, heart beating slightly faster at your subtle movement.

“I think this is the best exposition I’ve ever been to.” You teased, tracing patterns on Joel’s chest. It rumbled when he laughed, grabbing your hand to press his lips to the back of it.

“Gotta say, it’s definitely mine too.” He agreed, and you softly giggled as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

You had so much to tell Adrienne when you got back home from California, and you knew she’d lose her mind–just like you’re losing yours as you slowly realized you’re falling for the man that lay beside you.

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dnsbarbie · 4 months

Text

DEAR READER | C.L 16 (ONE)

Notes: (This involves an Original Character btw)

* English isn’t my first language and I’m still trying to get back my writing mojo ehehe

* No trigger warnings besides mentions of catcalling ??

*This was written to be intentionally a bit vague since it’s just the first chapter

next parts: TWO | THREE

THE AROMA OF FRESHLY watered plants hit her senses. She exhaled the nature-given scent, producing a wave of serotonin in her body. A hand came up to brush away the brunette locks flying across her face from the strength of the wind. Her eyes gazed upon the calm rhythmic waves of the sea, smiling as the floral fragrance mingled with the salty taste of the air.

She was aware of the consequences. The blissful silence she was feeling had a price and the piper would eventually come for the gold. Nonetheless, she chose to bask at the few moments that she had left. Later, she’d be back to scrubbing at a her boss’ expensive yacht. Getting a nice manicure had been long rendered useless at how easily they’d get chipped.

Glancing down at her hands, a grimaced presented itself on her mouth as she spotted the dirt clinging on the inside of her nails.

As she got lost in her thoughts, she raked at her fingernails to clean through the icky substances. She truly had no qualms working for the rich. Not only do they pay handsomely, they also handed her occasional gift apart from her daily salary.

The amount of times she’d been mistaken for a hooker were extremely unhealthy. She often recalls the eye rolls she’d give the old men who’d whistle at her across the port as if she’s some sort of animal.

Lucky for her, her present employer was far from the elderly rich men, sporting beer belly that prey on girls younger than their own daughters.

Her boss was not passed sixty years of age. Instead of bothering young girls, he has this lovely wife and son whom he never fails to show his unwavering devotion to.

One could only dream of a life like his.

“Natalia!”

And here we go.

“Yes?” She yelled back, turning her body to look at the direction of her boss. She watched his towering stature make its way to the harbor, steps creaking beneath the wooden surface.

He squinted at the glare of the sun behind her head. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

Her eyes widened at the invitation, hands waving from left to right. “Oh! I couldn’t possibly intrude—”

“Nonsense. You’re not.” He silenced her worries. “Come on.” Lending an arm to assist her down the step she was standing on.

Natalia stared at him, her features conveying incredulity. “Right now?”

He peaked at her curiously, slowly tugging her away from the port, taking care not to step on her dress. “It’s passed 6 PM . . .” At his remark, she raised her arm to take a look at her watch.

The hands did indicate a 18:37. Her mouth formed into an “o” at the confirmation. She hadn’t realize she had been dilly-dallying for that long. Her break started nearly two hours prior. The thought to recharge her energy were originally to last only an hour at best.

“I’m sorry— I completely lost track of time,” She apologized, tilting her head up to her boss who simply chuckled at her hushed tone.

“It’s quite alright.” He hummed, returning her gaze. “You’ve finished everything, haven’t you?”

She nodded her head, eyes glistening with pride. “I did! The magazines are back inside the father right cabinet, scrubbed the deck and the body. And I swear— It’s so clean, I could see my reflection ever surface,”

Her enthusiasm brought joy to him, optimg to approve her hard work. “Very good, then.” Natalia spotted his wife by one of the many luxurious cars they own.

A kind smile graced her lips as the pair approached her. “Oh, look at you! What have you been doing?” The motherly scolding tone was anything but scary to Natalia as the blonde woman began to fuss over the her.

“You should really tell her to come inside when she’s done, Toto . . .” Your boss winced at his wife’s glare.

Her graceful hands worked through Natalia damp locks, untangling the knots the had formed on her head. “I must’ve gone for a short swim. . .” She released a laugh to cover up her growing anxiety at the glare she threw her way. “I’m fine, Susie! Just need a shower— if we still have time?”

She glanced up at Toto, who suppressed a playful eye roll, nodding at the smiley girl nonetheless.

“Great! I’ll be back as soon as a can!” Natalia landed a peck on Susie’s cheeks before waving a hand to Toto, running back to their estate.

“That girl. . .” Toto clicked his tongue, but the grin on his face betrayed his true feelings.

“Absolutely adorable,” Susie chipped in, eyes crinkling at her husband’s own glee. But as she stared at Natalia’s retreating form, her expression fell serious. “I thought I told you to tell her that she doesn’t have to work for us anymore,”

Toto strides along with Susie as he answered the question. “I will, later over dinner.”

Susie raised an eyebrow at her husband, arms crossing to her chest. “Dinner? The one you’re having with Fred?”

“Yes— but,” He got ahead of her disapproving look, lifting a finger up to soothe away her frustration. “I’m taking her with me to broaden her connections.”

The enlightenment brought recollection to Susie’s features, heart warming the generous gesture Toto was giving to Natalia. “It’s nice that she knows what she wants, no?”

The tall man agreed, tucking his hands inside his pockets. It had been a nearly a year since Natalia started doing minor tasks for them. In her own faith, when she arrived at their residence, a natural rhythm fell place in her actions. The chores that were usually done by the usual cleaning lady was finished by her.

In her persuading self, she tried to Toto that she could do some of the boat cleaning as well. Of course, he was quick to deny her insistence, stating that her studies are the only thing she needs to focus on.

Natalia Valle was an exchange student from the Philippines. She had passed the examination for the University of Monaco and had been staying in the dorms for the last 3 years. That was until a financial crisis arose between her parents and before she knew it, a wet sponge and a bucket of water was her saving grace to get by everyday.

Thankfully, Susie had found her by the harbor. She sat there, eyes falling close a few times. The bags under her eyes were impossible to miss, conveying her lack of rest. Her hands gripped lightly at a fishing rod. The wooden handle constricted at her hand instinctively as the pull of an object from under the water awakened her spirit.

She flinched, eyes flying open at the force. Susie remembers hearing her devastated groans as the string snapped from its hook, light splashes appeared at the large body of water, indicating the fish’s escape.

One would turn away and go on with their life, Susie would have if she hadn’t seen the distinguish cut on her palm. The one she later turned over to use her fingers as a grapple to dig for another hook and string in her bag.

Getting Natalia’s wounds treated by Susie Wolff was definitely not in her bucket list. But she sat there, trying her best not to look too nervous as Susie herself dressed the long cut on her hand.

Susie didn’t need to make small talk, Natalia thought. Unknown to her, the genuine intentions that harbored Susie’s questions.

From there, Susie struck a deal with her after hearing how she ended up on that port. Susie offered to pay off her last year as a journalism student and her dorm rent. All she wanted in return was for her to graduate.

Of course, disbelief was a natural reaction. To Natalia, she hasn’t done anything special to earn a free pass for her burdens to be lifted off her shoulders.

As she expressed her hesitance, stating that she should not leech off someone else so easily with anything in exchange. Irises expanded at her sheer assertions to at least do something for them in return. To wrap her in solace, Susie agreed to the simple tasks.

Here they were, in the present. Natalia continued to work for her allowance despite Toto’s futile attempts to take the chores off the girl’s hands.

But tonight, he’ll finally be telling him a news that would make her, hopefully, drop all those cleaning supplies.

————————————————————————

Natalia clenched her hands in her lap, settling on admiring the silver bracelet adorned with the crystalline diamonds given to her by Susie last Christmas. Her fingernails chipped at her cuticles, watching the car pass through a series of establishments, deliberately crating a closer approximate to their destination.

The silk of her dress wrinkled at the spot which had had enclosed on her hand, leaving the mark of her worries.

“What’s the matter?”

Toto’s voice made spring her though back, choosing to return Toto’s waiting gaze.

“You didn’t tell me Charles was coming,” She sulked, her whiny tone caught a tug at the corners of Toto’s mouth.

“I knew you wouldn’t go if I told you,” The nonchalance of his shrug expelled a sigh from Natalia.

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear, twiddling with her phone. At the silence, her thoughts scrambled into one idea. One she couldn’t let go, electing to ask it.

“Are you switching teams?”

Toto didn’t seem astonished at her rash query, solely negating her with a soft “No, I’m not.”

The furrow of Natalia’s brows relaxed at his answer, shoulders sagging in defeat. She swore she had it.

The car came to a holt in front of a popular restaurant she was all familiar with. The bright lights twinkled in her vision as the valet opened her door. She tipped her head as a polite greeting, plucking herself from the seat. Her hand drew the rest of her dress out of the vehicle, proceeding to stand her full height.

Toto came to her side, patiently waiting to get herself ready. When she did, she strode with him to the cemented steps where he lent his hand as assistance.

Just one last step to spare before they’re at the door, but heavens had other plans.

“Toto!” An accented voice came calling from below. His joyful exclamation was accompanied by a chuckle similar to his expression.

Natalia found herself turning back as well. True enough, At the bottom of the stairs stood two figures. The jolly French team principal of Scuderia Ferrari, Frederic Vasseur and the team’s golden boy, Charles Leclerc were both wearing matching smiles.

Toto mirrored their smiles, extending a hand to Fred when the pair reached them. Natalia greeted the team principal as well, shaking his hand lightly. When she let go, her eyes wondered to the green eyed individual in front of her.

“Hi,” She chipped, giving him a soft grin to which he responded with a chuckle.

“Good evening, Natalia.” He roamed his eyes through her well-dressed figure. The silk on her body hugged her curves in all the right places. Charles realized he had been staring for quite some time. Fortunately, Toto invited everyone to come inside and start dinner.

————————————————————————

Dinner was going fairly well. The dimly lit hall invoked an air of ease, along with the delectable dishes that have been served. The candles illuminated her face, giving off a warmth through her skin.

She would go as far as to say it was perfect if it wasn’t Charles’ eyes burning into her face. Granted, when she would attempt to reciprocate his stare, he’d look away. Her consciousness made her click unto her phone’s camera, thinking there might be a peculiar substance on her appearance. However, after a few checks every little while, she found no disarray to her make up.

Why was he looking at her like that?

“Natalia,” At the sound of her name, she snapped her head towards Fred, who sat across Toto. “Toto tells me that you need an internship . . .”

The tone of his voice dripped of knowing. Natalia blinked back at him. “Yes, I am.” Was the only thing she could manage as she studied the expression on his face.

Is he? No, surely not.

Fred inclined his body, hands clasped together on the table as a smirk ghosted on his lips. “Well you’re in luck,” No way. “Ferrari’s currently accepting interns. Would you be—”

“Yes!” A hand slapped on her mouth as her voice resounded through the space.

Charles halted the chortle that crawled up his throat, concealing it with a bow of his head.

“Then it’s settled,” Toto clapped Natalia shoulder in a congratulatory amenity, a sense of pride flourishing in his chest. “Whenever you’re ready. I’ll drive you to the Ferrari headquarters.”

Natalia could barely contain her excitement at Toto’s claim. She stood up, reaching her hand toward Fred who gladly received it with the same enthusiasm.

“Thank you so much,” The heat of her eyes were beginning to burn, signaling her near waterworks. “This is such an honor, honestly. . .”

“Actually, we’re heading back to Maranello tomorrow.” Charles joined the conversation, peering up at her standing stature. “You can go with me, if you want,”

Natalia didn’t miss the emphasis on the last words, lips curling behind her teeth at the suggestion.

“That would be great,” She nodded, shooting him a grateful look. “Is 9 AM fine?”

Trying to catch Natalia’s gaze, he kept his on her. “Perfect.”

An indecipherable expression crossed Charles’ features, leaving as quickly as it came when Natalia blinked.

This is wasn’t a well thought idea. Natalia was aware of this fact. The thought of spending four hours in a car with Charles sent rippling shudders down her back. Perhaps the yearning to commit to her life long dreams were stronger than the impending discomfort she had to endure for a few moments.

After all, they both agreed never to speak about it ever again. A long car ride shouldn’t be so hard.

————————————————————————

NEXT PART: H E R E

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hellfirenacht · 4 months

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Wing Man Part 7

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

5k words

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

A/N: Happy New Year! I ran out of steam there for a while but I am bursting with new inspiration and have a billion ideas for new and old fics! Thank you for your patience and support 💜

The next night after dropping you off at home, there was a storm the likes of which Hawkins had never seen. Lightning lit up the sky through the night like a shitty rave, knocking out the power for Forest Hills Trailer Park for the better part of two days. It wasn’t until Saturday, when Eddie attempted to check in on Ronnie again, that he realized that their worn out phone had been completely fried. Shit.

Getting a new one was easier said than done, Eddie and Wayne had to pinch pennies this week after his uncle had been out of work a few days because of a cold, and having to replace a good chunk of groceries that had gone bad sitting in the dead fridge.

Sure, Bev had been nice enough to give Eddie a few extra shifts at the Hideout to help cover but that was a paycheck that wasn’t going to be in for another week. There was always his dealings, but he’d been keeping his head down after nearly having his stash blown by an over enthusiastic K-9 unit that, thankfully, was more interested in the jerky that Eddie had in his jacket.

For a week, he’d been without a phone now. Normally it wasn’t a huge loss, not many people actually bothered trying to call him anyway, and Wayne didn’t really socialize much working the night shift. But he missed Ronnie, and he really was stressing each day that went by that he didn’t call you. Eddie knew that whatever this was, he was probably already blowing it.

Tuesday rolled around again, and he hoped that you’d show back up to the Hideout. Jeff had even agreed to give most of the band a ride if Eddie agreed to haul their equipment and do all of the breakdown in case you needed another ride home. No such luck though, unbeknownst to him Keith had come down with the same cold that his Uncle Wayne had the week before, meaning you had to work a double.

It was now Friday, over a week since you’d written your name in the most stubborn permanent marker he’d ever come across. Your name still stained his skin in a faint and ugly shade of pea green. Eddie could now say your number by memory, despite never having punched in the digits once. If anyone at school had noticed that Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had a girl's name on his arm, they didn’t say anything.

“Whose number is that?” Mike asked in the middle of a time out while Zach and Gareth were pouring over the rule book over the legality of a move that Eddie was sure was bullshit. So much for that.

Eddie’s head snapped over to the freshman while those in Corroded Coffin snickered and suddenly lost interest in the rules for the moment. With the candles and stage lights on, it was always warm in the Hellfire room, and Eddie had stripped his jacket giving his arms a chance to breathe while he guided the party on their next adventure.

It had also meant that the faded remains of your number was still visible, which he hadn’t thought much of until Mike had pointed it out.

“Yeah, Eddie, whose number is it?” Jeff snickered, which earned a hard look from Eddie that under any other circumstances would have shut Jeff up but in this case only made him laugh harder.

For a moment he debated internally about putting his jacket on, and telling them all to shove it. It was tempting, very tempting, but Eddie wasn’t a teen anymore. Hell, he had a good two to three years on most of the members in this club. Why should he be embarrassed because a cute girl had some sort of interest in him?

Because you’re blowing it by not being able to call her. He told himself.

Eddie then told the table about how you’d given him your number right before he dropped you off. How you’d been a perfect gentleman and hadn’t taken advantage of him or made any untowards moves to him. (Even if he had thought you almost did, but he kept that part to himself).

To his surprise, the ribbing was kept to a minimal. Without Eddie fighting against it, the group became less interested. Eddie’s love life was only of interest when it meant that the sheep could finally have some fun with the shepard.

That was going to be the end of it. Jeff had conceded that the rule they were looking up had been an old house rule from his middle school group that he had never questioned as not actually being accurate, and they were ready to move on. Eddie opened his mouth to guide the party to the next encounter-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in her.” Dustin suddenly said. Eddie had thought that the shrimp had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.

“If that was him not interested then I’m quitting Hellfire to be a cheerleader.” laughed Gareth.

“No one wants to see you in a miniskirt, man.” said Mike.

“They have guy cheerleaders!” protested Gareth. “I’d wear the pants.”

“That’d be a first.” ribbed Zack.

“Don’t you have to be crazy strong to be a cheerleader? Gareth, your strength stat sucks.”

“I haul my own drumset every week!”

“Can we get back to the game?”

“Eddie,” Dustin spoke up again. His brows were furrowed and he was messing with his pencil, the same way he did when someone in the party was about to do something that didn’t make any sense. “You did say you weren’t interested.”

So much for Eddie’s love life being of no interest, he now had a herd of sheep looking at him expectantly, no longer talking about Gareth possibly changing after school activities. He should ignore it, get everyone back on track, and lead them back into the Forbidden Caves where he was not tempted to throw a mimic in for messing with the flow of the game.

He should... but Dustin’s comment bugged him for some reason.

“I never said that.” Eddie said, looking at the kid.

“What? Yeah you did!” Dustin looked as shocked as Eddie felt. When had he ever said he wasn’t interested in you?

“Oh yeah, when?” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing.

“At the arcade!” Dustin sounded frustrated. “You told me that you didn’t want me introducing you to anyone when we were doing Hellfire related shit, and that you weren’t interested anyway.”

The warmth from the candles and stage lights were nothing compared to the heat of everyone’s eyes on him. What the fuck was Henderson even talking about?

Oh. Oh what the fuck?!

“Excuse me?” Eddie said slowly as that thirty second conversation started to play in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Mike added, in an attempt to back up his friend. “We just assumed she wasn’t your type.”

Eddie hadn’t been looking to be anyone’s boyfriend. He was never looking to be dating anyone, the few times he’d found himself in the good graces of a girl who’d shown interest in him it had always blown up in his face.

That had never stopped him from trying though.

“Are- wait. Back up.” Eddie stood up and made his way over to the opposite end of the table where the freshmen were suddenly looking very nervous. He grabbed them by the shoulders, as he’d done so many times in the past and hauled them up while the rest of the table watched on in amusement. Normally, Eddie would never pause the game but, fuck it. This kid had something to do with you, and he was going to figure out what.

“Jesus, Eddie-” Mike said, wincing at the grip. “I don’t have anything to do with this, it was all Dustin and Steve!”

This was getting more and more confusing by the moment. Eddie shoved the two boys to face them, leaning over them. Even with Mike’s growth spurt over the past few months, somehow Eddie still seemed to tower over them.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was slow, trying to understand why that name was even being spoken in the private sanctuary away from jocks.

“Yes, Steve! They’re like, best friends or something! Ask Dustin!” Mike said, throwing his friend under the bus.

“What’s the big deal?!” Dustin asked, looking between Mike and Eddie with a look of bewilderment.

“Henderson, you have thirty seconds to explain what the actual Hell is going on before your character becomes Quasit food.” Eddie said, releasing his grip on both of the freshmen.

“Okay, okay!” Dustin held his hand up in surrender, looking nervous as everyone watched the scene unfold. “So, you know how her and Steve work together? Well, they had a deal going on where they’d help get each other dates.”

Eddie’s head tilted down slightly, but his eyes stayed firmly focused on Dustin. This was making less and less sense by the minute. Steve needed help getting dates? King Steve of Hawkins High who had the pick of any girl in school before he graduated? That Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date and so had recruited you into helping him?

And you, you with the everything about you couldn’t get a date either? Hadn’t you mentioned something about that before, at the Hideout?

“I help him and he uh... he helps me get out of the house.”

You’d said that, and he hadn’t thought much of it until now. All this time, Eddie had thought the arcade incident had been Dustin trying to have his two older male friends meet and be friends, but it had been you that he was supposed to meet?

“So you’re telling me that you, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were trying to set me up on a date?” Eddie looked over at the rest of the table that looked just as bewildered as he did. This was a prank, right? He’d been tossed into some sort of alternate dimension where a freshman and a jock had any sort of interest in his love life, in any part of his life. He’d sooner believe that he’d run a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham than this.

“Well, technically we were trying to set her up on a date and you seemed like a good fit?” Dustin’s answer came out as more of a question, leaving Eddie’s mind reeling. Behind him, he could hear the growing snickers of the party.

Eddie was ready for this to start making sense any time now.

“So she was helping Steve get dates and he wanted to set her up with me?” Nope, even after thinking it a half dozen times it still wasn’t clicking.

“That part was my idea actually!” Dustin said, showing off a smile filled with metal. “She’s pretty weird and Steve said she was picky-”

“Can’t be that picky if she was interested in Eddie.” muttered Gareth, earning another round of laughter at the table.

Eddie didn’t even have it in him to shoot another look at the table as he continued to try and piece together what was going on.

You and Steve had a deal to try and get each other dates. You were picky and so Dustin suggested Eddie. Steve then brought you to the arcade to force a meeting and-

“Wait, did she know that she was supposed to meet me?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she knew the whole time in the arcade.” Dustin nodded, hoping that Eddie wasn’t about to blow a fuse over this. “Well, she figured it out at least. See she was just supposed to be tagging along with Steve to find guys to flirt with but then uh... she realized she was supposed to meet you.”

“And she didn’t know who I was?” Eddie clarified, thinking back to the way you’d tried to talk to him about Hellfire, Chris Morrison, anything to try and start a conversation. How the hell was it that he could remember every time you two met so clearly, but you didn’t know who he actually was?

Because it wasn’t about you, Eddie. He had to remind himself.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess not? She’s never mentioned you before that night.”

Guess not everyone paid attention to the Freak. He hated that it bugged him that you didn’t remember him but could he blame you? He probably wouldn’t remember him either, just a Munson fuck up who everyone was waiting to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Eddie pushed Dustin back down into his seat, done interrogating the poor freshman. Everyone watched as he made his way back to his side of the table, behind the DM screen. He had a lot to think about, but he wasn’t about to start processing that in front of the rest of Hellfire.

“You all wander deeper into the cave, the only light coming from the torch carried by-”

“I have dark vision!”

Broke and bored, Eddie haunted the trailer for the rest of the weekend. He did have practice with Corroded Coffin for a generous two hours on Saturday, and then a long shift that night at the Hideout where one old drunk had slipped him a $10 tip for making sure he always had a cold beer in hand. But those few hours were just a minor reprieve from the information that Dustin had given him the previous day.

When he wasn’t distracted by work or practice he was practicing guitar, working on lyrics, prepping for the next Hellfire session.

He tried to think about you, but ended up feeling confused. When he was trying to think about anything else, all he could see was the way you had flirted with him at the Hideout.

Despite popular opinion, Eddie wasn’t stupid when it came to girls. He could tell when a girl was interested in him, and you had made it clear that you had at least some interest in him. You had told him point blank that you were not with Harrington, and had no interest as well. He’d seen the way you looked at him while watching them play, that excitement in your eyes. Your head had bobbed to the rhythm of their songs watching them with as much enthusiasm as if you’d been a fan for years.

Paige had watched with similar eyes, right? She’d seen something in them that no one else had before-

No. Not them. Not Corroded Coffin. Just Eddie.

It felt pathetic that he kept comparing you to Paige. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on Paige, not really. She’d just been a turning point in who he was as a person. She’d been the first (and last) girl to really look at him as a person. If his dating prospects had been small before, they had completely dried up over the past two years.

Date the freak? Yeah, right. There had been the odd girl who’d hit on him as if daring themselves to get with him but he was done with that. A few mediocre dates that he’d agreed to out of boredom or loneliness had only added to the idea in Hawkins High that he was undesirable. Adding to that, the older he got, the younger his underclassmen became and the idea of dating someone younger was... well he didn’t need to add ‘creep’ to the long list of rumors about him. It didn’t matter to him most of the time, instead focusing on his friends, his band, his club, his business, himself. God knows he’d never be able to hold down a relationship unless he got his shit together and earned everyone’s trust again.

“Graduate and get laid, Munson.” Ronnie’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and he groaned as his face warmed. It was the middle of the week, just over two weeks since the night at the Hideout. Eddie was laying on the old couch face down, his homework on the counter half finished and the blue glow of the tv doing little to distract him.

The sound of the door opening didn’t even phase him enough to look up, even as Wayne grunted out a hello before setting something down on the counter next to his forgotten schoolbooks.

“Did you eat?” Wayne asked, which earned a shrug from Eddie. How could he think about eating when he was stuck thinking about everything else?

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks?” Wayne tried again in an attempt to be a good guardian. When that didn’t work either he sighed and said “Might as well step outside with me and have a smoke.”

It was better than doing whatever the hell else Eddie was doing now, and so he rolled off the couch less than gracefully and followed his uncle out onto the porch to sit on the outdoor couch. Wayne offered him the smoke and for a moment it was peaceful. Wayne wasn’t one to push Eddie to talk about anything, but he did have a way to make him think even if it did piss him off occasionally.

Eddie took a long drag of the cigarette and released it slowly as he stared up at the sky. It was a dark night, a million tiny dots illuminating the trailer park, even if the moon wasn’t out. He scanned the stars, looking for the three that he knew were Orion’s belt. That’s about where his astrology knowledge began and ended, but it was something to look for at least.

“I think a girl likes me.” He finally said as he spotted what he assumed was the constellation he was looking for.

“Yeah?” Wayne asked, his own eyes gazing upwards as well, giving Eddie the space to talk more.

“Yeah.”

It was silent again for a few minutes as they smoked, the only other sound for a while was that of Wayne cracking open a beer. That’s what Eddie appreciated about Wayne, he didn’t need to fill the silence like his dad did, and Eddie didn’t need to either. He could just... exist.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie finally said a while later. “She only has an interest because her and some jock are trying to get each other dates.”

“Is that right?” Coming from anyone else that question would have been dismissive, a filler phrase to show that they were paying minimal attention. Eddie knew better though, which caused a knot of frustration in his gut.

“I guess.” he shrugged.

“How many dates has she gone on?” Wayne passed the beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip.

“Don’t know. It didn’t sound like she’d been on many. Henderson said she’s picky.”

“But she likes you.”

“Yeah.”

Another long stretch of silence as Eddie stewed over the question. He hated how Wayne could break down his problems into simple questions.

“Don’t see why you’re moping around if she likes you.” Wayne glanced over at Eddie. “Are you sweet on her?”

Eddie snorted at the term, taking another drag from the cigarette and flicking the ashes off the porch. “She’s cute.” he said, thinking about how you’d looked the last few times he’d seen you. He might have been distracted that first night at the arcade, but not so distracted that he didn’t notice that at least. “Smart too. She got the guys to listen to her last time we hung out.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “She got Gareth to pay attention? That’s a damn miracle.”

“They liked her too.”

“More than the California girl?”

The question caught Eddie off guard and he looked up at Wayne who was still looking off in the distance. Eddie had never explained exactly to Wayne what had happened that first senior year, most of the details going to what happened with Al when Officer Morris was shot. They never talked about how Eddie was so damn close to packing everything up and running away to California.

Thinking about everything that happened that year still stung. Eddie had tried hard not to think about what could have been if CJ and Toby had just shown up one or two days later. Would Eddie have made it to the audition? Would they have really liked him? Maybe in another life he’d be signed and he’d be working on an album or on tour and him and Paige...

It didn’t matter, that ship had long since sailed. Eddie was no rock hero, and never would be. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, if anything it meant that his relationship with Al was over and done with which was a hollow victory if he was being honest.

“Definitely more than her.” Eddie finally agreed. You weren’t asking him to ditch the band and run away with you, so that had to give you some points for them, and for him. Dustin vouched for you, and even Mike, but he wasn’t sure how much that counted for yet. After all Dustin still seemed to worship Steve, and you were friends with Steve-

But did that actually matter? If you and Steve were close enough friends to help each other like this, and Steve was willing to vouch for Eddie, despite never having any real conversation just because Dustin said something-

“She gonna ask you to run away?” Wayne was now looking at Eddie again.

Sometimes he wondered if his uncle could secretly read minds.

“Doubt it.” Eddie said, “She works at the video store. I don’t know much about her, honestly.”

“So ask her on a date.”

“What?”

“She likes you, you want to get to know her. Ask her on a date. It’s not that complicated, Eddie.” Wayne dropped the cigarette on the porch and crushed it under his boot. “You always did think too much, always sucked up in your own world. You’ll be happier in the long run if you open up a bit.”

Easier said than done for a 20 year old still in high school that the whole town considered a satanic cult leader. Then again, when was the last time he’d really opened up to anyone other than Ronnie or Wayne? Right, his dad in the weeks before the heist.

“I think I fucked this up before I could even start.” Eddie sighed, snuffing out his own half finished cigarette. “She gave me her number and I never called.”

“Could’a grabbed a quarter from the change jar and used a pay phone.”

Eddie pressed his hands against his face and dragged them down slowly. Why did good advice always come too late for him?

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought back a new phone for the kitchen today.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he should have snapped something, his eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a new used phone. Guy down the line from me offered it up and it’s better than nothing.”

Eddie didn’t care if it was a rotary phone, he’d take anything at this point if it meant that he could try to call you.

He wanted to call you.

He wanted to call you. Eddie didn’t care if you remembered that first time you met, did it even really matter? You had an interest in him, Eddie Munson, now.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie stood up and hurried inside, seeing the new old phone that was sitting on the counter. It took a few minutes of making sure it wouldn’t fall off the wall before he plugged it in and heard that sweet dial tone sound.

Eddie grabbed his copy of Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and pulled out the paper flower, looking at the number scribbled in his own chicken scratch. He didn’t trust himself to punch in the number without checking, no matter how many times he read the ten digits over the past two weeks.

It rang once.

Twice.

Six times.

No response.

“It’s late, she might be asleep.” Wayne said, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet.

It wasn’t that late, not even 8:30 yet. Eddie sighed and hung up the phone, crossing his arms as he thought about his next move. He’d always had tunnel vision when he got an idea into his head, from Corroded Coffin, to his campaigns, to a book that he wanted to read, it was hard to shake the urge when he got one.

Grabbing the keys from the counter he called over to Wayne “I’ll be back later.” which was responded to with a confirmation that he’d save some pasta for Eddie in the fridge.

There weren’t many places he could think of where you could be tonight. You hadn’t shown back up at the Hideout, and the arcade was closed this late on a weeknight. You could be at home, but Eddie didn’t remember where you lived and showing up to your place after two weeks of radio silence would definitely get him in trouble.

So he drove to Family Video.

If you were there he’d do.. something. If you weren’t he’d call you after school tomorrow. Eddie winced internally at the thought. He’d been trudging through school and dragging his feet for the past six years to graduate, and now was the time he felt childish about it. You could legally buy him a beer, and he could illegally sneak you a drink in the Hideout.

At a stoplight he swapped out the Black Sabbath tape for W.A.S.P., remembering that you had mentioned liking them. How did he continue to remember these small details about you?

Because she’s treated you like a human each time you’ve talked. It was startling how something so basic was such a big deal to him.

The lights were still on at Family Video, and the open sign was still lit up. He could see movement inside the store, and he caught sight of someone wearing the signature green vest that the employees wore.

He’d walk in, and if you were there he’d- fuck what the hell was he supposed to do? Eddie stared at the door from inside his van for a few minutes. It was past nine now, and he could have sworn that they should be closed now but that stupid sign was still on. That had to be a good sign right? Eddie wasn’t one to believe in stuff like that but maybe he’d be stupid to ignore a literal neon sign hanging in the door.

Okay, now or never. Eddie had never really been one to hesitate before and he wasn’t about to start now.

He made his way to the entrance and opened the door before he could think about what he was actually wanting to do. Eddie could improvise, it was one of the more useful skills that came from years of running Hellfire.

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” Your voice was a welcome sound, sealing the determination inside of him. No going back now.

“It was Steve’s job to-” your co-worker said. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the face.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was the first to actually notice Eddie as he walked in, looking as if he was expecting literally anyone else.

Turning on the Freak, Eddie smirked at Steve. “Cursing in front of customers, Harrington? Now that’s not very professional of you.”

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in a way that reminded Eddie of a mother hen. Steve did have a point, and so he decided to cut through any bullshit and looked over at you. You looked like you’d had a long shift, but the way you were looking at him... there was still the same shock that was on Steve’s face, but while his shock was laced with confusion yours was excited. As if you couldn’t believe that The Freak was here and that was a good thing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie blurted out the request before he could think. He had no idea where you two would go or what you would do but he had to do something.

Your coworker nudged you in the ribs, and your expression changed to a more professional one.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, looking at Steve for a split second.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Eddie made a mental note to learn this girls name and send her a fucking gift basket one day.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, reaching down to grab something from below the counter- your bag. Eddie felt himself growing more excited, his heart pounding as you tossed your work vest and keys over to them. They were basically shoving you out the door to spend time with him.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You stepped out from behind the counter, looking up at him. The color of your eyes under the fluorescent lights reminded him of the stars he had been looking at earlier this evening. Eddie found himself smiling at you as you opened the door for him.

Someone was quick to lock the door and turn the OPEN sign off.

Eddie opens his van door for you, trying his best to make a good impression for whatever was about to happen. You hopped into the passenger seat and he thought that he might enjoy seeing you sitting next to him like this in his van more often.

---

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#Nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

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from-the-clouds · 1 year

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texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. xi

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chapter summary: I'm not even gonna be poetic about this: Joel and reader lie to themselves and others about their feelings for 5.6k words. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 5.6k chapter warnings: ANGST. Description of panic attacks/anxiety. Referenced death of family members/romantic partners. Implied bisexual reader. Alcohol consumption, hangovers. smoking. Canon-typical suffering. As always please dm if you have questions. a/n: Wanted to give game Joel a little love with the gif choice, ya feel me? I've been excited to write this chapter for months and I ultimately feel like it flopped so hard, it just did not come together the way I envisioned. It's also my last week of work for awhile I'm honestly feeling very burnt out so I'm in a 'fuck it, i don't have the energy to make it perfect' mood, BUT - It’s a lot of backstory/development that I do think is necessary. Next chapter shit will go down tho so get ready.

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

-April 10, 2024-

Joel reaches out to clutch the patio railing. His chest is tight, like someone’s stitched his ribs together so they won’t expand fully every time he tries to inhale. Each breath wheezes in and out of him, and his head spins.

None of this feels real. It can’t be real. And if he’s asleep, he can’t decide if he’s in a dream or a nightmare.

That’s until he hears his name.

“Joel!”

Her voice is like a jolt of electricity, shocking his body back into equilibrium. He finds Ellie standing behind him when he looks over his shoulder, Tommy walking up the pathway to the front door, brow furrowed.

“We literally only got here like one week ago, you can’t die already,” Ellie scolds him, and he knows that the jab is meant to be playful. “Woah, are you okay?” she asks when they lock eyes.

Joel straightens, squaring up with Tommy, fully prepared to give him a piece of his mind, for throwing him into the deep end with nothing to stay afloat.

“Who was that?” Ellie is completely oblivious.

Even if he wanted to answer the question, he still probably couldn’t. It had taken him a moment to even recognize who you were, that’s how long it’s been. And he hadn’t even really gotten a good look. It only clicked when you’d taken off your glasses, and when it’d registered, and then he’d seen the kid next to you, he’d panicked. Joel brushes past Ellie, shoving his brother with one hand in the center of his chest.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Tommy recoils at the contact, something pained and confused crossing his expression. “I…. I thought you’d be happy to see that she’s still alive.”

Joel doesn’t answer, just glowers at him. He’s still unable to make sense of the questions swirling around in his mind, each one seemingly more important than the last.

Of course it’s good that you're alive. At one point, he had tried to find you. It was after Sarah, after he’d tried to- he can’t even think about how foolish that had been. At the time, the thought of seeing you again was the only thing that provided him with even the slightest bit of hope for the future. But the search had been fruitless.

After a while, Joel decided that you were dead. It didn’t matter whether or not you were. He’d seen the unspeakable pain humans were capable of inflicting on each other and then when he’d gotten involved with some hunters, became the cause of all that pain. If you were alive…it meant those horrible things were happening to you. You were better off dead.

It also kept his conscience clear. After he’d done what he had done, he knew if he ever saw you again, he wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes. And he was right. You knew a version of him that no longer existed.

“Joel,” Ellie interjects. He’d nearly forgotten she was there, still lost in his shock and rage.

“Ellie, go inside,” he quips.

“Can’t I just-”

“Inside. Right now. ” Joel hasn’t used such an aggressive snarl with her since they first left for the Boston QZ, and he turns to look at her just in time to see her face crumple, before she turns and marches up the stairs. He immediately feels bad, but unfortunately, this is just how things go with every person he cares about these days. He hurts them, then they hurt him, and it equals out, only ending when one of them decides to leave.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy scolds, but he doesn’t care.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you known she’s alive? That she has a fuckin’.....” Joel feels something get caught in his throat. “...a fuckin’ kid.”

“That’s her nephew,” Tommy says matter-of-factly, as if it was supposed to be obvious. As if Joel wasn’t just grappling with the idea that he had a twenty year old son he’d never known about, and feeling guilty that you’d been alone with him this whole time. “But I guess I can see where you’d think that.”

Now that you’re on Joel’s mind, he does recall you mentioning your nephew a few times. Maybe you even had a picture of him hanging on your fridge, and he had pegged how you had the same smile. He’s a little embarrassed for jumping to conclusions, but it doesn’t mean he’s done being angry.

“Shit,” Tommy rubs his beard. “They’ve been here for like three years. It’s been awhile.”

“Three years?” Joel asks, a whole new wave of anger reappearing. “And you didn’t think to fuckin’ tell me all this time?”

“You know the rules. We aren’t allowed to use the radio.”

“What about when I was here in the winter?” Joel asks stiffly.

“I just…figured it’d be a shock-

“And why would you think that, Tommy?” Joel raises his voice.

Tommy holds out his hands, lowering them slightly as if to tell Joel to settle down. Then he nods towards the house. Ellie. “You had a lot going on with that whole situation. I didn’t want to distract you.”

Joel would never admit it, but that was probably a smart decision for Tommy to make. He remembers how uncertain and scared he’d been when he first stopped in Jackson. But Joel still tries to think of a way to keep the argument going, because he doesn’t want to give Tommy any sort of props for how he’s chosen to break this news to him.

“I thought you’d be happy she’s alive, really, I mean you both-”

Joel holds up his hand. “Enough, Tommy. It was so long ago…I barely remember.”

Tommy frowns, gives him a knowing look. “Really?”

Joel sniffs, crosses his arms.

“Well, I remember,” Tommy says. “And she was always good to you.”

Joel doesn’t answer, because he doesn’t have anything else to say, and at this point, he just wants Tommy to leave.

“Work through whatever you have to,” Tommy says. “But don’t be an asshole. You should work on that, in general. Or else I’ll have to keep explaining your behavior.”

“Glad I’ve got you looking out for me,” Joel says dryly. “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Fine.” Tommy shakes his head, backs away.

His brother doesn’t say goodbye as he stuffs his hands in his coat pocket and walks down the street. Joel stays in place, alone on the front porch, until his hands relax from the fists they are clenched in and his anger turns to shame.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 19, 2024-

You close the locket and place it back inside the old lunch pail full of tchotchkes and other memorabilia. It’s a fairly empty box, over the years you’ve found that the things you hold onto are either lost or left behind, not unlike the people you’ve met. You swipe away the tears in your eyes.

Bea had always said it was important to give yourself the space to grieve, to let yourself feel whatever it was that you needed to. It’s advice that you don’t want to take from her right now because you’re pissed at her for being gone. Not that it had been her fault. And also because you know if you don’t stick to a routine it’s very easy to backslide.

In the bathroom, you hurry to splash cold water on your face, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. Before the outbreak, there was nothing more terrifying than getting old. Now, as you study the new lines and wrinkles on your face, the scar on your bottom lip, the gray strands in your hair, it doesn’t scare you at all. It seemed frivolous that looks were something you’d been so concerned about when you were younger. But you suppose you didn’t have much else to worry about. There was something pretty freeing about being older, that you can be content without being concerned about whether or not someone will find you attractive. And really, getting old means you’re still alive. That’s all that matters.

You are concerned with the red in the whites of your eyes, but hope they’ll fade by the time you get to Maria’s.

Grappling with the fact that Joel is still alive has dredged up a lot. Since it had been about a week since your reunion – if you could even call it that – on your front porch, and you’d seen him one other time. The first time, you’d sort of understood why he’d ran off. But you guessed you kind of expected him to come around eventually. He didn’t.

Just a few days earlier you’d been walking through the town square, and he’d been headed your direction with that teenage girl who Tommy has since told you is named Ellie. She was giggling at something, and Joel even had a slight smile on his face, but when he saw you, it disappeared, and he pulled Ellie to the opposite side of the street. It was clear now that he was intentionally trying to avoid you, which….didn’t feel great.

That was an understatement. Having Joel back made you realize just how lonely you were. It had taken some time after arriving in Jackson for you to grieve your partner of nearly ten years, so it hadn’t really dawned on you that at some point you might crave a deeper level of intimacy that your friendships couldn’t offer. But you had already had it twice, so you supposed that was better than nothing at all. Plus, your number one priority had been, and always would be making sure Ethan was provided for.

So what exactly were you expecting from Joel? Not that, of course. But maybe some kind of closure after all those years spent apart. Some kind of acknowledgement of your time spent together.

When the outbreak first happened, you had spent a lot of time being angry. With Joel and Sarah, the possibility of being normal had been dangled in front of you. You realized you had wanted to be loved after being convinced by your father – and yourself – that you didn’t deserve it. Then, the second you acknowledged that you wanted it anyways, the world had literally ended. It was a little egocentric, but it sort of felt like a sign that your dad had been right all along. Some women aren’t meant to be part of a family.

Of course, Bea had proved that wrong. But losing the people you loved became a pattern. And you even to this day, you alternated between believing that it was the unfortunate reality of life, or that it was your destiny to never get what you wanted.

Regardless, even if the way Joel is acting has caused you more turmoil than you are willing to admit, you’re not going to follow him around and beg to get back into his good graces. That’s never been your style.

You’re tidying up the kitchen, getting ready to leave, when Ethan shuffles into the room. It’s nearly noon.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” you say to him as drags his socked feet across the hardwood.

He grumbles his greeting and tilts his head at the bag you’re adjusting over your shoulder, as if to ask where you’re headed.

“I’m going to Maria’s,” you say. “Then I have to meet with Eugene.”

He makes a noise of affirmation, still half-asleep, and slumps into a kitchen chair. When you look at him closely, you see the dark circles beneath his glassy eyes, his face pale.

“You alright, honey?” you ask, putting your bag back on the countertop and approaching him. “Do you have a fever?” when you reach to press the back of your hand to his cheek he swats it away weakly. He doesn’t feel warm.

“I’m fine,” he says, crossing his arms on the countertop and burying his face in them. “I just have a headache.”

“Yeah?” you say. “You were out late last night.”

“Derek and I went to the Tipsy Bison,” his voice is muffled.

Everything clicks into place. “Oh. Were you overserved?”

He turns his head, but doesn’t lift it. With how long his hair has gotten, most of his face is obscured. “Maybe. But before I get a lecture, don’t worry – I’m never drinking again.”

“I’m not gonna lecture you,” you’re almost offended. “Is this really your first hangover?”

“I mean….probably not. But it’s definitely the worst.”

“Well now you know your limits,” you say, crossing the room to pour him a glass of water and get some ibuprofen from the long-expired bottle you keep in a cabinet.

“Maybe if we were allowed to drink when we were with Bea, I would’ve learned that sooner.”

You let Ethan’s get his dig in at the last community you’d lived with before Jackson. The more time you’d spent here, the more time he’d had to convince himself that what you’d gotten yourselves into was terrible. Because you had more of a complex perspective on it, it was the one subject you avoided speaking to each other about.

Ethan is similar to Vincent in that while he’s very sensitive, he also seems to enjoy being an instigator. Of course, spending all of his life fighting to survive in a world that wants him dead has only intensified that. Bea had been good at helping him manage his temper when he was a teenager and it became too much for you to handle. But besides that, he doesn't get into much trouble, so you aren’t going to chastise him.

“Drink this, and take these.”

He groans, but reaches out for the aspirin and water, nursing it down with small sips. You bite back a smile. The both of you have endured much worse than a hangover, but there’s something cathartic about seeing him experience the plights of a normal twenty-something.

“Are you hungry?”

“If I eat anything, I think I will vomit,” he lays his head back down.

You consider asking him if he wants you to stay so you can look after him, but decide that you don’t want to encourage the habit too much. Instead, you reach out and brush a strand of hair off his cheek so you can see him more clearly, and he closes his eyes. “I bet you’ll feel better in a couple hours. Drink water. It’ll help.”

He blinks up at you, seemingly unconvinced. “I saw that guy yesterday. The weird one.”

“What guy?”

“Tommy’s brother. What’s his name?”

“Joel?” you ask, and pretend that saying his name doesn’t almost make you shiver.

“Yeah,” he says. “He was with Tommy at the stables. Guess they’re making him a ranger.”

“Hm.”

“I know you knew him before or whatever, but he’s definitely a weirdo. And I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”

The whatever in his sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting. You roll your eyes, but not maliciously. “Well, he did just get here.” You definitely don’t owe Joel anything, so you surprise yourself by defending him.

Ethan almost ignores your response, winces, turns his head back into his arms and grumbles something to the effect of I’m dying.

“Rest up,” you ruffle his hair and kiss the top of his head, like you’ve been doing since before he could walk, and it’s hard to stop even though sometimes it annoys him. Right now, he doesn’t protest. “I’ll bring you home some soup from the mess hall. Take it easy.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s Tommy who lets you in once you arrive at Maria’s. She’s upstairs with the baby, he says, and tells you to wait in the living room, before you hear her frantic voice calling out for him to come help her.

His footsteps retreat up the stairs, and you hover in the entrance to the living room, your eyes inexplicably drawn to the chalkboard with

You glance at the little memorial that Tommy had made for Sarah and Kevin, Maria’s son. Even though you’ve seen it a million times at this point, the sight of her name, the date of her passing – the same day as Joel’s birthday – makes your stomach sink.

That’s when you notice that you’re not alone. Sitting in a chair in the corner is the girl that you’d seen accompanying Joel. You hadn’t actually been properly introduced, you realized, and she’s staring at you like she doesn’t know what to do. She’s a cute kid, a teenager if you had to guess, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Based on how he’s been acting, you can’t imagine what Joel has told her about you. Probably nothing good. So you give her a nod and a small smile, before crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe.

Surprisingly, the bit of sincerity seems to warm her up a little. “I’m Ellie,” she says.

You nod again, and give her your first name. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Sorry I didn’t get the chance the other day.”

She shrugs. “It didn’t seem like that was your fault.”

You let your arms drop to your sides, straighten up. “Did you uh…come to see the baby or something?”

Ellie shakes her head no. “I’m waiting for Tommy. He’s gonna take me to see the school.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Not really,” she says. “I think school is fucking stupid. But everyone says I have to go, because all the other kids in town do, too.”

Ethan was grown when you arrived in Jackson, and you didn’t have children of your own, so it was the one place you didn’t really frequent. “Well, you probably should but….I hear you.”

There’s an almost imperceptible smile that crosses her features. You turn your head back to stare at the staircase, waiting for the sound of Maria’s footsteps, but all you can hear is her and Tommy whispering with frantic energy as they try to put their son down for a nap.

“You know Joel won’t tell me anything about you,” Ellie’s voice cuts in, and you turn back towards her. “But you knew him before, didn’t you?”

You’re not sure how to take this information, or…how to respond to it. So you keep your response simple. “I mean, we were neighbors.” But even that feels like a lie, and a useless one to tell. Maybe it’s a little petty, but you don’t owe it to Joel to keep his secrets, especially not after he’s treated you so poorly. So you tell her the truth. “I guess he was also…my boyfriend for a little while.”

Ellie seems taken aback by this. “What happened? Did you break his heart or something?”

“No,” you snort. “We got separated before the outbreak.”

“Oh.” She ponders for a moment. “So then why is he so mad?”

You shrug. “I’ll let you know if I find out.”

“Well, he’s an asshole. But I bet you already know that,” Ellie says.

Based on the time you actually spent with Joel, you would’ve never described him that way. So if that’s really how he’s perceived, even by the people who care about him, it makes you a little sad. Losing Sarah must have changed him more than you could imagine.

You’re already sick of thinking about him so much, so you change the subject to something that’s at least a little lighter. “How did the two of you end up together, anyways?”

“Long story,” she answers, and you get the sense there’s something she’s holding back. Because you just met, you don’t press her any further.

“As I’d imagine.”

You hear boots coming down the stairs, and Tommy rounds the corner, holding a stack of photos. “I’ve been meaning to show these to you, I went home a couple years back…to Joel’s old place and mine. There wasn’t much left, but I found these.”

He passes the pictures to you, and you look down at them. You don’t think much about your old house at all. It was another thing you lost, but almost everyone did, so it didn’t really make you feel special. Still, sometimes you thought of your cozy back patio and your old friend Martini, and had accepted you’d never see them again.

The first photo in the stack is a photo of Joel and Sarah at one of his soccer games. As sweet as the gesture is, you are pretty sure you can only confront so much of your past at once, and with Joel being back in town it’s starting to get suffocating. Also, when you study the picture and realize that your memory has gotten some of Sarah’s features wrong, you’re overwhelmed with guilt.

Hesitantly, you place the pictures down on the coffee table, and Ellie reaches for them immediately, flipping through him. “Woah,” she says. “He looks so different without all the grey hair,” she flips to a photo of him and Tommy, and glances up at him. “You look pretty much the same.”

When you agree with her, Tommy grins, playfully tucking a piece of hair behind his ear bashfully before growing serious. “You better not tell him I showed you these.”

“I won’t,” Ellie assures him.

“Look at this one.” Tommy pushes another photo across the table towards you, and you peer down to look at it. “He fucking adored you.”

You remember taking the picture vividly while on vacation with Joel and Sarah, and at one point you’d had your own copy framed on your dresser. There are flowers peppered in his hair, and you both look so young, and so happy, and so oblivious, his arms around you, his lips pressed against your cheek. At the time, you really had no idea that everything you knew was about to be destroyed.

“Nice,” you say flatly, and in an effort to keep from getting emotional, push it back across the table, and retreat to sit in a chair across the room.

After some time, and some convincing, Tommy and Ellie leave to go on their tour of the school. When the door closes behind them, you swipe the photo from you and Joel off the table and slide it into your back pocket. You tell yourself it’s so Tommy can’t show it to Joel, but really it’s because it’s one of the only memories you have of yourself before the outbreak, when everything felt perfect.

Just as you back away from the pictures, Maria appears at the bottom of the steps. She looks exhausted, and before either of you can speak, you wrap her in a hug. Partly because it looks like she needs it, but also because you just want to feel close to someone you trust, even if it’s only for a few seconds. “How are you holding up?” you ask.

“I finally get some peace and I’m using it to work,” she says, leading you into the dining room, where all the paperwork is spread out. Your plan had been to write a new amendment to the town’s constitution, which then had to be approved by the council.

Maria hadn’t stayed away from her job as the leader of the community for very long after having their son, despite your encouragement for her to take it easy. She had experience with her previous son, Kevin, but you imagined it didn’t make life with a newborn any easier. So you tried to help her out with any chance you got, especially because you knew she’d do the same for you. it was just how things between you worked. She knew even more about you than Tommy did, and you told each other everything. Well, almost everything….

“You should take a nap or something.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “I can write a draft while you sleep and then you and I can do the revisions together.

She seems reluctant, but after making you swear you’d wake her if the baby starts fussing, she lies down on the couch and you begin working.

Like your old job, you don’t really like doing this. The only job you have in Jackson that actually excites you is the work you do with Eugene, and going on patrol. But this work makes you feel the most useful. And despite the fact that you had always been skeptical of authority – you believed in her ability to keep things in Jackson running smoothly.

About an hour later, you’d drawn up the draft and Maria stirs from her nap. The revisions don’t take very long, since you both are usually on the same page, but when you start packing your things up to go, she seems surprised.

“Are you hanging around until dinner?”

“No, I have to meet up with Eugene,” you say. “Plus, Ethan’s at home hungover so I told him I’d make him soup.

“Do you think he’ll be up for dinner tomorrow night?” she asks. “Tommy keeps pestering me.”

“Well he’s still too young for his hangovers to last two days,” you smirk. “So yeah, I think he will.”

“He invited…..Joel, and Ellie,” Maria says hesitantly, watching your face. “Is that okay?”

“I mean….it’s not my dinner party.”

“You can say no. Or not come,” she offers. She hadn’t been there the day you’d seen Joel again for the first time, but it sounds like Tommy has given her the rundown.

You shrug. As much as you don’t want to admit it, being forced into the same room as Joel is a little exciting. “I’ll go.”

“Are you doing okay with that?” she asks. “I told Tommy not to surprise you, but he didn’t listen.”

“It’s all fine,” you say, which isn’t entirely a lie. At the end of the day, everything would be fine. The stakes weren’t life and death. When Maria seems unconvinced, you continue. “I mean, it feels like he’s being a little rude…but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Maria lowers her eyes, pauses. “Has Tommy’s ever told you about any of the stuff Joel got him into when they were on their own?”

“Not really,” you say. “But I know they were on bad terms.”

“I didn’t know you back then,” Maria begins. “So I don’t know what you saw in him, or what he was like. But….I don’t think he’s….I don’t know if it’s worth getting emotionally invested again.”

“Oh, bummer. As you know, reconnecting with an ex is my main priority right now.” you deflect with a smirk, but Maria doesn’t seem as amused.

“Fair,” she says. “But be careful. I saw what he did to his own brother. I don’t want it to happen to you.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you assure her. “Whatever he’s done, I’ve dealt with worse.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

-April 20, 2024-

When Joel and Ellie arrive at Tommy’s, it’s clear immediately they aren’t the only people that were invited.

Seeing the life that Tommy had built for himself here – a thriving community, a wife, a son – fills him with a certain level of envy. But mostly….he’s ashamed. Back when they were hunters, Joel was adamant that it was the only way they could survive, despite the horrible things they were doing. The worst part was, Joel really believed it. Now, the nightmares still chasing both of them, he realizes he was wrong. Even if Tommy won’t say it out loud, Joel knows he resents him for those days, how he’d been forced to trade away so much of his humanity. For Joel, violence came easily – shockingly so – an outlet for all his anger after losing Sarah. But Tommy had always struggled. And even though there will always be love between them, the tension was still there.

He’s still adjusting to life in Jackson, only leaving the house when Ellie drags him out, and when Tommy trains him to go out on patrol. It’s hard to accept that he’s not on the run anymore after the chaotic nature of the last year. Only Tommy knows his darkest secret, and he intends to keep it that way.

While Ellie does seem somewhat hesitant to leave him alone, she does seem a lot more enthusiastic about life in Jackson. Joel knows it’s a good thing, and once again, he feels like he’s let her down by not leading by example.

Tommy greets them both once they step inside, and Joel is polite — something he’s been trying to do more of lately. Maria gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that tells him she’s trying to be civil despite her reservations. God only knows what Tommy has told her about their time together. At least he can understand where she’s coming from. Had they met twenty years ago in Austin, they probably would’ve gotten along. Nowadays, he’s not surprised when people don’t like him, because he hates himself, too.

But Maria still entertains them with general pleasantries and questions about how they are settling in, despite looking incredibly flustered. Ellie is more apt to answer them then he is, Joel standing by with his thumbs in his belt loops.

Over their shoulder, Joel sees you, standing in the corner of the front room with your back turned to him, deep in conversation with your nephew. He’s smiling and telling a very animated story, at one point clapping his palms on your shoulders and shaking them violently while you giggle. It makes him think of you and Sarah. Therein lies the problem. He’s become a little more comfortable discussing his past with Ellie, but there’s a limit to what he’s capable of, especially after repressing so much for so long.

The oven goes off, and Maria excuses herself to the kitchen, inviting Ellie to follow along. Joel and Tommy are left standing in the entryway together.

“You invited her?” Joel asks, not bothering to hide the venom in his voice.

Tommy steps back, giving him incredulous once-over. “It’s my house, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what game you’re trying to-“

Tommy shoves Joel into the dining room before he can finish his thought, out of eyesight from the rest of the people in the house. “I’m not playing games, Joel. She’s family. Maybe not to you, but definitely to Maria and I. And she’s never shown you anything but kindness. So grow the fuck up.”

Before Joel can think of another objection, the sound of a baby crying cuts through the air. Tommy freezes at the sound, until you call out from the other room. “I got him.”

“Come on,” he says. “Maybe you can muster up the courage to hold your nephew.”

He wants to tell Tommy that he’s trying, even if it doesn’t look like it. But it almost feels better to allow himself to be the black sheep. It makes things easier. If he keeps that door closed, he’ll never need to worry about the problems that lie on the other side. Still, he begrudgingly follows his brother in the other room.

When he enters the front room, you’re holding Maria and Tommy’s son in your arms.

After Joel had learned that Ethan was your nephew, he was unsurprisingly relieved. What did surprise him, however, is that some small part of himself was disappointed. Sure, if you actually had his child while you were separated it would have been devastating. But before all this, all he had wanted was a future with you, would’ve gladly given you children….really, anything you wanted.

He tries not to let his eyes linger on you too long, lost in the daydream of what could’ve been, but you meet his eyes and give him such a sterile, polite nod that it’s almost painful.

Dinner is uneventful. Joel ends up seated directly across from you, Tommy’s doing, no doubt, but you do a good enough job of engaging in conversation that you don’t spend much time looking in Joel’s direction, and when you do, he doesn’t recognize your expression. It does give him the chance to study you up close, which he hadn’t done yet, and immediately regrets.

He’s still just as attracted to you as he’d always been. Sure, you’ve aged, but so has he – although you wear it much more gracefully. When Tommy offers to pour some bourbon into Ethan’s glass, he refuses, and for whatever reason, you stifle a laugh, the wrinkles around your eyes more prominent than they used to be.

After dinner, when the plates have been cleared, you disappear. He can feel himself growing overwhelmed, so he steps outside onto the back patio for some air. You’re sitting on a porch step looking out at the yard, but when he steps outside, you turn.

When you register that it’s him, you return your eyes forward again, and Joel remains silent, even considers walking back inside without a word. But he stays there so long, contemplating, that you’re the first to speak up.

“You know, if you stay here….at some point, you are gonna have to acknowledge me.”

Joel knows he’s the antagonist right now. He’s well aware. But he can’t help himself. Despite that, there’s no malice, and no bitterness in your voice. But you are direct.

And, because he’s never been good at refusing you, he gives you something in return. “I guess I’m just surprised to see you here….” He recalls a conversation you’d had long ago, curled against his chest, staring up at the stars together. “Being a city girl and everything.”

You turn to look over your shoulder, gaze making him feel warm, a small smile on your face. For a split second, you’re looking at him how you used to, and then it’s gone. “It is sort of a miracle, isn’t it?”

He ponders this, and you continue.

“It’s good to see you, Joel,” you say softly. He wonders how you can make general pleasantries sound so sweet, and is surprised at how easily you betray yourself with the words. Though he had noticed a pattern at dinner. You weren’t nearly as guarded as you used to be. He wonders how that’s possible, if you’ve made it this far.

“You too.”

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

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The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

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Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Out of the Woods

It was dark, and he was running, but Luke Castellan knew what he saw. He was weak and weary, having been running from a vengeful flock of Stymphilian birds and their venomous droppings. He’d since lost track of exactly how long he’d been running through the woods for, but the sky told him it had been little more than three days.

His legs had gone numb long ago; his only options were simply to keep running, or die. Luke had no choice but to keep running. He would’ve been able to kill the birds days ago, but he’d been left nearly defenseless after a long quest in the midwest.

He’d lost everything but a jagged and cracked Celestial bronze dagger, along with a backpack that was empty except for an empty bottle of water and only half of a granola bar. Luke had nothing to save him, except for his training.

He’d had no time to stop and fashion something to save him. He was without recourse, and completely alone. Or so he thought, until he reached a dead end. Luke was running furiously through the trees in the dead of night, delirious with fatigue and starvation. It had been hours since he’d last had water, and days since he’d eaten. He was finally beginning to fall victim to his exhaustion after three days of fighting for survival.

His feet dragged in the woods, and he feared his body was beginning to shut down. His vision, in the darkness, was next to nothing. He knew that, with his succumbing to fatigue, the birds would be closing in soon, which meant death. He tripped on a rock as he ran, falling to the ground.

“You must go on, my child,” a voice said in his head. “Come to your sovereign, and claim eternal glory.”

Even in his state, Luke was aware the voice wasn’t his father’s. He had fallen onto his stomach, his arms not strong enough to prop him up as he stared at the darkness of the ground, surrounded by sticks, leaves, and rocks. As his eyes slowly fell closed and claws dug into his back, he saw a pair of black boots hit the ground next to him before everything quickly faded away.

*****

Luke woke to sunlight softly shining through a veil of trees in the woods. He slowly sat up, not recalling falling asleep on his back. He was also surprised to wake up not alone, to another face hovering somewhere not too far above his own.

“There he is,” a deep, resonant voice cut through the silence.

Luke frowned, feeling oddly well-rested as he sat up. He was startled to see a young, completely unfamiliar girl sitting across from him. She was the one who had spoken, and immediately, Luke was alerted by her presence.

“You can relax. I’m not gonna kill you,” the girl said calmly, which he found both comforting and off-putting at the same time. “If I wanted to do that, I could’ve done it whenever I wanted within the past two days.”

“Two days?” Luke demanded, refusing to believe that he’d spent two days in the presence of this strange girl.

“Yeah. I found you a couple days ago, about to get pulled apart by a flock of Stymphilian birds,” she said. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

“What—Who are you?” Luke questioned, “How did you—How am I alive right now?”

He knew absolutely nothing about her, but purely based on the fact that she had saved him, he figured he could safely assume that she was a demigod.

“One question at a time,” she said flatly.

“Okay, what happened?” Luke asked her.

“I was hunting those birds. I knew they were somewhere around these woods, so I’d been hiding out here for the past four days,” she explained.

It hurt Luke a bit that this girl had not only meant to find the birds he’d been trying to escape from, but she had also taken less time to find and track them than he’d taken to evade them.

“I found them chasing you, so I killed them,” she stated, tossing what looked like a bronze feather at him. “That’s yours, by the way.”

“Okay…” Luke nodded, slowly pocketing the feather. “And, who are you?”

“Katherine ,” she supplied.

“Katherine. Alright,” he adjusted gradually. “And… how did you kill an entire pack of Stymphilian birds?”

“Celestial bronze crossbow bolts,” Katherine stated, as if it were obvious.

“So, you’re a demigod,” he deduced.

She nodded. “I am.”

“Who’s… who’s your godly parent?” Luke wondered.

“Nemesis,” she said softly.

And suddenly, her demeanor made sense. Just meeting Katherine, Luke sensed that her every movement was calculated and precise. She clearly hadn’t saved him from the birds out of pure altruism or kindness; it was some sort of act of survival. How, he didn’t know, but he knew she’d seen something useful in him.

Luke also saw Katherine’s value, and not just because he was aware she’d saved his life. Katherine was clearly a survivor, with a small but efficient utility belt around her waist. The only way Luke Castellan could’ve described her was ‘ready’. She was clearly dressed for her hunt, in clothes that looked like she’d bought them at some sort of army surplus store.

Katherine was an interesting-looking person, with a soft, beautiful face that didn’t necessarily match her clothes. Despite wearing a heavy brown jacket and a thin black tank top, accompanied by a durable pair of jeans and black combat boots Luke had seen when he passed out, he couldn’t deny the beauty of her features.

Katherine had long, straight back hair that she wore down, and wide, almost-black eyes framed by long lashes. She had fair skin and bony features that reflected years of athleticism, which could be found in most demigods.

“Who’s yours?” she wondered. “Apollo? Hermes? Athena, maybe?”

“Uh, Hermes,” Luke replied, not quite proudly. “Hey, Katherine, do you know the way out of these woods?” he asked her.

“Yeah, past the sign, and onto the road,” she said as she opened a crumpled piece of paper he assumed was some sort of map.

“What?”

“I spent the past couple of days getting us through the woods and to the nearest rest stops.”

“How?” Luke exclaimed, not understanding what had even happened.

“I carried you on my back,” she responded nonchalantly.

“Seriously? Like one long piggy back ride?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said as he realized she also had some sort of training as a demigod. “I considered hiking us up to that motel up the road, but I figured it wouldn’t be such a great look trying to check into a motel with an unconscious guy.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed. “Thank you. For that,” he said awkwardly.

Luke stopped for a moment, processing everything he’d just heard.

“I’ve really been out for two days?”

“Yeah. Like I said, if I wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead two days ago,” she frowned.

“Right. How long have we been here?” Luke asked her.

“About a day and a half,” Katherine provided. “I thought I’d let you sleep before we get moving again.”

“‘Get moving’?” he thought aloud.

“Yeah. That’s what I was gonna talk to you about,” she began. “I’m on a new hunt. And, I could… use a spare,” she shrugged.

“A ‘spare’?” Luke echoed. “No, I can’t, I have to get back to Camp.”

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot most kids end up at that place,” Katherine remarked.

“You’re obviously not a camper,” Luke pointed out, “So… What’s your story?”

“I don’t have one,” Katherine said as she started walking toward the road, not waiting as Luke struggled to throw his backpack over his shoulder and follow along.

“What do you mean, you don’t have one?” Luke persisted. “Everyone has a story.”

“You want my story?” she sighed. “My mother is Nemesis. My father was my nemesis. Now I hunt monsters. There, now come help me find the biggest monster either of us have ever faced.”

“What monster are you trying to hunt that you can’t kill yourself?” he asked. “A dragon? Hydra?”

“No, I’ve killed three,” she said dismissively.

“Then what are you hunting?” he stared at her.

“That’s something between me, and whoever’s gonna help me hunt it.”

“Look,” Luke began, “I probably would, if I didn’t have to get back to Camp…”

“Why? You have a curfew?” she scoffed.

“Well, no,” he considered.

“What, you have to get back? Someone’s gonna die?” Katherine suggested mockingly.

“No.”

“Then what’s the issue?” she stopped, crossing her arms.

“Well,” he contemplated, finding himself more curious about Katherine and her quest than anything. “I guess you can tell me what you’re hunting, and I can see what I can do.”

“So, what,” she challenged him, her alluring eyes locked on his as she looked up at him, “You’re in?”

“Yeah,” Luke decided confidently, accepting the challenge, “Hit me.”

The girl led him down the side of the road to the nearest motel, sparingly offering details.

“A group of demigods I met down south told me about something in the Underworld. Something valuable,” she explained. “And we’re gonna go looking for it.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” Luke told her as they trudged down the road.

“Like what?” Katherine asked in turn.

“Um, your last name, maybe,” he proposed.

“Montalvo,” she responded.

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” Luke nodded approvingly. “Now, what city are we in?” he asked in confusion.

“Sand Springs,” she supplied.

Luke was quiet throughout the rest of the walk to the motel listed on the road signs, needing an hour or so of silence to process everything that had happened in the past few days. After he and Katherine had checked into a motel room together, he sat down on one of the beds.

“Do you care which bed you take?” he asked politely.

“No. You can have that one,” she said indifferently.

“Alright,” Luke remarked, sitting down comfortably as he thought for a moment. “Hey, I know you saved my life and all, and I’m grateful, but before we get into the whole quest thing, I just have some questions…”

“You didn’t snore, and I’m not a creep.”

“Uh, no, that’s not what I meant,” Luke promised her.

“Then, what do you wanna know?” she asked, sitting down across from him on her bed.

“How, uh… How’d you end up on your own?” he wondered.

“Why do you care?” she asked, her question coming off more genuine than sarcastic.

“I just met you,” he reasoned, “I don’t know anything about you.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed, thinking for a moment. “I ran away from home when I was twelve.”

“I ran away when I was nine,” Luke said sympathetically.

“Why?” she wondered.

“You first,” he stated.

“My dad… He was an asshole. So, when I was twelve, I left. And like any demigod, monsters started chasing me. They didn’t stop, and I was on my own. So I started finding them first.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke said softly. “That must’ve hard, living on your own all this time.”

“It’s fine. My car’s outside. I get by,” she shrugged.

“You have a car?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s not far from here, I gotta go get it,” she told him.

“Okay. I’ll come with you.”

“Alright,” she decided, walking out the door as he followed.

“What do you drive?”

“‘67 Camaro,” she responded.

“How old are you?” he asked to clarify.

“Eighteen.”

“Oh. We’re the same age,” he realized.

“Mazel tov,” Katherine said icily.

“How long has it been since you’ve had human contact?” Luke frowned.

“Not long enough,” Katherine sighed, pointedly walking ahead of him.

They walked down the street, not far from a nearby gas station, where the white Camaro was parked.

“The keys are in the car,” she told him, looking through the small crack in the car window that had been left open.

“Oh, shit,” Luke reacted.

“Can you reach your arm through the window?”

“Why?” he questioned, “Your arms are smaller than mine.”

“Are they?” she raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“God, you could use some human interaction,” Luke muttered, “Just get the keys.”

Katherine sighed, carefully sticking her hand through the car window.

“Fuck,” she grunted, unable to reach the car keys on the seat.

Luke looked around for help, trying to find someone who might be able to help them, only seeing a police car down the street.

“Oh, maybe those cops can help.”

“Quick,” Katherine hissed, “Follow my lead.”

“Follow your lead for what?”

Before Luke could think, she leaned in towards him, pulling him in by his shirt. Luke gasped into the sudden kiss, his lips pressed against hers in urgency as the police car passed them by. After a moment, fighting most of his instincts, he pulled away from her in shock, studying her for a moment.

“This car,” Luke exclaimed breathlessly, “It’s not yours. Is it?”

Katherine just shrugged, turning the key in the ignition as they both quickly climbed into the car.

“It is now.”

Chapter Two

#luke castellan #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #rick riordan #riordan universe #riordanverse #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #jake abel #pjo luke #pjo series #adam milligan

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lemoncherrypop · 18 days

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To Build a Home

seventeen x harry potter au

deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader summary: The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit. notes: hello :'))) i am back from the dead. i can not apologize enough for the three year hiatus. i went through some family stuff, some mental breakdowns, and also just life in general made me not want to write anymore. but all the messages and comments I've gotten throughout the years have been so heart warming and touching. your words of support have genuinely made me want to get back into this again, so thank you thank you thank you. all your likes, comments and shares really kept me going, sometimes I felt like I was writing into the void, but knowing that others read and enjoyed my story was a very validating and heartwarming feeling. again, I am SOOO sorry for the extremely late update, but if you are still around, I hope you will enjoy this next chapter! i love you all <3 P.S if you prefer AO3 viewing, it will be linked in my Series Masterlist :) word count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

One l Two l Three l Four l Five l coming soon...

Chapter Five

The bed is warm when you wake up, but you can not move.

“If you try to get up, I will incarcerous your ass.”

The air smells bitter and burnt, and it makes you want to gag at how strong it weighs in the air. Blinking past the candlelights, you find Jean sitting in a chair next to your bed.

Groaning, you try and curl your fingers, but you find yourself unable to. Not even needing to look down, you could feel the thick bandages wrapped around your whole chest and the entire length of your left arm.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” you grumble, voice feeling raw and dry in your throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?”

“I can’t fucking move!”

“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”

“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”

“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”

“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.

“Your right arm still works, you know.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”

Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.

“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”

“Well, blame that on—”

“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”

You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”

Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”

“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?”

“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”

“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”

A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.

“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”

A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”

Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.

He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”

You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.

“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.

“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”

“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”

Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“A lot.” Jean glowers.

“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.

“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”

“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”

“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”

“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.

A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.

It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”

“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”

“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”

“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”

“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”

“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.

“— tastes pretty awful…”

Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.

Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.

The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea.

He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.

It was the perfect cup of tea.

The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.

But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.

The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.

“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages.

No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision.

“Not. Yet.”

You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.

Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”

“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”

“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.

“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”

“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”

“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”

“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”

“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.

She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”

A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”

Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”

“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”

Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”

“We’ve all changed.”

Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.

“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.

Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.”

Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?

Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”

“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.

“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”

“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us.

Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”

Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else.

And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.

Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.

While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.

And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.

And you were fine with that.

Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.

The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.

The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.

Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.

Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.

He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.

A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”

“Nonsense. Come inside.”

“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”

“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”

He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.

“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”

“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”

You let out a deep sigh of relief. “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”

He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”

Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.

He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”

“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”

“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”

“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”

“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”

His face falls. “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”

Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.

“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”

“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?

“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”

You bit back a smile at that.

“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”

“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”

“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly.

Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”

You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”

Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”

“Like where?” You raise a brow.

“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”

“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”

“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”

Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”

“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”

Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.

“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”

A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?

“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”

A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.

“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”

Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.

“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”

His fingers felt cold in your hands.

“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”

He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”

Your heart shatters at the revelation.

He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.

He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.

“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”

“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”

“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”

You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.

“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”

Your chest crumples at the sight before you.

“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.” Wonwoo reveals. “I needed you to understand. He just wanted to live.”

#scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #harry potter au #seventeen x harry potter #seventeen harry potter au #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo angst

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mediacircuspod · 10 months

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AJ Crowley vs Forgiveness

I need to talk about Crowley for a minute so buckle up or move on.

"It’s not so bad once you get used to it” from Season 1 Episode 1 and an early chapter of the book is something of a throwaway joke. But being damned isn't much of a joke to Crowley, even if he makes jokes to cover it up.

The first thing to understand is that damnation doesn’t end after Crowley either saunters vaguely downwards or is dropped into a burning pile of sulfur(conflicting accounts from the demon himself). Being damned is a continuous state of being AND something that could very well happen to him again.

He was too ambitious for heaven—too curious. Something that he now knows is distinctly not a heavenly virtue. It’s just that those traits are also not virtues in hell either. And on top of that—he’s good.

Which in his particular role, is an extremely dangerous thing to be. So he isn’t good, and he isn’t nice and he doesn’t feel trite things like empathy or love. Except that he knows intrinsically that all of that is utter bullshit. And if anyone who isn’t Aziraphale realizes this, he doesn’t really know what falling from hell would be like, but he doesn't want to be the first.

Another thing to remember is that Crowley doesn’t understand why he was cast out. He understands that it was the questions, that it was his ambition to try and suggest improvements, but he can’t understand why. And the shame of that being yet another question is not lost on him.

The resentment there that has festered for millennia is understandable and expected and HES RIGHT TO FEEL IT. And it’s the reason why he has such a negative reaction to the concept of “forgiveness” but has a relatively amicable relationship with apologies. And I know this is going to sound crazy after nearly 400 words, but this is the actual concept I want to dissect.

Because Aziraphale’s ��I forgive you”s of the past have never gotten a good response, but they’ve also never gotten a “don’t bother”. Aziraphale uses that phrase specifically against Crowley when he needs to put distance between them. When he knows that Crowley is right. And Crowley knows that Aziraphale uses that phrase for exactly that purpose because they have being playing their parts for thousands of years. And he’s always been willing to wait in the past. The dance begins with Crowley challenging Aziraphale with something tempting.

The Great plan is dumb. What if we just left together? You’re being dumb. (I need to link that one Tumblr post that inspired this, just look at this.) Here.

And finally, desperately, This is what you’re giving up. Because Crowley doesn’t actually think it will work. He may hope it does. But he has played his part for long enough to know exactly what Aziraphale’s next line will be. And it still devastates him. And well, it’s his decision to be done waiting for Aziraphale to catch up. Being “too fast” has been his insecurity for too long, and he’s done slowing down just so Aziraphale can try and forgive him. He still doesn’t know why what he is, is wrong.

(He isn’t)(I mean he certainly makes some unhealthy choices, and he isn’t exactly completely in the right, but he’s NOT wrong.)(Running away together ISNT the right move, but it is the more romantic one so take that as you will.)

The part that makes my brain buzz is that this aversion to forgiveness does not apply to apologies. Specifically it does not apply to the phrase “I was wrong” or "you were right" or the little dance.

This. Is. Interesting.

He doesn’t have a problem with apologizing, and he doesn’t have a problem accepting apologies from Aziraphale if that wonderful scene is to be taken at face value. The fact that the 1941 apology dance wasn’t shown is actually a crime, and you can’t convince me otherwise. And I think this is specifically because he’s not actually averse to forgiveness on the whole. It’s the idea that he needs forgiveness for simply being who he is that actually bothers him. And well. I guess he was tired of Aziraphale pretending that the concept had merit, too.

For four years he's had the freedom to be exactly who he is without the fear of damnation even if he still has the baggage that went along with the first time it happened to him. And even though Aziraphale doesn't realize it, he's asking Crowley to do something impossible for him. He's asking Crowley to admit that he needs forgiveness, and come back to heaven.

Aziraphale assumes that Crowley would not only want that, but that being with Aziraphale would make it even better. But what the angel has actually done, is give Crowley's deepest insecurity wings. And given him a reason to step away from their millennia long dance.

Because Crowley has finally, finally, finally, found something that he can't give up for Aziraphale. It's extremely poetic that that thing happens to be himself.

And okay now I’m done. I’m gonna go scream into a void.

#good omens meta #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #go 2 spoilers #go2 spoilers #Aziraphale #crowley #crowley and aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow

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bachissidehoe · 7 months

Text

look at the mess you made - itoshi s.

chapter 3 of 7 of the blue lock band series. chapter 1. chapter 2. chapter 4. chapter 5. chapter 6. chapter 7.

synopsis: y/n struggles to leave some of the bands' post-concert parties without the help from one of the members, but surprisingly, drummer itoshi sae is the only one around to provide her an excuse. even though she knows sae the least out of the band members, she'll still let him walk her back to her room...

warnings: smut; penetration; riding; degradation; facial; scratching; fem reader; minors DNI

disclaimer: all songs referenced are credited to THE DEEP END

w.c. 3.2k

The life of Blue Lock’s professional journalist involves awkward hours consisting of interviewing the boys, watching and taking notes on their shows, frequently meeting with Reo and Bachira to proofread articles and social media posts, and setting up discussions with potential sponsors. And so far, it’s been fantastic. Their past 3 shows have completely sold out and she’s only been working with them for a month. But it can also be exhausting, so when she gets the opportunity to wind down, she takes it.

Tonight, however, is not one of those nights.

“Another, miss?”

“Let me buy it for you, gorgeous!”

“Come dance with me.”

The sounds of semi-important people connected to the band somehow. Rich people who sponsor them, engineers who worked the show, their families. It’s a frequent occurrence, these parties that take place after a show. It’s important that these events are good so they continue to get sponsorships, or at least that’s what Reo says. But anymore, it just seems like a festival of horny old rich dudes who ogle y/n like she’s an object for their use. She can’t even count the amount of excuses she’s had to come up with to avoid making a random guy mad that she won’t fuck him.

“Sorry, I have to-” She stops, realizing none of her usual excuses are here. Usually, nobody will question it if she has to “ask Isagi a question” or “go over something with Mikage”. But both of them, in fact most of the band, seems to have left already. She can feel her blood start to boil, knowing that more than likely, Isagi’s found another random girl to fuck. It shouldn’t still bother her, considering she still lets him rail her whenever he sees fit, but she’s a little tipsy so she can’t help it.

“What do you have to do sweetheart? Going somewhere?” An arm is suddenly wrapped around her shoulders, trapping her from going any further.

“Yeah, what’s wrong? Have another guy you’re supposed to meet up with?” Another man slurs. They’re clearly drunk, and it doesn’t help that maybe y/n herself had one too many drinks, making it harder for her to think on her feet.

She scans the bar, her eyes slightly blurred, looking for anyone she recognizes who might be able to help her out of this.

“Goodnight y/n~” A familiar voice calls to her, halfway out the door.

No, don’t leave.

“Chigiri.” She says. Not loud enough. “Chigiri.” She tries again, but he’s also pretty drunk and stumbling. He might not be able to help her either. “Hyoma!” She says.

“What’s it? Prrrretty girl~” He turns around, stumbling back through the door. “Who are youuu?” He turns his attention to the man holding onto her. “I don’t think she likes you, right y/n? She likes meeeee~” He giggles, hiccuping as he catches his balance on one of the bar tables next to them.

“Well she’s with me tonight Chigiri Hyoma, hope you don’t mind.” The man smirks. For the life of y/n, she can’t remember his name. Some sponsor, some business owner, something like that. She’d get a serious talking to from Reo if she pisses him off.

“Well I do~ mind.” He giggles again. “Y/n, when am I gonna get to fuck you? Like Isagi and such?”

Y/n nearly falls over, and not because she’s slightly drunk. Why would he say that in front of these guys? Clearly he’s lost it. This doesn’t help her at all, it actually might make it worse.

“Um, uh if you see the chance take it.” She rushes through her words, her eyes darting around again, looking for a way out.

“Y/n! With Chigiri Hyoma!”

“Oh no.” She mumbles, as another familiar voice enters the conversation- if this interaction can even be called a conversation.

“Aiku!” Chigiri throws his arm around him like they’re best friends. It’s not like they’re not friends, but definitely not the type to hang over each other the way they are now. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like Oliver is sober enough to help her either.

Oliver Aiku, the lead singer of Blue Lock’s opener, Ubers- also consisting of lead guitarist Aryu Jyubei, bassist Niko Ikki, and drummer Barou Shouei. As if the misfortune is following l/n y/n tonight, none of the other members of Ubers are around either. Just Oliver, the known fuckboy, who’s even more drunk than Chigiri.

“Y/n, are we all taking you upstairs or what?” Oliver jokes, nudging Chigiri and the other man who still hasn’t stopped touching her.

“That would be lovely.” The man grips y/n’s shoulder tighter, which honestly seems to sober her up quite a bit. That doesn’t sound lovely, it sounds awful.

“Alright, that’s enough. Y/n, help me take these guys back to their rooms.” A new voice, a deep, monotone, unbothered voice. A voice that doesn’t sound drunk at all.

“Sae!” She practically leaps for joy, meeting his striking teal eyes.

“Let’s go. You’re pretty sober now, I could use your help with these two.” He places his hand on her shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me.” He nearly growls, dusting the man’s hand off her like it’s a bug he’s grossed out by.

Y/n breathes a sigh of relief, finally stepping out of the unfamiliar man’s grasp.

“Have a good night sir, I have to help out with these two, thank you for coming!” She exclaims frantically, a nervous smile plastered across her face as she loops Chigiri’s hand over her shoulders.

“This mean we’re fuckin’?” Chigiri slurs through his words, his eyes droopy as he uses y/n’s shoulder for support.

“Why are you so fuckin’ heavy?” Sae groans, holding Oliver upright as they finally make their way out of the bar and begin the short walk across the street to the hotel. “Where’s Hyo’s room key?” Sae barks.

“Are we fuckin’ Sae too?” Chigiri giggles.

“You’re not fucking anything.” Sae sneers.

“Hah! Fuckin’ virgin!” Oliver cackles, nearly slipping out of Sae’s grasp, but Sae grips harder, practically digging his nails into him to prevent him from falling onto the hard pavement.

“Am not!” Chigiri argues. “Y/n told me when I see the chance, I should take it. Look see, she’s touchin’ me~ she wants me so bad hm~”

“Ah, found it.” Y/n pulls her hand out of Chigiri’s pocket, pulling out his hotel room card.

“Found Oliver’s too.” Sae holds it up, looking for the room number.

Luckily, they’re on the same floor, making it easy enough to locate their rooms and put the drunk idiots to bed. It’s always someone who overdoes it, and after the long stretch of shows the boys have had, they probably deserve it too.

Y/n sighs, leaning against the outside of Chigiri’s hotel room door and sliding down. She could fall asleep here, really. But she’ll take having to walk a drunk Chigiri home over having to fuck an ugly old guy any day of the week.

“You feeling okay, y/n?” She suddenly notices Sae standing in front of her, staring down at her pathetic looking figure. He sounds less than concerned, almost like he’s attempting to sound like he gives a fuck. It’s not necessarily working.

Sae is the one y/n could say she knows the least out of the Blue Lock band members. He’s rude, stand-offish, and never seems like he wants to be there. Though he enjoys being part of the band, his attitude tends to spark conflict with potential sponsors and collaborators, leading to quite a few conversations between him and Reo about acting nice for a change.

The drummer was a music prodigy as a child, having articles written about him, news stories done on him, and a number of fans even as an elementary school kid. He would frequently play shows as a guitarist with his younger brother Rin on bass, and it wasn’t until he went to study music at only 12 years old that he decided he’d become a drummer instead.

“I’m fine, just resting for a sec.” She answers, forcing herself to her feet.

Surprisingly, Sae grabs her arm, helping her stand.

“I’m not drunk anymore.” She chuckles, referring to his hand tightly gripping her forearm.

“I know.” He says. “Where’s your room?”

“Floor 10.” She answers. “I’ll be fine.”

“Sure, but I’ll walk you back there.”

Y/n stays silent, unsure of how to respond to a gesture like that. It seems reasonable enough, a guy wanting to walk a girl back to her room, especially after saving her from a potential harassment situation just an hour or so ago. But for Sae, it’s definitely a bit abnormal. He’s not usually one to take interest in protecting her, or anyone else for that matter.

“What?” He asks, clearly noticing y/n’s change in demeanor.

“Oh, nothing, I just didn’t expect you to wanna do that.” She says calmly as they begin their walk down the long hallway.

“Why not?”

“What is this, 20 questions? I dunno, you just don’t seem like the type.”

“And you don’t seem like the type to be fucking Isagi every chance you get but here we are.” He fires back, clearly not the sudden nice guy y/n thought he turned into.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She tugs her arm away, indicating that not only can she walk by herself, she’s also slightly annoyed.

“You’re awfully attached to him, considering he couldn’t care less about you. That’s all.”

“Isa- Yoichi cares about me.” She argues.

“Sure, as a person, as a friend maybe. But not how you want him to.”

“Who are you to tell me how he feels? Or even how I feel?” She stutters, feeling the tears welling already. Maybe she’s not as sober as she thought.

Bachira said the same thing to her weeks ago now. And she still went back. She still hung onto the idea that maybe he was just using those girls to purposely make her jealous. She still convinced herself that Isagi Yoichi was- is- in love with her. And she still let him take from her whatever he wanted.

“I’m just observing.” He shrugs.

“Don’t you have to go find some girl to fuck? Like Isagi and Nagi and them almost every night?” She spits. It’s not a good comeback, but she can’t think of anything that’ll get under his skin. She’s too tired for an argument with Itoshi Sae.

Sae just chuckles.

He’s a complicated one, for sure. He definitely doesn’t bring girls around as much as the other band members, except for his brother Rin, who does so even less. But still, he does occasionally, and never discusses it. In fact, Sae doesn’t discuss much at all. He’s the one who wrote one of their first songs “Look at the Mess You Made”, and insists it stays on their setlist, but y/n has no idea what makes him so attached to that song out of all of them. She’d love to know more, if she wasn’t so pissed at him she’d want to ask him some questions, get inside the mind of Itoshi Sae.

“How drunk are you?” Sae asks, pressing the button on the elevator.

“I’m not drunk anymore.” She places a hand on her hip as if he was accusing her, stepping inside the elevator as the doors swing open.

“Good.” He says, following her and watching the doors begin to close, his teal eyes peering to the side. Suddenly, y/n feels uneasy under his gaze- or maybe something different- somewhat aroused?

She doesn’t have time to analyze it further. The split second the doors shut, Sae has her pinned against the wall, his lips feverishly slamming into hers. She can’t react, she can’t tell her body how to handle this situation. His lips are already on hers. And she finds herself letting her eyes flutter shut, meeting each sporadic movement of his soft, pink lips with her own, letting her body go limp under his rough touch. His tongue slips and slides against hers, and she lets him too, making room for him to explore the insides of her mouth.

She can only manage quick breaths, most of which turn to soft moans. He’s so harsh, so intense with his kiss, it’s nearly desperate. One of his hands remains pressed to the wall to hold her in, the other softly yet threateningly cups her cheek, the cold pads of his fingers pressing against her soft skin as if he’s holding back from breaking her neck.

Every movement Sae makes is soft and smooth, riddled with an aura of sexual experience y/n would never guess he had. It’s so calculated, the way his tongue moves against hers isn’t forceful, but isn’t submissive either. She wants more of him, she wants to know how he moves, where his hands will go next, what positions he’ll put her in. She finds her hands traveling to his hips, a single finger dipping under his shirt to feel the softness of his muscular skin-

Ding.

And the elevator opens, forcing the two apart, with Sae suddenly standing at the door of the elevator to lead her out.

They remain silent as well, y/n due to being completely stunned, and Sae due to pure smugness for pulling it off at all. He can read every emotion on her face, and most of them are horny.

“This, um, this is my room.” She says quietly, awkwardly. It’s not that she didn’t like it, she actually wants more. But it came out of nowhere, she doesn’t even know Sae’s intentions.

Sae stops, saying nothing as she unlocks the door.

But she keeps going back to Isagi, doesn’t she? Even after Bachira arguably fucked her better, even after knowing he doesn’t intend to fall for her, date her, or even view her as anything other than a little fuck toy whenever he wants it. Maybe knowing the intentions makes it worse. Maybe this situation is exactly-

“Alright, night.” Sae turns around as y/n walks through the door of her dark hotel room.

No, no. She shouldn’t. She doesn’t need any more of this. She doesn’t need to make this mess worse than it already is.

“Wait-” She stops him, her body’s needs overpowering her logical side.

“What’s that?” Sae turns around, a smug smirk plastered across his gorgeous face, his lips still plumped from kissing her just moments ago.

She doesn’t say more, she doesn’t need to, instead grabbing him by the hand and pulling him through the door.

Y/n feels like she blacks out for a while, kissing him like she’s been desperate for him for years, touching his body and giving him access to everything he wants of hers. By the time she comes back to her senses, his cock is stuffed deep in her soaked pussy, squelching noises echoing around the room as she bounces on him. It’s hard and fast, her hands pressed to his chest, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her up and down on his thick cock.

Her legs already burn, but it doesn’t matter. She’s determined to ride him all night if she has to. She never thought it would be Sae out of all of them, she never thought she’d stare down at him, his eyes snapped shut and his auburn hair messily sticking to his forehead, short moans leaving his lips as she fucks herself on his cock.

He’s so quiet, restricting himself to heavy breaths instead of speaking aloud. He doesn’t need to speak or tell her to go harder or compliment her- the way his body moves is enough to motivate her. How his cock twitches inside her as her walls hug him, how his chest rises and falls every time her hips crash down on him, how his hands squeeze tightly at her hips as if he wants to poke through to the other side.

“S’good Sae.” Y/n restricts her vocals as well, but her shaking body hurdles closer to her orgasm with every movement. She leans forward on him, her lips nearly touching his as she bounces her ass on him, grinding into his cock so it hits the right spot to bring her closer. Her breath tickles his lips, his tongue, his nose- he loses himself for a moment, kissing her weakly, licking the drool off her lips. “So close~” She whines, pressing her clit into him, creating the last bit of friction she needs to drive her over the edge.

“F-fuck~” Sae curses, his muscles tightening as he feels her pussy squeeze him in through her orgasm, his cock feeling every sensation of her wetness surrounding him like he’s drowning in it. Maybe he wishes he was.

Y/n shakes, her body already burnt out from fucking him so hard, and she collapses on top of him, her muscles completely giving out.

“Not done.” Sae groans, wrapping his arms around her limp body and swiftly flipping her on her back, her tits bouncing beautifully as she looks up at him, dazed and sensitive.

He plunges back into her, feeling her warmth surround him once again, fitting snugly inside. In just a short second, Sae goes from being ridden like a dildo to fucking y/n like she’s the toy, rutting into her with a strength and speed that can only be described as godly, a beautiful destruction.

Suddenly, Sae’s the only one who’s silent, with y/n completely unable to control the whimpers and curses that escape her into his awaiting ears, just motivating him to fuck her harder. She pushes at his chest, her weak hands pressing his skin and running through his hair, desperately clawing at him like she can’t decide if she wants him to stop or go harder.

She sings his name like she’s praying to him, her rhythm matching with his deep thrusts, his experienced hands gripping at her tits. The overstimulation becomes too much, embarrassingly much, as she unexpectedly cums again, fluids rushing to coat the base of his cock and inner thighs as he drives it into her like a sword.

“S’ry, Sae~ ah~” She can’t prevent the tears from streaming down her face as he leaves no part of her pussy unfucked.

“You look pathetic.” Sae grunts, placing a hand on her wet cheek almost like he’s threatening to slap her.

“Fuck~” She throws her head back.

“Ah, look at me.” Sae demands, forcing her gaze back to his striking teal eyes. Those eyes, they look so emotionless, which somehow makes it hotter. He doesn’t care if she lives or dies, and that’s all she could expect out of Itoshi Sae. “Gonna cum all over that pretty body.” He grunts.

It’s the first compliment he’s given her, catching her off guard enough to prevent her brain from processing his words. With a few more rough thrusts, he pulls out, stroking and squeezing at his cock as he holds it over her, finally spraying his thick load all over her. White ropes spurt from his twitching tip, coating her face, her hair, her tits. She’s covered in him.

Her breathing is heavy as she lays helpless under him, drenched in his sticky cum, her pussy throbbing yet still pulsing for more.

Sae snickers. “Hm, look at the mess you made.” He says, pressing his pink tip against her entrance once again.

153 notes · View notes

mtkay13 · 3 months

Text

The peach blossoms are blooming

Lol @the fancy title, haha. Yesterday I promised "two hoboxu's today!" but I'm an inconsistant liar so the second is today and not yesterday, HAH.

Anyway, another painting of my very beloved; more about this piece below!

So aside of the obvious joke, what I really wanted to work on and represent on this picture is, as the title makes it clearer, grief, and what it looks like for ZZS.

The idea came from imagining ZZS setting off, happy with his disguise, and passing by a peach tree orchards and seeing all the peach blossoms blooming, and what it would entail.

...So let's talk about what TYK is about again, shall we?

(usual caveat: those are my thoughts and interpretations etc etc)

Little is known of the four years that separate the end of QY and the beginning of TYK. Even less is obviously stated when it comes to the reasons why ZZS has put in the nails, besides the obvious "requirement to leave Tian Chuang" part.

So, trying to leave all headcanons and other suppositions aside, and looking at what the text gives us, one of the main "storylines" of ZZS' personal journey across both books seems to be: dealing with the loss of LJX, first of their relationship, and later, of LJX entirely.

>I'm going to boldly announce that (I think) TYK is in great parts a story about getting over grief, or rather, properly living with grief.

Needless to say that it is clear that ZZS has a bunch of issues he's dealing with, including "the void after meeting your goals; what's next?" and some form of burnout from completely over-exerting himself and going way beyond what he thought he could sustain mentally; but also. Four years after he lost LJX, ZZS is still deeply grieving. Still seeing him in crowds, still thinking about him frequently, still hallucinating him, dreaming of him. He couldn't resist taking in ZCL because ZCL reminded him of LJX. Nearly every single thought of his own past ends up rooting back to LJX.

The first time he mentions LJX's name out loud in TYK, chapter 41, is the first time he mentions it at all in four years, and to quote the text:

Speaking out his name hadn't been that big of a deal, in the end; it had only felt like something had been pulled out of his chest—like he was now missing a piece, like it left behind an empty void.

(TYK ch41, TL by me)

The next scene is when it hits ZZS that he's going to die; from that moment on, ZZS starts feeling stupid, ZZS slowly starts wanting to find a solution, influenced by WKX... and the story culminates with ZZS making the opposite decision that he made in QY: instead of risking never seeing WKX alive again, and against WKX's decision, he goes to meet him, unlike LJX whom he was too scared to go meet, and lost forever without even saying goodbye.

>I think that ZZS essentially took the nails because he couldn't manage to live with that grief, basically. (I know, I KNOW there are other reasons, but for the sake of analyzing this theme, I find interesting to look at it from this angle; how the narrative shifts towards ZZS putting in the efforts to stay alive at the exact same times he starts letting go of LJX literally.) And then, as he learns, as he rediscovers life differently, the story becomes about getting free from the nails, about actially living with that grief rather than dying because of it.

*coughs* so, hum, yes. This is what I wanted to represent. What grief looks like, at this stage of melancholic, happy, self-deprecating acceptance of freedom through death—freedom of the burden of grief and guilt. It's a bittersweet feeling, but the way I see it, he smiles out of what he thinks is inner peace, resignation, and once again, self-deprecation.

I would go even deeper, in that ZZS' relationship to death with regards to LJX is quite complex and difficult, given how he was told by LJX himself that he ought to die for what he's done (or misunderstood LJX saying so), but that's a whole other can of worms and I don't have the brain juice to go there again (since it wouldn't even be the first time iirc). SO YEAH, again, grief, but ZZS style: turned into a bit of a melancholic, silly, but gentle joke, and with a smile on the face. On brand with TYK as well.

Cheers!

#tian ya ke #zhou zishu #liang jiuxiao #tyk #zzs #meta #qi ye

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cherry-holmes · 8 months

Text

MIRACLE - Javier Peña x F!reader

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter —

MASTERLIST

Summary: After been married for a while, you and Javier have struggles to conceiving a baby. Would it affect your relationship?

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +5k

Warnings: Angst and comfort. No smut. Lots of crying. Mentions of infertility, pregnancy talk and health issues. Mentions of sex. Brief mention of pregnancy sex but nothing explicit. Brief mention of premature birth but nothing explicit. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: ok here we go again! Thank you so much for your love to my previous work, I hope you like this too!

I’m open for requests!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You wrapped the test in a piece of toilet paper and threw it in the bathroom trash can. You told yourself that it didn't matter, that you would try again next month, but as you sat on the toilet, you realized that you had been saying that for nearly a year now. And what's worse, Javier had been telling you the same.

Then, you were crying again. You couldn't help but feel useless and a complete failure. You were supposed to be able to carry a child in your womb, to be a mother, but your body just wasn't cooperating. It felt like it was all your fault, and that burden weighed heavily on you.

After four months of trying to get pregnant without success, you had a sinking feeling that something might be wrong. You insisted to your husband that you both needed to see a doctor to find out what was happening. After undergoing tests, Javier's results came back favorable, but yours didn't. So, you were the problem. Your doctor recommended a treatment to help your body do its job, and you followed her instructions to the letter, taking your medication and eating healthily. It has been a year now.

Javi tried to reassure you, telling you to be patient and that there was no need to rush. But you wanted a baby so much that it hurt. You saw his cousin's babies and children, your coworkers' families, and you couldn't help but wonder when it would be your turn. Also you knew just how much Javier wanted to be a father and how he thought about his own father's age, wishing he would live long enough to see his grandchildren grow and play with them.

The baby's room was already built, it just needed the baby.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were getting ready for Javi's cousin's wedding, Samantha. You didn't really want to go, but you were one of her bridesmaids.

Finishing your makeup at your vanity, you were lost in your own thoughts and didn't hear Javi calling you until he came close and squeezed your shoulder.

"Hey, baby, are you okay?" he asked with concern, finding your gaze through the mirror.

You hadn't actually heard what he said, but you recognized that familiar look in his expression – he was worried about you.

You nodded and tried to force a smile. "Yeah, I was just thinking about what Samantha said about the problem with the florist," you lied.

He made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced. Kneeling beside you, he took your hand and caressed your freshly painted red nails.

"You know I was a DEA agent, don't you?" he asked, and you avoided his gaze, knowing exactly what he meant. "And, most importantly, I'm your husband."

His unspoken message was clear: he knew you were lying, and he knew you better than anyone.

"What's the matter, honey? What's tormenting that wonderful mind of yours?" he insisted.

You didn't want to lie to him, but you also didn't want to burden him with your worries or make him feel more concerned for you. "I... It's nothing, Javi. Don't worry about it."

"Please, baby, you know you can tell me anything..." he tried again.

He just was being supportive and caring, and you had been feeling so down and sensitive. It started to feel like mixing water with oil for you– the emotions were overwhelming. You had spent a long time feeling terrible, and you couldn't handle Javi's condescending behavior any longer.

"I already told you it was nothing," you exclaimed, removing your hand from his abruptly and raising your voice a notch.

Javi was taken aback for a moment, unaccustomed to such a reaction from you. He could see the anger on your face, but he also noticed that you were holding back tears. Without saying anything else, he stood up, picked up his suit jacket from the bed, and left your shared room.

You watched him leave through the reflection in the mirror. A single tear trickled down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, determined not to ruin your makeup.

Now, you didn't even feel like going to the wedding anymore, but you caught sight of your bridesmaid's bouquet, and you continued getting ready. She was not just part of your political family; she was also your friend, and you couldn't let her down.

When you went downstairs, Javi was seated on the couch, watching a soccer game with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"I'm ready," you announced.

He looked you up and down, thinking you looked stunning, but he felt a bit hurt by your earlier reaction, so he didn't say it. Instead, he turned off the TV and grabbed his keys. He opened the passenger door for you as he always did, but didn't say anything more as he started the engine.

As Javier drove in silence, only the pop song of the moment playing on the radio, you couldn't help but feel guilty for being rude to him. He didn't deserve it, especially when he had supported you through the most challenging moments of your life. He had been there for you when you cried, and you knew he wanted to become a father just as much as you did. Even when you felt like a burden, he never complained.

"I took a pregnancy test this morning," you finally confessed. You didn't look at him directly, but you noticed from the corner of your eye how his fingers clenched the steering wheel, a sign of his nervousness. "It was negative again."

He remained silent, his eyes focused on the road. You could feel the weight of his silence, and it made the car ride feel longer than it was.

"I'm gonna give up, Javi. I just... I can't do this anymore," you admitted, your voice quivering with a mix of frustration and despair.

Javier glanced at you, his brow furrowing with concern. "Baby, don't say that. We knew this wouldn't be easy."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to look at him. "But it's been a year, Javi. A whole year of trying and nothing. I feel like such a failure."

Javi pull over, turning off his truck. He reached out and gently wiped away a tear that had rolled down your cheek. "You're not a failure, bonita. This is something we're facing together, as a couple."

You shook your head, the weight of your emotions bearing down on you. "I see all our friends having babies, and I can't help but feel jealous and broken."

Javier sighed, his fingers still caressing your cheek. "I know it's hard, mi vida, but we can't compare our journey to anyone else's. We're unique, and so is our path to parenthood."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I just want to give you a family, Javi."

His eyes softened as he looked at you with unwavering love. "And you will, my love. I have no doubt about that. We'll keep trying, and if we need to, we'll seek more help from the doctors. But no matter what, we're in this together, okay?"

Your heart ached with gratitude for having him by your side. "Thank you, Javi. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."

He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "No need to apologize, mi vida hermosa. We all have our moments. We'll get through this, one step at a time."

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Three months later

You couldn't believe it. You almost threw the test to the trash without double check, used to the one single line painted on it. But as you wrapped it on the toilet paper, you saw it: the second line.

You felt your blood draining at your feet, face turning completely pale. Your hands trembled as you stared at the test, disbelief washing over you. You had seen countless negative results in the past months, and each one had chipped away at your hope. But now, here it was, a positive result staring back at you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as a mix of emotions flooded your senses—joy, disbelief, fear, and relief all at once. You hastily wiped your tears, afraid to believe it too soon. You had always told yourself that if a test showed a positive result, you would have blood tests to confirm it before telling Javi, not wanting to get his hopes up for nothing.

But now that it is actually happening, you just couldn't contain yourself. You rushed out of the bathroom, clutching the test in your trembling hand, and found Javi in the living room. He looked up at you, concern in his eyes.

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer as you held out the test for him to see, your voice quivering, "Javi, it's positive."

He didn't say anything; he just wrapped his strong arms around you, pulling you close and hiding his face between your hair and neck. You hugged him back, tears staining his shirt. You heard him sniff, and when he let you go, you could see his eyes had become teary.

"Let me see," he said, and you showed him the test. His eyes softened as he saw the two vibrant pink lines on it, and you could tell he was holding back tears. At the end of the day, he was still being that tough DEA agent you met.

"I-I'm gonna call doctor Badía and make an appointment for first thing tomorrow morning," you said quickly, sounding as anxious as excited, "I need an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy and blood tests to make sure everything's fine and..."

You were interrupted by Javi, who wasn't actually listening, so eclipsed by the test in his hands. And when he finally reacted, he sought your lips, kissing you with passion and tenderness as his hands rested on your back, softly pulling you closer to him. His heart was racing, his eyes were full of tears, and he had butterflies in his stomach.

When he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his arms still holding you with the most protective and gentle touch.

"I love you so, so much," he promised. "You're gonna be the most wonderful and beautiful mother our son could ask for. And I feel so honored and proud that you chose me to be on this journey with you."

Next morning, you and Javi were on your doctor's office. You told her about the tests and she said that you needed an ultrasound to confirm.

You felt so nervous about what if it was just a false positive. You hadn't had morning sickness, but you had a week of delay on your period, which it was usual on you to be honest.

At this point, you had taken so many pregnancy tests that it had become kind of a habit. You took them even if you had a single day of delay. Sometimes even if you don't have cramps or feel sensitivity the morning the day your period usually starts and ended up menstruating that same day later.

The doctor applied gel to your lower belly and began the procedure. You were shaking, but it wasn't due to the temperature of the gel. Javi held your hand firmly, and neither of you could take your eyes off the monitor.

After minutes of silence during which your doctor examined the image, she turned the monitor toward you for a better view. Then, she pointed at a tiny, little bean at the center.

"There it is," she said softly, almost as if the tiny bean would wake up, "Congratulations, mommy and daddy."

"Oh, my God," you cried as you smiled. You felt Javi tighten his hand around yours. He placed his forehead on your hand, then planted a kiss on it. Tears of happiness fell on his cheeks.

"Ho-How many weeks?," he asked, his voice full of emotion.

"I'd say probably between three and four weeks," she answered.

"Oh, my God," you repeated, not quite believing it yet. Javi leaned in to kiss your temple. "Look, Javi, it's our baby," you laughed, pointing at the monitor.

"It's so beautiful, amor," he praised.

"Everything looks fine so far, but we'll need to do blood tests to check on mommy's health and rule out any problems with the fetus," she explained as she gave you a paper to clean yourself, "A nurse will be here in a moment to take your blood, and I'll also leave an ultrasound photo with the receptionist for you to take home."

"Thank you so much, doctor," Javi said.

"You're welcome, and congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Peña," she said as she left the room.

"I'll do it, baby," he said as he took the paper from you and gently started cleaning you. Then, he leaned in on your belly to kiss it and talk to his baby for the first time. He whispered sweet words and promises to your growing bump, "Hello, corazón, I'm your daddy," he said. Your cheeks burned cherry red, and you giggled shyly. He looked up at you, also blushing but with eyes full of tenderness, "It took you so long to come to us, ain't you, baby?" he joked. His expression changed afterward, becoming more serious, mature, and determined – the Javi you knew was about to make a promise. "We're so glad you came, baby; we have been waiting for you for so long. We love you, mi amor chiquito."

Your hand reached for his face, cupping his cheek and caressing his features. He kissed your wrist, absorbing your touch, his happiness and peace evident.

Javier's heart ached every time he witnessed the pain you endured due to your inability to conceive a child. The weight of your shared desire for a baby was a heavy burden, but what pained him most was seeing your tears and knowing he couldn't immediately make things right. It was a time filled with helplessness, and only the two of you truly understood the depth of those emotional struggles.

Now he saw you as happy as he hadn't seen you in so long, and he felt peace once more. He would never forget the look on your beautiful face and the sparkle in your eyes from the moment you told him you were carrying his baby. He wanted nothing more than your happiness, and if that meant giving you beautiful sons and daughters, he would gladly have hundreds of children with you.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"So, Dad, we have a surprise for you," Javi said as he stood up from the table and went for the box you had prepared and hidden from sight.

"Really?" your father-in-law asked immediately, forgetting about the delicious flan you had made for tonight's dessert. "Is it what I think it is?" he asked as he looked at you with eyes full of joy and tenderness. You had seen those brown eyes so many times in your own husband, and you were hoping that your baby would inherit them too.

You couldn't answer him because Javi quickly returned with the box in his hands and placed it in front of his father. Don Chucho had spent the last twelve weeks eagerly anticipating the news of his grandchild's gender, just as much as you and Javi had.

"Ábralo, papá," you encouraged him as he wiped his hands with a napkin to avoid staining the beautiful white wrapping paper you had used to decorate the box. The old man was so excited, and Javi was almost teary-eyed from seeing his father like that.

Don Chucho opened the box quickly and started to look inside when he saw the color of the tiny pair of shoes and the baby's bodysuit.

"¡Lo sabía, lo sabía!" he laughed as he took the clothes out of the box, tears in his eyes like his son's. Then he looked at you, directly in the eyes. You felt your heart swell with warmth and tenderness. "I knew it from the look in your eyes," he said. "It's the same look my Ceci had when she was pregnant with Javier. I was sure it was a boy, and I didn't fail!" His voice cracked, but he was so, so happy. "Thank you, mija, for giving this family such a blessing."

You tried to say something, to thank him and your husband for becoming a family for you, for taking care of you and accepting you into their lives. But you couldn't, overwhelmed by the surge of hormones that made you cry all the time. Javi took your hand and placed a kiss on its back.

"I couldn't ask for anything better than this," you finally managed to say between tears. "I know my baby boy will have the best role models in life. Bringing another Peña boy into this world is a pleasure for me."

"I'm the luckiest man in the world, I truly am," said Javi after kissing your temple and wiping a tear with his thumb from your beautiful face.

He had always seen you as the most gorgeous woman he had ever met in his entire life, but during your pregnancy, you became even more stunning. It suited you perfectly. He was infatuated with your pregnant body—your swollen breasts, your curvier hips, and your growing belly. He just couldn't keep his hands off you. He loved how sensitive and needy the hormones had made you.

Javi treated you like a queen during your pregnancy. He let you sleep as long as you wanted, cooked for you, and gave you feet massages. He would even drive around Laredo at midnight just to satisfy your pregnancy cravings, whether it was hamburgers, nachos, donuts, ice cream, pizza, or even things you didn't used to like, like pickles. He also took care of you on your worst days, when you had morning sickness and headache in the afternoons.

You were indeed surrounded by so much love, from Javi and Don Chucho taking care of you and your baby, to the rest of the Peña family. Javi's female cousins and aunts offered you advice and gifts, listened to your concerns, and made you feel like you weren't alone on this sometimes scary journey of becoming a mother. It was comforting, especially since your own family lived far away, although they stayed in contact, especially your two sweet older sisters.

Of course, you had Javi, who never left your side. He protected you and did everything to ensure you felt comfortable and supported. However, the truth was that he would never truly understand what it felt like to have a baby growing inside you—experiencing the symptoms, the hormones coursing through your body, the physical changes, and the fears about giving birth. You were grateful for the empathetic and caring female circle around you, including your friends at work and even Connie Murphy, who despite the distance, remained attentive to your pregnancy and provided valuable recommendations.

Your pregnancy was a beautiful stage that you enjoyed immensely with Javier, who was as in love with his son as he was with you.

No one around Laredo could believe that the infamous Javier Francisco Peña, the one who left a woman at the altar years ago, had now actually married a beautiful young woman and that he was about to become a loving father. The rumors about the two of you were always terrible and cruel, saying that he would cheat on you in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately for them, none of them were true.

The baby's room was finally ready at the beginning of your eighth month. You and Javi had put your hearts into making and decorating the room, giving it a farm theme. As you stepped through the doorway, the warm and inviting color palette enveloped you, painting a picture of the countryside itself. Whimsical wallpaper had come to life, featuring farm animals in their finest moments. Cows grazed peacefully, sheep frolicked, pigs played in the mud, and chickens strutted.

The most endearing thing in the room was the crib, fashioned from weathered wood. It was a gift from Don Chucho, who revealed that it was actually Javier's crib. You obviously couldn't help but gasp, bringing a hand to your lips while your eyes filled with tender tears. The man had kept the crib guarded and protected in the basement of the house, hoping to one day take it out again to cradle his grandchildren. The crib was beautiful and had been built by Javi's own grandfather, his mother's father.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was the end of your thirty-third week, and you were well aware that you had at least seven more weeks until the baby arrived... but that wasn't your own baby's plan.

You were peacefully sleeping until you started feeling uncomfortable. Your back ached, and you had a weird sensation in your lower belly. The clock on your side of the bed marked 3:15 am when you stood up to go to the bathroom. But halfway to the bathroom, you felt something pop inside you and then a warm liquid running down your legs. You froze, your heart beating so fast as you tried to turn back to the bed, but you felt so scared.

No... no, no, no– That couldn't be happening now. It wasn't time yet.

''Javi...,'' you cried, your voice filled with fear and despair. ''Javier! Wake up!''

Your husband woke up bewildered, instinctively reaching a hand to your side of the bed to look for you. Javi used to have nightmares stemming from everything he saw during his time in Colombia, and some of them involved you in danger. That's why when he heard you call him with that desperation, he thought he was dreaming. When he didn't feel you next to him, he immediately sat up in bed.

He saw you standing in the middle of the dark room, looking down at your feet and crying. He followed your gaze and saw what looked like a puddle of water, but he couldn't be sure without light.

''Javier, come here!'' you called him, and he jumped out of bed, his bare feet making contact with the cold floor.

''What happened?'' he asked, putting a hand on your lower back and reaching for your hand.

''I broke my water,'' you explained. When you lifted your face, and he saw your worried expression, he felt his heart break. ''It's not time yet, there are still weeks left, Javi. My baby... this isn't normal, I'm scared...'' The first thing you thought was that you could lose him. You couldn't live if you lost your boy.

''It's okay, mi vida,'' Javi said, putting himself together, ''I'm gonna take you to the hospital.'' He helped you out of the puddle and started cleaning your legs to help you change into a pair of sweat pants and a comfy sweater. It was the middle of December, just a few days before Christmas, so the weather was windy and freezing. You didn't have your baby bag ready, and Javi was so nervous that he only packed the first newborn clothes he saw, the warmest blanket he could find, and a full pack of diapers.

He helped you climb into his Dodge truck and secured your body with the seatbelt. He felt your body shaking, heard you sniffle, and noticed you mumbling a silent prayer. His heart ached to see you so scared and nervous, an image he promised himself that he would do anything to prevent. But again, he felt helpless for not being able to do anything else for you.

But he did all you needed from him: he took your cold and shaking hands between his warmer and firmer ones, making you feel safe and protected even though you were terrified. He placed a kiss on your forehead and then a peck on your lips. ''Everything's gonna be just fine,'' he promised, even though he himself wasn't quite sure.

Javier took you to the ER, where a nurse checked on you and confirmed that you were dilated. Apparently, your body was ready to give birth to your son, but you were concerned about whether your baby was ready.

''Everything looks fine with your baby,'' she explained after doing an ultrasound to check on him, ''We're going to give you a room and wait until you have more frequent contractions to start the delivery. Don't worry, Mrs. Peña, we're going to keep monitoring your baby's health very closely. Premature birth isn't ideal, but we're going to do our best to receive your son as well as possible.''

You and Javier spent the next few hours waiting in your hospital room. His father, Samantha, and his aunt arrived at the hospital early in the morning, bringing you all the things you needed for your baby's hospital bag and the car seat Javi had bought. They also brought flowers and balloons.

As time passed, the contractions became stronger and more frequent. Doctor Badía assured you that even though your baby would be considered premature, all the tests and ultrasounds were positive, and she hoped the delivery would be without any complications.

Javi never left your side, comforting you through the contractions, holding your hand, massaging your lower back, making sure you were hydrated and comfortable.

When the moment finally arrived, the birth turned out to be quick and without problems, but it was painful. You cried as you pushed, squeezing Javi's hand as he praised you and gave you words of encouragement.

''You can do it, baby,'' he told you as he kissed your hand. You were too focused on yourself, doing your best to keep pushing and breathe between contractions.

''It hurts so much,'' you cried, feeling overwhelmed by the effort.

''Keep pushing, Mrs. Peña,'' your doctor said as she called the nurses to be ready to hold your baby, ''I can see the head, just one more push.''

''I'm so proud of you, mi amor,'' Javi's voice was the only one you heard. It made you feel stronger, like you could do anything for him. ''You heard that? Just one more push, and you'll have our boy in your arms.''

You gathered all the love you felt for your baby boy, for your husband, for everything you had been through to be here and found the strength to push as hard as you could. And before you knew it, you heard your baby's cry filling the room.

With one last gasp, your body fell exhausted onto the bed, but your eyes searched for your baby. You didn't care about anything you were feeling physically; you just wanted to hold your son in your arms and never let him go. However, they didn't give him to you. Instead, you saw as they took him away from you, and you couldn't even see a single finger. But you could hear him crying so loud that it broke your heart in a way you didn't know before.

''Wh-what are they doing?,'' you mumbled, so weak that you couldn't even keep your head lifted. But you tried to stand up, and if it weren't for Javier, you would have achieved it. He pushed you back gently.

''It's alright, honey,'' he promised, ''They are checking on him, but he's fine. God, he's gorgeous.''

You looked at him, your eyes full of tenderness and trust, ''You saw him?''

''I did,'' he confirmed, ''Now, please, lie down.''

''Mr. Peña,'' a nurse called him as she approached him with a bundle in her arms, ''Do you want to hold your son?''

Javi's eyes lit up in that moment. He nodded almost desperately as he extended his strong arms to his boy. When he finally held his boy in his arms, he felt a wave of pure love running through his veins. He saw his boy's crying features, his little nose, and his little lips, head full of dark hairs. He was so tiny, so beautiful.

He waited as the nurses helped you to sit up on the bed, while Doctor Badía kept working to deliver your placenta and made sure everything was well with you.

When the nurses made sure you were comfortable, you extended your weak arms to Javi, and he immediately helped you hold your baby between your arms as you cried tears of happiness and excitement, meeting your son for the first time.

''He looks so much like you, Javi,'' you exclaimed as he sat beside you, kissing your temple and resting his head on top of yours. ''Hello, handsome boy. I'm your mommy, and he's your daddy.'' You leaned in to him and kissed his forehead, making him stop crying, feeling finally safe with your warmth.

''Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Peña,'' your doctor said as she confirmed that you were fine down there. ''Your baby will be in the NICU area for a few days just to monitor everything is fine with him as days pass, but he's breathing just fine. It's a miracle for a baby to be born prematurely. He will be just fine. Does he has a name yet?,'' she wanted to know.

You nodded, ''Javier Emilio Peña.''

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Emilio stayed in the hospital for just one week. His health was perfectly fine, and he ate and breath without any issues. Your family couldn't have been happier. Both you and Javier were completely enchanted by everything he did, and he filled you both with immense pride.

Emilio took to the farm life with great enthusiasm. He laughed joyfully while watching the dogs play in the fields, enjoyed petting the cows and sheep, and loved it when Javier would take him for horse rides around the fence.

Your son inherited his father's bright, big, puppy brown eyes, a head full of dark hair, and the most beautiful smile that Javier insisted was all yours.

Shortly after Emilio's first birthday, you confessed to Javier that you wanted to try for a second baby.

"Are you sure, honey?" he asked, helping you clean up after Emilio's birthday party. "Don't you think it might be a bit early?"

"We struggled so much to have our first one, Javi, so I want to start as soon as possible in case we have difficulties again," you explained.

He agreed, and the following week, you visited your doctor to begin the process once more. What neither of you expected was for it to happen so quickly, conceiving on the third attempt, much faster than it took for Emilio. It was a delightful surprise for both of you, even though you had mentally prepared for a longer journey.

You welcomed another boy into your family, naming him Eduardo Peña. He also bore a striking resemblance to Javier, although he insisted that Lalo had your features.

Then, two years later, when you both thought your family was complete, you found out you were pregnant during a trip to visit your family. Javier's father humorously called it a "se les chispoteó," which made you both laugh. You attributed the "accident" to a passionate moment you had shared two months earlier when you had left your children with one of Javier's cousins while you went to buy a gown for your best friend's wedding. It was a rare occasion when the two of you had been alone in a while, so your desires had taken over, leading to a spontaneous encounter in the back of his truck because of the excitement and novelty of the situation.

This time, you welcomed a beautiful baby girl into your family, naming her Cecilia Peña, after Javier's mother. You affectionately called her Lia for short.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As the years passed, your family grew closer and more full of love. Emilio, Eduardo, and Lia grew up with the love and support of their parents, grandfather, and the entire Peña family. Your journey from struggling to conceive your first child to the surprise blessings of two more had taught you and Javier the value of patience, love, and family.

The farm remained a cherished place, where your children laughed, played, and learned about life and love. The farm animals, once just wallpaper in Emilio's nursery, became real friends for your children.

Every milestone, from Emilio's first steps to Eduardo's first words to Lia's first day of school, was celebrated with joy and tears of pride.

Javier was the most wonderful father you could ever had ask for your children. He was loving and caring, always attentive and supportive. He was also strict when he have to, with the purpose of raising respectful children and guiding them on the right path. Your three beautiful children grew up loving their parents and seeing how much mom and dad love each other.

Your journey had been challenging, but it had also been rewarding beyond measure. The struggles and heartaches had only made your bond stronger, and even more grateful for the precious moments of happiness. You and Javier had grown together, and the love you shared had created a beautiful and loving family that filled your lives with meaning and purpose.

#pedro pascal #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña fic #javier peña fluff #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier pena narcos #husband!javierpeña #fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #javierpeña x reader #javier pena fic #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader

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mint-yooxgi · 1 year

Text

{2} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 9,538

Warnings: Very suggestive content, mentions of past trauma and PTSD. Minor anxiety. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: I love when things all start to fall into place! Finally, I have a solid outline of the next few chapters ehehehe I'm super excited for you all to see what I have planned, and I greatly hope you’ll all look forward to the upcoming chapters. I have a feeling a few things might shock you hehehe anyways, as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One

“I still can’t believe that this has been underneath the house this entire time,” your voice, full of awe and wonder, echoes around the area. Again, your eyes are quick to take in every detail surrounding you just like the first time you entered their training space.

The room stretches on before you, more like a mini arena than anything. A light blue lines the walls, almost steel in colour, giving them a sort of metallic sheen as the florescent lights illuminate the space. A throwing range is off to the side, wooden targets well worn lining the scraped up walls. There’s even a large sparring area, complete with mirrors to the side to observe yourself while fighting for any openings you might leave yourself vulnerable to.

To the left, gym equipment resides. Anything and everything you can think of lines the space, making you feel as if you’re in some weird simulation of The Hunger Games. The training facility, if you can even call it that, has nearly all of the exact same things, up to and including a separate space where you can run types of simulations to practice what you’ve learned.

“We didn’t want to scare you,” Mingi shrugs, sitting off to the side as both San and Jongho grab some equipment to begin preparing for your training.

“That still doesn’t explain why you waited this long to tell me,” you chuckle. “Even after I expressed how cool I find your abilities, both physical and metaphysical.”

“To be fair, Dearest,” Yeosang sits right beside Mingi, the two of them watching on carefully. “The progress we had been making with you could have been changed or lost at any point. We simply didn’t want to do something to jeopardize that.”

You hum in acknowledgement, moving over to the sparring mats alongside both San and Jongho. A moment later, and you begin doing some stretches.

Just as you straighten yourself into a standing position once more, you hear a loud crashing sound coming from behind you.

“Oh, please tell me I haven’t missed it yet,” Wooyoung comes rushing into the room, practically tripping over himself and the equipment scattered throughout.

“Didn’t realize I’d have a peanut gallery,” you mumble, hearing Jongho chuckle from beside you.

“Think of them as extra observers to give you pointers that we may miss.” San comments, a subtle grin tugging at his lips as he begins stretching alongside you.

“Translation: they just want to have an excuse to look at my ass while I stretch.” You reply, amusement shining behind your eyes.

Mingi’s brows raise in amusement, Wooyoung grinning suggestively at you as he takes a seat on the floor in front of his brothers. At least Yeosang has the decency to avoid your gaze, the tips of his ears turning red as he stutters out a response.

“It’s okay, boys,” you chuckle. “The feeling is mutual.”

Wooyoung immediately bursts out laughing, especially when he turns his head to see both Yeosang and Mingi looking completely shocked behind him.

“Perks of being a visual learner,” you add, sitting on the ground to begin stretching out both your back and legs further.

“Wait, you mean you check us out while we’re working out, too?” Mingi is still attempting to wrap his head around your confession only moments before.

“You’ve really never noticed before?” San quirks a knowing brow at his brother.

“You try living with eight modern Adonis’, and you see how well you fare.” You comment, standing back to your feet as pleased growls reach your ears. Then, you’re turning to face the three males sitting to the side. “You’ve seriously never felt my gaze on you while I’m checking you out?”

“Why do you think I told you to start wearing compression shirts since you didn’t want to go topless?” San directs his comment towards Mingi, and your jaw drops.

“That was because of you?” Your voice is incredulous, eyes sparkling with awe as you watch him nod smugly. Your grin soon mirrors his own as you exhale a breath. “Fuck, I love you.”

A pleased growl escapes San’s lips as he absolutely revels in your gaze. The way the others shoot him small looks of either disbelief, or mild jealousy, is simply icing on the cake.

“Maybe we should all start working out shirtless,” Wooyoung hums, a smirk dancing on his features.

“Should we take it a step further and oil ourselves in the nude, too?” Jongho’s eyes gleam as he watches your reactions closely.

“Damn, I haven’t done that since the Olympics,” San hums, crossing his arms proudly over his chest.

The way you swallow thickly does not go unnoticed by any of them.

“So, the distractions have started already, I see,” you nod, almost absentmindedly.

“What seems to be on your mind, Starlight?” Mingi smirks, a knowing gleam shining within his eyes.

You lick your lips, the corner tugging upwards gently. “I think you already know, Moonlight.”

Five low growls echo around the room as a certain tension fills the air. That is, until that familiar gleam of curiosity flashes behind your eyes.

“So, did any of you compete in a circus?” You can hardly contain the excitement from bleeding into your voice as you look around at all of them.

“Hwa was always the best at chariot racing.” Yeosang hums, leaning back in his seat for the moment.

“Something tells me it was more than just being good with horses,” you chuckle, a small smile tugging on your features. “Though, it’s very fitting for some reason.”

“Well, he is the most competitive out of all of us.” San nods.

“And that’s saying something.” Mingi shoots a pointed look at Jongho who simply rolls his eyes in response.

“Jongho and San were excellent gladiators, too.” Wooyoung adds, nonchalantly. Though, with how his eyes gleam, you know his words are very calculated.

“I understand now why they’re the first ones teaching me hand to hand combat, then.” You nod, attempting to not appear as affected as you are for the moment.

“Yunho, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong all enjoyed wrestling a bit too much,” Jongho says, a chuckle falling from his lips as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You nod, once more attempting to not allow your thoughts to consume you. Unfortunately, with their earlier comments about bathing themselves in oil, it’s quite difficult not to picture the aforementioned males rolling around and wrestling in the nude.

A tense smile pulls at your lips, blinking in the next second. Shaking your head, you attempt to clear your thoughts, grateful to have that void of yours up and running. Though, from the way they all look at you, eyes swirling with that all too familiar darkness, you can just tell they know perfectly well what you’re thinking about.

Clearing your throat, you manage to compose yourself a bit better, even if only slightly.

“Yeosang-“

“Archery,” you cut Mingi off as you turn to face the aforementioned male. “I remember.”

The soft smile that paints your lips has all four of his brothers turning to face him. A smile of which is mirrored on his own features as he recalls the conversation that he had with you that very night all those months ago where he got to hold you in his arms as you slept. Though, the morning afterwards, in his opinion, was even better. A memory he will cherish until the end of time. A memory he will never forget.

“Mingi was never really in to the Olympics like we were,” San states, and you watch how the aforementioned man sits a little straighter in his seat. “None of us could touch him on the water, though.”

“Naval battles?” You quirk a brow, noticing how red begins to creep over the tips of his ears. At his nod, you exhale a low breath. “Literally, could you guys get any more attractive?”

Again, five pleased growls meet your ears.

“We’re just glad you’re enjoying yourself, Dearest,” Yeosang hums, leaning further back into his seat.

“I always enjoy learning more about you,” you reply honestly, and you watch as they all visibly perk up from your words, giddy smiles settling onto each of their features. “Not to mention my little historian heart is practically leaping for joy right now.”

“Is it?” Jongho grins fondly as he meets your gaze. The way they can all hear your heart racing in excitement has a warmth flooding their veins the longer this conversation draws on. “We couldn’t tell.”

Playfully, you stick your tongue out at him.

“Honestly, we could spend weeks telling you all about whatever kinds of history you want to know.” San offers, and the way your eyes instantly light up has his heart fluttering inside of his chest.

“Really?” You fail to hide how hopeful you sound.

“Anything and everything you’d like, Starlight.” Mingi confirms, nodding once he sees he’s drawn your attention back onto him for the moment.

“We are more than happy to share it all with you, Angel.” Wooyoung smiles, propping his knee up so that he can rest his one arm over top of it. He gazes at you fondly, his entire being relaxing into this moment with you.

The way they all see you visibly begin to shake in excitement, bouncing up and down slightly in your spot as a brilliant smile takes over your features, begins to rub off on all of them. None can help the way nothing but love for you floods their veins, each male gazing upon you tenderly at how eager you seem to be. The wonder alone they see reflected in your eyes sets their hearts racing inside of their chests.

“I have so many questions,” you begin, unable to prevent yourself from pacing any longer.

The fact that you need to expel that energy has both Jongho and Mingi chuckling fondly.

“How about we save them for later, though.” San smiles at you, halting you in your tracks as his one hand comes up to gently grasp the side of your arm.

“Okay,” you nod eagerly. Then, your eyes flash as you meet his gaze. “Does this mean you’re all going to teach me the different fighting styles of different cultures through the ages?”

They all share a brief look between one another.

“Oh, come on! You can’t seriously be telling me that you were only going to teach me the very basics,” you tilt your head slightly as you cross your arms over your chest.

“We can teach you as much or as little as you’d like, Darling.” Jongho chuckles, gently guiding you onto the large sparring mat once more. “We just never expected you to be so enthusiastic about it.”

“I thought I told you that dismemberment wasn’t the only violent thought I can have.” You reply, a slight amused quirk to your brow. “You know I want to be as badass and intimidating as My Kings are.”

“But, how could we ever forget?” Wooyoung practically purrs out, a pleasant rumble escaping his chest that he knows is echoed lowly by each of his brothers.

“Okay,” San chuckles, moving to stand across from you on the mat. “We’ve already taught you the basics of self-defence, and you’ve started working to increase your stamina and strength. All that’s left are some simple fighting stances, and then the real fun begins.”

A look of determination washes over your features as you all become serious in the next moment. Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Jongho beginning to circle the mat, San explaining some basic footholds and arm blocks all the while. Of course, he’s quick to demonstrate each one, nodding in approval as he watches you copy each one.

“The most important part of your balance is your core,” he explains. “The quickest way to throw someone off their rhythm is to break through their own.”

“No matter what situation you find yourself in, there is always a way out.” Jongho adds. “Never let your enemy know they have the upper hand, unless you’re faking them out. In which case, you have to be sure you know what you’re doing.”

“We can discuss proper strategies another day,” San turns to look at his youngest brother as said male comes to stand right beside the elder. “Let’s just teach you some basic maneuvers to begin.”

Slowly, each of the two males goes through different fighting techniques. Their explanations are thorough, demonstrating the stances as often as you need them to. You pick them up pretty quickly, anyways, and by the time a few hours have passed, they all watch as you practice hitting a punching bag with a certain pride swirling within their eyes.

Taking a short break, you wipe at your brow. “You know, this would be so much easier if you guys could just like, I don’t know, Matrix teach me this stuff. That way I could practice more things on my own.”

Both San and Jongho share a look.

“Unfortunately, Gorgeous, it doesn’t work that way.” Wooyoung sighs, having shifted his position so he’s now laying on his side on the floor with his one arm propping his head up in his hand.

“Sharing those techniques mentally doesn’t necessarily give you the same experience as teaching them to you does.” Mingi comments, and you look towards where he sits. Only now, he’s leaning back slightly in his seat, his one foot resting on the edge of the chair so that his knee is bent.

“Fair enough,” you shrug. “Just a thought.”

“It might be good once you have more of the basics down.” There’s a slight furrow to Yeosang’s brows as he thinks over your words. “You could identify the techniques we’ve used, and then when you know them, emulate them.”

Your whole demeanour visibly perks up at this.

“Certain things are better if they’re taught, but sharing our knowledge could never hurt.” Wooyoung agrees with a slight nod of his head after a moment. “Let’s save that for later, though. We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“It’s also why we’re focussing on hand to hand combat training first.” Mingi adds. “Once you know that, adding a weapon simply pulls from that combat knowledge and extends it.”

“Okay,” you nod in understanding. “Makes sense.”

“Sometimes, allowing instinct to guide you helps in a fight.” San voices as you step back over to the sparring mat. “It doesn’t work for all of us, but trusting my gut has always saved me.”

“Don’t think, just move.” Jongho hums in agreement, standing off to the side and observing the two of you.

“I think you guys have a few more years of experience than me to be able to say that,” you joke, noticing how Wooyoung begins to laugh boisterously at your statement.

“You could say that,” he grins.

“At least a few,” Yeosang chimes in, amusement shining within his gaze.

“Come on,” San grins, taking a step forward in your direction, “we still need to teach you how to grab someone and pin them.”

“I volunteer!” Wooyoung is suddenly on his feet, arm raised enthusiastically in the air.

“Calm down, you idiot.” Jongho rolls his eyes. “It’s not your day to teach, yet.”

The dramatic pout that pulls at Wooyoung’s lips as he sits back down onto the ground has you chuckling in response.

“Don’t worry, Woo, I can pin you as much as you’d like some other time,” you comment casually, not even bothering to spare him a glance out of the corner of your eyes.

Little do you see the way his eyes flash, yet you do not fail to miss the pleased growl that escapes him in that moment. The way Yeosang stiffens in his spot, pointed glare being sent towards the younger also goes unnoticed by you, but you do see the way the males in front of you seemingly go still.

“I thought you said your training wasn’t a free pass for sexy times?” Mingi grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who said anything about it being during my training?” You smirk, noticing the way all of their eyes flash black this time in response.

“You’re a tease, you know that, right?” San gets out through gritted teeth, eyes still swirling with that all too familiar darkness as he meets your gaze.

“Am I?” You feign innocence, a slight tilt to your head. “I had no idea.”

A moment of thick silence passes over all of you.

“So,” you hum, a slight amused twitch to your brow, “pinning?”

“Oh, we’re thinking about more than just pinning you now, Darling.” Jongho’s voice is low, nothing but a growl to his words.

“What ever do you mean, Darling?” The way you drawl out that one word sends a shiver right down Jongho’s spine.

“Baby,” San warns, chest rising and falling dramatically with every breath. “You’re playing a very dangerous game.”

“It’s as I’ve said before,” you giggle, a mischievous tug of your lips upwards. “It’s so easy to rile you guys up.”

“Can you blame us, Gorgeous?” Wooyoung’s voice is somewhat breathless as it reaches your ears from behind you. “You are the greatest temptation we’ve ever known.”

“Every little thing you do enchants us.” Mingi breathes, nothing but honesty in his words as his eyes roam every inch of your figure before him.

“Knowing you want to be here with us, and stay by our sides despite everything that’s happened is more than we could have ever asked for.” Yeosang tells you, his tone soft and airy as he stares at you with nothing but love in his honest gaze.

“The more we learn about you, and the more you want to know about us is like a dream come true.” Jongho admits, taking another step in closer to you until he’s practically wrapping you in his arms. The way you’re currently covered in sweat doesn’t seem to phase him at all as he presses his head softly against your own. “The fact that you have agreed to become Our Queen means more to us than the entirety of the realms combined.”

Soft rumbles of agreement echo around the room, filling your heart with a pleasant warmth as you melt into Jongho’s embrace.

“You are everything that we could have ever asked for.” San adds, closing the short distance between you and cupping your cheek tenderly in his hand. The way you turn to meet his gaze, eyes dripping with such affection towards them says it all. “We wouldn’t give that up for anything.”

You smile, your heart beating erratically in your chest. “You’re all smooth talkers, you know that?”

They all mirror your gentle expression.

“Only for you, Baby,” San’s thumb brushes gently against the skin of your cheek. “Now, stop trying to distract us. We still have things to teach you.”

His scolding is nothing but playful as he steps away from you, a knowing gleam held within his eyes as Jongho finally releases you from his hold. The way you grin, sticking your tongue out at him in the next moment has a chuckle falling from his lips.

“Alright, teach me what else you have to teach me today before I start swooning for real,” you say, heat rising to your cheeks as you feel all of their gazes on you yet again. “You’re supposed to be training me, not romancing me right now.”

“Is it working?” Wooyoung cracks a flirtatious grin, only to be hit upside the head by Yeosang in the next second. “Ow.”

“Who said we couldn’t do both?” Mingi chuckles, his eyes gleaming beneath the florescent lights.

You simply quirk a brow in their direction, a subtle smile tugging at your lips as you turn back to face San. The way you see him already fondly staring at you sets your heart racing inside of your chest. At least you can say that you can feel their love every time they look at you. A fact which has not changed since you first understood what all those fond looks meant. Hell, even before that you could tell, even if you didn’t quite know what types of gazes they were quite yet.

Always, you and your needs have come first. Always, they have kept your best interests in mind.

They always have, and they always will.

Always, and forever.

“You already know a few things to do if someone grabs you from behind,” Jongho’s voice draws your attention to the side of the room. “Now, we’re going to teach you how to use someone’s momentum against them in order to flip them onto their back. From there, you can pin them in multiple ways.”

“If you’re lucky, you can even use the momentum to dislocate someone’s shoulder.” San adds, an eager grin pulling at his lips as he explains this to you now.

The way your eyebrows raise in mild surprise has them all chuckling fondly.

“It helps when you can sense your opponent approaching, but this will still work even after they’ve grabbed you from behind.” San continues as Jongho begins to approach him.

The younger immediately attempts to grab the elder from behind. San, of course, is expecting him, so you watch as he bends his knees slightly in anticipation. As soon as Jongho reaches for San’s back, the elder is leaning forward, flipping the younger male onto his back and pinning him to the ground. Jongho wears an annoyed expression as San twists his one arm into the air, stepping on the younger’s chest with his one foot to pin him in place.

“Of course, you can always pin them by the throat when you step on them,” San states casually as he releases his hold on his younger brother, “but the chest will also suffice.”

“Thank you for your consideration,” Jongho grumbles as he pulls himself back onto his feet.

The corner of San’s lips twitch in response.

The next flip they show you is one where someone attacks you from the front. San charges at Jongho, only for the younger to duck beneath the elder, grab him by the thigh, and vault him over his back. Immediately, Jongho is spinning around, pressing his one knee into the elder’s chest as his hand settles right beside San’s head.

“This one, you have to be a bit quicker when pinning your opponent, for they could potentially recover quickly. If that happens, you can miss the opportunity to get your hands around their throat.”Jongho explains, looking up and meeting your gaze as he pushes himself off of the elder male.

“Of course, if you’re holding a weapon, it changes the position of things, but makes taking out your opponent easier in certain cases.” San adds, standing back to his feet and dusting himself off briefly. “But these work, even against opponents bigger than you are.”

“The key gets to be the momentum so you’re not dead lifting your opponent,” Jongho goes on to say. “At least for now.”

“Makes sense,” you nod your understanding as you roll your shoulders, standing a little straighter. “Can you show me a few more times?”

“Of course, Baby,” San smiles, his eyes crinkling slightly at the sides.

Both he and Jongho eagerly move back into position, switching between who flips who. Each time, they can feel your calculating gaze on them, analyzing their movements.

“Whenever you’re ready, you can practice on one of us,” San nods in your direction.

“Or us!” Wooyoung offers, quite enthusiastically at that.

You grin back, a light chuckle escaping your lips. “Alright.”

Not even two minutes later, you find yourself running through the steps of flipping someone with both San and Jongho. One approaches from the front, while the other approaches from behind. Once you’re comfortable in the movements, and they’ve subsequently given you some pointers as you run through them, you’re ready to attempt to flip and pin them in real time.

The moment you feel Jongho at your back, it’s as if instinct kicks in. Despite only learning the movements a short while ago, it’s as if they are second nature to you. The fluidity of which you flip Jongho with surprises even them, your eyes as wide as his are as you pin him to the ground with a foot on his chest.

“You’re a natural, Dearest.” Yeosang hums, pride rumbling with his chest as he observes the scene before him.

Wooyoung lets out a boisterous laugh. “Seeing you knock Jongho on his ass is something I never knew I needed until now.”

At the way the youngest takes a menacing step towards the elder male once he’s back on his feet, you laugh. The way Wooyoung immediately raises his hands in his own defence has amusement dancing in your eyes, his grin soon mirroring your own.

“Careful, Woo,” Mingi nudges the younger male with his knee, “or you might be next."

“It’s not a threat if I’m looking forward to it,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows flick upwards suggestively in your direction.

“Should I make you wear that belled collar now?” You quirk a brow, pure mirth shining within your gaze.

“Again, not a threat if you know I’ll enjoy it.” He hums, eyes glinting deviously.

Another smack resounds around the room, the younger male rubbing at the back of his head seeing as both Mingi and Yeosang had smacked him.

“Could you imagine Captain in this scenario?” The grin that tugs at the corner of San’s lips is nothing short of devious.

“I don’t think our eldest would fair much better.” Yeosang hums, amusement dancing on his features.

“They have always loved the idea of you roughing them up a bit,” Jongho chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“They’re not the only ones.” Wooyoung grumbles, arms crossed over his chest.

Again, his comment receives him a smack upside the head from both Yeosang and Mingi. Though, Yeosang seemingly avoids your gaze, clearing his throat in the next moment.

“Don’t worry, Starlight, we’ll all keep them in check,” Mingi assures you with a light smile, of which you return.

“I’m not worried, Min,” you chuckle, turning back to face San in the next moment. “Not in the slightest.”

A moment’s pause.

“Ready, Baby?” He asks, shifting his stance slightly in preparation.

All he receives is a nod from you, determination shining once more in your eyes.

He moves.

Again, it’s like you act on instinct, the movements appearing as if they are second nature to you. San gets flipped over your back, you turning to pin him to the ground in the next second. Your one hand rests on his upper chest, just below his throat as your knee digs into his lower abdomen. The way your fingers twitch slightly along the base of his neck has a shiver running up his spine.

A brilliant smile stretches across your features as you move off of him, much too soon for his liking.

“How was that?” You help him back to his feet.

“You’re a quick study, Darling.” Jongho praises, loving the way you seem to stand a little straighter at his words.

“It’s cause I have such good teachers,” you hum, warmth flooding your chest as you see them all smiling back at you fondly.

“Let’s run through everything we’ve gone over today a few more times, then call it.” San tells you, seeing you nod your head in understanding along with his words.

Another brief silence settles around all of you as you go over all of the stances, techniques, and manoeuvres they’ve taught you. Pride fills their chests at how well you seem to pick everything up, both San and Jongho only needing to fix your positioning a few times throughout the review.

“Once you know a few more things, and have these down, we can start sparring with one another.” San grins, helping you with some cooldown stretches to make sure your muscles won’t be too sore afterwards.

“Would you guys ever let me observe you when you spar with one another?” You voice casually, noticing how San stiffens the slightest bit before you as Jongho quirks a brow.

“If that is what you wanted, Darling,” Jongho grins, eyes flashing towards his brothers, “we’d be more than happy to oblige.”

You hum, nodding your head slightly. “Good to know.”

“We’ll save that for next time, though.” Mingi says, finally standing back to his feet and stretching out his back.

“Did you want to observe us sparing with our weapons, or without?” Yeosang asks, turning towards you as you hoist yourself off of the mat after finishing your round of stretches.

“Both would be cool,” you reply, an eager gleam in your eyes. “I haven’t really seen any of you in proper action, so I’ll take anything and everything I can get.”

“We can get pretty intense when we fight one another, Dearest.” Yeosang continues. “We don’t hold back at all.”

“You can’t improve that way.” Wooyoung shrugs, heading over to the stairs with the rest of you following behind.

“We used to place bets on one another depending on who was fighting,” San recalls with a chuckle, flicking off the lights as you all head back to the main floor.

“I miss those bets sometimes,” Mingi sighs, almost wistfully.

“I almost lost an arm the last time we did that.” Wooyoung mumbles, eyes downcast.

“Not my problem,” San huffs out an amused breath.

You snort out a laugh. “I take it you can’t regrow limbs?”

“Unfortunately, it’s one of the things we can’t do.” Yeosang confirms. “Doesn’t mean we can’t reattach them, though.”

“So, you guys are virtually indestructible and immortal?” You let out a low, impressed whistle.

“Definitely not invincible, but damn near close.” Wooyoung grins at you.

“Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty hard to live without your head.” You comment, pushing the door open to the main floor and stepping out into the hallway.

“Which one?” Yeosang’s inquiry, combined with his completely deadpanned expression, has you faltering only briefly in your steps.

A boisterous laugh escapes your lips.

“Oh my god,” you lift a hand to support yourself against the wall as your chest heaves with laughter. “Depends. Which one do you use more to think with?”

“I don’t think you want to know our answers,” San mumbles, suddenly avoiding your gaze as he walks down the hall.

“I think I just got mine.” You snort out another laugh, leaning yourself fully against the wall.

At the halfhearted shrugs Mingi, Wooyoung, San, and Yeosang all give you, you find you can only smile and shake your head.

A few steps later and you find yourself just outside of your room. Stepping through the threshold reveals Kuroo curled up on that Snorlax beanbag chair off to the side. A spot of which you’re sure is one of his many favourites throughout the house.

“Thanks for today,” you smile faintly, leaning against the doorframe.

“Of course, Darling,” Jongho returns the look, that all too familiar fondness shining within his eyes. “We’ll work on some more strengthening exercises tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.” You nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need a shower.”

“Want some company?” Before any of his brothers can stop him, the words are out of Mingi’s mouth. The way his lips quirk upwards, a hopeful gleam in his eyes, has you shaking your head in amusement.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves there, Min.” You grin, your one brow twitching upwards slightly. The way you see his shoulders visibly deflate, even the slightest bit, has you chuckling. At least Mingi ignores all the pointed looks his brothers are sending him for the moment. “Maybe next time.”

You don’t give any one of them a chance to properly process your words before you’re shutting the door in all of their faces. Though, at the pleased growls you can hear echoing from the opposite side of the door, you know they’ve finally registered them in their minds.

The mere thought of you allowing them to bathe with you excites them more than it should, even those who have already gotten to experience such an intimacy with you. Once is never enough, nor will it ever be enough. Not when it comes to you.

Moving over to your bathroom, you’re quick to strip yourself of your sweaty clothes and hop into the shower. The water is refreshing against your skin, and in no time at all, you find yourself relaxing beneath the spray.

Half an hour later, and you’ve finished freshening up. A clean pair of comfortable clothes rests over your figure, the familiar material of your favourite hoodie wrapping around you. The way you can faintly smell hints of apple clinging to the fabric has a smile tugging at your lips. Looks like Jongho was the last to wear it.

Exiting your room, you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. Taking a sip, you begin to make your way through the house, figuring you’ll head over to the library to catch up on some reading for the rest of the day. Only, as soon as you step foot into the foyer, a familiar black crow greets you, resting comfortably on Yunho’s left shoulder.

“Hello there, Stella,” you smile as she glides over to perch herself on your own shoulder. “What a lovely surprise. What brings you here today?”

“She brought some news for us.” Seonghwa appears from down the hallway, Hongjoong at his side. A book seems to be held in the eldest’s hand as they all turn to look at you.

“Though, she didn’t come alone.” Yunho breathes, a worried furrow to his brow.

“Someone got through the wards again?” Immediately, panic begins to consume you, your whole body tensing right before their very eyes.

The way they see fear spark behind your gaze has a cold sense of dread rushing down each of their spines. They only wish you didn’t have to experience such negative thoughts or emotions again. Yet, they know, they only have themselves to blame.

“No, My Love,” Hongjoong is quick to assure you, coming to stand beside you as he places a comforting hand onto your arm. “She wanted to bring someone, but they won’t be allowed in until we go to retrieve them.”

“Oh,” you find you’re instantly breathing a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Petal, I should have clarified,” the worried crease in Yunho’s brow has yet to smooth over as he takes a small step closer to you.

“No one but us can enter our domain.” Seonghwa’s voice is firm, reassuring not only you, but all of them in the front foyer as well. “We’ve made extra sure of that, now.”

“Good,” you nod, blinking a few times to clear your vision before looking over at the three of them. “Then, who did she want to bring?”

“Someone who might be able to provide us insight on Miyeon’s plans, even after her death.” Yunho states, and you notice how stiff he stands.

Placing a gentle hand on his one arm, you notice how your touch immediately relaxes him.

“We wanted to make sure you’d be okay with it before we allowed her into our domain. We’ve mentioned her to you before, but you’ve never met her yet.” Hongjoong says, meeting your gaze. “Otherwise, we’d go to her. We just simply have better privacy here.”

You nod your understanding. “Do you trust her?”

The three males share a look between each other.

“We do.” Yunho nods once in confirmation. “At least, for the moment.”

“Besides, if she tried anything, she wouldn’t get very far.” Seonghwa adds, grip tightening the slightest bit on the book in his hands.

“Alright,” you blink. “Then, bring her in.”

Three nods are all you receive in response before you’re all moving to accommodate the new presence they are about to bring in.

Which is exactly how you find yourself face to face with Mina in the dining room two minutes later. All of the guys surround you, Stella perched precariously on the back of your chair.

You sit at one head of the table, the chair turned outwards to face Mina as she stands directly across from you. Seonghwa rests off to your left, that book resting open before him as he looks over some ancient spells with Jongho to his left. Ancient spells that might allow them access to Mina’s locked memories.

Both San and Mingi stand behind you, leaning against the wall with their arms crossed over their chests. Their gazes are sharp, unforgiving as they stare her down.

Yunho stands the closest to Mina, senses on high alert as he monitors her mind for any sudden shift in demeanour. Slowly, carefully, he begins to attempt weaving through that jumble of memories once more.

To your right, stands both Hongjoong and Yeosang. Wooyoung leans casually against the far end of the table, his hands supporting himself on the edge. Each male watches Mina closely, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Stiffly, you sit in your chair, eyeing the woman before you cautiously. You know for a fact that they can all hear how frantically your heart is racing inside of your chest at this very moment, but none of them say anything. The only comfort you get for the moment is Hongjoong’s one hand tenderly placed atop your right shoulder, grounding you in this moment.

In your left hand, your therapy pebble resides, thumb brushing over the smooth side in tandem.

You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves.

“Thank you for agreeing to let me speak with you on such short notice, Your Majesties.” She bows lowly as she addresses all of you. “It is an honour to be allowed inside your home.”

Your brow twitches the slightest bit upwards as you watch her sink to her knees before you. Even more shocking, is when she formerly bows to you, pressing her forehead against her hands on the ground.

“An even greater honour, still, to be formally graced by your presence, My Queen.” She breathes, a slight tremble to her voice. Almost as if she’s nervous, not about how they might react, but how you might perceive her. “I count myself truly lucky to appear before you today.”

Her words catch you so off guard that your thumb stills over your stone.

You blink in shock, a momentary silence settling over the room. That’s when you realize, they’re all waiting for you to speak. All eight of them are allowing you to take the lead right now. You control the flow and outcome of this meeting, and they are more than ready and willing to act upon any of your wishes at a moment’s notice.

You exhale lowly once more to steady your nerves.

“Lift your head.” You surprise even yourself at how commanding your tone is. “Mina, is it?”

She meets your gaze, nodding softly. “Yes, Your Majesty. That is correct.”

The way she continues to address you so formally while remaining on her knees before you, throws you for a loop. You’ve never had anyone other than the eight men within this same room refer to you as such. Yet, hearing it from someone else’s mouth feels different. Something you’ll definitely have to get used to.

“Miyeon was your sister.” You state, rather firmly.

“She was.” Mina confirms, the subtlest of downturns to her lips.

Your hand tightens around that little pebble held within your grasp.

“Are you aware of the extent she went to in attempts to destroy me?” There’s a slight shift in your voice, a dullness that wasn’t there before as you continue to stare the female before you down.

Mina’s expression falls, shame washing over her features. “I am aware my sister had her own, private vendetta against you. However, I am unaware of the direct actions she has taken against you, Your Majesty.”

You tilt your head slightly, noticing the carefulness of her choice of words.

“I will not ask for you to forgive her, Your Majesties, for she does not deserve it.” Mina is quick to continue, diverting her gaze to the side as a hint of bitterness begins to coat her words. “She has brought great shame to our clan, and if I had known before what she had been capable of, I would have done everything in my power to stop her.”

“Hindsight is nice, after the fact,” Wooyoung spits rather harshly, his whole body visibly shaking as he pushes himself off of the side of the table.

Gently, you brush against that all too familiar pure white string inside your mind, and you watch as his shoulders relax. Even if only slightly.

Carefully, you study Mina before you.

“You were aware, to some extent, what she had planned for me.” Not a question, but a statement.

A second of hesitation. “Yes, My Queen.”

Both San and Seonghwa nearly lunge for her right then and there. Even Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Yeosang find it difficult to hold themselves back from skinning her alive this very second. Only, the way you shift forward in your seat, lifting your right hand upwards slightly in pause halts them in their tracks.

“Why have you waited until now to disclose this information with us?” San’s voice is pointed, tone the darkest you’ve ever heard from him as his words boarder on a low growl. You don’t even have to be looking at him to know his chest is heaving in barely controlled rage.

“I wasn’t conscious of it before this morning.” Mina replies, fear beginning to shine behind her eyes.

“You’re remembering things?” Your head tilts forward, eyes narrowing slightly as you look at her.

“Ever since my sister’s passing, the lines are becoming less blurred.” Mina admits, beginning to nervously wring her fingers together in her lap as she sits back on her knees. “King Yunho told me to contact all of you should my memory begin to become clearer.”

“Which is why you’re here now.” You nod gently in understanding.

“I don’t remember everything,” she shakes her head slightly, tears of frustration lining her eyes. “It’s painful for me to attempt to shift through anything more than just basics, but I’m trying. I’m tired of my sister always getting whatever she wants, even in death.”

Something clicks inside your mind, and understanding paints your features. “You resent her, don’t you?”

Mina purses her lips, and you’re sure she’s about to deny it. That is, until she’s heaving a large sigh, her shoulders deflating as she averts her gaze to the ground.

“More than anything.”

You feel Hongjoong’s hand tighten its grip slightly on your shoulder.

You open up your void.

Even I was unaware of that fact, Petal. Yunho meets your gaze only briefly from across the room. Her mind never let on to that.

How could you tell? There’s nothing but curiosity in Wooyoung’s voice as he turns his head in your direction.

My sister and I weren’t always as close as we are now. You respond, standing from your seat. I’d know that look anywhere.

The movement draws all of their attention for the moment, Hongjoong’s fingers sinking a little firmer into your shoulder as he attempts to prevent you from taking another step forward. At the small, reassuring look you send his way, he backs off.

“This whole time, you’ve yet to address your sister by her name.” You observe, coming to crouch before her. That stone is still held tightly in your left hand, and you use it as a lifeline for the moment as you steel your nerves. “That’s pointed on your part.”

“She doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of having anyone speak her name more than is absolutely necessary.” Mina’s brow furrows, bitterness now clear on her features. “Once is too much.”

You hum, bringing a finger up to guide her gaze back to your own briefly. Once you have her attention, your eyes locked with her own, you notice she cannot look away.

“She always got what she wanted, didn’t she? No questions. No consequence.” You watch her eyes flash, a small scowl pulling at her lips. “How many times had you heard someone tell her that this would be the last time, only for it to become a blatant lie?”

“All she ever did was take and take until there was nothing left for her to desire anymore,” Mina spits, her hands now clenched into fists at her sides. “Even if she had the entire world, it would never be enough for her.”

“She wanted it all, and she didn’t care who she took down in the process.” You add, watching as Mina nods furiously along with your words.

“Her two end goals were destroying you, and claiming the throne with King Yeosang at her side.” Mina confirms.

Little do you see the way all eight of them stiffen around the room. Yunho’s lids fall shut almost immediately, his eyes darting around every which way beneath them as he continues to work to untangle that thread of memories while you speak.

“I’m sure Dimitri didn’t like that idea all that much,” you hum, a slight quirk to your brow.

“No, the warlock was none too pleased to learn of that little detail in her plan-“ Mina’s breath hitches, voice suddenly failing her.

A collective stillness passes over the room.

“Dimitri was with you the day she came for a visit, wasn’t he?” You press, watching every twitch of her features carefully.

“Yes!” A flash of clarity shines within Mina’s eyes, of which widen suddenly. “Yes, Your Majesty. He was!”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Yunho nodding subtly.

Mina begins to blink rapidly, brow tugging downwards as she suddenly clutches the side of her head in pain. Her breathing starts to become laboured, and you can see her eyes darting every which way around the room.

“Hey, hey,” you draw her attention to you once more, expression softening as you gently clasp her free hand in your own. “Look at me.” She does, eyes fixated on your own at your command. Firmly, you press that stone still held in your one hand against the skin of her palm, grounding her to you. “Get her out of your own head.”

Mina’s eyes squeeze shut. “She’s not alone.”

“It’s Dimitri, isn’t it?” Your voice is gentle, much softer than it had been only a moment before.

She nods, no longer able to verbalize her responses.

“She hurt him, too.” You say. “She killed his wife and two children to grab hold over him.”

“Family never meant much to her, anyways.” She replies, sadly. “I wondered why he looked so sad.”

“Sad?” You inquire, tilting your head slightly as you move to rest on your knees before her.

“He held himself firmly, but you cannot hide a broken interior.” Mina breathes, squeezing your hand slightly in her own.

“No,” you hum in agreement, understanding flashing within your gaze. “You truly can’t.”

Slowly, you push yourself back to your feet, noticing how Mina opts to remain on her knees before you. Carefully, she leans her head forward to rest on you hands still holding onto her own.

“Thank you, My Queen,” a tear lands on your skin, followed by another, and then another. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for, Mina?” Your brow furrows slightly as you continue to stare down at her.

The way she looks up at you in awe, gratitude shining within her teary eyes, has your breath hitching in your throat.

“You understand me.” She squeezes your hand once more. “My mind feels lighter because of you.”

“I doubt that was because of me,” you smile faintly, eyes briefly darting over towards where Yunho stands off to the side, his gaze already fixated on you. The pride you can see swirling within him as he looks at you so fondly has a warmth blooming in your chest, a subtle heat creeping up your neck. A look that you have no doubt is mirrored on seven other male’s faces behind you as you can feel their stares locked on your very figure.

“I don’t remember everything, yet,” she continues, a slight furrow to her brow as she attempts to recall more of her locked memories, “but things are starting to become clearer.”

“Were you able to tell us all that you came here for today?” You slowly help her back onto her feet, staring into her eyes as she stands across from you.

“I believe so,” she takes a moment to contemplate your words. At the way you raise an eyebrow, she blinks. “I remembered seeing another figure in my memories with her. I realize now it was Dimitri. She hardly ever did ‘meetings’ with Malik present.”

At her words, a mild surprise pulls at more than just your own features.

“Malik was used for more behind the scenes operations for the rebellion.” She adds. “Miyeon didn’t trust him to do the true dirty work. Hell, she didn’t trust anybody.”

You hum, somewhat in feigned understanding. “What a sad life to lead.”

“Indeed.” Mina confirms. Then, in the next moment, she’s blinking, as if remembering where she is, and who she stands before. Awkwardly, she clears her throat, pulling her hands out of your grasp as a vibrant red spreads across her cheeks. “Oh my, I am so sorry for intruding on your personal space like that, Your Majesty.”

Frantically, she begins to bow, eyes darting around the room to look at the eight males still observing the scene before them.

“It’s okay, Mina.” You chuckle, gently grasping her arms as you straighten her in her spot. The poor girl looks like a deer caught in headlights as you drop your hands back to your sides. “I’m sorry for invading your personal space.”

The red across her features darkens as she averts her gaze bashfully. “I don’t mind at all, My Queen.”

Low growls of warning echo around the room from each male present. Only, they’re cut off by your boisterous laughter.

“Oh, Reina would love you.” You grin, taking a step back from the demon fidgeting before you beneath the intense stares of all Eight Kings of the Realm. You snort, moving back beside Hongjoong for the moment and nudging him gently. “Will you all knock it off.”

Immediately, the tension is lessoning within the room.

Mina clears her throat. “Who’s Reina?”

“Never you mind for now,” you chuckle, tucking that small stone into the front pocket of your jeans. “I’m sure you’ll meet her sooner, than later.”

“I hope to be able to gain her favour, then.” Mina bows her head slightly. “She sounds important to you.”

Again, you hum in acknowledgement. “Depends. Do you like photography?”

There’s something endearing about the way Mina smiles shyly. “In all honesty, I’ve always had a passion for it, My Queen.”

“Starlight, I don’t think now is the time to be playing matchmaker.” Mingi takes a step forward, to which you spare a glance at him from over your shoulder.

You shrug, sitting back down in you seat for the moment. “I’m just looking out for my girl.”

Hongjoong chuckles softly before turning back to face Mina in front of you.

“Is there anything else we should know about?” His voice commands the room, and even you find yourself straightening slightly in your spot.

“I have said all that I have come here to say.” Mina bows once more. “I thank you again for allowing me to seek council in your own domain, Your Majesties.”

All she receives is a few curt nods in response from the eight of them while you smile kindly at her from across the way. A moment later, and Stella has flown over to Mina’s shoulder, perching there as Yunho teleports them both out of the room.

As soon as you’re alone with the eight of them once more, a weight you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto lifts from your shoulder. Breathing a sigh of relief, you practically deflate into the chair.

“Where did that come from?” Wooyoung’s tone holds nothing but pleasant surprise as they all look at you for the time being.

You spare a sudden nervous glance around at all of them now that their gazes are locked on you. “I’m sorry?”

The way your voice trails upwards at the end of your sentence has Yeosang, Yunho, and Jongho all raising their brows amusedly at you.

“What ever would you need to apologize for, My Love?” Hongjoong kneels beside you, taking your hand into his own. Nothing but pride shines behind his eyes as he meets your gaze, gently bringing the back of your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss upon your skin. “You handled that beautifully.”

Mingi steps in behind you, gently brushing his hand over the top of your head. “Our Queen.”

Eight content rumbles reach your ears, and you find you cannot prevent the way warmth blooms on your cheeks once more.

“I thought I totally messed that up.” You admit lowly, sinking further into the chair you’re in.

“Not at all, Petal,” Yunho shakes his head, loving smile stretching across his features. “Because of you, I was able to untangle more of that knot of memories within her mind.”

“Really?” For the second time that day, you fail to hide how hopeful you sound. At the way he nods, you cannot prevent the way a large smile tugs at your lips.

“What else did you find?” Yeosang turns towards the taller male.

“Everything she spoke was the truth,” Yunho says, a firm nod to his head. “That, and Mina had to be held back while her sister and Dimitri implemented such a charm on her mind. Though, It seems she’s right about Dimitri. Perhaps we might be able to free his mind once we free her own.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” You reply, looking around at all of them.

“To an extent.” Seonghwa confirms. “We still know next to nothing about her plans with Malik, or when and where they plan to strike.”

“We also have no idea why she chose her allies the way she did.” Jongho frowns, leaning forward to rest his one arm on the table.

Your own arms cross over your chest, gaze staring intently at the floor near your feet. A million different thoughts race through your mind for the moment, not all of them pleasant.

“Are the dragons the only ones we know of that have denied a proposition to form an alliance with her?” Your calculating gaze shifts from the floor to spare a look around at all of them.

“As far as we know.” Hongjoong confirms. “Only the sirens have betrayed us.”

“For now.” San huffs, a roll to his eyes.

“Dimitri’s hunters, witches, and warlocks might not have had a choice in the matter.” Yeosang moves to sit himself in one of the other chairs at the table beside you.

“Are there more of them than just the ones who ally with Dimitri?” You ask, curiosity gleaming within your eyes.

“There are,” Mingi confirms with a slight grimace, “but there aren’t many you want to be associating yourself with. Those are the ones who only do business with you if it benefits them greatly. Most of the time, they’re the ones who make sure you end up dead.”

“There are also those that remain undiscovered.” Wooyoung adds, leaning once more against the side of the table.

“Undiscovered?” You tilt your head slightly.

“Either they choose to remain hidden to live in peace, or they are unaware of the power they possess.” Seonghwa explains.

“Ah, I see,” you hum in understanding. “So, attempting to find them is essentially a waste of time.”

“Essentially,” San agrees. “Unless you know where to look.”

“We don’t have time for that.” Yeosang shakes his head.

“We could always proposition the lycans,” Mingi suggests. “They’re always itching for a good fight to expel their energy.”

“If the gorgons and harpies fail, we might just have to.” Hongjoong’s lips pull downwards as he lets out a long exhale through his nose.

“I just can’t figure out what she could have possibly promised them to sway them onto her side.” Yunho stares deeply at the top of the table, wracking his brain for a solution to a problem he can’t quite comprehend.

“I doubt they would have agreed if she told them she had plans to rule over everything.” You voice, jaw twitching slightly as your mind continues to race.

“Everything?” Yeosang meets your gaze, confusion clear in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“I have a theory, and I don’t think any of us are going to like it very much.” You grimace slightly, standing back to your feet in the next moment.

“What are you thinking, Darling?” Jongho watches as you turn around to face him and his brothers fully.

You let out a brief exhale through your nose. “I need to talk to Wyno.”

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blue-slxt · 9 months

Text

Our Song Cord: If The World Was Ending, You’d Come Over, Right?

(Chapter 5)

A/N: It feels like it took me forever to really work out how I wanted this chapter to play out lol. But overall, I'm satisfied with how it came out so I hope you guys enjoy it too. I'm not the best at angst, but I think it came out well. Every chapter title is a song reference, so if you know the song, you get a cookie. I really really appreciate feedback so comments and reblogs are heavily encouraged. All characters are aged up.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part | Next Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Pregnancy, Labor, Birth, Mentions of Death, I think that's all

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: It's time for the arrival of your baby and Neteyam gets clocked upside the head with revelations. Also, Kiri is best girl.

Things were never the same with you and Neteyam after that night. Aside from a few fleeting glances from across the way, he completely avoided you. He didn’t come hunting with you, never sat with you at dinner, hell, you even missed how he would tease you about the awful accessories you would try to weave together for him. To everyone else, he was still Neteyam, the prince of the Omatikaya, but to you, he became a stranger. To make matters worse, he started heavily leaning into his “relationship” with Layao. You almost would never find one without the other these days. You almost preferred he physically tore your heart from your chest with his bare hands. That would have hurt less than this.

Kiri would still come to check on you from time to time. You told her what had happened and she immediately tried to run to go tell Neteyam the truth. As much as you wanted him to know; as much as you knew he deserved to know, it felt like this was the way things were just supposed to be. Your arrangement was always supposed to be only temporary. Neteyam was always supposed to be with Layao. It’s what’s best for the clan. So, if that means taking a step back and figuring things out on your own, then that’s what you’ll do. The first few weeks were the hardest. You found yourself sitting alone on the ground of your floor in tears nearly every day. You hardly left your home anymore. If it weren’t for Kiri consistently coming to check on you and bringing you food, you’re not sure how well you would have fared. She’s been your biggest support throughout this whole thing. Every now and then, she tries to urge you to tell Neteyam the truth, but you stand firm in your decision not to. “You didn’t see how he looked at me, Kiri.” You would tell her feeling a fresh pang of tightening in your chest at the memory.

“Besides, he seems happy now with Layao. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”

She would roll her eyes at you every time, but her empathy for you outweighed her grievance with your choice in handling the situation.

After a few months, your stomach finally started to grow a small bump. And as your belly grew, so did your determination to make the best life you could for you and your unborn child. But it seems that your protruding stomach also made it that much harder for Neteyam to even look your way. Nevertheless, hiding away in your home was no longer an option. You would visit the healing tent on a semi-regular basis so that Mo’at could track the progress of the baby. She said it’s going to be a little girl and your adoration for the little soon-to-be life swelled in your heart while your hands ran over your stomach.

You and Aykxo saw each other more, but it never went past casual catch ups. You were positive he had heard the talk about him being your secret mate and father to your baby, but he never brought the subject up with you for some reason. You both knew it wasn’t true so maybe there just was no reason to speak it out loud. However, if it were mentioned to him by anyone else, he would deny it. Despite his best efforts, though, people still speculated. About halfway through your pregnancy, Aykxo tragically lost his life during one of the raids held against the sky people. When the news reached the clan, many people gave you pitied looks and there were whispers of ‘that poor girl’ when he was laid to rest. Many people still believed Aykxo to be the father of your baby, but you always denied it. Not that it was anyone’s business as far as you were concerned. But after every denial, there would be the inevitable ‘well, who else could it be?’ and you would clam up. You couldn’t tell the truth and you didn’t want to put the spotlight on anyone else.

“You should have seen it, Kiri. I mean the way that she looked at me when all I asked was for her to pass me some damn fruit. Fruit! I’m so sick of everybody looking at me like some poor, defenseless, grieving mate that can’t hold it together.” You say readying your spear to strike at a fish in the pond.

Kiri sits next to you on the edge with her feet dangling into the water. “Well, you know, if you’re really that sick of it, you could always just—”

“Don’t. You already know that that’s not happening.”

She sighs deeply and shrugs her shoulders. Even though it made your heart heavy to have Neteyam avoiding you like a disease, you had gained a stronger bond with Kiri than you previously had and you were beyond grateful for all of her support and help. At least your child would have some type of relationship with his family.

As the months carried on, you had learned to make your peace with your situation and your decision. Hell, you had even started to consider actually taking a mate. That proved to be more difficult than you’d initially thought, though. Men were cautious about approaching you, to put it lightly. Some of them were good friends with Aykxo and felt bad about moving in on ‘his mate’. Some were put off by the fact that you were currently carrying a child that didn’t belong to them. Either way, the whole process was like pulling teeth.

But the peculiar thing that stood out to you was not your own failed attempts at taking a mate, but the fact that after all this time, Neteyam still had not had his ceremony with Layao. You were sure that Mo’at or Jake would have had them get on with it by now. It’s not that you were complaining, but you had to wonder what was the hold up? Kiri swears she doesn’t know. She says she has nothing to do with the extension on their postponement.

Regardless, it doesn’t concern you anymore. Your main focus is your baby that will arrive any day now. You’ve been spending the last week or so hunting and gathering and preparing for the birth. You’ve stocked up on plenty of ripe fruit, vegetables, smoked meats, herbs to help with your recovery, and freshly woven blankets that you made with Kiri’s help.

And now, you sit here at a pond listening to the gentle trickle of the water as it waves and moves with your swaying feet. The warm water on your aching joints was a welcome relief. Your feet had swollen, your belly was large and heavy, your breasts filled out and became sore. So, you often would come and soak whatever part of yourself was bothering you most that day. Your hand sits on top of your belly rubbing little swirls around the tahnì you can still see from this angle.

“Hello in there little one. I’m your sa’nu.” You coo lovingly at your stomach with a smile. You can feel little feet swing and kick inside of you in response. One particularly hard kick lands right below your navel and your hand instinctively holds the spot you were hit. “Oof, you are strong, just like your sempu…” Your expression is still warm, but there’s a hint of sadness there thinking about it.

“Your sempu is a mighty warrior” you chuckle a bit. “But he is also very kind and funny and handsome. He’s pretty smart most times, but he can also be a total skxawng.”

It feels like her tiny body somersaults inside when you mention her father and you can’t help but laugh a little to yourself. Sometimes, you wonder if she knows when you’re specifically talking about Neteyam. Maybe it’s the change in your heartbeat that she can feel when you talk about him. Or it could be the tensing of your gut when you see him around the village. Whatever the case may be, she always comes alive at the mention of her father.

Dinner should be happening right about now. You figure that it’s time for you to go head back.

“What do you say we go get you fed, little one?”

You stand to your feet and feel a pang of pain in your lower back. You probably shouldn’t have sat for as long as you did. You try to stretch and relieve some of the pressure, but to no avail. Just another ache to add to the list.

At dinner, Kiri and Lo’ak keep you company while Neteyam sits with Layao and his parents, no doubt discussing the coming ceremony.

“I don’t care what everyone else says, there’s no way you’d mate with someone as corny as Aykxo. I just don’t buy it.” Lo’ak says between bites of his food.

“You know, Lo’ak, that may be the smartest thing I’ve heard you say in a long time.” You tease and he shoots you an unamused look.

“I’m just saying, I don’t get why you’re being so hush hush about who it is. It’s not like it’s a big deal, but you won’t even give us a hint. You keep saying it’s not Aykxo, but you’re never with anyone else.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe it’s none of our business?” Kiri rolls her eyes at him.

“Of course not.” He replies very matter of fact.

Kiri waves him off and turns her attention to you, “Anyways, have you picked out a name yet?” Her eyes light up and her smile beams at you as she’s been impatiently awaiting the arrival of the new addition. “I have, but I’m waiting until she’s here.”

A sudden chill runs up your spine and you reflexively turn around to see what the cause is. You’re surprised to see Neteyam standing behind you looking like he was about to tap you, but he retracts his hand once you look at him.

“Hey, um, can we talk?” the awkward tension is palpable. Your eyes flick to Lo’ak and Kiri for some kind of help, but Lo’ak is too busy trying to avoid eye contact with you and Kiri is urging you with her eyes to go with him.

“Sure.”

You stand up with a heavy sigh and follow his lead away from the crowd. He doesn’t walk you that far away from everyone, but far enough that you can have some privacy. Your eyes study him while he shifts from one foot to the other and his hands clench repeatedly at his sides. The ache in your back is building in intensity, but you do your best to ignore it. This is the first time that Neteyam has actually acknowledged your existence since he found out about your pregnancy. No way you were going to let a little back pain interrupt this long-overdue conversation.

“So, I hear from Kiri that you are due soon.” He starts.

“Yes, I am. Any day now.” Eywa, this couldn’t be any more uncomfortable if you tried.

“Well, that’s good news. I’m sure you will be an excellent mother.”

You almost feel like you could be sick from how formal he’s being with you right now. It physically makes your stomach hurt. Literally. There’s a tight squeezing in your stomach that’s growing. You still try to keep the conversation going anyways.

“Oh, uh, thank you…” Your hand holds your stomach right in the spot where the pain is the worst. You try to rub it and massage the feeling away, but it does nothing to alleviate the feeling.

“I guess I should also be offering my condolences…for what happened to Aykxo.”

Not this again.

“Neteyam, please don’t. Me and Aykxo nev—” your thought is interrupted by another stronger pain in your stomach. You double over clutching your belly waiting for it to pass, but it doesn’t. “Are you alright?” Neteyam’s voice finally has dropped its proper tone and is filled with concern. You can’t answer him as you groan through the pain and then that’s when you feel it. A gush of liquid rushes out from between your legs and to a small puddle on the ground at your feet. Your eyes go wide and look up at Neteyam who looks even more panicked.

“Oh, Great Mother…I think it is time!”

“Oh, Eywa. We need to get you to my grandmother right now!” Neteyam tries to grab your hand and lead you back towards the clan, but the pain feels like it has already increased tenfold and you can barely move.

“Ahhh…I-I can’t, Teyam. It hurts t-too much.” You whine holding your stomach and nearly falling to your knees.

“O-okay, okay. Just…hold on to me.” He says bending down a little and guiding your arms to wrap around his neck. He picks you up bridal style and quickly regains his balance.

“Just hang on for a little longer. We’ve got to get you to the healing tent.”

All you can do is nod your head while you try to focus on your breathing and nestle yourself into his hold. He hurries back to the clan and rushes back over to where Kiri and Lo’ak are still sitting. Kiri momentarily lights up seeing Neteyam carrying you back, but her expression immediately falls into worry once she sees the expression on both of your faces.

“What happened?” she asks standing to her feet and meeting Neteyam halfway.

“It’s time for her to have the baby!”

“Eywa, okay, come bring her to the tent.” She leads him through the crowd and some people stare and whisper amongst themselves about the scene unfolding in front of them. Not like you can really notice right now when it’s all you can do just to breathe properly. The bouncing of Neteyam’s steps don’t help with the cramping feeling growing in your abdomen, but it’s a necessary evil to get you the help you need.

Once you finally arrive at the healing tent, Kiri instructs Neteyam to lay you down on one of the mats while she gathers supplies and locates Mo’at. Sweat beads on your forehead and your vision is losing focus. Neteyam brushes his fingers over your face hoping to offer you some sort of comfort in this moment until his grandmother can arrive.

“Teyam…” you breathe out.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. My grandmother is on her way.” He says feeling sick to his stomach at the fact that he feels so powerless in this moment.

“Teyam…’m sorry…”

“Shhh…now’s not the time. Just focus on getting through this.”

Kiri finally returns with Mo’at and they both waste no time springing into action around you. Mo’at places her hands on top of your stomach and closes her eyes listening for the message from Eywa.

“It is time, child. You will need to put forth all your strength.” She says looking down at you.

Kiri takes ahold of your hand and mutters words of encouragement to you.

Neteyam can’t help but feel a bit out of place here right now. He has no way to help and he feels more than a bit awkward watching the birth of someone else’s child so he drops your hand and silently backs out of the tent.

“Where are you going?” Kiri asks him sharply.

“W-well, it seems that the two of you have it under control. I don’t want to be in the way.” He says continuing out of the tent. “Neteyam!” Kiri calls out, but when you squeeze her hand, she knows that she needs to focus her attention on supporting you right now. “I swear to Eywa, I am going to kick his skxawng ass when this is over.” She mutters to herself.

A loud, guttural groan leaves your throat feeling another harsh contraction of your muscles rip through you.

Mo’at uses her fingertips and a dull bone dipped in oil to tap various points around your body. She says it’s to help prepare you and help your body do what it needs to.

“I can’t do this, Kiri. I ca—aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhh”, you barely even have the capacity to get a full sentence out without being interrupted by the impatient arrival of your baby.

“Yes, you can. I know it hurts, but right now you have to be strong for her. I’m going to be right here with you the whole time.” She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze when your grip on her tightens.

“It is time.” Mo’at speaks up in front of you. Outside the tent, Neteyam had actually stuck around. He couldn’t bring himself to stay inside and watch, but somehow it felt wrong for him to completely leave you too. So, he opted to lean himself against one of the support posts and wait. You know, for moral support. All he can hear from inside is groans and screams of pain while his grandmother and sister try to coach you through it. The pained howls that you make are unlike anything he’s ever heard and it makes that useless feeling settle in his gut again. There was a point in time where he would’ve done anything to be able to help take away some of your pain and a part of him will always feel that way for you, but he decided that that was no longer his place. More agonizing screams erupt from inside the tent and he prays to Eywa to help you through this. Hearing you like this made his heart hurt in a way that was different than anything else he’s encountered.

Just when he feels like he’s about to break, there’s a long silence. His ears swivel back and forth searching for a sound, any sound. Some kind of sign that everything was alright. And then, there it is…a cry. There are sighs of relief and muttered praises to you from Mo’at and Kiri about how well you did. Your baby’s first cries fill his ears and it practically brings Neteyam to his knees.

Inside, you cradle your newborn in your arms and an exhausted smile crosses your face looking down at her tiny, squishy features.

“She will calm once you make the bond.” Mo’at explains taking hold of your baby’s queue. Kiri helps bring your own to the front so that tsaheylu can be made and once the bright glowing tendrils meet, your baby is soothed immediately. When she calms down and looks up at you, you can’t help but notice the pattern of the stripes and tanhì on her head are identical to Neteyam’s and it brings tears to your eyes.

Through the bond, you can feel how she is trusting you and relying on you and you are sure that you’ve never loved like this before and nothing would ever compare to this. She is everything to you. The tears keep coming and you can’t distinguish if they’re happy tears or sad tears anymore.

Kiri places her hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you and when you look at her, she’s welling up with tears of her own.

“She looks just like her father.” You half whisper.

…

The recovery period was tough. Even the simple act of bringing your baby to the Tree of Souls so that she could make her first bond was a strenuous responsibility. Caring for an infant alone proved to be the hardest thing that you had ever done. If it weren’t for Kiri coming to visit you almost daily, you surely would’ve collapsed from exhaustion by now.

“Hello little Veyä. I’m your aunt Kiri. Oh, you are just so cute!” she would coo and cuddle her in her arms while you would take the chance to do your hair or bathe. It was a heartwarming scene to say the least.

Who you haven’t seen in the almost 2 weeks since your baby’s been born? Neteyam. Before, his avoidance was painful, but now it was just strange. It was as if he was a ghost. There one second and as soon as he’d catch even the smallest glimpse of you, he would be gone.

“What’s up with Neteyam these days?”

“He’s been brooding in his kelku for weeks now and he won’t talk to anyone about what’s bugging him.” Lo’ak says wiggling his finger at Veyä who’s tucked into your sling on your chest and letting her grab at him.

You hum out a response mindlessly rubbing your hand up and down your baby’s back.

“He’d better pull it together soon. Grandmother said that he and Layao are finally going to have their ceremony in a few days. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have a girl like that.” Your attention snaps back to Lo’ak who is still playing with Veyä.

“Oh, I see.” There it is again, that funny feeling. That familiar sinking sensation that makes it feel like your chest is going to concave in on itself. After so long, it almost seemed less likely to happen, but of course, the world is not so kind.

“Well, I should get going. I’ve got to get Veyä to Mo’at so she can make sure that she’s doing well.”

“Alright. I guess I should get back to training anyways. See ya around.” He says while you wave goodbye at him and head towards the healing tent. Veyä coos in your sling you quickly readjust her to make sure she’s secure. When you enter the tent, there’s no one there.

“Hello? Tsahìk? Kiri?” no response. That’s odd. You were almost sure that this was the time you agreed to come. Maybe there was some kind of last-minute emergency and they had to run out. Or maybe you were actually so sleep deprived and out of your head that you had gotten the timing wrong.

“Guess we have some time to kill. Let’s go have a snack while we wait for someone to get back. How does that sound, tìlor?” you gush at your little baby and rub your finger against her cheek making her crack a tiny smile.

“Hello? Grandmother? I need your help with—oh” when you turn around, you see Neteyam entering the tent holding his forearm, but he goes still when he realizes that you’re there.

“Hi. I think everyone is out right now.” You say sheepishly.

“Oh, um, I see. What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I was bringing Veyä to see Mo’at just to check on her progress.” He doesn’t offer much of a response besides a small nod of his head. Your eyes trail down to the trickles of blood on his arm. “What happened to you?”

He looks down at his arm, “Ah, training accident. I got distracted and got swiped.” He quickly lifts his hand from his arm to show you. He’s definitely downplaying it. There’s a long open gash up half the length of his arm.

“Eywa, that looks bad.” “It’s fine, really. I can just wait for Grandmother to get back.”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t just wait for that. Sit down. Let me help you.” His face falls a little in surprise, “Really, you don’t have to wor—” “Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, sit down and let me wrap your arm.” Your voice comes out stern and sure taking him aback. You’ve only ever used his full name once in your whole lives so he wasn’t used to hearing it from you. It makes the tip of his tail flick wildly behind him without his permission. With a sigh, he relents and takes a seat on the ground in front of you.

“I know that I’m no tsakarem, but I at least can do this much.” You say already grabbing the nearby bowl of yalnabark and some clean cloth. You crouch in front of him and pour water over the wound to clean it and dip your fingers into the yalnabark paste so that you can smooth it over his arm. You’re careful with your movements so as to not disturb Veyä too much. Your eyes watch your hands while you work, but Neteyam can only watch your face. He tries to not let his face get hot under your gentle touch and attentive gaze. He thinks about how much he misses when your eyes would look at him with what felt like love. How your cheeks would squish up when you smiled at him. How soft your lips were under the calloused tips of his fingers. Damn, how he wanted to touch you again. It was always a gut punch to see you from a distance which is why he tried his hardest to not see you. But looking at you now up close, he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

Neteyam is pulled from his musings by the small babbles of your baby in your sling. He’d been trying for the last 2 weeks to deny the reality of the situation, but right now, there was no running from the truth when it sat right there nestled snugly against your chest. His eyes fall to the small figure you carried and he feels as if his brain short circuits when she stares back at him.

Again, Neteyam is a smart man. He’s observant. And what he immediately notices looking at your baby? It’s like looking at his own reflection. He instantly recognizes the familiar shapes and patterns on her head. Yes, her features are more similar to yours such as her eyes or her lips, but there’s no mistaking the pattern of her tanhì or the stripes on her forehead that all curve and meet right between her eyes. It feels as if his whole chest seizes. There was no way. Was there?

You don’t notice the look Neteyam is giving you right now as you’re too busy ensuring that you wrap the cloth around his arm properly.

“Okay, that should do for now. At least, until your grandmother can properly take care of it. But that should hold you for the day.” You say tying the final knot. You’re met with silence and when you look at his face, Neteyam’s face is stuck with a dumbfounded expression. You stare back at him, “What?”

His mouth opens and closes waiting for words to come through, but none do and he instead sits there like a gaping fish.

“Alright. Well, I’d better get going. I need to find a snack and feed Veyä. I guess I’ll see you around.” You say finally standing and making your way out of the tent. Neteyam watches you completely dazed. He feels as if everything he’s known has just been flipped on its head.

…

At dinner, you sit with Kiri and Lo’ak as usual while chewing on some teylu and watching Kiri gush at Veyä in your sling. Her tiny tail thrashes around in excitement when Kiri tickles just under her chin and the sight makes your heart swell. Across the crowd, you spot Neteyam sitting with his parents and Layao as usual. But what was unusual was the way he kept staring at you completely lost to whatever other conversation was being held around him. He only offered fleeting glances and half-hearted responses to those around him while maintaining his focus on you. Normally, these days, he did all he could to avoid seeing you and now he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

“Any particular reason your brother keeps staring over here?” you ask both of them.

When Kiri and Lo’ak turn around, sure enough, they catch a glimpse of Neteyam’s searing focus before he can pretend to look away and act casual.

“No clue. He’s been weird all day.” Lo’ak remarks. “He was totally out of it at training. He got this really nasty looking gash on his arm when he was training one of the other warriors. He left himself wide open. I don’t know where his head is at these days.”

Veyä starts to fuss in your arms so you latch her onto your chest figuring she’s also ready to eat. You do your best to try and not dwell on the pair of eyes watching your every move through the rest of dinner.

By the time you’re done with your food, Veyä has fallen asleep and you say your goodbyes to Kiri and Lo’ak so that you can head back to your kelku and get some rest.

Neteyam’s focus still lingers on you even after you’ve disappeared from his sight, his mind follows behind you.

He manages to bring his attention back to the scene around him enough to notice that Layao has finished eating. He figures that if there were ever an opportunity to do this, it was now or never. He leans over and whispers to Layao, “Can we go talk somewhere?”

She nods at him and they excuse themselves from the group.

They walk in silence together to Neteyam’s kelku and the quiet is thick and heavy between them. His gut feels sick, but he knows that this is for the best. When they get inside, he pulls the flap over the opening and secures it to give them some privacy.

Layao watches Neteyam curiously while he paces a bit trying to find the best starting point. He turns to her and swallows hard. “Layao, you are a wonderful person and any man in the clan would be lucky to have you, but I don’t think that I can go through with this arrangement. I care about you a lot, but I’m in love with someone else.” He finally admits. He waits to watch her reaction and tries to prepare his heart for the stream of tears and sobs that are sure to leave her at any moment…and yet, they never come. She blinks at him a couple of times while processing the information and then, to his complete shock, she sighs in relief.

“Oh, thank Eywa.” She says letting go of a big breath.

Now, it’s Neteyam’s turn to blink at her in confusion. Layao notices the bewildered expression on his face and takes a couple of steps closer to him. “Look, Neteyam, you are a great guy. You’re handsome and strong and loyal and kind, but I’m not in love with you either. I was going along with the arrangement because everyone said it was what was best for the clan. I was leaning in to try and make the best of the situation for both of us and I was scared to be the one to call it off.” She explains.

His mouth hangs open with this new revelation. “Wait, so you don’t want to mate with me?”

She laughs a little to herself, “Not particularly. No offense Mr. Mighty Warrior, but I just don’t see you that way. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m actually interested in Lo’ak.”

Now, Neteyam is the one laughing. All this time, it could have been so simple.

“I can see why you love her.” She says interrupting his train of thought before it can even really begin.

“How did you know?” She rolls her eyes at him, “Neteyam, I have 2 eyes that work. It is as obvious as the stripes on my face that you are madly in love with her. I’ve always seen the way you are around her. She’s always had your heart. And I can understand why.” She takes his hand in hers tenderly. “It was fun for a while, but I think it’s time for both of us to stop playing pretend and do what’s best for us.”

Neteyam covers her hand with his other and smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“Now, go find her. And don’t screw it up.” She says playfully shoving him out of the kelku.

“I owe you one. I promise, I’ll get you in with Lo’ak. It shouldn’t be too hard since he’s kind of already into you.” He says turning on his heels and eagerly heading towards your home.

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my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction · 2 months

Text

The Taming of Man: chapter Six - Dragon Shifting!Katsuki Bakugou x F!reader

Holy crap this one is long for me (Heh heh, that's what she said), Usually each chapter is about half of this length! I hope you enjoy the extra reading material, and I hope you enjoy the large amounts of plot growth to come!

Words: 4,715

This is incredibly based on the song The Willow Maid by Erutan, I highly recommend giving it a listen for the best experience.

Warnings: Cursing, reader is She/Her and will be AFAB in later chapters, Katsuki is practically naked for a sec, [reader is attacked, reader is tied up, reader is manhandled, reader experiences loss of vision]-> none of these are inflicted by Katsuki

The walk all the way to the market was slow, but not too long. You both walked along the dirt roads, people in carriages passing you on both sides. You couldn't take any carriage, or even a dragon, because it was too risky. That was basically a one way ticket to getting caught.

Before long, you could smell spices and meats in the air, you could hear the bustling of the people, you could see the crowds moving through stalls placed by street vendors. "Stay close to me, You don't wanna get lost here," Katsuki ordered, holding his hand out for you.

You instead took his arm, using both hands to grasp onto his left triceps, and in turn making him feel quite strong. Something about you holding onto his arm with your delicate hands made him feel prideful. He needed to stop getting so worked up around you, it pissed him off.

The two of you breeched the "entrance" of the market, Truly the entrance to town as the vendors put up their stalls next to the street every weekend, nearly blocking the businesses that had actual buildings. The yelling from each and every salesperson was rather overwhelming to you, being someone who had never experienced this kind of market.

"Capricornus meat, fresh from the docks!"

"Bread! get yer bread! only 3 drac!"

"fabrics and textiles! new sale! starting at 10 drac!"

Everywhere you looked there was someone trying to sell you, or rather the general populous, something. That's when you realized...

"Uh, Katsuki?"

He was busy walking through, looking around at the stalls but seeing nothing that impressed him. "What," he asked, not looking down at you and clearly distracted.

"I don't have any money."

You forgot that you were in a whole new universe, that had different currencies and certainly no exchange for your money. Even if your money did work here, it had completely slipped your mind when you were getting ready to leave, so you had none of your own.

Katsuki just scoffed, continuing to walk and drag you with him. Stopping wasn't an option in places like these, not when the groups of people were ever moving. "So? 's not like I expected you to." You might not have anticipated this, but the second he thought of going to the markets he also came to terms with the fact that he'd be paying for whatever you got. It wasn't a big deal, he was the prince, he definitely wasn't short on money.

"Really? Thank you," you said gratefully, smiling up at him. He pulled you out of the way of an oncoming woman, scowling at her for nearly plowing you over. "yeah yeah, just watch where you're going," he huffed, scolding you.

As the two of you moved, many merchants seemed to find you an easy target. A man wearing gold in every possible way shoved necklaces in your face, calling out, "A pretty girl like you must have pretty jewelry," in a sing-song tone. You just politely declined, Katsuki yanking you away before he could continue trying to sell. Similar things happened with a woman selling tapestries, a man doing tattoos, and a couple selling food.

Each and every time you declined, they'd scowl at you as if you just cursed their firstborn. Everything was...well, it was too much. Katsuki could see this on your face, the anxiety from the big crowd and loud noises, and firmly said, "Let's go in there." Before you could even look to where he gestured, he already pulled you into the shop, one of the few buildings that was still open at this time.

You were both greeted by an older couple, a brunette woman wearing plenty of rings and necklaces and a blonde woman wearing an extravagant purple hat. "Come in," The brunnette woman welcomed, her voice quiet and gentle, before the Blonde woman remarks, "Oh, Addy, look at them! what a cute couple," excitedly. You laughed, instantly much calmer than before, while Katsuki grimaced. "We're not a couple," he barked, to which the older women laughed. "Please, have a look around," the woman called Addy said warmly, Gesturing to their little shop.

Apparently, Katsuki had led you to a dress store. There were plenty of different handmade clothes to choose from, as well as accessories like hats, jewelry, and bags. "Wow," you cooed, pulling your hood down and releasing Katsuki to look around.

"My, aren't you pretty," The blonde woman complimented, walking right over to you. She instantly took your face in her hands, examining it and smiling. "You know, I bet you'd look fantastic in red...or blue...or maybe green," she laughed, turning to Katsuki. "You 'ought to count yourself lucky to be in the company of such a beautiful young lady!"

"Connie dear, you pry too much," Addy gently scolded, shaking her head. Connie just waved her off, sighing. "Well, If you need anything at all, please let us know! I'm Constance, but you can call me Mrs. Connie, and the party pooper over there is Adelaide, but you can call her Mrs. Addy." You nodded with a laugh, thanking her and beckoning Katsuki to come and look with you.

He did so begrudgingly, Following you around the store as you browsed. "If I find something here, I won't have to wear the cloak you gave me," you said sweetly, looking up at Katsuki as you flipped through dresses on racks. "I guess," he grumbled, something in him wishing he could keep you in his cloak a little longer. Something about the way the fabric swallowed up your body was...cute to him.

Every dress you could see had similar features, usually modest to hide from the beating sun but with a thin fabric to allow ventilation. You picked out two dresses, a green one and a red one, comparing them side by side. "Which do you think," you asked, turning your head to Katsuki. He sighed and thumbed at the fabrics, eyes flicking between you and the clothes. Why was he giving this any real thought? It's not like he cared...

"Red." he didn't sound too enthusiastic, but in truth he wanted to see how you looked in one of his favorite colors...plus, he agreed with the fabric wench. Red would suit you. You examined the dresses again, before nodding and smiling. "I think you're right." You turned to look for one of the two women you saw earlier, and thankfully Adelaide was right next to you two, adjusting hats on mannequin heads.

"Mrs. Addy, Could I get this one, please?" She turned her attention to you and nodded, taking your hand and leading you away. "Let's get it tailored," she said softly, looking towards her wife and nodding to the back of the store for her to help.

Connie followed, giving a mischievous smile to Katsuki for God Knows what. Now he was all alone in the main area, with nothing to do but look around. He couldn't just walk out either, even thought you'd probably take a while, because if something happened he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

"Damn idiot...now what'm I supposed to do..." he muttered, examining the different accessories that were available. He noticed a necklace with a delicate gold chain and a gold dragon pendant to match, the charm holding two little rubies set in for eyes. You'd look beautiful with it around your neck, especially with that dress...Katsuki groaned and shook his head, what was he thinking?!

"So, tell me, how do you feel about that boy," Constance asks, gently pinning the dress together to fit your body.

"Connie," Adelaide laughs, reprimanding her but also curious about your response. "He's just a friend," You quickly responded, your cheeks warming as you stood stock still for the couple dressing you. "Ahhh, that's what I said when I met Addy," Constance giggled, making Adelaide sigh while shaking her head, a blush on her own face.

"of course, times were different then, Didn't have so many opporitunities, and-" She was interrupted by Adelaide- "She get's it, darling." You giggled, watching the women work in the mirror with focus you wished you could have in your own job. "It's not like he'd like me back...Y'know, i-if I did like him."

Addy shook her head, standing straight up and giving a look that said really? "He'd be lucky to have an ounce of your affection," Connie scoffed, taking out her sewing needle and beginning to alter the dress.

Katsuki was sitting on a Bench in the main area, able to do nothing but wait, before Adelaide popped out with a soft smile. Constance followed soon after, saying, "She's all set!"

Katsuki Stood up, hands in his pockets as he looked towards the curtained fitting room. You confidently walked out, a smile on your face and your old clothes in your hand. "What do you think?"

He froze, taking in the sight of you. The dress was a bright, fiery red, with an empire waistline defined by a gold belt, a V-neck, and angel sleeves. There was a slit right down the center of the skirt, your legs fully able to breath, and fully able to be seen by him. What did he think? How could you ask that, knowing how good you look? "G-good," he grumbled, looking askance and clearing his throat.

You giggle a little and walk over, handing him his cloak to put in his bag. He takes your dress too, knowing you probably won't want to hold it. "Just good," Adelaide asked teasingly as the two of you walked to the counter to pay, making Katsuki turn beet red. "Just lemme pay," he mumbles, setting down a drawstring bag of Drac. Adelaide sifted through, counting out the necessary amount.

While she did that, Constance slid up to the counter with a deck of beautifully detailed cards in her palm, a cheeky grin on her face. "You know, there's a free card reading with every purchase~"

Adelaide rolled her eyes with a smitten grin, both in love with and tired of her wife's shenanigans. Katsuki scoffed, ready to go, but you smiled excitedly. "Let's do it!"

He scowled at you, saying, "Why should we?"

"Why not?"

"...fine."

Constance giggled and began shuffling the cards, humming to herself. Fanning out the deck, she asked you to both to pick a card, and you both picked one on opposites end of the deck. Flipping them over, she smiled widely and held the cards up. "Ah, star crossed lovers, yet your souls are intertwined!"

You and Katsuki were both completely flustered, you doing a better job at playing it off. "O-oh," you laughed airily, Katsuki getting his bag of money back while, for once, keeping his mouth completely shut.

"Connie, please, these kids have had enough," Adelaide sighed with a smirk, waving you both away and bidding you adieu. You both walked back into the intensity of the market, your hands returning to Katsuki's arm.

...

"It's not like I believe in that stuff anyways." "I've always taken those things with a grain of salt."

You laugh, both of you floundering to find some excuse not to believe her. Surveying the area once more as you walk, the scent of food becomes more and more enticing to you. Your stomach growls, especially at the sight of a food stand having what looked to be the juiciest goat leg you've ever seen, seasoned and fried to perfection.

"Let's go there," you suggest, pointing at the stand and looking up at Katsuki. "There? The food'll be too spicy for you," he scoffed, a smile barely showing on his face. "I happen to like spicy food," you huff, clearly some level of offended.

Katsuki grins and laughs a little, the discomfort he felt just moments ago now gone. "Fine then," he chuckled, taking you up to the vendor and ordering. "Two legs of lamb...and two waters," he told the man, handing him a total of 30 drac. He handed him the food almost immediately, and Katsuki handed you your meal while the two of you leaned against a wall to eat. He took a bite of his leg ferociously, he was hungrier than he thought, and his eyes stayed completely locked on you to see your reaction.

Watching him eat it so easily brought some comfort to you, surely it couldn't be that bad...you gingerly brought the meat to your mouth, biting down and chewing thoughtfully.

"It's not so bad," you remarked, shrugging and going in for another bite. Then, suddenly, the spice hit you full force, causing you to cough. "Holy shit," you spluttered, patting your chest. Your lips, tongue, and throat were all on fire, your face was hot, and your eyes were watering.

Katsuki burst out laughing, one of those genuine cackles that were hard to pull from him. "Here, idiot," he laughed, handing you a water skin and watching you chug it as fast as possible. "It won't stop," you groaned, fanning your face with your hand and sniffling.

Katsuki just kept laughing and laughing, doubled over with his hand on the wall for support. "I fuckin' told you," he howled, taking the lamb from you and holding it with his own in one hand. He gave you the other water skin, and you drank it all without question, the pain finally subsiding.

"I'm gonna be sick," you griped, wiping sweat off of your face. "You'll be fine," he chuckled, his laughing at your expense finally calming.

"I'm still hungry," you mumbled, wiping your mouth and once again looking around for food, this time something tame. Katsuki kept eating his lamb, knowing he'd have to eat yours too. He wasn't about to let perfectly good food go to waste.

"Well find somethin' fast, we don't have all day...and listen to me next time."

He was right, you didn't have all day, you'd definitely have to leave in at most an hour in order to be back by sunset. The both of you continued walking nearer and nearer to the center of town, your hand on his arm as you searched. A stand selling goat kebabs caught your eye, a mother and her child at the front of the short line. The kid was no older than five, his hand gripping his mother's dress as he sniffed and coughed a little. Poor thing probably had a cold.

He sneezed loudly, and to the surprise of you and only you, a burst of flame released from his mouth. You didn't know Dragonborne could breath fire, at least not in human form. Nothing caught on fire, everything here seemed to be nonflammable, and Katsuki only looked over because he noticed you stopped. "Wanna go there," he asked gruffly, to which you just nodded and smiled. there was still so much you had to learn.

The two of you waited in line, only a few people ahead of you, and 10 minutes later you had a full belly. Continuing to walk, you saw a glassblowing shop, the man inside easily manipulating the liquid glass with his bare hands and flaming breath, shaping beautiful vases and sculptures.

Katsuki noticed your eyes linger, and almost asks if you want to go check it out, before his attention is caught by the sound of a beating drum. You are immediately interested, eyes tearing away from the glassblower to find the source of the sound. A crowd is forming in a circle, so you decide that following the crowd is the best course of action. "Let's go see what they're looking at," you say giddily, your excitement making Katsuki blush a little.

"Whatever," he sighs. He already knows what it is, but supposes it wouldn't be bad for you to see. Taking you to the mass of people, pushing through to get nearer to the front, you finally see it.

A lump of purple fabric lie on the ground, surrounded by people beating drums and humming a low tone in unison. The mass of fabric begins to move, and you realize it is indeed not just fabric, but rather a woman wearing a lengthy and massive cloak, the edges adorned in gold bells. She slowly rises, hands gripping the very top corners of her cloak while her shoes are quickly and rhythmically tapping against the ground, hips swaying simultaneously, the bells jingling to the music.

Underneath her cloak was a short top and long skirt of the same color, all to accentuate the movement of her hips and belly. She shakes her hands, all the while rising slowly up and above her head as she leaves her crouched position, the cloak now looking as if it were the wings of a flying dragon, rippling in the wind.

Suddenly, she shoots her hands to one side, the half of the ensemble that she pointed to chanting "Hah" loudly. She repeats on the other side, all while continuously tapping her wooden sandals against the ground on the balls of her feet. Her gesturing becomes faster, moving back and forth between each side so the chanting becomes more and more frequent.

You had never seen someone dance in this way...all of her movements were concentrated in the very center of the circle, not once did her feet leave the spot she tapped against, her arms and hips doing most of the talking. The dancing was different at home, when your people danced they danced with lots of flourish, spinning and swaying and taking up as much space as possible. "It's so different..." you mused. "It's..."

Katsuki didn't want to hear it. He knew what you would say, the same thing everyone else said. That it was too crude, too sinful, too provocative. He opened his mouth to combat you, to come to his culture's aid and tell you to just shut up, but then... but then he saw your face.

Your eyes were wide, glistening with wonderment, your lips slightly parted in awe and your hand on your chest as if your heartstrings were being tugged out of your body.

"Beautiful," you murmured, watching intently. "Isn't it beautiful," you whispered to Katsuki, not looking away for a second.

"Yeah...beautiful," he muttered, eyes drinking in your appearance, memorizing each and every detail of that face, that expression. Why the hell did this keep happening? It's like every time he was with you, something incapacitated him. He couldn't think right, he couldn't see anything but you. It made his stomach to backflips, it made his heart beat in his throat, it made his hands heat up.

"Can we go put money in her bowl," you ask him, bringing him back to reality. Her dance was almost done, and next to her there was a bowl people were dropping money into. Katsuki took two drac from his bag, pressing them into your head. "Go yourself," he grumbled. He figured it'd look weird, the two of you walking up there, like a couple. He was sick of people assuming you were, he didn't want anymore of that.

You shrugged and took the money, pushing through some of the crowd to get to the little wooden bowl.

Katsuki watched you from afar, keeping his eyes locked onto your form, the flowing fabric of your dress trailing behind you, before someone bumped into him. "Watch where your goin," Katsuki huffed, before turning and seeing...Kiri?!

"Woah, sorry about- oh, hey bro!" Kirishima smiled at Katsuki, a bucket of veal in his hand. "What the hell are you doing here," Katsuki asked gruffly, arms crossed. "I'm getting Versengen a treat, it's almost his birthday...what are you doing here?"

Katsuki scowled, cheeks involuntarily going pink. "Why the hell do you care, I can go wherever I damn please!" Kirishima immediately picked up on the way Katsuki went on the defensive...and the intense scent of roses and honey lingering nearby. "Ok, ok," Kiri said nonchalantly, nodding and looking towards the dancing woman. "And you're totally not on a date with that girl, right?"

"We're not on a date," Katsuki instinctively shouted, promptly giving himself away. "So there is a girl," Ejiro shouted excitedly, punching Katsuki in the arm.

Walking through the crowd was a deceptively difficult task, pushing past people and squeezing through gaps. You finally reached the bowl, dropping the gold coins into it and smiling at the lady as she made her final steps in the dance. Proudly walking away, you once again pushed through people, being spat out in front of an alleyway...

So, this definitely wasn't where you were before. It was ok, you just had to look around for Katsuki's hair, and after a moment of scanning you could see it peaking out above the sea of people. Smiling, you took a step forward to get back into it, before getting yanked back by a pair of hands.

You tried to scream, but another hand immediately covered your mouth. "Heh, Look at her...She's gotta be a noble," a raspy voice chuckles, before another, slightly squeakier voice says, "probably sell for a pretty penny, huh?"

Oh. Hell. No. This isn't how you were going out. Kidnapped by some rando and sold? You weren't going down without a fight. Stomping on the foot of whoever had you and biting down on the hand that covered your mouth, you were released just long enough for you to yell out.

"There's no girl, there never was a girl, and there will never be a girl, so shut up about it," Katsuki barked, pissed as hell that Kiri wouldn't believe him.

"KATSUKI!"

"...No girl," kiri asked, cocking his head to the side...but Katsuki had no time to argue anymore. You were in danger. He muttered, "holy shit," before booking it in the direction he heard your voice. Kirishima followed, just in case he'd need backup.

"Stupid bitch," one of the guys shouted, grabbing you once more and holding you still despite your kicking and squirming. "Get the ropes," he ordered, and the other guy did just that. Your wrists were tied behind your back, your ankles tied to your wrists, and your arms tied to your torso. A black mask was tied over your eyes, a piece of fabric tied around your head to cover your mouth. You were tossed to the ground, your arms hitting a wall of the alleyway.

You couldn't see, all you could do was hear and feel. It was unnerving, you didn't know what was going to happen to you...Until you heard Katsuki's voice.

"Hey! Get the fuck away from her!"

Footsteps...two pairs of them.

"what do we do?" one of the kidnappers.

"Grab the girl and run," the other responds.

footsteps running towards you, stopping directly in front of you...but it wasn't a kidnapper...you knew because amidst the smell of garbage from the alley was the smell of musk, smoke, and caramel. It was Katsuki.

"Touch her and you die!"

then, something strange. The sounds you heard, you can't describe them, but you could feel Katsuki's presence grow larger. Then you could hear the sound of much, much bigger footsteps, planting down in front of you, accompanied by vibrations and wind generated with what seemed to be large wings fanning out. you leaned forward, wanting to touch what was before you to confirm your suspicions. Your cheek hit the mass before you. Just as you thought. Scales.

"oh fuck-" a guy shouted, cut off by the great, screeching roar of Katsuki Bakugou in his dragon form, so loud your ears began to ring. You wished you were able to cover them, but all you could do was shrink back into the wall.

Now everything was muffled, like the Footsteps running towards the entrance of the alley, only to be stopped suddenly.

an unfamiliar voice was speaking, the loud protesting of the criminals insinuating that the two men were grabbed and picked up.

You could feel Katsuki's once great form shrink, and you could barely hear him panting afterward. Then, a little clearer now as the effects wore off, you could hear the rustling of fabric, accompanied by his grumblings about his clothes being torn.

"Hey, can you hear me," he asked, his tone sharp, yet carrying some amount of gentleness. You suddenly felt his hands on your face, before he pulled the mask off of your eyes and the fabric out of your mouth.

"Uh-huh," you mumbled, blinking as the light finally found your pupils. Katsuki was crouched before you, a look of concern thinly veiled by anger on his face. He was rather naked, that cloak he let you borrow wrapped around his waist, his chiseled muscles on nearly every part of his body completely displayed to you. "You ok? Did they touch you," He asked, that second question with a tone of worry and slight wrath.

"O-only to tie me up," you answered, squirming in your bindings. Katsuki brought his hands around you, reaching behind to take off the hogtie they put you in. When he couldn't immediately undo the knots, he just impatiently ripped the rope in two anywhere that was keeping you bound.

sitting up and rubbing at your wrists and ankles, you looked up at Katsuki with gratitude. He looked back down at you, his brow furrowed. Were you judging him or something?

"what," he asked gruffly, pulling back from you and sitting on his knees.

You came in fast, giving him a big hug around his neck and pressing your face into his bare shoulder. "Thank you for saving me," you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

You weren't a big crier, you don't spend your entire life with an emotionally manipulative mother without learning how to not cry, but this was a lot for you. You were almost kidnapped, and Katsuki, this man who was so adamant about not getting too close to you, saved your life and took care of you after without question.

Katsuki sat there for a moment, about to let you hold him for a few seconds and pull away without him touching you back just like every time, before slowly bringing his arms around you. He wasn't very good at hugging, he had no experience at it, but he knew you needed it right now, and you needed it specifically from him. You wanted him to hug you.

He put his left arm around your waist, and his right arm under your arm and over to your shoulder, holding you firmly despite how nervous he was. His cheek was pressed to your head through no fault of his own, but as he slowly breathed in the scent of your perfume, his entire body seemed to relax. When was the last time he felt this at peace? He can't recall...but he knows that any time he asks that question in the future, he'll definitely remember this.

You slowly pull away, surprised to get even the tiniest bit of resistance from Katsuki, before wiping your eyes and smile. "Gah, look at me," you laugh, flicking the tears off of your hand. "We should probably head back...and get you some clothes on the way."

Katsuki looks down at himself, realizing he was practically naked. "Last time I save your ass at the expense of my dignity," he scoffs sarcastically, meriting a giggle from you.

"C'mon, we can go back to that dress shop, they have masculine clothes," you offer, standing up and smiling down at him. He stands too, grabbing his bag and grimacing at the thought of walking all that way like this. "Why even bother, might as well fly," he scoffs, not even registering the fact that the idea would be so appealing to you.

"Really," you ask excitedly, having never flown on the back of a dragon before.

"Well don't lose your shit over it..." he grumbles, blushing at your happiness. Even with his apparent annoyance, He'd be giving you a ride back in his dragon form. Like hell he'd disappoint you, not after you smile at him like that.

Maybe it was time to do a little thinking about all this, about how he really felt.

Maybe he was realizing pining after you wasn't as bad as he thought it'd be.

Maybe your smile was worth it.

ahhhhhh feelings <3 Thank you so much for keeping up with this story, your support is everything to me, and as always, let me know what you thought about this chapter!

Taglist: @sky-angel101 @the-galaxy-fiend @chixkadee @ssplague @sappho-the-kitten-tamer @andysdrafts @daria-rona

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notroosterbradshaw · 11 months

Text

slow dancing in a burning room - four

word count: 4.4k

warnings: nsfw 18+, smut, language, angst, fluff.

part of: The Boyfriend Experience universe

a/n: thanks to those who read, reblogged and commented on previous chapters. you’re doing god’s work. I know this series is a bit different to what you’re used to from me, so I hope you keep reading. I truly appreciate all the effort you make to show your support x

three.

You reckoned you’d read the same passage of writing a dozen times since you’d received word Bradley had arrived back in San Diego. He had his phone back on him and while he’d told you a dozen times over that all the checks were routine and above board, the sinking feeling that he’d ditched his plane was all that was running through your head and the single question:

Why?

You’d almost lost him, you didn’t know how and you didn’t know why, but you almost lost him. You couldn’t connect the dots, he was notorious for his safe predictability, but something just didn’t add up. Mission a success, target achieved (whatever it was, you didn’t give half a shit about the semantics and told Natasha as such when you spoke to her) but nothing was cut and dry and you couldn’t stop thinking about how it might have gone wrong.

Adding insult to injury, you weren’t allowed to see him until he’d had complete further testing tomorrow (at the earliest) and was declared fit enough to be discharged. Your phone rang a while later and you were so relieved to see Natasha’s local number, she was back stateside also. “Nat, hey,” you answered softly.

“Hi,” she said, sounding as tired as your felt. The last thing she needed to be doing was calling you at such a late hour. “I probably woke you, huh?”

You scoffed a laugh. “Found out the love of my life was in a mid-air incident a few days back, and I still can’t see him even though he’s only a few miles away. Trust me when I say that I am not sleeping.”

“Yeah,” Natasha couldn’t say she was surprised. “I’ll bet.”

“Do you have any updates?”

“No, they just want to keep an eye on the concussion after this evening’s scan. He’s okay, talking, but sore. He’s got a few bumps and bruises, some bleeding they need to keep an eye on.”

You knew all of this. Bradley had been trying to keep you as up-to-date as he’d allow but you knew he was going out of his way to keep things light. He mentioned about 8pm he’d been given some pretty hefty meds to knock him out and help with some swelling. “Think I can come in tomorrow?”

“Of course. But I think he’s hoping to be out by tomorrow. He’s pushing pretty hard for a release,” Natasha told you and he’d told you the same.

“Thanks, Nat.”

“Of course,” she said like it was no big thing.

“And how are you?” you asked softly.

“I’m okay,” she admitted. “Tired. Glad to be home.”

“I’ll bet. Can I do anything for you?”

“Naw,” she admitted. “I’ll see you tomorrow though, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks Nat.”

“Of course,” she said before mumbling a quiet goodnight and hanging up.

The clock told you it was nearly 2:30am and while you yawned on instinct, you knew you wouldn’t be sleeping until you were allowed to see your man who was all alone in that cold, sterile hospital bed across town.

Hearing the phone ding, you sighed, picking it up again but a gentle smile formed seeing Bradley’s name and a simple, “Love you, sweet girl x”

The next morning, you were waiting at the nurse’s station as soon as visiting hours opened. Addressed formally by the nurse who chuckled at your eagerness, you stated Bradley’s room number and she knew who you were immediately. “512,” she repeated as you gently patted the desk and thanked them kindly, wandering doing the hallway towards Bradley’s room.

You hated hospitals. The nose-stinging smell, the sounds of machines beeping and shivering from the cold.

His door was open a crack and you could hear Sportscenter. God, there was going to be a lot of this over the next few weeks, you realised. You gently knocked on the door and carefully poked your head in. Bradley sat up, a grin pulling to his face excitedly and immediately cursed, flinching back against the pillows, grabbing his ribs. “Oh Bradley,” you came in and stood beside him. “Guess I don’t need to ask how the ribs are, huh?” you brushed back his wild curls back and tenderly kissed his forehead.

“Please kiss me properly,” he begged as you lovingly cupped his chin, unfamiliar with its stubble and did as requested, sweet and placid, he was in a hospital bed after all. “Hi, baby. I missed you so much,” he whispered, his voice raspier in its underuse as you pressed single kisses into his lips again.

“I missed you too. I’m so glad to see you,” you admitted. Albeit… here. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he admitted. “Pretty banged up. Ribs are fucking killing me.”

“Can see that,” you continued to smooth back his hair, thumb brushing carefully against his forehead.

“No breaks, no fractures,” he reported. “Concussion is what they’re most concerned about. Head is pretty sore,” he supposed, shifting carefully on the hospital bed. “Come up here with me.”

“I’ll stay here,” you reassured him, grabbing the seat near the door and dragging it over.

“Love, please?” he asked, his tone meek. Sad, maybe a little scared and you stopped because there was a tone in his sweet rasp you’d never heard from him before and nodded, going back to the bed and scampering up at daintily as you could, not wanting to cause any disturbance to his aches.

You inspected Bradley closely and he winced under your gaze. If not for a few scratches and what you imagined was a lot of concealed contusions, he seemed perfectly fine. “Thank God. Handsome as always,” you joked, knowing he needed the respite, holding his face and kissing him again. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again,” you admitted quietly.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m here. I’m safe with you,” he murmured. “It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way…”

“What happened, Bradley? You’re so safe out there,” your inquisitiveness getting the best of you as he gazed back, sheepishly and was interrupted by a knock.

“Doc,” Bradley said, relieved by the intrusion. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” his doctor wandered in and addressed you personally, obviously knowing exactly who you were whether Bradley had worded him up previously or not, you weren’t sure. “How’s your grandpa?” he asked you, picking up Bradley’s chart and contemplating his report.

“Uhh, he’s good,” you said, annoyed momentarily at how notorious the Metcalfe name was around this town. It wasn’t the time to be asking about Grandpa. You gave Bradley some space and stood up. He reached for your hand which you took in yours. He gave you a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Good to hear,” he peered up over the paperwork, eyes friendly as he approached Bradley and pulled out his torch, Bradley submissively looked up to have his eyes reviewed. “Pupils, corneas receptive. The good news is the concussion isn’t as bad as first indicated, Lieutenant. CT and MRI scans are positive. But obviously, post-ejection,” he continued as Bradley could feel your eyes shift to him, hot under your stare that cast daggers at him as you started adding up all he’d been through. He flushed and avoided your scrutiny, pretending to listen intently to the doctor. “We are going to be concerned about your spine. Your x-rays show no fractures, which is a great result.”

“Any chance I can bug out today?” Bradley’s asked, his light joke ill-timed as you loosened your grip on his calloused palm and he looked back at you warily, as you crossed your arms tightly across your chest.

The doctor snickered. “We assume so. A few more tests and you should be able to sleep in your own bed tonight.”

“Feel like I might be in the doghouse,” Bradley muttered, forcing a smile, placing his hands in his lap, and wringing his fingers together like a scolded child.

“I’m sure you’re just happy to have him home?” the doctor looked at you, trying to diffuse the situation that was brewing.

“Of course,” you forced. “Just glad he’s home… after punching out.”

“That was the first time you’d heard that, I presume?”

“Something like that.”

“Baby, I’ll explain all I can when we’re home, okay?” Bradley reached for your hand again and stepping forward, you begrudgingly took it.

“Okay.”

“Would you be upset if we just relax in the bedroom?” Bradley asked. After trudging up the stairs to the apartment, he was out of breath and headed straight for the living room.

“Of course not. I realise we’re not going to be popping bottles tonight,” you sighed as he laughed quietly. “Let me get you some water and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?”

He shook his head. “No, you come with me,” he gave a coy grin, leading you to the bedroom and pressing you back against the door. He grasped your jaw, took your face in and smiled weakly before kissing you deeply. “I missed the way you taste,” he admitted, almost drunk on you. “I didn’t think I was going to be able to do this again.”

You felt your mind blank because at no time was this ever a risk for you and you didn’t know how close he was to not coming home but the more he alluded to it, it almost seemed certain that not returning was a sad affirmative. You were terrified to ask for the full story and while you knew he wasn’t at liberty to say anything, you remained passive but blood was filling your mouth as your bit your tongue. You gently pulled back to look at him and he softened a little.

“What, love?” he whispered, searching your face. When he didn’t get a response, he changed his tack and lowered his lips to your jaw, his palms gripping your hips and closing in the gap to keep you trapped. He sighed against your skin. “You smell so good, feel so soft, my sweet girl,” he pressed his muscular thigh between yours and released your hips to grasp your wrists and drag them above your head.

He was hard and craving, desperate for you and you found it hard to resist him. “Bradley, I don’t want to hurt you,” you muttered faintly, and his tongue paused tracing at your clavicle. “Come on, stop,” your palms eased against his waist, giving you some breathing room.

“You could never hurt me,” he swore. “I know you couldn’t.”

“You’re aching, sweetheart,” you urged him softly.

“When I tell you that there is nothing that could stop this, I’m being completely honest. I need to feel at home. Let me bury myself in you, please?” he huffed against your skin, his stubble unfamiliar and rubbing against you. “Kiss me, love. Fall into this with me,” he begged, feeling the hesitation dripping from you.

“You doctor’s said bedrest, Bradley,” you said warily.

“Then take me to bed,” he turned it against you and in a simple feat of strength, he lifted you into his arms. You didn’t miss the slight grimace and it only made you feel worse.

“Bradley…”

“I got this,” he reassured you and opened the bedroom door. He needed to prove to you that it was a couple of scratches and a few bruises. No big deal. The room was exactly how he remembered it, and he was enveloped by the scent of your perfume, rooting him firmly home. He noted you’d left some clean sweats at the end of his side on your bed and his side drawn. Painkillers, a wheat bag. A glass of water waiting and a book he didn’t recognise but could faintly make out The Mamba Mentality. “You put all this together?” he asked fondly. He would never admit it, but it was such a homely welcome. His bones ached, and his head was splitting but his heart lurched, it all looked so inviting. He would be so incredibly touched you’d even consider him this way.

“Well, yeah…” you said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You ejected from a plane and I’m sure there is plenty more you have to tell me about that...” you hinted, subtle as a motherfucking sledgehammer. “I figured you might need a little TLC,” you said modestly.

He chewed his lip to bite back his smile. “All right, you got me. Take me to bed, sweet girl,” he gently released you and you smiled, taking him by the hand towards the bed.

“Do you want to shower first?”

“Actually, yeah. I’d love a shower,” he agreed. Warm his bones, relieve his joints.

“Or think I could lure you into a nice warm bath?”

He squinted. “Would I be bathing alone? Or with the woman I love, slippery, wet and naked with me?”

You pondered it and couldn’t resist your grin. Even in a world of pain, he was trying to get close to you. “I guess I could join you. Go take a seat and let me run the bath, okay?”

“Okay, sweet girl. Come here first…” he begged to kiss you and you willingly obliged. One of those curl your toes, and turn you into a bag of bones. The ones he was really fucking good at. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you said, a little dreamily, trying to get out of the fog of his embrace. “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”

“Oh, my baby,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry I scared you. I was scared too. But I’m home, and I am safe with you,” he slowly guided you back and you both eased on the bed. It didn’t go amiss the hiss he elicited when he moved to his back and tried to pull you above him.

“Bradley, you’re hurting,” you sighed as he put his index finger to his lips and blow out a gentle shh. You paused and sat beside him. “I know you’re happy to be home. Relieved, all the good things. But you need to rest, okay?” you moved to stand and went towards the bedroom. “Let me run that bath…” you told him as he begrudgingly nodded.

He was kidding himself if he thought you weren’t noticing the agony he was going through and you ran the bath, turning the water on full to drown out how he called for you to return to him in the bedroom.

Sure, he looked the same, he smelled the same, just as handsome. His beautiful face was marred with a few cuts and scratches, a small gash taped up on the side of his neck. But the doctor had made no secret bout the rib contusions. He was lucky to not have broken any bones with the blunt force traumas his body was subjected to. He would have headaches for a while and there would be physical therapy to ensure his body was in the right working order when he was able to get back in the air.

You couldn’t even fathom having him fly again, you didn’t know how you could trust yourself to get through this again. You almost lost him, and you knew you’d only just found him. You didn’t realise it, but tears were streaming down your face as Bradley made his way to the bathroom and found you.

“Love, are you okay?” he asked confused, coddling you into his arms. He held your face in his palms and kissed your forehead. “Sweet girl, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I almost lost you, Bradley,” you spat out before you could think of replying with some decorum.

“Oh, baby,” he said, frown lines melding into his skin. “I’m right here.”

“I was so scared. I have never been that scared,” you confided. “And I didn’t even have time to contemplate losing you. Because all I heard was that you were injured. But then Nat said you were alive, and in pretty good shape… all things considered.”

“Adrenaline,” Bradley admitted. “I was just glad to get back to the boat…”

“What can you tell me,” you held his face too, your fingers digging into the sharp edges of his stubble. He gazed at you, the apology in his eyes. “My brain needs to know. I can’t process this.”

“I’m sorry I did that to you,” was all he replied.

“I’ve never been through anything like that, Bradley. And I’ve seen some shit happen in the Navy.”

“I know, love. I know,” he cooed sweetly, his lips tenderly caressing yours. “I love you, I’m sorry,” he murmured against your mouth as you watched him pull away, the water in the rub overflowing to the floor.

“Fuck,” you muttered, easing past him and turning off the tap. Bradley retrieved the towels and tossed them over the water that was now covering the tiles. “I’m sorry.”

He laughed roughly, hitching a breath. “It’s some warm water. It’s okay. Don’t you dare apologise, love.”

You put your hand into the tub, a little more water overflowing as you rocked the flow and pulled the plug, letting the hot water scald you as it escaped. You put the plug back in when it appeared just the right amount of water for him to sit in comfortably. Warm his bones, soothe his aches, anchor him home. “Let me help you,” you said quietly.

“Thank you,” he said. He’d managed to dress himself at the hospital, but he may as well get the inevitable over. He took your hands as they began to pull his tee from his sweatpants. “Love, I just want to warn you…”

“About what?” you asked.

“I’m a bit banged up. Doc reckons I’m not at my worst yet.”

“Oh,” you said, carefully easing the white cotton up over his taut belly, his robust ropes of muscle firing as you touched him, the red and blue and yellow and purple running up his chest, and his right side. Fuck, if it was expected to get worse - “Oh, Bradley,” you said softly. You’d never seen bruising like it.

“Won’t be winning any beauty pageants for the next little while,” he joked.

“Please, you’d still win, pretty boy,” you quipped back at him without hesitation as he grinned dumbly. “Can you lift your arms?”

“Yeah,” he did as he was asked and tentatively raised them. He knew you didn’t miss the shudder in his breath, and you raised the tee before you discarded it.

“Oh, Bradley,” you said again.

“Hope I’m still enough for you,” he prayed you weren’t repulsed because from what he could spot in the mirror across from him? He was.

“I could never,” your cool hands splayed across his side ribs, and it relieved him. You bobbed a little to kiss his belly. His breathing hitched as he realised you were kissing bruises.

“That makes me feel so much better, love,” he inhaled, his voice still laced with desire.

He watched your hands lace into his sweatpants, easing them off his hips skilfully. You ignored that he was half-hard but he couldn’t help it, not with the care and consideration you were showing his ravaged body. You discarded his boxer briefs and he willingly stepped out of them, desperate to feel your skin against his. He held your hips, pressing his lip to yours. “Please join me?”

You nodded, raising you ratty, overworn sweater over your head. You reckoned you’d worn it since you’d got the news about him, you couldn’t fathom the idea to shower in case the phone rang, let alone sleep.

He hummed, his warm, large palms grasping all the skin they could before he skimmed the seams of your bralette and helped you remove it. He ducked slightly to decorate your decolletage in soft kisses and affectionate nips, his strong nose following the curve of your shoulder. He tossed the bralette away and his index fingers slinked to your tights and undies, no need to games. He watched you remove them and move from his grasp towards the bath, getting in first.

He could see you didn’t trust to relax against him, but he was okay with being the little spoon. He bit his lip, watched you lower yourself into the steaming water and you gave him a light grin, reaching your hand for his.

He could have broken every rib, nay every bone in his body, but it wouldn’t stop him from joining you. He was as careful as he could be, chewing back his agony as he crouched between your legs and laid back to rest himself against you. The way your curves welcomed him, how your thighs curled around him, your breasts pressing into his back. Soft, pliable, delicate. “This tub is tiny,” he realised decisively as you laughed and although you couldn’t see it, Bradley’s eyes fluttered closed. Bliss, church bells at your giggles.

You couldn’t afford an argument. “Agreed. Do you want me out?”

“No, no. Stay close to me,” he found your wrists and laced his fingers with yours, resting against his toned stomach. “I’m not letting you go.”

You rested your lips against the nape of his neck and felt his shudder as you placed single kisses in random spots. “I didn’t have time to think I’d never see you again,” you said softly. “I’m just so glad you’re home, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry I scared you…” he said lowly. He played with your fingers, thinking how nice a single band around your ring finger would look. You’d never much discussed marriage, but you both knew your relationship was heading in that direction. He hoped sooner rather than later but you both had so much life to live together, as individuals but also partners. He had too much time to think in that fucking hospital bed about his wants and needs even if he already felt like he had it all because he had you.

But there was so much more to discover with you. Living together would be one thing, but vacations, big life events, babies. He never really thought about children before you. He never really thought about having children at all. But now there didn’t seem a way for a future without you and him creating a family. He couldn’t imagine tripping over kids, maybe just one or two and maybe some space in the backyard to toss around the baseball, or watching you show your sweet baby how to swim. The thought actually made his heart burst with pride.

“Bradley…” you repeated. He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard you.

“Sorry, love. What?”

“Where were you?”

He chuckled quietly. “In a galaxy far, far away.”

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

“You know this about me though.”

“How hard you hit your head on that canopy?” you teased.

“Concussion was cleared,” he reminded you a little sternly. If it wasn’t cleared, he’d still be laying in the fucking hospital bed trying to find excuses to claw out of it.

“I said I heard your stomach growling. Were you getting hungry?” you repeated slowly, annunciating your words.

“I am a little, smart ass,” he admitted, snapping in a clipped tone as you giggled behind him. “But I don’t want to get out yet. Naked giggler behind me making me feel incredible.”

You laughed harder as he grinned wide, just like you hoped he was. “The water will be cold soon,” you reminded him.

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“You’re not medically approved for anything physical,” you sang behind him.

“You seem excited by that,” he murmured.

“Not in the least,” you admitted. “I just don’t want you in any discomfort.”

“Let me be the judge, huh?” he said softly and laughed loudly as you withdrew your linked fingers and gave a thumb’s up. He cursed. “Fuck, laughing hurts…” he moaned. “Shit.”

You sighed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, love. It won’t be like this long.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of you any pain, Bradley.”

“You could never,” he reassured you. His skin exploded into goose pimples as you kissed his shoulders and traps. “God, you’re making me so hard, love,” he muttered. “These mixed messages are killing me.”

“Down, boy,” your tongue tracing the well-worked muscles. “Let me love on you a bit. I’m not trying to work you up, I’m just happy you’re home. Do you want me to stop?”

“Nooo…” he tried to contain his excitement, his cock resting back on his tummy, long, thick and wanting. Clearly, nothing physiologically wrong there, he realised, incredibly relieved. “I’m trying my damnedest not to get worked up with when the sexiest woman alive – ”

“Debatable.”

“Sexiest woman alive is workin’ me over so fuckin’ good,” his voice was sinfully low. “When she is takin’ the time to show you that you’re all that matters? There’s nothing sexier, sweet girl. You’re driving me wild,” his head lolled further back and you gently bit into the flesh of his neck. “Fuck me,” he drawled. Needing respite, he carefully reached for his cock. “I’m sorry, love. I can’t help it, you’re too good to me. I need this,” he lightly made work of the situation in hand, his cock pulsating with need as you massaged his pecs, considerate of pressure and any pain you might have caused him. You couldn’t resist watching over his shoulder as he continued pumping himself in his hands and you’d deny it to the grave, but you were awestruck at the fluid movement of his body, the way his body clenched under tension. You loved watching him touch himself and ware what made him feel good.

“You’re so sexy,” you thighs widening and pressing your core against his back. “I could never forget this…”

He whined, reaching back to kiss you roughly, pumping his hand faster and with more pressure and he shuddered in your hold. You knew he was so close to coming and within seconds, his pearly cum spurt, cascading across his chest, abs and palm with an aggrieved groan against your mouth. “Holy fuck,” he panted, dousing his hands in the water before he reached around to palm your face and kiss you deeply. He rested his forehead against yours and you knew he must have been in pure agony. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you too, Bradley,” you kissed the apples of his cheeks, his eyebrows, his chin, the bridge of his nose, and his lips again.

A few moments later, you both started to realise the water was starting to cool and you volunteered to get out of the tub first and help him from the bath without incident. He let out a litany of curses as he moved to push himself to his feet and grinned when standing. “That hurt. I’m probably not having another bath in the next while.”

“Fair,” you agreed with him, wrapping your towel around your chest and offering your hands to him. “Please be careful, Bradley.”

“My legs are strong,” he told you. “But the fuckin’ ribs, Jesus Christ.”

“How about you pound those painkillers after this, and I’ll order some food in?” you suggested as he skilfully stepped over the rim and onto the bathmat with you. You tucked the fluffy towel around his waist, water dribbling down his chest as he gave you that sweet quirk of the lips and he kissed you again, safe and secure in your arms.

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