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jaegeraether · 3 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 57)

Alexia Putellas x Character (17)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((** Mentions of Lucy and YFN | 4.1K **))

Alexia POV

Alexia’s heart dropped as the door clicked shut. Her emotions boiled over and she let the tears slide down her cheeks. The past few weeks since her injury she felt lonely, weak, cut-off. She did do some of that herself, truthfully. She’d cut herself off from the team to not lay her burden on them. And now it seemed that on top of that, nearly a year of desperately pining over Ridley, she’d also walked away.

Alexia was strong, though. She wiped the tears away. She was used to be alone.

She bent down to do what she always did when upset, put her headphones on and listen to music and then; she explored.

The next hour or so she let herself wander through the penthouse, her mind putting even more pieces of the puzzle together that was Ridley. Neat. Modern. Exceptionally maintained. Obviously created by a very, very good architect and she imagined that Ridley would have been very close to the project in it’s entirety.

Downstairs was the kitchen, the vast living area, laundry, three large bedrooms with ensuites and a sunken theatre room at the far end which was soundproofed. She shook her head at the enormity of it all. She’d stayed in some nice places over the years, but this was something else. She took her time, her hand gliding across surfaces as if they’d speak to her.

She walked outside to the balcony which ran the length of the penthouse, with an outdoor lounge, barbecue area, and a spa attached to a lap pool that beckoned her. She bent down and swiped her hand through. Warm enough to swim and still workout. She’d be coming back to that later.

She moved towards the indoor stairs, that spiralled upwards, her fingers gliding along the perfectly polished wood of the handrail. Upstairs she turned right where there was only one room. Double doors opened to the master bedroom and Alexia hesitated on the doorstep, feeling like she was overstepping. She leant forwards, seeing the large double bed pressed up against the wall, its bedding all different shades of black. She pondered at the bedframe and her thoughts went to Javier’s and his private rooms upstairs where the beds were made for bondage and such. She couldn’t see very well from where she stood, though she did wonder if it had the ability to do just that. Knowing Ridley, the answer was yes. Of course it could. Her mind shifted to how many people had been in that room being pleasured by her. Being adored by her. Being fucke-

Alexia caught herself and her jealousy. No, she wouldn’t let herself go down that path. She turned to the right which was an open bathroom, the bath and a little bit of the shower on display. Two shower heads. Did she used to date someone? Is that why-

No! She scolded herself. Stop. Alexia, stop.

She pulled the bedroom doors closed and made her way to the rooms on the other side of the staircase. One was a gym, a large area with an array of different work out equipment and a large mat in the middle that she assumed was for martial arts. She wondered if she could use it for her rehab with the physio Lucy had suggested. And then her mind shifted to wondering if Ridley would teach her some self-defence there…

There was a library and work office together in one room, separated by a large archway without a door. Somewhere she could zoom into Jonatan or the Barca physios if she needed. One wall was purely glass ensuring it was hit with the perfect amount of sunlight and it had a door leading out to another balcony which ran down to the master bedroom.

Past those two rooms and at the end of the hallway was a dark door which she opened to a pitch black room. Her hand felt around for the light switch and felt the familiar feel of soundproofing. As she flicked the lights on, she realised it was a music studio. Ridley and her love of music. Alexia had never attempted to learn an instrument before, always too busy with her other hobbies. Saying that, she loved music. It was her life, it lifted her when she was sad, calmed her when frustrated and even prepped her for games. She couldn’t live without it.

She felt the guitars and wondered which was her favourite, or if perhaps it was the piano sitting alone. The studio was set up well with a sound booth as if to properly record music and she wondered if she had. She went back out to the control room outside the sound booth and looked through the music on the shelves. There were vinyls, she smiled at the CD’s – how millennial of her – and then sat down at the desk in front of the Mac.

Although Ridley had said she was welcome to anything and everything, she did feel a little like she was intruding. Regardless, she made her decision and clicked on the touchpad. The screen lit up. There was no password, surprisingly, it just went straight to the desktop. Alexia searched around hesitantly, hoping to find some music, any music. At least that’s what she tried to convince herself. Really, she knew what she was looking for. And… she found it. A whole file of it. Ridley’s music.

She hesitated again, her mouse icon hovering over the first file. She connected her headphones to the computer and clicked on that first file. And then there it was, the sound of an acoustic guitar softly being played. She closed her eyes and leant back into the chair, listening to the gentle way Ridley was playing the instrument, as if expressing her emotions from the deepest part of her. Alexia could feel her mind calming, her body relaxing and then… her voice. Like she’d never heard it before. She’d heard her playing loudly for crowds at Javier’s with a band. She’d heard her do covers. But she’d never heard her like this. Vulnerable. Passionate. Almost whispering. Her voice husky with emotion. She sung in Spanish and again, Alexia found herself crying and feeling everything Ridley was at the time she’d recorded it. Oh, Ridley. Was music her only escape?

The song ended and Alexia was a mess, sitting in the darkened room, her eyes red and puffy from the tears she’d allowed to escape. Or rather, the tears that Ridley’s voice had drawn from her. She moved her mouse icon to the second file and went to click when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

Alexia yelped and jumped in her seat, getting the shock of her life. Ridley?

She spun to an older man looking guilty. He spoke, but she couldn’t hear. She pulled her headphones down and stood.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised in Catalan.

“You….you’re…” she hastily wiped her tears away.

“I’m one of the housekeepers, Benjami. Lovely to meet you, la Reina.”

“Alexia, please. Lovely to meet you.” They shared a Spanish hello as another man entered the room.

“Alexia, this is my husband, Richard.”

“Hello, ma’am.” He responded in slightly less comfortable Catalan as he smiled.

They were adorable. Ridley had mentioned they were a couple, but not a gay one.

“You’re both Catalonian?��

Benjami shook his head. “No, I am, however Richard is English.”

That explained Richard’s limited Catalan.

“He move here for I,” Richard explained.

“Oh…” She didn’t know what to say. She felt like she’d just been caught, and that she had too many questions to ask. “Where did you meet Ridley?”

“In Barcelona,” Benjami explained. “My sister and her husband are housekeepers of her home in the city. Richard and I lived there for a long time, and decided it was now fair to spend time in his home too. Ridley offered us this job a few years ago and it’s the best thing that’s happened to us.”

Ridley… how on earth did she think she was ‘not good’? She was the definition of good.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting you. I didn’t see your headphones.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault. Thank you for both speaking Catalan. I miss speaking it…”

“Ridley said you would prefer that.” Benjami smiled.

“Her Catalan is very better than me,” Richard admitted.

“We can speak Spanish or English if you prefer?” She offered.

“No, I want a practice! I am happy for Catalan, thank you!”

“Also I didn’t know which room to put your suitcase in,” Benjami admitted.

“Oh, that’s okay.” She said, smiling thankfully at the older gentleman. “I haven’t chosen yet.”

“I suggest the far one on the left, it gets the best morning light.”

“Okay then, sounds perfect.”

“Would you like dinner?” Benjami asked. “Ridley suggested classic Catalonian for you tonight as you’re already too out of your normality of Barcelona. I know how that feels.”

Ridley was looking after her even when she wasn’t there. “That would be lovely, thanks.”

“Perfect! It’ll take a while as you know, so you have a few hours to keep exploring. It is quite large! We’ll leave you to it.”

They left then and Alexia was stood, not knowing what to do but suddenly grateful she had company. She left the music and went to pick out a bedroom.

Alexia’s suitcase was in the corner bedroom when she got downstairs. She unpacked, even though she didn’t know how long she was staying for, and the first thing she did was use that gym. She pushed herself for a good 45 minutes, feeling guilty that she wasn’t training everyday like the others. Her knee was painful, but she pushed through it, doing her weights and telling herself it was all in her head.

She was warming down on the treadmill when her knee went and she yelped in pain, hopping off and falling to the ground, clutching at her knee. Her mind immediately went to panic. Had she done her meniscus? Her ACL?

She knew it was neither, though she couldn’t stop those being her first thoughts. The pain went away gradually and she sat up, stretching it and massaging it out. Her workout was done.

She limped her way back down to the bottom floor and didn’t bother to change before falling into the pool. That sweet relief. She was a water baby, being Spanish, and felt the immediate ease of tension that was weight on her knee.

Swimming had always been a nice reprieve for her. One of her favourite types of rehabilitation for her knee. She swam a few slow laps before getting out and showering for dinner.

She shared dinner with the older couple who had made several typical Catalonian dishes done very, very well. They chatted, laughed, spoke of home and helped Richard with his pronunciations. They spoke of Benjami picking her up the next day to go to Lucy and Blau’s, organising a time. She said she didn’t know how long she’d be there, but it wasn’t an issue for him. He always found things to do.

Although they insisted she didn’t, she helped them clean up and made sure they took some food home with them as they left.

Alexia settled into bed, full and warm besides the icepack Richard had wrapped up for her knee. She stared at the ceiling wondering again why the fuck she was in London. It was so unlike her, and although Ridley wasn’t there, she seemed to still be taking care of her from afar.

Her protectiveness. Her resilience. Her strength… her voice… her whole aura. The way she protected Blau. The way she truly saw her. Brought them a surprise. Cared for Chiquito. Loved her music.

The way she’d gripped her neck that night, and she hadn’t wanted it to stop.

Alexia’s breathing became ragged as her hands found her neck where she’d been holding and drifted down to tease her nipples through her shirt.

The way she looked at her.

Her fingers trailed down her abdomen and one slipped under her shirt, feeling across the skin of her body while the other drifted lower.

The way she’d leant over her at lunch, her arm and leg warm against her own.

Although they were her own fingers, she still drew in a sharp breath as they slipped through her wet folds which betrayed just how much she liked the Australian.

The way she’d brushed up against her in the plane and asked if she were going to behave.

“Good girl.”

Alexia’s fingers circled her clit with purpose, drawing that legless feeling out of her, and whimpering at the sensations.

The way she’d guided her through fucking another woman, her body against her back as she ate her out. As Ridley had lined their fingers up and pushed them inside of the women together.

Alexia pushed two fingers inside of herself, moaning at the feel and wishing they were Ridley’s. She’d know exactly what she wanted. Her spare hand moved to the other nipple, flicking it. Exciting it. Pinching it.

She thrusted into herself a few times, enjoying the feel of her body mindlessly clenching and unclenching as she pulled her wetness up to her clit and covered it, rubbing herself mindlessly. Needlessly.

The way she’d slipped her hand down and touched her, expertly fucking her as she tasted another. Ridley’s way of keeping that distance between them. She’d touched her like she knew her body better than herself. She’d never entered her, just expertly teased her clit and drawn that ecstasy out of her like it was easy. It was never easy for Alexia, but right now, and with Ridley, it was.

Her spare hand moved up to her throat and choked herself as Ridley had, her back arching off of the bed as she rubbed her bundle of nerves to the point of no return.

Ridley. She’d made her come in just a few minutes, her front pressed warmly against her back; her breath tickling her ear as she murmured encouragement while she came.

She was unable to stay silent as she moaned, whimpered, gasped her name again and again. Ridley. Ridley. Ridley. With her back arched tighter than a bowstring, Alexia came to her memories of the smell of her, the feel of her, the heart of her. And she heard herself let out a pained cry of ecstasy as her body locked up and spasmed.

Ridley’s POV

Ridley hadn’t slept. How could she? She’d suggested Alexia come to London and then left her to be alone. She could offer everything, make sure everyone was checking up on her, but it would never be enough. She didn’t realise just how much she didn’t trust herself around the footballer. Not until the plane.

She was in a meeting and grudgingly entertaining the opinions and suggestions of those around her only because they were key stakeholders, though, she had no plans to go ahead with any of them. It was her company. Her decision. Not a board. She was the majority owner. Her company which was world-wide. The one she’d created from the ground up to provide training to pilots, make recommendations of candidates for piloting positions in the militaries, passenger liners and general aviation around the globe. Her company which covered that large gap in the market and made sure people were adequately trained, resourced and prepared. There was nothing her company couldn’t do when it came to aviation. Provide flight reviews for airlines around the world. Provide appropriate type-rated pilots to fill gaps for the larger companies. Training and type-rating. Liaising with aircraft manufacturers to ensure better ease of use and functionality in the flight decks. It was growing exponentially every year, and always, people had something to say. To suggest. To beg her for. And regardless of any of that nonsense, she was zoned out thinking about Alexia Putellas.

Her lips and her hazel eyes and that hair she was so obsessed with. She could control herself most of the time, but not when it came to pushing the hair from her eyes or tucking it behind her ear.

She knew she could have her right now. She could walk into that apartment and crash their bodies together and Alexia would happily accept it. It would be the most incredible, mindblowing sex. She knew that.

She didn’t need to staying in the hotel in town. There was no reason for her to. She just wanted to provide that distance to avoid any interactions like that. Any possible slips of discipline on her part, not that it wasn’t rare to happen. There was so much good in her, so much happiness. She needed that and Alexia wouldn’t find it in her. Because the good in her, the part that deserved to be loved, died the day her family did.

“And the US navy would like another ten recommendations of…”

The voices drowned away. She knew her colleague was taking notes scrupulously as he usually did. Never missed a beat, that one.

Her body was feeling cold and empty. Nothing could fill it. She thought of calling up one of her regular London benefits but she didn’t because she knew there would be no point. It wouldn’t take the ache away. She was so mad at herself for being so weak, and yet that madness was overcome by that feeling of longing. She needed to make sure she was okay. To know how she was doing.

“I’m going to make a phone call,” she said loudly to the room.

“We’ll wait,” one said quickly, knowing she was the one with the power in the room. It was incredible how submissive powerful men became when they knew they needed her. Which was always.

“No, don’t. Keith is all over it.” She refused and flashed him a wink as she left the room.

She walked out of the conference room of the hotel and found a quiet spot in the bar area, ordering a drink. She pulled out her phone and called Blue.

“Hey Riddles!”

She always loved hearing her say that.

“Hey baby Blue, how are going with everything?”

“Checking up on me are you?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not, Lucy just looked offended. I’m great, it’s difficult to do daily tasks but we’re managing. I’m more worried about Lucy’s knee as she carries me everywhere.”

“She’ll be okay.”

“How’s work?” She asked sceptically.

“Oh you know, little men begging.”

“Ah, so you’re having a fun day then.”

“Yeah…”

“What’s up, Riddles? You’re not sounding yourself.”

She took a sip of her drink that had just arrived. The waitress winked as she walked away. “I’m okay.”

“Talk to me…”

“It’s nothing, Blue. How’s Alexia?”

Blue paused, understanding immediately as she usually did. “She’s… good.”

“She’s happy?” At this point, she couldn’t even care how obvious she was being.

“I mean… yes. We’ve been having a fun day.”

The way she spoke made Ridley realise she was probably sitting right next to her, and she would be unable to walk away for privacy with her injuries.

“Doing what?”

Blue laughed. “Well we played a board game and made some lunch and right now I’m being interrogated…”

“And after lunch?”

Blue sighed, probably at her persistence. “Lucy is going to the park with Alexia and Narla to kick the ball around later on while I work. And then Alexia has a rehab session with Meg tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Would you like to co-”

“No. No, I was just checking in.”

“Hm.” She could practically hear her thoughts telling her to just message Alexia.

The thought of her sitting next to Blue and knowing she was checking up didn’t sit well with her.

There was a pause. A moment of silence. She knew Blue wanted to talk, to offer advice but she couldn’t because she was right there. And Ridley… Ridley didn’t know what to say. She was too conflicted.

She knew she should have hung up, but she didn’t.

“Is she happy…?” She asked again.

Blue sighed softly and Ridley could feel her looking at Alexia. “She’s lonely, Riddles.”

Ridley knew she was, but it still didn’t stop it hurting. And the fact that Alexia had heard her say that. Blue was trying to encourage her to get out of the hotel, to spend time with her. But she couldn’t. Her pride wouldn’t let her.

“Thanks for inviting her over,” she murmured.

“It wasn’t for you.”

“I know.”

Ridley hung up, downed her drink and went back to her meeting feeling even more terribly than she had before she’d left.

Alexia POV

The physio, Meg, was attractive. Very attractive. She and Alexia immediately fell into sync with each other and it was just so natural to flirt. She was 100% Alexia’s type, and suddenly, she was back to her dominant self.

Meg hadn’t found anything wrong with her knee, she believed it was performing well and suggested that it may be a mental barrier rather than a physical one. Alexia had also wondered about it, almost wanting to push her knee… to test it to the extreme to see if it would handle the pressure. Meg was patient though. Kind. Caring. She’d massaged her in all of the right places, and relaxed it more than it had been in a few days. The girls had been right, she was fantastic. As her fingers kneaded her upper thigh she thought back to the night before and how she’d touched herself. She quickly pushed the thought of Ridley out of her mind and instead thought back to the last time she’d had sex. She almost gasped when she realised that Ridley was the last to touch her. It had been that long. She hadn’t let anyone touch her since. Part of her wanted to stay that way… and part of her said she needed sex to try and distance herself from her emotions. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t stop thinking about her.

And so Meg flirted, and Alexia flirted right back. Shamelessly. She left the rehab session, having barely made it out without fucking her right then and there. God, she was sexy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow…” she murmured, looking to Alexia’s lips and back.

The only thing stopping Alexia was that they’d only met an hour ago.

“See you tomorrow,” she flirted, flashing her a grin that Meg trembled under.

Meg leant in so close that Alexia’s heart skipped a jump as she slid something into her jacket pocket and whispered. “Message me.”

Benjami was chatty as he drove her back to the penthouse, talking about his day with Richard. It calmed Alexia to listen to it. How could it not? Two people very much in love and excited to share their day with her. They had again planned a dinner for the three of them, having agreed to it after their fun the night before.

Richard greeted them with a far off call from the kitchen as they entered and it smelled like home. So, so good. She hung up her jacket and kicked off her shoes as if she’d been living there for years.

“Ten minutes!” Richard called.

Dinner was almost ready. It was much, much earlier than she ate in Barcelona but she didn’t mind. Benjami started towards the kitchen to help when he snapped his fingers and turned to Alexia.

“Sorry… I forgot to mention the gifts in your bedroom.”

She tilted her head in question, though he didn’t answer, just giving her a soft smile instead as he moved towards the kitchen.

Alexia made her way to her bedroom, wondering what they’d bought her, or rather what Ridley had asked them to buy her. Was it because Blau had said she was lonely on the phone that day? Alexia’s heart had dropped at the honesty of it when she’d said it and Blau had immediately given her an apologetic smile. Alexia knew it was her way of telling her friend to be better.

She entered the room, and the first thing she saw was the easel. Her eyes followed it to the blank canvases, all different styles. Pencils. Paintbrushes and paint. Her favourite hobbies. Her heart skipped a beat. Ridley.

She took the note off of the easel and read it, her hand beginning to tremble.

Your first gift is to pass the time.

Your second gift is for company.

She was confused, wondering what the second gift was. Her eyes wandered the room and fell on her bed. She took a sharp breath in as she saw his little grey body curled up, fast asleep.

It was Chiquito.

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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

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🌶️ Yandere Baki Short Stories: Longing (Final) 🌶️

Yandere Katsumi Orochi x Afab Reader

Minors DNI!!

Trigger Warnings: Yandere behavior, breeding kink, obsession, etc

Part 1

4.4k words

Katsumi glanced at the clock. It was a quarter past one in the morning… he was sure (your name) was fast asleep and yet he was still restless.

Katsumi quietly rose up from his bed to make his way to the kitchen for a glass of ice water. After his late night endeavor, he was parched.

Katsumi softly tiptoed through the house, careful not to make a peep. He’d hate to wake up (your name)…

Katsumi quietly opened the cupboard and picked up a glass cup. The young man gently shut the cupboard door shut and made his way over to the sink to fill up his glass.

Katsumi greedily gulped down the cold water and sighed. It seemed he was going to have yet another restless night.

As he made his way back to his room, he heard a soft groan. The young man paused and glanced at the door that was ajar to (your name)’s room. It wouldn’t hurt to peak would it?

Katsumi peaked his head into her room and saw her snuggled underneath a multitude of blankets. Her small body curled up into a plain white body pillow. She was so cute…

Katsumi found himself automatically move to her side when she mumbled incoherently in her sleep. Her brows furrowed a bit as she smushed herself further into the body pillow. Katsumi’s heart clenched at the sight.

He reached his left hand down to brush a few stray hairs from her face. (Your name) unconsciously leaned into the touch with a content sigh. Katsumi warmed at her reaction.

He sat himself on the corner of her bed, his hand contently stroked her soft hairs before he moved to stroke the soft skin of her face. And that’s when he caught himself run his thumb across her plump lips. He froze in horror.

Why was he being such a weirdo? Katsumi wanted to smash his head into a wall at first until her lips pressed tenderly against his thumb. He felt his breath hitch at the light touch.

Katsumi slowly lifted his hand up and pressed his lips to the spot she kissed. He shuddered in awe. This was an indirect kiss… how badly he wanted to press his lips against hers.

Katsumi cast one last look toward (your name) before he left the room. Katsumi put his palm over his face once the shame set in. He was sick. He was so sick…

But why had those simple touches felt so right?

As of late, he caught himself taking pictures of her doing her day to day activities. Whether she ate food, took a nap, watched a movie, etc, Katsumi had a picture of it.

To try to ease his longing for her, he had printed out each picture and put them into a photo album. He frequently had to refill the album, because he found himself kissing all the older photos until the faces disappeared off them. Oops.

Katsumi crawled in bed with her almost every night. He couldn’t sleep without her body by his side. (Your name) was his only solace… his light. His love.

Katsumi couldn’t bear to be a part from her. It drove him mad.

At this point, Katsumi had finally figured out that his feelings are not normal. That this was spiraling out of control and he might act upon his alien feelings towards the young woman.

He needed to let his feelings be known, or otherwise, he’d be be consumed in his obsession.

Lately (your name) would wake up in a pool of sweat, which was abnormal for her. She always kept her room at a sensible degree but as of late, she’d been so hot in her sleep. Maybe she needed to shed a few blankets?

The young woman sighed and shook her head. She had been so tired as of late… she felt drained…

(Your name) made her way towards the kitchen only to spot when she saw a shirtless Katsumi by the fridge. The carton of orange juice in his hand. He had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar…

“Hey! What did I tell you about drinking out do the carton?” (Your name) scolded him with a laugh, the young man bashfully hid his face.

(Your name)’s cheeks flushed a bit when she noticed his visible V line. Why did Katsumi have to be so attractive? He had the perfect build and his demeanor was so cute…

Wait. Did she have a crush on him?

Katsumi noticed the flushed look on her face and it made his heart race. What wa sin her mind? Hopefully it was him.

(Your name) noticed a change in Katsumi as the weeks went by. He was touchier and was always a bit too into her personal space. It bugged her but she wondered if he was just naturally a touchy guy.

Just like now, he sat beside her on the couch as she watched a movie. His arm on the back of the couch, just barely above her shoulders… she wondered if he needed anything? Maybe he was cold since she had the blanket?

“Katsumi?” Katsumi immediately turned his head to her, he reminded her of a puppy with his happy demeanor. “Are you cold?”

Katsumi’s cheeks flushed a bright red. Did she just offer to share the blanket with him? Was she making the first move?

“I am a little bit, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Katsumi replied softly, a tender look in his eye. “We could… share it.”

(Your name) thought for a moment but then she scooted towards Katsumi. She opened up her blanket and offered him some, only for Katsumi to scoop his arm around her and pull her towards him. A shocked gasp spilled from her lips.

“Katsumi!” (Your name) squeaked but Katsumi only chuckled.

“Sorry… but isn’t this more comfortable?” Katsumi gave her a cheesy smile, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Her back was pressed into his broad chest, which left no room for escape.

(Your name) sighed and accepted defeat. Katsumi was so warm… like a furnace. And she could smell the scent of oranges and clean linen on him. Something about him felt so oddly comforting.

Katsumi smiled when she curled into his embrace. Did he dare to be a bit bolder?

“(Your name)?” Katsumi smiled down at the young woman who innocently glanced up at him. Her head tilted off the the side a bit, a lump caught in his throat when their eyes met. He needed to make the first move.

“Yes?”

Katsumi gulped down the lump, and leaned down. His lips pressed softly against the top of her head. (Your name) merely froze in place like a deer caught in the head lights.

Katsumi swiftly pulled away, his eyes widen in shock. Did he make her uncomfortable?

“I’m sorry-“ (your name) tenderly pressed her lips to his chin, a shy smile on her face.

“It’s okay… I enjoyed it.” (Your name) awkwardly leaned a bit more into his chest, which left Katsumi stunned. The young man blankly stared off into the distance for a bit until he shook his head.

“Wait… do you like me too?” Katsumi whispered, both of their faces erupted into a bright shade of red.

“Well… I-I mean… um.” (Your name) was at a loss for words. She clutched her hands to her chest to try to calm her anxious heart. She didn’t know what to say… or what to do. She’s never dated before. She was so close to a full blown panic.

Katsumi placed his hand on her cheek to turn her head to face him. His eyes half lidded with desire and his slightly chapped lips parted. And that’s when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. His movement a bit clumsy but still incredibly gentle.

(Your name) closed her eyes and shyly kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him closer while Katsumi wrapped his arm around her waist.

The two of them found themselves unable to pull away from one another. Their mouths entangled in a clumsy, sensual dance of lips, tongue, and teeth.

The two slowly pulled away, their lips swollen and their cheeks flushed. Katsumi leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course!” (Your name) giggled. The two sat in each other’s embrace.

The poor girl was unaware that she had just sealed her fate…

Days with Katsumi were exciting and new. He would wrap his left arm snug around her waist whenever she’d make meals so he could press kisses to her neck, shoulders, and cheeks. His face buried into the back of her neck so he could greedily inhale her scent. He was such a goofball.

Katsumi loved to play wrestle and start tickle fights. The man was nice enough to let her win most of the time and he’d eventually release her from tickles when both of their chests hurt from their fits of laughter.

Katsumi would also randomly buy ‘just because’ flowers for her, takeout from her favorite restaurants when she had a busy day, and he always snuggled beside her at night. His arm wrapped around her while he spooned her body in her bed. Occasionally she’d join him in his. Everything felt so natural with him.

Katsumi was amazing. He was everything she ever wanted in a man. And today… she was going to meet his parents.

Katsumi gave (your name)’s right hand a reassuring squeeze. His fingers interlaced with hers.

“You’re stressing too much about it. Don’t sweat it.” Katsumi laughed, his eyes filled with love. “They’re so excited to meet you. I’ll probably have to pry them off of you.”

(Your name) smiled at Katsumi, the man instantly cheered her up. “ I hope you don’t have to pry off your parents. I can barely pry off you.”

The couple shared a laugh. The two continued to walk hand in hand to his parents’ house. The two eventually coming to a stop in front of a large, traditional compound.

“Here, let me help you take off your shoes.” Katsumi helped (your name) sit down on the steps before he bent down to untie her shoes for her. The karateka snuck in a kiss on her ankle before he removed the other shoe.

“Katsumi, stop.” (Your name) giggled while Katsumi gave her a dopey grin.

“Am I not allowed to be obsessed with my girl?” Katsumi gave her a flirty wink which made her cheeks explode into crimson.

And that’s when an older woman and a bald man opened the door. The older couple’s eyes wide at the young woman who sat on their step with her feet in Katsumi’s hands.

Katsumi rose up to his feet in a snap, the young man blushed under his parents’ gaze. Katsumi grabbed (your name)’s hand and gave a slight bow to his parents. “Mom. Dad. This is my girlfriend, (your name)-“

Natsue rushed over to the couple and hugged them both. The older woman squealed in happiness, her chocolate eyes filled with warmth.

“It’s nice to finally meet you! Katsumi gushes about you all the time.” Natsue smiled brightly at the couple, Katsumi shyly looked away. “I almost thought you were a dream of his like the kind he used to have when he was little-“

Katsumi swatted Natsue away, the young man pulled (your name) toward him with his arm. “Mom, stop embarrassing me.”

“Is it wrong for a mother to love her son?” Natsue lead the couple into the compound, Katsumi placed his and (your name)’s shoes on the steps. “I can’t wait to show you all of his baby pictures-“

“Mom!” (Your name) put her hand over her lips so her laughs didn’t escape. Katsumi and his family were all so cute…

“And this is Katsumi during his first bath.” Natsue pointed at a picture of a chubby baby in a tub. His signature eyebrows gave away exactly who he was. “I bugged his birth mom for these… I just love babies.”

Katsumi buried his face in (your name)’s shoulder to try to hide his shame but (your name)’s eyes onto sparkled at how cute he was. He was so chubby…

“…little baby feet.” (Your name) muttered softly, her eyes looked at Katsumi’s baby feet in the picture.

“Babies smell so nice and they’re so cute.” Natsue babbled, her shined when she noticed (your name)’s awestruck expression. “I wish we could’ve adopted Katsumi when he was a baby-“

“Let’s put the baby books away.” Doppo laughed as he reached over to gently pull the photo album away from Natsue. “I doubt she wants to see him with his foot in his mouth-“

“You have a picture of his foot in his mouth?!” Natsue snatched the book back from Doppo and flipped through the pages. Hee manicured fingers pointed at one of the cutest baby pictures (your name) had ever seen.

(Your name) almost cried from how cute Katsumi was… He was such a precious, chunky babe.

Katsumi gaze softened at the sight. The young man placed his head on her shoulder, a thought ran through his mind. What if they weren’t his baby pictures, what if these pictures were of their own baby?

Would they have his hair and her eyes? Would they be chubby and happy too with his eyebrows? He wondered if they’d be a boy to a girl…

Katsumi watched (your name) playfully share banter with Doppo and Natsue. The young woman fit right in with little issue, he could tell his parents were fond of her… she was the perfect fit to join their family. Would she want to be his wife? Would she want to be a mother?

Katsumi could picture it. He could see (your name) with a big smile on her face while she proudly held her swollen stomach. She’d be so cute and round with a product of their love inside her. It would be such a perfect sight…

Katsumi pressed a kiss on her shoulder, which caused (your name) to rest her head on his cheek. She eventually pulled away and glanced at Katsumi.

“You were such a cutie when you were little…”

“Are you saying I’m not cute anymore?” Katsumi quirked a brow up at (your name) which made her cheeks warm.

“No… I’m just saying you don’t have cute little feet anymore. You have stinky man feet.” (Your name) squealed when Katsumi bumped her ankle with his bare foot. “Katsu!”

“Just rubbing my stinky man feet on you is all.” Katsumi and her shared a laugh while his parents admired the young couple. They were sure these two were going to be married soon… and grand babies would be soon to follow…

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree…

Katsumi nuzzled his face into (your name)‘s neck, the man deeply inhaled her sweet scent. He couldn’t get enough of her… it drove him insane… just like what’s been on his mind as of late.

They’ve been dating for three months now and they still haven’t been intimate… was she celibate? He didn’t know how to bring it up… maybe he should just ask?

“(Your name)?” (Your name) perked up from her position on the couch, the young woman gave Katsumi her undivided attention.

“Yes, Katsu?” (Your name) softly asked, her lashes fluttered over her (eye color) eyes. Why did she have to be so cute without even trying? “Is something on your mind?”

“I…” Katsumi but his lip, the male hesitated. Was it a strange thing to ask? Would she think he was a pervert?

“Katsumi.” (Your name) scooted away from him and sat up, she grabbed his hand in hers. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I… I just have been wondering when…” Katsumi then mumbled something she couldn’t quite understand under his breath, the young woman furrowed her brows.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“I want to have sex!” Katsumi blurted, the man immediately turned red in shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout… I just… I just wondered because we’ve been together for awhile and I’d like to be as close to you as possible-“

“N-no, it’s okay!” (Your name)’s face was just as red. The two sat awkwardly in front of each other. “I… I’ve never…”

“It’s o-okay. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But I’ve never…”

“I’ve never had sex!” The two shouted in unison, their eyes both wide when they looked at each other.

An awkward silence filled the room before the two began to blush even more.

“I didn’t think you’d still be pure…” Katsumi blushed softly. His heart raced at the thought. She was still pure… she would be all his then. His one and only.

“I didn’t think you’d still be a virgin too.” (Your name) shyly replied, she tried to hide her burning cheeks from him but Katsumi grabbed her face in his hand.

Katsumi took the lead and leaned in to press his lips against hers. The young man shuddered at the soft contact before he dived in. His tongue begged for entrance, the wet muscle danced across her bottom lip until she relented.

Katsumi shoved her back on the couch, the couple now a mess of limbs while Katsumi’s hand moved from her face to her stomach.

Katsumi pushed the fabric of her shirt up while his tongue dominated hers. The young man pulled away from the kiss, a wet string of saliva connected the two. His lust filled eyes twinkled at the sight of her in her bra before him.

“You’re all mine…” Katsumi whispered before he moved his lips down to kiss the top of each breast. “I’m going to be the only man to fill you…”

(Your name) gasped when he pulled apart her sports bra like wrapping paper. His mouth latched onto her left nipple to give it an eager suck. A strangled moan escaped her swollen lips while she tried to push him back a bit.

“Gentle, please.” (Your name) whined when Katsumi turned his head up to look up at her. The man pulled away with a wet pop before he dragged his tongue over the pebbled surface.

“I want to touch everything… let me see all of you.” Katsumi whispered into her soft skin, his fingers danced over the delicate skin on her stomach. “I love you so much…”

(Your name) blushed when he pressed a tender kiss to one of her stretch marks, his dark eyes glanced up at her. “Can we go to my bed?”

(Your name) nodded and she was scooped up in his arm in an instant. Katsumi grinned at her as he stole he away to his room. The young man fell on the bed with her in a fit of giggles. His lips entangled with hers once more.

“You’re so beautiful.” Katsumi mutters between desperate kisses, his hips grinded into hers. His thick bulge made her even more nervous on what was to come. “So perfect.”

“I’m scared, Katsumi-“ Katsumi pressed his lips from the top of her neck all the way down her stomach. He would not be stop now, not when he finally could have his fill.

“Allow me to indulge in everything that you have to offer.” Katsumi muttered, his hot breath fanned her hips. “Do I have permission to pull these down?”

(Your name) blushed but she helped Katsumi to pull them down. His onyx eyes took in her bare form before him in awe.

“So beautiful.” Katsumi placed a soft kiss to (your name)’s damp core, his fingers moved to gently stroke the wet slit. Katsumi gazed into her eyes as he inserted a finger, he memorized all of her expression with glee. She was so tight… “Relax a bit, baby. It’ll hurt if you don’t.”

(Your name) sucked in a breath, a few tears in her eyes. His finger was thick… much thicker than her own. And she knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. How on earth would she be able to handle more of this if already felt stretched?

Katsumi leaned forward and kissed her mouth. The young man gently curled his finger inside her wet heat until he felt her relax a bit under him. He kissed away her tears.

“I-I’m scared.” (Your name) whispered, only to be silenced by Katsumi’s kisses. The young man angled his thumb up until he felt the small ball of nerves above her slit. His thumb rubbed small circles on her clit, a smile on his lips when she whined a bit. There we go… Katsumi wanted her to feel good.

“We’re learning together.” Katsumi kissed her cheeks and pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you so much… does this feel good?”

“Feels good…” (Your name) wrapped her arms around Katsumi’s neck. She buried her nose into his muscular shoulder to try to ground herself. “M-more please…”

Katsumi smiled at her, the young man slowly eased in another finger to prep her for what was to come. (Your name)’s breath hitched and she moaned into his shoulder.

Katsumi pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a big smile on his face. “There we go… do you like this? Am I touching you right?”

(Your name) shyly nodded, her eyes glance at him. “Y-yes… I…”

Katsumi gave (your name) a soft kiss, his body trembled a bit. “Can I… can I give you more?”

“More?” (Your name)’s back arched when he curled his fingers inside of her in her most sensitive spot. A loud moan escaped her lips. “What do you mean-“

(Your name)’s words were stuck in her throat at the sight before her. Katsumi had a damp spot on his shorts from the end of his erection, his cheeks a bright cherry red under her intense gaze.

“I want… I want to become one.” Katsumi blushed, his head shyly tilt off to the side. “Please… I’ll be gentle.”

(Your name) curiously reached a hand forward to touch the strained bulge, Katsumi shuddered in response. He didn’t dare stop her curiosity. He was too over the moon that she just touched him to care if she wanted more.

“I trust you…” (Your name) lowered the waist band of his pants, his member sprang out and smacked right below his belly button. He was thick… could she fit her hands around it?

Katsumi whined when her hand gently wrapped around his shaft. Her eyes widen at his reaction.

“I’m sorry! Did I hurt you-“ Katsumi gentle thrust into her hand, his eyes half lidded with lust.

“No… feels good.” Katsumi replied while he continued to curl his fingers in her which elicited a moan from her lips. “You make me feel so good…”

Katsumi pulled his dripping fingers out of her with a squelch. The young man brought the wet digits up to his mouth and sucked the juices off of them, his eyes didn’t leave hers once.

Katsumi scooped her wrists up in his hand and pushed them above her head. The man gulped above her.

“I think you’re adjusted enough… it might hurt a bit.” Katsumi whispered. “You can hold onto my back, okay? Just tell me if it’s too much.”

Katsumi then pulled his hand back to line himself up at her entrance. The damp, bulbous tip began to slowly breach her walls, a shudder escaped Katsumi’s lips at the sensation.

“So tight!” He cried while (your name) held onto his back. Her body burned s little from the foreign intrusion. “I’m not hurting you am I?”

“No, Katsumi.” Katsumi shushed her, his thumb wiped away a few stray tears.

“You say that and then you cry. Liar.” Katsumi placed his lips on hers with the tenderness of a man in love. “I’m not even hallways in yet and you’re squeezing me so tight… just relax, baby.”

(Your name) felt more tears fall but Katsumi maneuvered his thumb back to her neglected clit. The young man began to softly circle the small bud again while he inched into her.

The young woman began to slowly adjust to him with a soft smile. Her hips slowly bucked into his and without warning, he began to slam himself into her. His heavy balls slapped against the fat of her ass, words of incoherent praises and curses spilled from his lips that would bring any porn star to shame.

“I’m gonna get you pregnant.” Katsumi moaned. “Gonna fill up your womb with my cum!”

(Your name) could only gasp and moan under Katsumi, his thrusts slammed the whole bed into the wall. She held onto his back for dear life while his hand held the head board.

“I’m gonna to breed you!” Katsumi cried, tears fell from his eyes. “Gonna make you my wife!”

(Your name) felt a coil start to build up, her moans and gasps grew louder while Katsumi’s hips started to stutter. She knew he was close.

“Katsumi, I think I’m gonna-“

“M-me too. Let’s cum together.” Katsumi muttered before he slammed his lips down on hers in s hungry kiss. His hand tangled in her hair as his thrusts became sloppy.

(Your name)’s body wracked with an orgasm, her body shook and her toes curled from the force. And Katsumi was immediately after, his muscles went taut and his eyes rolled back. Hot, molten cum filled her as her muscles clamped around him.

“I love you.” Katsumi whispered over and over again. The man pressed his lips all over her face. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.” (Your name) giggled at his touchiness. The dark haired man buried his face into the crook of her neck. “I love you a lot, Katsumi.”

Katsumi smiled up at her as he pulled out of her. He wrapped his arm around her in a tight hug. She’d never love him s fraction of what he felt for her, but that was okay…

Katsumi was never going to let her go. Now that they lost their virginities to each other, they were bound for life. Marriage and children were the next logical step.

“Let’s get married and start a family.” Katsumi whispered into her hair. “I’m all yours… just please don’t ever leave me.”

“I’d never leave you, Katsumi.” Katsumi and (your name) shared a smile.

Katsumi pulled the blanket over the two of them for warmth. Finally… finally this was a longing fulfilled at last…

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ollieolliewrld · 2 months

Note

Hi!- do you perhaps do HSR angst or smth. Maybe a Blade angst where he gets nightmares/flashbacks of his past life as yingxing in his sleep, but is woken up by reader (his lover, can be gender neutral, whatever u prefer). He refuses reader's comfort, yet still secretly feels grateful (This is my first time requesting smth so i hope u dont mind!)

Thank you for the request, my love <3 I hope you enjoy this!

Bladexgn!reader

angst!

0.8k words

The area is dim, shadows overtake the land as Blade walks down the street. Booths of vendors are left empty, their goods left out to be taken. All the lanterns meant to light the walkway have long since burned out. Blade walks trying desperately to remember why he is here, why he is alone.

“Yingxing!” a small voice calls out.

His strolled pace comes to a stop and a chill covers his body as he turns to face the voice.

In the darkness, he struggles to find any semblance of life. Failing at this, he decides to move closer, investigating a storefront that has left their window ajar.

As he gets closer he sees the inside of the store has been ravaged. Marks of a sword scar the walls and broken glass is thrown across the floor. His ears start ringing as he is overcome with a sense that he has been here before.

A pit forms in his stomach, and his eyes widen as the palms of his hands begin to sweat. This is fear. Something he has not felt in a long time.

Blade turns quickly to get away from this place but he is stopped by a female figure, it’s impossible to make out her features in the dark.

“Yingxing, I told you to be home by dark. Sweetheart, did you get lost again?” The figure says as she brings her hand to his cheek, wiping away a tear he didn’t know was there.

Furrowing his eyebrows he places a name to the voice, “Mother?” His voice is shaky unsure of what he is saying.

“Let’s go home now, your dinner is getting cold,” she says leading him back to the street.

As she turns into the moonlight the indistinct features of her face disappear leaving a flat white mask.

Stuck in place Blade is frozen with fear.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Yingxing? Don’t you trust your mother?” The figure says extending her hand back to Blade.

Sick to his stomach, he feels a tightness form in his chest making it impossible for him to breathe. The world starts to spiral around him as he loses his footing. Just as he feels himself falling into the chaos around him, he is brought back to reality feeling your hand on his chest.

As Blade opens his eyes he wakes with a jolt immediately moving to sit up and back away from you. His eyes dart around the room and he attempts to gain his bearings back. You watch as his chest heaves, his breath unstable.

“Did you have another nightmare, my love?” You ask placing your hand lightly on his leg.

Taking a deep breath, he meets your eyes and pushes your hand off him.

Without saying a word he gets out of bed and leaves the room.

Worridly you follow after him, giving him his space but watching that he is ok.

Blade ends up on the living room couch with his head in his hands attempting to push away the pain that he felt. How could he not remember the face of his mother? Why did he remember that street? The questions just pilled up until he felt your presence behind him.

“Your eyes burn holes into my back, I can feel you there,” He says not removing his head from its position, “Go back to bed, this does not involve you.”

Silently you nod as you turn to go back to your shared room.

When Blade hears the door close and knows that he is alone, he moves so that he is lying on the couch looking up at the ceiling. His thoughts start to slow as the broken memories of his past are mixed with the remembrance of your presence.

The care in your eyes as you looked at him, knowing that he is capable of killing you and everything around him. Even with that you still stay to care about him, trying to help him out of the darkness of his past. He stays there in thought for some time before returning to bed.

Blade knows that you are only pretending to sleep, as you always do, waiting to ensure that he is ok before you drift off to sleep. Silently he gets into bed, carefully wrapping his arms around you. When he falls asleep this time he is at peace being able to leave his past behind him.

#hsr blade #blade x reader #blade honkai #yingxing #blade angst

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 1 month

Text

Making the Most of It

A follow-up to Blown Lightbulbs by bellygunnr featuring Lasky, Palmer, and Roland and the ever-present passage of time. Here's 3.4k words of AI Possession, brunch, banter, and salvaging your precious time together after a trip to your childhood home.

Also on ao3. This work is mature but not explicit.

The trip to Mars wasn't a total wash just because of the disastrous meeting at the Lasky Household. They still had a few things left on the itinerary that Sarah and Roland had put together without Tom's knowing. And Roland wanted to try those mimosas.

There's some movie droning on the wall sized TV in the background, screen dimmed along with the lights in the room, casting gentle shadows on cream colored walls. Half the pillows are arranged in a comfortable nest, propping them up while the other half are piled on the overstuffed recliner in the other room. They're too high up for street noise, but every so often the passing engine sounds of a ship taking off rumbles through the thick walls of their hotel room.

It’s a little ridiculous, a huge room high above the sprawling landscape of a bustling downtown, views of the shipyard and further out the edge of the terraformed greenery giving way to natural Martian red-brown. A penthouse suite complete with minibar and a bathroom bigger than his quarters on the ship. Beyond excess, but he knows they picked it out for him. Just like they both came along, and comforted him when the house and everything related to it was so damn cold.

The sheets are soft and clean, and the comforter light yet warm, like a cloud surrounding them in their small bubble. Pressed against each other, skin on skin, her mouth moving from his ear to the back of his neck, trailing kisses as they entwine and exist.

He's two people right now and also just one, experiencing the feeling of being held, of warmth and love made physical as she crawls closer and pulls him back against her, their surroundings and worries forgotten as she pets his head, his hair, fingers scratching lightly as her other hand soothes and squeezes his arm, his stomach, his chest. Their legs tangle, his cold feet making her hiss before sighing as they settle down again.

There’s no Mars, no shipyard, no botched family reunion or ghosts of his past haunting them. Just the sounds of her heart beating slow and steady and the dual warmth of being pressed against her and the feeling of his passenger heating the CNI with his presence.

Dozing for a short time, they awaken as the movie ends and another one starts. The reminder that the time they have together is passing makes them oddly emotional, a swelling melancholy that stoppers their throat and leaks out their eyes. They sniffle quietly, blinking away fat, hot tears that slide down to pool on the arm holding them close.

Quiet concern murmured into the spot where two become one makes them fidget and turn, burying their face into her neck and squeezing her tight. She reacts with a forceful hug, one hand coming up to wipe their tears. Rolling over to her back, she allows them to sprawl across her while they sigh and wheeze as the roiling emotions of two beings settle again. Warmth and a steady rhythm of her breathing soothes them slowly. She waits until their stuttering breathing evens out and kisses their forehead and then both their hands.

There's no hiding here. No need to. No ranks or titles. A brief respite against the rising tide and ticking clock. They may starve for touch outside the four walls of this borrowed room, but here and now is an oasis of privacy. Embracing away from prying eyes, a chance of catching their breath without some threat hanging over their heads, not choking on the signs of their stations collaring them. No need for armor.

Her hands squeeze and let go of theirs before tracing feather light touches down their back and up their sides, teasing spirals and swirls into twitching skin as they struggle to stay still. Retaliation comes too late even as they try for the spots on her side that make her laugh; she flips them and drags the cover over their head.

Cocooned in the glowing warmth of the backlit blanket, they are pinned by her weight and by her mouth on them. Kisses and raspberries attacking any available skin, their wrists in her hands, their legs pinned by her sitting atop them. They laugh and struggle against her, bucking their hips against the onslaught before she pauses. Her smile beaming down on their flustered face, her hair messy and ringing her sleep-lined face.

"Vacation's not over yet. You can't get weepy on me after one nap, boys." Her voice rasps out of her throat, still thick with sleep. She releases their wrists and drops her arms beside their head, holding the majority of her weight off them as she boxes them in. Her chest presses against theirs, hearts pounding together and she looks them in the eyes and smiles with teeth glinting in the low light.

"We still have plenty of time, and I have a few things in mind." She whispers, grinding her hips down on them as she mouths at their neck, grazing her teeth along the junction between throat and shoulder. She doesn't wait for a response as she moves lower and laves at a nipple. Words seem out of their reach so they make some kind of noise, halfway between a question and an affirmative. She moves to their other side, repeating her actions with teeth and tongue, making them gasp, before she purrs in their ear. "You two should tell me what you want to do. We should make the most of this."

They remember their hands are free and take a moment to figure out where to put them. She notices their slight hesitation and lets them figure it out, only to be surprised when they grasp her face in their hands and pull her down for a kiss.

It's slow and sweet and lingering as they figure out who's driving. Waiting with a patience solely reserved for them, she lets them explore and hums her assent when they do something she likes. After a moment she kisses them back, gently leading this time, growing more forward and licking at their lips til they part; deepening the kiss til they draw back for air.

Their lips are wet and swollen and their eyes are blown wide, rings of gold still shining around dark pupils. Tom's face is flushed and wearing Roland's half cocked grin and she wants to eat them alive and hold them close and never let go all at once.

It must show on her face.

“Like what you see?” The words tumble breathlessly out of Tom’s mouth, but the confident little smirk doesn’t falter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Their next quip, either Tom’s or Roland's, is lost as Tom’s stomach growls in defiance. The sheepish grin is Roland’s while the embarrassed flush on his ears is all Tom.

“Room service?” She asks, inches from their face. A nod and she kisses them again before pulling back. “You’re buying, Lasky. This place is too rich for my blood.”

She rises, taking the comforter with her as Tom-and-Roland squawk at the rush of cold air. She laughs and throws it back at them as they grumble.

Going to throw on one of the too-small complimentary robes that came with the room, she chucks a pillow at their surprised face while they bundle up in the regained comforter.

Yes, Tom could afford to cover the cost. Captain's salary he never spent. The place was expensive, and she was the one that booked the room. Least he could do was pay for the food…and drinks.

They splurge. The numbers on the right side of the menu sit there politely in neat font while she fights her rising blood pressure. They want how much for a burger? She’s out of touch with the cost of tea in civilian populated areas- her own food and nutrition coming straight from the UNSC for so long now. Her main concern was sending money back to Luna for her dad and squirreling the rest away for some inevitable emergency. It’s fine, it’s a vacation, but she can’t imagine spending that much regularly.

Tom can afford to splurge and being planetside means fresh food. Fresh food alone makes it worth the price. That and Roland's eager to try almost anything. He's practically chomping at the bit for new experiences.

The food arrives on a cart left at their door; the wheels sinking into the plush carpet under the weight it bears. It's covered in silver serving dishes complete with cloches, looking like it's straight out of an old movie. They aren't dressed like it's an old movie though, but it's their vacation. Food tastes better lounging in a robe or half wrapped in a duvet anyway.

Roland delights in revealing their brunch- brunch! Isn't that neat? A meal for people who don't start their day at 0500- and they dig in.

She can't keep the grin off her face as she watches them eat and talk between themselves in one body. Roland seemed to lose most of his usual issues about crumbs and mess in his mission to try as many foods as possible.

She ends up having to hide a laugh in a sip of coffee as Tom reins him in and redirects them away from the mimosas.

She wonders how long that will last.

Tom's trying to tell Roland that his- their tastebuds didn't like hollandaise sauce, but he's bound and determined to try it all. Watching the usually more reserved duo decimate the plate of bacon and eggs was cute. She was endeared and trying not to be annoyed about it. Her chest felt full and she couldn't stop grinning.

So the hardened Spartan Commander shoves half a bagel with lox in her mouth and starts fixing a third plate instead of dwelling on it. Hashbrowns and cholesterol will change the funny feeling in her chest. No carefully planned meals here.

The eggs benedict are tried, despite Tom's warning. It has their nose wrinkling in something close to defeat before she distracts them with another dish and finishes off the plate herself. She was never picky about food, couldn't afford to be, but now with free time and Lasky's paycheck, she could agree it was a little weird. Wouldn’t stop her from cleaning her plate.

They start digging into a grapefruit and making faces at the tartness. Fresh fruit was a treat aboard a starship, and most of Roland's secondhand exposure had been so processed or refined, it's no wonder the preconceptions he had were a bit off. She and Tom were having fun forgetting to warn Roland about certain sensations. Sarah was waiting til they switched who had Roland to introduce him to the wonders of capsaicin.

Still, seeing Tom's face squinched up made her chuckle and lean over, cloth napkin wiping the juice dribbling from their chin.

She's in rare form, so she doesn't insult them. Maybe she's getting soft. Instead, she offers the fruit platter up as a better option.

"Here. Try these, they're sweet." She holds up a grape, round and cool and much nicer than the ones she's had in the past. So much sweeter and real, no chemical aftertaste or electric purple dye clinging to her tongue. Leaning forward she takes their chin in her hand and feeds it to them, thumb brushing their lip as she waits for their judgment.

They chew and brighten, eyes darting towards the plate in front of her and her face as a blush forms. She leans closer, chin on her hand. "Well, did you like it?"

Tom-and-Roland swallow and nod, and grab a glass of water to wash away the lingering tartness. Their eyes flicker from plate to plate and back to her face. A hand sneaks forward and wraps around the delicate flute of mimosa and she rolls her eyes.

“I want to try it! You’re both making a big deal out of nothing.” Roland says, eyeing it with burning curiosity.

Three glasses later, they’re giggling as Tom mentions there might be more champagne than orange juice in there.

“I hadn’t noticed.” She says smoothly, stabbing a waffle off their plate and stealing it before they can respond. The pitcher is on her side of the table, out of their reach, next to her own empty glasses. “Drink some water.”

They smile broadly at her and dutifully sip some water. She can’t take her eyes off them, it’s how she knows they haven’t stopped smiling since they woke up.

Roland reports he likes the mimosas more than scotch. He also reports he wants to order Irish coffee but she and Tom shoot that down.

“It’s not like we’re driving!” Roland pouts with Tom’s face, but the furrowed brow is all Tom.

Sarah swallows a half chewed bite of food and it goes down jagged and prickling. “I’m driving, you two can argue who gets to navigate.”

Their eyes light up and Tom’s mouth struggles to hold two different smiles.

It’s not a long drive, but traffic and checkpoints to get out of the city delay them long enough for Tom to relax again. She’s glad to see his posture relax and his eyes turn from her to their surroundings. Mare Erythraeum still sported wounds from recent battles. Dotting its landscape like bite marks were great gouges in the ground from ordnance and Jiralhanae ships.

It was more of the same. Signs of war everywhere they went. Signs of the UNSC and its progress were everywhere too. The choking miasma of fuel and engines from the shipyard stunk up their warthog’s cabin for the first few minutes of the drive.

Eventually gray gave way to green gave way to brown. Mars’ red brown soil had been carefully cultivated to support terraforming and human industry before nature had taken its own course back and flourished in an unproductive manner a few kliks out.

Past the old rundown towns that orbited big shipyards where the old hands used to live. It reminded her of Luna in a way. The atmosphere was nice, no fear of failure there, but the signs of age and neglect on old homes next to poorly maintained roads with bright new billboards showing off the latest ads and propaganda. Same everywhere she went. Sad and comforting in a way, as long as you stay useful, you stayed fed, and your home wouldn’t end up boarded up and abandoned.

Now she was overthinking things and being morose, what the hell?

Sarah eases the ‘hog out of the slower speed zone of the small town and back out onto the open highway towards their destination. Few others were on the road this way so she looks over at Tom-and-Roland with a smile, rolls down the windows, and guns the engine.

It takes off with a delayed roar and the wind greets them with its own roar in return.

Her passenger whoops as the warthog shudders and revs under her demanding hands. She wouldn’t push it too hard, not when they had the drive back to the hotel ahead of them. Sarah took care of her equipment and it took care of her - she just expected performance out of the damn thing for the price it cost. That’s what you get with a rental, she thinks with a sigh.

Tom’s hand rests on her thigh while he and Roland watch the road disappear under them. There’s a strange pause in their body language she can see out of the corner of her eye and then they’re sticking Tom’s head out the window.

She laughs, loud and clear at the moment. It’s a good day, beautiful even. They sit back in the seat after about a minute and Sarah smiles at the state of Tom’s hair. She ruffles it with her hand, pleased with the chilled feeling and their sunwarmed face and that she can touch them without looking over her shoulder.

They arrive at their destination with enough time before sunset. The Martian day was nearly identical to an Earth one, and she and Roland had researched their options when Tom had told them about his upcoming trip. Though it seemed Roland kept his thoughts quiet because Tom looks around in quiet awe as they clamber out of the warthog. Their boots crunch on the gravel parking lot and he takes in the trail signs and information boards.

“The Olympus Highlands Nature Reserve?” He says in a quiet voice. “I’ve never been. Never really left New Harmony until…”

“I always knew you were a city boy.” Sarah says with a nudge. “And we don’t get enough time planet-side. Love the atrium, but I thought we might like something a little more real. Don’t worry, I’ll still go slow.” She smirks at him and swallows her own uncomfortableness at Tom’s emotional display.

“Thank you, Sarah, Roland, I mean it. I-” His eyes shift and he swallows. Sarah allows him and Roland this brief mental scuffle while she unloads the packs.

“You won’t be so grateful after I make you hoof it up the trail. You’re pulling your weight here. The both of you.”

“Yes, Commander.” They say together. She turns on them, glowering at their wry smile and warm eye contact.

She scoffs and slaps the pack into Tom’s hands. “Maybe I’ll lose you on the trail, be free of this. Officer types never listen to me.”

“But then you’d be in charge.” They say, tilting Tom’s head to look at her with his stupid brown eyes wide and pleading.

She looks away from them playing dirty. “Damn, you’re right. I need you two around to do all the boring work. I guess you’ll survive the trip.”

“You always say the sweetest things.” They say as they put on the pack with a huff.

“Shut up and get walking. Roland needs to see how plants fix our monkey brains so he stops bothering the crew.”

“I ask a few questions and everyone gets so offended!” Roland whines, throwing Tom’s hands up before crossing his arms.

“Come on, I want to get moving.” She calls over her shoulder, three strides ahead of them and already ducking into the tree lined path.

They follow without complaint. The trees swallow the road noise and then they are left with only the soft orchestra of the park. Wind rustling the leaves as the sun dapples them with faint light, bird and bug calls echoing from all angles, and the sound of flowing water from somewhere down the path. There’s a low call from the valley where the Reserve houses its animals and information center. A strange baying noise that sounds like the braying of cattle crossed with an elk’s eerie keening voice. They stop and listen. The wind blows an answer that whips their hair and clothes around. Sarah and Tom inhale in unison and release the breath before turning back to their path.

Roland chuckles with Tom’s voice. “I think I get it.”

Sarah takes their hand and they climb.

The path snakes up the incline, grasses and tree roots anchoring the loose red brown soil while they slowly turn the whole hillside green. Rocks rounded by water and time glisten on the creek bank while dark shapes dart just below the waterline. Dragonflies and other insects flit around in an unknowable dance while larger wildlife scurries into their holes and hiding places amongst the decaying logs and nest-heavy tree branches.

Sunlight dims as time marches on, but it has been time well spent. Tom-and-Roland still feel the ache at the reminder, but the sadness is no match for the warmth of Sarah’s hand in theirs.

The path leads them to the treeline and beyond. A few more steps up the ridge has them standing on the precipice of one of Mars’ many craters-turned-valleys. They sway in the last of the sunlight as their star edges ever closer to the horizon, dyeing the skyline a cool blue.

Dust particles and Martian atmosphere, Roland thinks, but the scene is all too familiar to Tom. It hurts less than he thinks it would. Being on Mars, seeing the same sunset he watched disappear into darkness when he was left alone. Time passes, but it doesn’t have to hurt. At least, not all of it.

He-and-Roland inhale and exhale, a deep lung-filling breath that nearly escapes them without shuddering. The wind is chillier up this high, but Sarah’s there. Her hand is warm, and so is her arm as she draws them in close to watch the horizon.

They look up at her face and smile.

It’s her first Martian sunset, they’d missed yesterday’s at the house. Her eyes are clear and her shoulders lower in the most relaxed body language they’ve seen all trip. She needed this too.

“You know,” She swallows, uncharacteristically quiet. She mulls over her words even as she doesn’t take her eyes off the sky. “I could get used to this.” She says with a squeeze of her arm around them. The wind is chilly and night will be too, but it’s not so bad. He’s not alone.

“Me too.”

#my writing #Sarah Palmer #Thomas Lasky #Roland the AI #Halo fanfic #Look at my prose boy #palmsky

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cinnamongorll · 4 months

Text

a fragile line - chapter 8

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 3.2k

Chapter 8: 'Killer and the Sound'

“Who’s Tess?”

Joel instantly stiffened when the words left her mouth. Juliet watched through fluttering eyelids as his hands stilled their jerky movements and his gaze shot to her face, his mouth now set in a hard line. They both remained locked within each other’s eyes for a brief but loaded moment before Joel looked away, his head turned in a sharp sudden movement too quick for Juliet’s dazed vision to follow. She recognised, from the direction he turned, that he was staring at the letter which lay slightly crumpled on the dining table across the hall. Understanding reflected off the edges of Joel’s side profile when he realised where Juliet had learned Tess’ name from.

Juliet’s gaze drifted from Joel to the window behind him, navy blue light bled into the shaded room from the descending night sky outside. She must have slept a while, it didn’t feel like it though. Juliet fought a silent battle to keep her eyes from falling closed again.

The world around her felt fragmented, she couldn’t focus on anything. Her thoughts floated through her mind without an anchor, creating a spiral of questions and worries which raced as fast as her pulse. Juliet just lay there, drenched in sweat, on the living room couch of two dead men she had never met. She should be out on the road, steadily moving towards her old community, towards Ethan. But at this moment, that was not at the forefront of her mind. Her thoughts kept returning to the mystery of Tess…

“Was she your partner?” Juliet asked, her words slurring slightly. She didn't specify what kind of partner, it didn't matter really. She was well aware that Joel would not appreciate her line of questioning. In her feverish state, however, Juliet couldn’t bring herself to care.

Joel turned back towards her, his chin dipped downwards to meet her eyes. “Go back to sleep,” he said, a warning tone staining the quiet words. Then he stood, wiped his hands on his dark jeans and walked into the hall without looking back.

Juliet sighed low and heavy before sleep claimed her once more.

…………………………………………………………..

When Juliet woke again her wound had been rebandaged and a fresh t-shirt lay next to her on the couch. Juliet blinked several times and lifted her head, the room tilting slightly. She reached forward and, with a few awkward movements, managed to put the new t-shirt on, covering her stained bra and clammy skin.

Her memories returned in waves, first the letter, then Joel’s reaction, then her feverish conversation with him. She groaned and covered her face with her good arm, her eyes squeezed shut as regret washed over her.

A few minutes later, with a wince, she lowered her arm and finally absorbed her surroundings with a semi-clear head. Night had claimed the outside world, the window was painted in pitch black but the room she lay in was bright as warm golden light poured from lamps lining the walls.

Juliet managed to push her body up enough to sit with her back straight against the couch cushions. A layer of cold sweat coated her skin and her mouth tasted like cotton, she was parched. Juliet swallowed rough, a guttural cough releasing from her throat. She needed water, desperately.

Juliet used her good arm in an attempt to lift her body from the couch, her body shaking with the effort. Although it appeared her fever had broken, she had not regained any strength and her arm gave out, forcing her to slump back against the couch with a loud groan.

“Don’t try to get up,” Joel instructed as he walked into the room, his steps light as he tried not to startle her. Juliet still flinched in surprise.

“Shit,” she breathed, her hand covering her heart.

Joel paused, standing in front of the armchair opposite the couch Juliet occupied. He glanced down at his feet before crossing his arms and shifting his stance, his left knee bent forward a little. His chin tilted upwards and his dark eyes strayed across the room towards Juliet, her gaze was already secured on his face. Joel released a muted sigh, the air leaving his lungs in a silent whisper, then dropped his eyes.

“How you feelin’?” he asked after an aching moment of quiet.

“Fine,” Juliet replied instantly, her voice strained and a cough threatened to crawl its way up her throat.

Joel’s eyes darted to the ceiling, annoyance clear in the stiffening of his body.

Juliet didn’t know what to say, she didn’t know how to exist in Joel’s presence. Her cheeks heated in shame, the white hot blaze of guilt spread throughout her body.

Juliet had passed out again, and Joel was forced to help her again. This was not what he signed up for, he should have left her slumped in that dining chair and ran, used whatever supplies Bill had left him and got the hell away from the burden of her company.

Juliet shook her head and lowered her gaze to her hands, rested in front of her, placed on her blackened jeans. Her fingernails were broken, the sharp crooked edges stained with dirt and blood. She hadn’t washed her hands since the QZ, every experience she had fought through over the past few days gathered under her nails, unable to be washed away.

Juliet felt choked by the tension that stretched between them, it was unbearable. She continued to stare at her hands, praying she would find some kind of instruction written in the shallow cuts on her palms on how to converse with the hulking man standing opposite her. Juliet needed to apologise, to reassure Joel that she could survive the journey, to convince him to not leave her lost and alone.

Joel had saved her life, her fuzzy memory echoed an image of a white pill pressed against her lips as Joel crouched in front of her, a dark silhouette against the fading light from the window.

“What did you give me?” Juliet questioned, eagerness projected into her words.

Joel was in no hurry to reply, instead, he stepped backwards and dropped himself into the armchair behind him. His legs widened as he leaned back, his arms still crossed over his broad chest.

“An antibiotic,” he finally answered. “Bill and Frank built up a good stash.”

Juliet winced as she remembered that these men were now dead. Juliet had never met them but they obviously meant something to Joel, they were a glance into the history he had prohibited her from ever asking about.

“I’m sorry,” Juliet murmured before daring to look up at him. She found a detached expression on his face, his eyes locked on a spot on the carpet.

After a moment, he nodded, sharp and sudden, but didn’t respond.

Juliet cleared her throat, her mouth still extremely dry. “What time is it?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.

“Late,” Joel responded. “We’ll stay here tonight and leave in the mornin’.”

Remorse poured over her, it was her fault they had to delay their journey. She looked down at her injured shoulder and back at Joel. “I should have been more careful with it,” Juliet said in a low voice, thick with regret as she indicated towards her wound with a jerk of her chin.

Joel pushed himself forward with a speed she didn’t know he was capable of, his elbows now rested on his spread knees. A muscle jumped in his jaw, his expression radiating a lethal coldness.

“You’re damn right you should have,” he fumed, then reached his hand up and wiped it over his jaw. “Do you have any idea how dangerous an infection is?” he continued, his voice low and commanding. “You’re so goddamn lucky you made it here with your shoulder the way it was.”

Juliet just nodded, her eyes trained on her hands. There was nothing she could say to express her regret, she had fucked up, denying the extent of her injury just to make more progress on a journey that she wouldn’t even have survived if her wound hadn’t been treated.

This wasn’t like her, Juliet had always been calculated, always thinking two steps ahead. The minute she received that letter something had shifted, a recklessness had invaded her decision making. Her life was forfeit now, belonging to her father. It didn’t really matter what state she ended up in as long as she made it back to him, as long as she saved Ethan.

She wouldn’t say that to Joel, he didn’t need her excuses, didn’t need to know her motivations for this journey. She just needed him to watch her back.

“I -” Joel began, then cut himself off, cursing under his breath.

Juliet raised her head, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“The night we left the QZ,” Joel started again, his voice clearer this time. “Thing is, I shouldn’t have frozen in front of that guy. You shouldn’t have had to shoot him,” he continued, the words rushing out in an uninterrupted stream.

He paused, taking a breath. The implication of his words echoed through Juliet’s mind: you shouldn’t have been shot.

“I know what it’s like,” he sighed, “the first time that you uh, hurt someone like that.”

Shock shot through her, ice ran over her veins. Juliet couldn’t move, the shallow rise and fall of her chest was the only indication that she hadn’t turned to stone.

Two roaring thoughts gripped her mind: Joel was apologising to her? And Joel thought that was the first time she had ever killed someone?

Juliet was astounded, Joel felt guilty for her mistake, for thinking that he destroyed her innocence by forcing her to kill someone. No, Juliet couldn’t believe this.

Juliet barked out a sharp, surprised laugh.

Joel’s head whipped up, his startled eyes bore into her own.

“Joel, that wasn’t my first time killing someone,” Juliet said, her voice slow and steady.

“I shot him straight in the head, that wasn’t beginner’s luck,” Juliet explained. Her words weren’t mocking, just confused.

Joel’s mouth opened slightly, the only indication that she had surprised him. He recovered quickly, though, understanding flickered across his features.

“Who taught you to shoot?” he asked hurriedly, then shifted in his chair as though his words were a thought he hadn’t meant to voice.

Juliet looked away, she was no longer sitting across from Joel. His innocent question had transported her back to warm summer afternoons, to Ethan’s hands around her body, kicking her feet apart and hovering his fingers over her hands as she held his gun towards their makeshift target. Juliet blinked, the threat of tears burned her eyes.

“A friend,” she replied, the word almost choking her.

Her response was met with heavy silence.

“He would um, steal a gun and some ammo from the armoury and he’d let me practise till it ran out of bullets,” she continued, a rare smile twitching in the corner of her mouth at the memory. Juliet wasn’t sure why she said that, why she offered Joel an insight into her past. Maybe it was her exhaustion, or the remnants of her fever, or maybe it was the look in his eyes which softened ever so slightly at the sound of her voice.

Eventually Joel nodded and pushed himself out of the armchair. Juliet followed him with her eyes as he walked out of the living room, across the hall into what she assumed was the kitchen. This was confirmed by the distant sound of glasses clinking as Joel rummaged around in a cupboard. Only seconds later, Juliet looked up to find a glass of water sitting on the coffee table in front of her. Joel stood beside it, staring down at her with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“Bill left me his truck, the battery is charging just now,” Joel said. “There’s beds upstairs, get some rest.”

Joel moved, heading towards the hall again and then paused. “Don’t go in the downstairs bedroom,” he said softly with his head low, then walked away, his steps echoing up the hardwood stairs.

……………………………………………………………………….

Juliet waited almost twenty minutes before she attempted to stand again. She had drained the glass of water Joel left for her, sighing in relief as the cold liquid quenched her painful thirst. With her renewed energy, she grasped hold of the side of the couch with her good arm and pushed herself to her feet. Juliet stumbled to the stairs, her hand floating against the wall to keep her balance.

Upstairs Juliet could hear a shower running from one of the rooms. Her legs almost gave out at the sound. Juliet was worn and tired, both mentally and physically, and showers had always been a comfort to her, washing off the smoke from her body in the lukewarm water of the Boston QZ after a long shift.

It was a momentary reprieve from the heavy weight of each day, a few minutes where Juliet could be completely alone without the sounds of every other resident in her building reverberating around her mind. She craved that now, desperate for a moment to process everything that had happened in the past week.

Juliet picked a room down the hall from the one Joel currently occupied, opening the door with a soft push. She flicked on the light by the door and the room was illuminated in a warm glow. A bed draped with multiple quilts and various patterned pillows sat against the centre of the back wall. Juliet nearly cried when she imagined slipping beneath those sheets.

Removing her clothes was a struggle, Juliet stood in the centre of the bathroom, twisted in strange angles to avoid rupturing her wound. Her breaths were quick and rough by the time she stood in the bathtub and turned the shower on, her soiled clothes now lay in a pile on the floor along with her frayed boots. The shower started and Juliet released a strangled gasp.

Fresh, crystal clear, water erupted from the showerhead and it was hot, burning hot. A thick cloud of steam captured the bathroom within seconds. Juliet took a deep breath, inhaling the humidity, tasting the heat on her tongue as she stepped under the spray. She angled her body the best she could to avoid water drenching her new bandage but the edges dampened slightly, Joel would not be happy.

There was stillness in the air despite the rushing sound of the shower. The continuous hum of water flowing and splashing against the stark whiteness of the bathtub was meditative. Juliet was overwhelmed by the warmth that coated her shivering body and the peace that flowed through her mind. The whisper of the steam was a cloak draped over her worst thoughts. Thoughts which had been her constant companion for the past week, so dark and so bleak that there was often no room for anything else in her head.

Standing under the endless rush of monotonous noise, her brain’s spiral of her worst memories and most terrifying premonitions began to unravel, diluting in the pool of water at her feet. Another gasp released from her lips at the feeling, a soft puff of air slowly left her mouth before being consumed by the humidity.

Juliet was safe, for this brief, ever fading moment within these tile walls, she was separated from her reality. In this bathroom, the outside world did not exist. Juliet could almost pretend that dark empty roads were not awaiting her return and that her past was not reaching out to her, attempting to drag her back in its lethal grip. No, for those few minutes under that constant stream of hot water, Juliet simply existed.

The moment came to an end when she heard a knock at the door, a sharp tap created by bloody knuckles she had spent too long stealing glances of.

Joel was outside the bathroom.

“Yeah?” Juliet called as she reached to turn off the water.

“Left you some clean clothes and a towel,” Joel bellowed.

“Thanks,” Juliet replied, her words too low for Joel to hear. She had already heard him walk away from the door.

Juliet walked out of the bathroom, water dripped off of her onto the wooden floor. A blue towel lay on the bed along with cargo trousers, another new t-shirt, underwear and a sports bra. Juliet knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed by a man selecting underwear for her but she couldn’t help the blush that spread across her face.

Juliet brought her new clothes into the bathroom and changed slowly, the bandage on her shoulder had stayed remarkably dry after the shower but the hot water had done nothing to alleviate the ache that radiated from the wound. Afterwards, she moved into the bedroom and started to ready herself for bed, wincing as her shoulder throbbed with each stroke of the brush she ran through her damp hair. Juliet thought about braiding it again but decided against it, letting her hair fall to the middle of her back, the weight of the dark strands provided an odd comfort.

She stood at the mirror with her brush in her hand when a figure appeared in the reflection. Juliet whipped her head around and gripped the brush as though she could use it as a weapon. She lowered it when she spotted Joel at the door leaning against the entryway, his hands raised slightly in a mock defence. Juliet rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t see you,” Juliet mumbled. Her racing heart had calmed enough to notice Joel’s appearance. His hair was damp, the grey almost entirely invisible from his dark hair in the low light and he wore a new shirt, a green flannel buttoned over a long sleeve grey shirt. For reason unknown to Juliet, she found herself lost for words, her throat had gone dry again and she struggled to look away from him.

Joel stepped into the bedroom and raised his hand, a white pill identical to the one she had taken earlier was pinched between two of his fingers.

“Take this before you go to sleep,” he said with a quiet command. “Don’t forget.”

Juliet was still too startled to respond with words so she just nodded and watched as Joel walked over to her bedside table and placed the pill next to the glass of water she hadn’t noticed he had left for her.

Joel walked over to the door and paused in the entryway, his hand clenched on the wood panelling as he turned to face her again. Juliet watched as he swallowed, shifted his jaw and looked down at his feet.

“Tess,” he began. “Tess was my partner.”

Juliet straightened in surprise, she didn’t know how to respond to Joel’s sudden candour.

“What happened to her?” Juliet whispered back, curiosity got the best of her. She kept her voice quiet and slow, she didn’t want to startle him into closing up again.

“I…” he started, then coughed. “The life we lived couldn’t give her what she needed,” he reflected. “She went off to find it, I guess.”

The presence of Joel’s unspoken words in the space between them was as thick as the humidity from Juliet’s shower.

“I’m sorry,” Juliet said, the words rushed from her in a soft murmur.

The sincerity in Juliet’s words seemed to rouse Joel from whatever part of his past that he was lost in and he straightened, his eyes flicking up to Juliet’s frozen form, then he turned and left the room.

Juliet flinched when she heard the slam of a door down the hall.

What the hell just happened?

_____________________________________

@ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x female oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #ao3 fanfic #joel miller #Spotify #pedro pascal

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neonovember · 1 year

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Just like Business

Steve rogers mafia!au

summary: with the fate of the underworld on your shoulders, your attempt to keep a low profile fails and instead, you make a deal with the king of Brooklyn himself.

warnings: violence, regular smugular mob talk, mentions of domestic violence

a/n: sorry it took so long for chapter 3 to come out, school has been up my ass lately and I lost half my draft. (I’ve also changed Diore’s name to Clementine because I'm playing twd)

The taste of stale wood catches on your tongue as you nervously chew on the end of your pencil, the Diner is slow today, and you've found yourself in the corner of the kitchen, tenuous forms spread out in front of you. The slowed trickle of patrons coming through the familiar jingle of the doors gave you enough time to fill those papers out before the seats do.

Knees to your chest, you ponder over what to write on the clearly dotted line named “Next Of Kin”. You watch as a man dribbles coffee down his white shirt, failing to catch the drops with a damp napkin as your mind remains a blank deserted canvas. Truth be told you didn’t have anyone you could call in an emergency, it was a bitter pill to swallow, even more so than the pencil between your teeth.

Clem was spending her allotted days off with her niece, mentioning how her erratic sister had dropped her off last night. You understood complicated families more than anything, it was what you lived and breathed for the better part of your adult life, but it meant the hours at work would drag on even further. Clementine was able to keep your mind off of everything, your escape, your husband, that man, that goddamn number. Your entire life was a scattered map of holes and ink spills, and it seems to follow you even on this side of Brooklyn, where eyes were always trained on your own shoes and you learned to keep to yourself.

Any other day you would have called in sick, without Clementine to help push the metaphorical hand to tick past your 9-hour shift. But you couldn’t bare the thought of remaining in that 3-foot room isolated and just waiting to be attacked. Your mental state was as fragile as ever, and you felt even the slightest scare would send you spiralling.

The target on your back grew bigger and bigger each day that went by with the threat of that man’s promise looming over your head. The crumpled napkin remained on your bedside table since that night, and you made no move to initiate the call. His patience was wearing thin, this you knew, but you didn’t have the guts, even now, to face the reality of what you had done.

Leaving the line blank you quickly fill the rest of the form, trying to tear your mind from thinking too hard at the prospect of having no one to rely on. All that was on your mind at the moment was the prospect of a dry winter, with a heater that worked and walls that weren't covered in mould. You hope the council would take your concerns seriously now that you had gained some stability, even as small as it was.

The jingle of the doors finally dragged you from your crouched position, collecting your papers you quickly shoved them under the counter before brushing away any creases on your apron.

The figure had seated themselves towards the end of the diner booths, away from any clear windows where they could be easily seen. Grabbing a menu you made your way past the many vacant booths before finally reaching their table.

It was a man, fairly built, with dark black hair moused from the light shower outside, he wore a deep maroon coat eerily similar to the man from earlier that week. He had deep grey eyes which would have been overshadowed by the curls of his hair falling in front of his eyes if they weren't so intense. His features were distinctly masculine, outlined by a sharp jaw that was littered with stubble, and his arms were outstretched across the booth's couches.

Transfixed by his features you had almost forgotten the menu between your fingers which was scarily close to slipping, he cleared his throat expectantly and you quickly placed the menu on the table.

“You got a staring problem or somthin?” The deep Brooklyn accent drew out as he enanuctaited his words, a smirk breaking through his stoic features but not quite reaching his eyes.

You swallowed thickly, looking down and attempting to avoid his grey orbs which seemed to remain at your face, he had a look like he was dissecting you, cutting you apart and looking into your soul.

“No-, No of course not, sorry. Uh, what would you like?” You choked out quickly, and you gripped your apron as he took notice of your apprehension. he could smell your fear, you could feel it.

He chuckles audibly, the sound sort of muffled behind it’s falsity. A relaxed expresiones seemed to ease the calculating look on his face just moments ago, as if he’s come to a conclusion.

“Your ma never taught you some manners?” He continues, this time however, his eyes are trained on the menu items, seeming to peruse through them thoroughly.

Your mother.

The thought of her and any expectant of motherly duties made you audibly laugh, causing the man to look up, eyebrows quirking at the chuckle leaving your mouth.

You cough quickly, attempting to hide your sudden outburst. It was just, there were a lot of words you could call that person, but a mother? That certainly wasn’t one of them.

You’d soon see hell freeze over before she’s ever act like a mother towards you, whilst your friends and classmates were taught how to braid their hair, or tie their shoes, or ride a bike, your mother, she, was out in the alleyways and prisms of her addiction.

You’d need a pick axe to get through the stone face she morphed into each time she walked through your childhood home. She wasn’t absent, always somewhere, she was just expression less. Like you’d drawn her with a broke crayon and coloured her outside the lines.

Shaking yourself from your past, the man’s eyes are fixed on you, confusion swirling through those grey orbs, before his lips lifted in a small smile.

Why did he look almost apologetic? You already had one strange man after you, did this god want to grant you with another?

“Coffee, black”. Said the man, folding the menu closed that was opened on desserts of the day.

You nodded, taking the menu from his grasp, before turning back towards the kitchen, the squeak of your trainers against the linemen floor.

Funny, he looked through the entire menu only to order a plain coffee, black at that. You’d hardly seen that order in a while, the iced latte-frappe-mocha obsession had taken over even the tiny diners like this one.

Another thing that’s seemed to change this week.

Making you way back to the kitchen, you quickly begin making his coffee. You weren’t particularly specialised at the art of making coffees, however his order seemed fairly straightforward.

Plus without Clem on today the diner was even more short staffed, and completing multiple jobs was expected.

Mind miles away, you almost spill the coffee grounds as you tamp them into the portafilter, attempting to replicate the steps you’ve seen Clementine do a thousand times.

Setting the espresso machine to brew, your able to shift your eyes towards the man in the corner, who’s now pulled out a silver phone and seemed to be in a heated conversation.

You knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop but god your brain would explode if you kept at this repeative mundanity of watching cars splash water violently against the diners windows.

You catch a couple words being exchanged, as the man roughly pushes his strands back into the low bun sitting low on his head.

“Steve, cmon, ya sure it’s her?,

“She don’t look like it that’s for sure”

“Robinson waiting on a package so I can’t stay long-, okay yeah, yeah I hear you, ya big head, don’t need to yell damn.” Mumbled the man exasperated.

He muffled his words into the cellphone as if he could tell you were eavesdropping and you quickly look away when you see him shift in his seat.

The espresso beeped as you pull the shot from under the machine, pouring it into a mug as you add 2 heaped teaspoons of sugar.

Stirring slowly you chance a glance from under hooded eyes, and expecting his broad shoulder and back towards you, instead his turned his shoulder, eyes staring directly toward you.

Taken back you shift your eyes back to the mug, fingers gripping the teaspoon tight as a attempt to pretend that he hasn’t unnerved

It seems to fail as the next time you look up his grinning, phone still pressed to his ear as he nods along with whatever they’re saying.

You question whether to bring it to him, the coffee, and just ask one of your other co workers, but you’ve already gone this far. Waitressing practically came with the packaged deal of sleazy men who couldn’t take a hint, it was depressing but you’ve gotten used to people disregarding your boundaries. You wouldn’t let some creepy yet incredibly attractive man scare you away from doing your job.

Appearing at the booth in almost an instant you place the ceramic mug infront of him. Murmuring his coffee, and not letting a second past before you attempt to escape, shoes squeaking at your hurry.

“Excuse me, Mrs” The man’s Brooklyn draw calls you however, the politeness falling from his red lips before he can help it. You freeze under the formality, fingernails digging into your palms.

Mrs? Mrs. You almost forgot that you were still a married women, it was something you kept hidden for a reason, the encrusted ring was hopefully rotting at the bottom of the hudsen.

And that was it, here, in Brooklyn, no one, no one knew you were with someone much less married, and yet this random man, who wasn’t quite a stranger knew. Hell he called you Mrs loud enough for the entire diner to hear.

To say you were shitting yourself was an understatement.

“Would you prefer ma’am, I hardly know these days” Chuckled the man unfazed by your trepidation, this was a sick game to him.

“How about you sit down and have a chat with me? Just 5 minutes of your time, all I’m asking” The man sing songs, acting as if he were pleading with you, however you noticed the demand laced under his tone. You understood a demand when you heard it.

Your back is still towards him, and your eyes shift to the diner door to the right, and, just as quickly the man reminds you of his loyalty.

“Look doll, I don’t wanna have to go to more extreme measures to find you again, so just sit down here with me before we both do something we regret” The man really pleads this time, he seems exhausted, like he really did look under every hole in New York.

You are are still fixated on the diner door, the paint chipping from its sides, and a dirty brown appearing at the foot of it from the rain coming through the sewers and onto the footpaths. You gulp down the crawling bile rising from your stomach before slowly turning around, each step causing a small breathe to escape from your chest.

You slide into the booth just as the man reaches for his cup, sipping it slowly as he eyes to intensely.

“Atta girl, now was that so hard?” He finally replies, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

Your hands, you don’t know what to do with them, they’ve begun to dig painfully into your palm and you quickly shove them under the table when they begin to shake.

The man watches them carefully, his brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t expect you to be so goddamn meek and weak.

God. You’re so fucking weak it’s pitiful

“Look, I’m not going to keep you long, alright? I personally don’t like dragging out a girl like this but orders are orders ya know?” The man rambles, not waiting for you to answer him before he continues.

His eyes shift back and forth, down the diner aisles and across the vacant seats, he leans in, and from a distance it looks as if you two are both lovers on a night out. Huddled against each other from the harsh downpour outside and warmed the the love in the air and the longing in your eyes. The soft glow of the ceiling above casting a eerie romantic feel similar to days before.

“He knows your avoiding him, and in all honesty, this is the longest his gone before going out himself and getting what he wants” The man replies, dark greys watching your slumped posture against the booth coaches.

You’d hoped he’d just given up, the hours going by as you waited for your doors to come slamming down but it never did. It was stupid, you knew this, you didn’t get lucky in this world, but a small part of you had hoped so hard that he just saw you for what you always were; ordinary. Mundane and colloquial, the blurry face in a crowd, the person you always forgot and the name you never quite remembered.

You chest cave in at the truth of the reality you were forced into, you didn’t even care at this point, as your exhausted body rested against the booth, fingers rubbing your tired eyelids.

“What does he even want with me? I don’t know who you are, but you look like your smart enough to know how utterly useless I would be to whatever plan hes drawn up”. You reply

“I don’t even know anything about..about..that world!” you gulp as he looks towards you expectantly. You don’t even know what to call it, the underworld? The mafia? Criminal organisations? Which one would least likely get you killed?

“He kept me out of pretty much all of it, okay? He never let me enter even parts of the house to keep me ignorant and obedient. Couldn’t let the wife know about the 17 year old boy I tossed into the sewers right? Isn’t that what you men do?” You reply heated, spitting the accusation in disgust.

Your words don’t faze the man, and it’s then down you consider what he must’ve already heard and seen a hundred times, this was normal to them, this was life to them, this was making a black coffee to them.

“His not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your scared o-“ The man says, and you cut him off quickly

“Oh trust me, getting hurt is the least of my worries, I’ve gotten a lot of practice” You laugh morbidly, as he looks at you strangely, his eyes peek at the healing bruises on your arm and you tough your sweater down self consciously.

“I don’t doubt it, Matthews is ruthless, and I’ve got to hand it to you, your a real fucking smart one for being able to escape him of all people. But let’s me realistic here, you and i both know what this world is like, sure you’ve made it out, but how long do you really thing you’ll be able to be ahead, to keep up with this on the run shit?” The man reasons, adding more sugar packets to his coffee, before stirring it slowly.

You remain silent as you take in his reasoning, he’s not wrong, soon or later you’d burn out and do something stupid and get caught. You were born in the suburbs for fucks sake, you weren’t some Russian spy.

“All I’m saying is that Matthews is pretty fucking powerful, the type of power where he can get your friends and boss here to offer you up to him on a silver plate. There’s no loyalty when you’re living pay check my pay check, or when you’ve got to put food on the table. The only loyalty then is one written in blood, or bank checks” The man says, winking at the last part.

“We can help, keep him off your scent for a while, until you can get out of here at least” the man says gesturing around the diner and the City itself.

That was the ultimate plan though wasn’t it? To get out of America? Maybe move to a tropical climate where your skin met the warm sun instead of bloody fists. Something was keeping you here, and you spent years trying to understand what.

“By protection you mean surveillance that goes over every single human boundary ever created” You grumbled hands now crossed against your chest.

The man nods honestly,

“More or less, at least then you’ll get some sleep” The man replies, pointing out the bags hanging under your eyes.

“Well how am I supposed to do that when I’ve got him watching me every single minute of the day” You snap, before your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t meant to get angry, least of all at the man who probably has a pistol between in his waistband.

You wait for the man to scream, to feel his rough fingers around your throat, or the bruising force of his fists. It never comes, instead he laughs, fucking laughs.

It’s authentic, the way the baritone sounds leaves his chest ceremoniously, a hand gripping his chest and his curls fall in front of his face at his movements.

It’s beautiful and from the moment it leaves his mouth you love it. But he laughs, the most innocent thing in the entire world and you flinch. You fucking flinch.

You already know he notices it as he stops his chuckles, hands coming to press against his brows, and running down his scalp to brush his strands back.

“He’s coming, later on, to pick you up and take you back to your apartment, don’t fight me on it or else it’s my ass on the line” The man finalises, before reaching out with an expectant hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you..?” He says expectantly

You mumble your name tiredly and you grip his hand, shaking it.

“Bucky” The man’s nods, before getting up from the booth.

“Your got to be something to have Steve acting like this, and for your sake, youd better hope it’s fucking spectacular” The man says, before shelving over a couple dollar bills.

“Keep the change” The man calls before exiting through the diner doors, engulfed by the darkness cloud of fog and rain, the cool city air escaping into the warm diner behind him.

You look down at the coffee mug sitting like warm across from you, still filled to the brim and left un drunken, the only indication of his presence.

You sigh as you get up from your seated the position, the booth warm from your time spent talking. You look towards the clock, signalling you’ve spent well over 30 minutes with the man, and you turn to expect your manager tumbling down the isles to find you and demand answers to your absence.

But instead, her head is down, the deep auburn braids peeking from under the counter. Weird, she’s never not taken up the chance to berate your very presence, and instead she’a jotting down inventory records.

You don’t want to believe it but you know it’s connected to the man that was just here moments ago, or more specifically the man from earlier this week.

Collecting the bills left on the table, you place them into the cash register, before going to clear away his plates. This was going to be a long night.

You try not to notice the headlights shining through the blinds of the diner windows, or even the roar of an engine pulling up onto the front of the restaurant as you jot down the last of the young man’s order.

You were just about to close when a group of drunken but good natured college boys walked, or more like stumbled in.

You weren’t mad in any way, at least it gave your mind something to occupy itself with instead of conversation between you and Bucky from earlier.

Yelling the orders at Daniel, his brown hair bobbing to his stereo, your met with his thumbs up popping out of the bustling kitchen. You giggle to yourself at his antics, if you had to rely on one thing of normalcy in your life it was Daniel.

The familiar jingle of the diner door has you bristling, the note of between your hands crinkle as your hands grip them anxiously. You don’t know why your scared, it isn’t like you hadn’t been warned.

The man loud steps seem to purposeful against the floor of the crumbling diner, he’s incredibly out of place against the old fashioned terriselss and red and white booths. Even the drunken crows notices him, eyes surveying his expensive coat and shiny boots, before quickly looking away as the catch glimpses of his rings and blond tussles.

You pretend to occupy yourself with refilling straw and napkin dispensers, wiping down the tables that were already shining and keeping your head and most importantly your eyes, away from the tall brooding man.

You catch the front of his dress shoes pointed towards your crouched frame over the diner table. He clears his throat loudly when he notices you make no move to acknowledge his present.

“You’re a tough girl to catch aren’t you?” Is the first thing the man says in that deep gruff voice of his. His words seem sweetened like he’s said them behind a smile.

“No, not at all, I’m just..busy” You reply, leaning over further to wipe the cloth against the sides of the booth.

Steve hums, hands stuffed into his suit pants as he watches you carefully

“You sure? From where I’m at it seems like you’re..avoiding me” Steve says

“Well it’s kind of hard to get the courage to phone up a likley criminal mastermind that probably has connections to my husband and who would undoubtedly deliver me to him if given the right number.” You reply hastily.

Steve moves quickly to catch your hands, stopping your movements as he turns you towards his towering figure looming over you.

“I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you have to trust me” Steve says, a strange look you can’t place takes over his features, the frost behind his blues melt a little and his jaw relaxes before it leaves just as quickly. A hardened expression resting on his face again, and Steve drops your hands, where they rest folded at your stomach.

“How can I?, I’m sorry but I don’t even know you, and if I let another man take me, I’ll, I won’t ever forgive myself” You bristle.

Steve looks far off, blue orbs darkening at your candor as he watches the lights of cars flash against the frosted windows.

“Just let me help you, I’m sure Bucky told you why I’m here, and I’ve gone to lengths I can’t even mention to even speak to you” Steve says

“Why? I’m not special, I just don’t understand why someone like you would do with the likes of me” You reply exasperated, flinching as a David calls the order out.

“I have my reasons, reasons I can’t say right now but can only be explained if you let me take you home” Steve murmurs, you noticed a concerned look take over his features for a second, before the seriousness of this “deal” remains.

“And only if I accept your help” You say, you knew this world through and through, everything had a “but” and a catch. This wouldn’t be any different, would it?

Steve nods honestly, and you turn to throw the dirty wash cloth into the basin behind the counter.

“ I ain’t got long doll, let’s get going” Steve replies impatiently, you understood from your conversation with Bucky earlier that Steve was a man that always got what he wanted. There was little room for negotiation with the blond but you would be damned to make Daniel walk the plate he’d just slaved over to the crowd of huddled 21 year olds.

“Let me finish this order will you? If I’m getting into an unmarked vehicle to lead to my possible death, atleast let me get some good tips” You reply, and for the first time, Steve looks anywhere but you, noticing the huddle of hungry and slightly sober boys.

“Okay, okay” Steve replies acting defeated, as he sits on a barstool across from the counter. Eyes watching your mundane movements of service and food handling, and yet no saying a single word.

You juggle multiple plates, brushing off Steve’s attempts to help and successfully deliver them to the patrons, who gleefully thank you loudly. Slurring praises of Jesus, and Hallelujah, as they shovel waffles and fried chicken into their mouths.

Drunk college boys, either your best or worst nightmare.

Steve doesn’t let you clear their plates as he stands expectantly, you catch his eyes blaring into your manager from the corner of your peripheral. His face hardens into something like stone, and it’s as if his exchanged something without saying a word.

Your manager nods, walking back into the office, your bag is waiting for you on the counter and you reach for it before Steve is grabbing it instead. A hand coming up to silence your protests.

You follow his foot steps without a word, eyes looking back at your manager who’s staring right at you, a grim look on a face that screams pity. Like watching a lamb being carried to the slaughter, or more like willingly walking in.

You don’t know what Steve has told her, or not told her, but it seems he has more power than you first realised, your boss never let you off early, sure she’s let you take a day off but leaving early? Never. You’d had to be bent of and heaving before she’s pay you for half the shift.

It scares you, you don’t quite know what your walking into following this man, the the truth of its danger follows you like a shadow, every step pressed into the floor by blood and crime is a step you fall into.

You’re staining yourself with whatever it is he is knee deep in, even if you don’t want to believe it.

Steve opens the diner doors gently, letting you pass his chest, as he flips the open side the opposite side. A sleek black car comes into view on the sidewalk, it’s branded with a logo you don’t recognise but you understand it’s expensive, the kind of car where they give you shampgane when you buy it.

You don’t know why but you don’t see Steve as a man who would willingly drink champagne, the image of him holding a flute has you fighting back giggles, no, he was most defiantly the time to like bourbon or some other old fashioned liquor.

Opening the passenger door, you take a moment to look back at the diner, the low warm lights giving it a sense of home that you never found at your apartment. The crowd of boys are now singing unabashedly, stale and oily fries left on messy plates.

You hated it but it was the best thing that ever happened to you..since, well, since forever. It was gruelling and tough and not half the amount of work it took but it was yours wasn’t it? It was something you earned and kept only for you, that pay check was written in your name, not your mothers, not your husbands, yours.

Atleast you got a taste of what freedom would be like, a small glimmer of what you could’ve been if happened, hadn’t.

The inside of Steve’s car is even more opulent than its exterior, blue lighting outlining the inside of the car, and tinted windows hiding you from view.

“As much as you think you useless and naive to the word, the truth is, you're the closest thing to Richedson in his life, not his right-hand man, not his best friend, not me, you. Hell, practically half the underworld didn't even know he was married for the better part of 2 years”. Steve murmurs, one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other lay rested on his thigh.

“He was embarrassed by me” You shrugged, it was the truth, even Steve knew it.

“No, I don't think so, I think he was scared that you would get hurt” Steve replies, eyes remaining on the gravel road as he followed the route to your apartment like the back of his head. It should scare you, but it doesn't, and that, that scares you.

“He couldn't care less of me, much less try and protect me from the world he married me into. Besides, whatever cruelty he tried to shield me from, he already exposed me to it himself” You reply hastily, turning your body so that you faced the door, eyes boring into the concrete sky scrapes flashing mirages against the tinted windows.

As if sensing your apprehension, Steves recognises to drop it and instead tries to tell you the reasons from earlier.

“The throne your husband sits on grants him a lot of power, enough to have half of New York at their knees. And with him as unstable as he is, it would lead to more people getting hurt, and most importantly this realm, this life, ripped open for the world to see” Steve says

“He's always been unstable, you of all people should know that” You reply, scoffing. The cracks in your husband's mind enable him to get to where he was today, it enabled him to look past the shackles of morality that kept so many from reaching their full potential as he would say.

“Not like this, no not the way he's behaving now, there's traditions and sacrifices you have to make to survive in this life, that I understand, but the cracks that have always been in him are starting to show, they're starting to crumble the things me and so man other people have built. He's going off the rails, and this time I don't think even you can reel him in” Steve reasons, turning into your apartment car pack with the palm of his hand in one swift turn.

You bristle as that, your husband has always been off, you'd noticed it the first time and you'd accepted it the last, but at least he was always predictable with the lengths he would go to for more power, more authority, more money.

“You're saying the killings could get worse? The blood? The death? You're saying he could get worse?” You say exasperated, your eyebrows furrow as you wait for Steve to reply. You didn't think he could get worse.

Running a hand down his face, Steve roughly pulls his strands back behind his ears before choosing his words carefully.

“I can't say much that won't get you killed, but he's spiralling, and he’s going to take us all down with him unless we do something unless you do something”. Steve says, pushing the hand break up as he turns to you.

You shut your eyes, squeezing them as you slump against the leather seats. Your mind wrestled as it took in all of this, even now, you would never escape your husband? Wouldn't you? Did the fate of the underworld really rest on your shoulders? You want to say no, to jump out of the car and run back to the safety of your apartment but you can't stop the flashes of the 17-year-old boy whose screams still haunted you all these years later. He would've been 21 now, likely to have walked into your diner with those boys from earlier, and most importantly alive, not buried in a shallow grave.

“Okay,” You mutter quietly, so quietly that if Steve didn't have those golden ears of his he would've missed it.

“Okay? You sure?” Steves asks again to make sure he's heard you correctly.

“Okay. Okay ill tell you what I know in exchange for protection. This is what it is right? Purely transactional?” You reply, expectantly.

Steve nods following your words, bringing his palm up to shake your own. It's surprisingly soft, his fingers, like the death and cruelty of his actions, haven't yet spoiled them.

“Just like a business” Steve mutters sparing a glance at you, the same strange expression from before, you both hold onto the grasp longer than a handshake should be. And you find yourself dropping it suddenly, before rubbing your hands against your thigh.

You reach behind the seats, grab your bag and reach for the car door, before Steve’s rough warning stops you, the deep don’t bounce off the car roof and jostles you in your sleep. You know he cants help it, but you catch glimpses of the mafia king just in that one word. You understand what he's able to to, what he's done to get here and most importantly what he’d do if you don't agree.

Steve walks around the car, before opening the door for you, you look down self-consciously.

“You know you don't have to do all that, open doors and stuff,” You say, following his steps to your apartment door.

You had never been the recipient of chivalry. You didn't get to experience the soft, innocent love everyone else did in high school, skipping straight into marriage with a mafia boss. It was pathetic now that you think about it, but you'd never been romanced, much less felt what love could be.

“I know,” Steve says, hands shoved into his pockets, but you don't let him finish speaking before you continue your heated ramble.

“I mean it, I'm not some prissy princess who needs to have her hand held every minute,” You say, searching for your keys at the bottom of your bag, before struggling to open your door.

The lock always seemed to jam wherever you tried to enter your apartment, to the point where you had to shoulder your way into your hallway to get in.

Steve reaches for the keys between your fingers, pushing it into the lock and opening the door with ease. His fingers didn't even seem to strain as slammed the door against your wall.

Looking up through hooded eyes, you catch his blues darken as he looks down, your face chest centimetres away from his chest,

“I know, trust me doll, I know” He whispers to you, and you have to pull your eyes away before moving past him, plopping your belongings onto your velvet couch.

Steve leans against the door frame, his tall length seems almost comical compared to the height of your living space, you were sure he'd have to duck to even enter.

You don't want him to enter, do you?

“Just get some sleep, ill swing by later to iron out the formalities” Steve replies, watching you carefully.

Stepping out of your high heels, you snort, calling loudly with your back to him

“Just like business!” You say with your back to him, untying your apron covered in oil and spills.

Steve smiles, amusement lighting up his features as he nods, leaning against the door

“Just like business” He mutters, before shutting the door, and making his way down the crumbling concrete steps.

He steps into the sleek black vehicle that looks out of place against the beat-up Toyota Camry that’s never left, and the busted bike with stolen tires.

You don't notice, but Steve only pulls out when he's sure you've done exactly what he's said, your figure behind pulled curtains scurrying around your room, causing a small smile to pull at his lips.

And he doesn't notice, or at least you think he doesn't, as you peer through yellow curtains, watching his car recede into the distance, the winter moon was now high in the sky, casting a light for his route as the engine of his car roared against the asphalt roads.

This was it, you'd just made a deal with the devil, and you were already elbows deep. You wonder which one would've killed you faster? Being on the run, or being tied up in his twisted games, falling into the depth of Steve Rogers before it swallowed you whole.

Taglist

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mybeautifulbeautifuleternal · 1 year

Text

Finnick’s thrashing woke you. Blinking up at the ceiling for a second, you gathered your thoughts before you turned to your husband. Thrashing might have been an overstatement — Finnick’s nightmares tended to leave him quietly wounded and your shared years in the Capital had taught you the power and protection of silence, so the two of you had a tendency to cry without sound or much movement.

But for your husband? The small aborted movements would be a full on seizure on anyone else.

Sighing deeply, you moved to the floor next to his side of the bed. You had been helping him wake from nightmares for years now, the two of you were each other's pillars of strength in the vipers den, and neither of you were comfortable with someone looming over them when awakening from a nightmare.

Reaching up from your spot, you slowly grabbed Finnick’s hand in yours. It was a light hold, easily broken but also easily felt. Then you started to hum and sing. It was just little tunes — lullabies you remembered your mother singing to you as you were growing up, sea ditties that the fishermen of District Four had taught you, some pretty perverted bar songs you’d picked up in your ‘rebellious’ years. Anything that would bring Finnick away from the nightmares and to a better time.

When it looked like he was calming down, you leaned closer to him, still on the ground. “Can you hear me? Can you wake up, my Finnick?”

It took a few more rounds of singing and asking him to wake before you caught sight of his beautiful green eyes, still hazy with sleep and shining with tears. When he finally focused them on you, you brought his hand to your lips — gently placing butterfly soft kisses on the tips of his fingers.

“Back with me?” Your tone was pure questioning, not accusatory. Everyone had nightmares.

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” Finnick’s voice was gravely but his words were kind as was his pull on your hand. He used his tightening grip to heave you up from the ground and back into his arms, rolling the two of you over until he was perched above you.

The moon was full and provided enough light that you could see each other perfectly well, so you saw when Finnick allowed his walls to crack again. He buried his face in your neck, laying out across you. You just restarted singing a slow song, running your fingers through his hair, and did your best to ignore the wet spot that was growing on your shoulder.

Everyone breaks at one point but you loved Finnick enough to be his shelter from the storm, the rock to hold him down from his spiraling thoughts, and the arms he could cry in without judgement.

@febuwhump

A/N — any blank blogs that follow me are going to be reported then blocked. Pick a different profile pic and get a witty header or something.

#febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday12 #finnick odair imagine #the hunger games imagine #tw nightmares #tw crying #finnick odair #the hunger games #my stuff #m’s drabbles #m’s imagines #February Whump

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megalony · 1 year

Text

Lady of the Night

This is my first Aemond Targaryen imagine from House of the Dragon I hope you all like it and I’d love any requests for Aemond.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @dreaming-about-fanfictions @afro-hispwriter

Masterlist

Summary: Aemond comes to the rescue of his wife when after getting lost in the palace, one of his family tries to attack her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was this way, wasn't it?

Turning to look behind her, (Y/n) looked back along the dimly lit hallway before she carried on walking ahead. It looked similar, but then again she had turned down quite a few different hallways now and in the low light from the torches on the stone walls, each one looked the same. She should have reached the room by now, surely.

She was lost.

(Y/n) wished she had stayed with Aemond so he could have guided her back to the room. She wished she hadn't told him she remembered the way when she clearly didn't, for now she was lost amongst the long corridors of the palace that felt like a moving maze, trapping her in the centre with no way out. Her fingers traced along the stone wall on her left, feeling the cold seeping into her warm skin and cooling her down.

Her body turned a quarter to the right before she swivelled back on her heels and carried on walking forward, speeding up her steps as she went. (Y/n) couldn't turn around now and risk losing herself further in the palace to try and find Aemond. What would she say? It wouldn't make her look very good if she fumbled around and told Aemond she had gotten lost on her first visit to meet his family. She knew he wouldn't care, but she did.

Lifting her head up, (Y/n) felt a shiver of relief crawling up her spine when she saw a small archway on the left concealing a spiralling staircase. This was where she needed to be, just up those stairs, turn left- no, right, then she would reach the room her and Aemond were staying in.

A smile etched its way across her lips as she held up the hem of her dress and ascended the steps, her shoes clacking against the stone creating a pleasing sound.

Just before (Y/n) reached the top of the stairs, she slowed down upon hearing a funny sort of hum echoing off the walls. It was coming from a low toned voice and she couldn't work out the tune, all the notes were a little off, the person must be drunk.

"Oh!" (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and braced her back against the wall with her arms instinctively reaching out to stop whoever had barrelled into her from falling down the stairs. Whoever it was crashed right into (Y/n)'s front and knocked the air out of her lungs causing a pain in her chest from the impact. Her knees buckled but she managed to keep her weight up against the wall.

When she dared to open her eyes, she came face to face with black curls flopping around the person- the man's face.

"Are you alright?" (Y/n) breathed through the words before she gently nudged his weight back onto his own feet to free herself so she could stand up properly. He was certainly drunk, he couldn't stand up without swaying and every time he blinked, his eyes stayed closed for a few extra seconds.

"Hmm, I am now." The stranger's brow quirked and a lopsided smile spread across his face while he took a few steps back and moved onto the corridor instead of the top of the stairs. His eyes slowly dragged over (Y/n)'s frame, taking in every curve and dip in the skin while she caught her breath and followed him onto the corridor.

"Oh, good." (Y/n) smiled awkwardly and rubbed at her arm, her eyes darting around, waiting silently for him to kindly move out of her way so she could get back to the room and wait for Aemond to come back. "Do you... need help?" He was looking at her like he wanted something.

Maybe he needed help back to his room or to find someone. He did look very drunk and (Y/n) wouldn't settle or feel okay if she didn't at least try and help him to wherever he was going.

"I won't say no, my room's this way." He hiccuped between words and lazily pointed in the other direction to her room. He regained his rightful balance and shifted his weight onto his feet properly before he hooked his arm around (Y/n)'s waist like she was the one who needed help back to her room instead of him.

"Okay." Could she really say no? It didn't seem right to say no to helping someone back to their room and she knew where she was now so it would be easy to find her way back. (Y/n) was kind-hearted by nature, she would help anyone who needed it and she wouldn't ask for anything in return. Besides, Aemond might be a little while yet so she had time to help this stranger to his room before going back to hers and waiting for her husband.

An uneasy feeling took over (Y/n) as they slowly walked down the corridor, the stranger keeping most of his weight on his own two feet which surprised (Y/n). But she stiffened against him when she felt his hand around her waist suddenly worm down until he was holding her bum and before she had a chance to scold him, he dug his fingers into the supple flesh and squeezed.

"Excuse me!" (Y/n)'s voice squeaked and she grabbed his arm and did her best to wriggle out of his suddenly tight hold.

"Hmm, come'ere, let's have a look at you." His words weren't slurred to (Y/n)'s surprise even though his eyes were nearly closed every time he blinked from how much he'd had to drink.

The stranger was suddenly very quick and swift in his movements and before (Y/n) could blink or tell him to kindly leave her alone, his left hand had hold of her arm very tightly and his other hand was raking up her dress and crawling up her leg. (Y/n) couldn't help but shriek as she tried to bat his hand away when he got close to grabbing her undergarments.

"No- stop it! Please get off!"

(Y/n) stumbled over her feet and consequently fell down on her side with the stranger falling on top of her which seemed to delight him even more. What did he think he was doing? Did he think she was someone else, his lover, his wife? Surely there weren't many women here that would blindly accept a strange man touching them up like this?

She didn't want what he was trying to do, she was married and her husband was somewhere in this palace. God, (Y/n) didn't dare think what would happen if Aemond could see her right now. This man's life wouldn't be worth living.

When the stranger's fingers snapped at the elastic of her undergarments (Y/n) automatically reached out and slapped him across the face. The action stunned him into silence and he froze, trying to come to terms with what had just happened which gave (Y/n) enough time to kick at him and scramble across the greasy floor to put space between them. She knew she was going in the opposite direction to her room but she had to keep away from whoever was trying to attack her.

"I- I don't know who you are but please, please leave me be." (Y/n) knew she didn't have to plead with the strange, cruel man. She had every right to shout and swear at him and call for help, but she didn't want to do that. He was drunk and she didn't know what he was thinking, she just needed him to leave her alone.

She wouldn't even tell Aemond. She would try her best to act like nothing was wrong and let this man get away with a slight touch if he would go away now.

"Leave you be? Ha, a Lady of the night playing hard to get!" A laugh followed his snide words and (Y/n) flinched.

Lady of the night? Did he think she was a prostitute? What on Earth had she done to give him that impression? Was it her dress? No, surely not, her dress was of the usual fashion with velvet sleeves and a small train at the back and it had a few ruffled layers. It was nothing elaborate but nothing sleezy or short and it didn't give away a view of anything. She wasn't wearing any make-up, she didn't walk around like a lady of the night, did she?

How would she get this far into the palace if she were such a lady? She and Aemond had only just arrived this morning and no one knew he was married yet but surely strangers couldn't just waltz right in here and walk around the palace late at night uninvited?

"I... I- that's not what I am." Why was she even arguing with him? It wasn't going to do her any good.

With a shake of her head and a very shallow breath, (Y/n) pushed up on her trembling hands and tried to stand up without collapsing. She wanted to go back to the room and hide away under the covers of the bed. She wanted Aemond.

Her trembling hands tried to push down her shirts as she wobbled on her feet but (Y/n) barely made it three feet before fingers curled into the back of her dress and yanked her backwards, pulling the cords that threaded the dress together at the back.

A scream left her lips and her side bashed into the bannister while a hard chest caught her from falling.

"Don't be so hard, come back to my room."

(Y/n) could feel tears prickling in her eyes and a cry left her lips when she felt his lips against her neck. She writhed around, flinging her elbows out behind her before she screamed, it was clear he wasn't going to leave her alone so she needed someone to hear her distress and help her.

Unsure what else to do, (Y/n) tilted her head down before suddenly flinging her head back, hearing a successful snap as her head came into contact with his nose. Stars flooded her vision and her head seemed to double in size and she lost her balance. Everything seemed to twist and turn around her until (Y/n) found herself on her hands and knees, groaning and whimpering in pain.

"Little bitch."

Hands groped at her waist and a round of no's left her lips when yet again, she felt fingers crawling up her leg underneath her dress. Her feet kicked and flailed out, smashing into his abdomen and chest until her harrasser got angry and hovered over her. He roughly hauled her onto her back while she screamed until a hand latched around her throat.

"N-no, Aemond!" (Y/n) clawed at the hand around her throat but she felt the stranger falter when she said her husband's name. Maybe they knew each other, maybe they were family?

His name fell from her lips in a loud scream as she prayed to the Gods that Aemond was on his way back and would be able to hear her wherever he was. Suddenly (Y/n) could breathe. Her eyes timidly fluttered open and a gasp left her lips when the stranger let go of her neck. Both their gazes fell towards the stairs behind them when a loud set of footsteps thundered around the walls and echoed back to them.

Oh, no.

(Y/n) felt herself beginning to shake and her muscles tensed and she watched through bleary eyes as Aemond came towards them like a tornado. His long silver strands were swaying behind him like feathers on a bird, his violet eye held more emotions than (Y/n) thought she would ever see and his cheekbones were popping from his skin from how tight his jaw was set.

In what felt like half a second, Aemond grabbed hold of the stranger by the back of his neck, produced a knife with his free hand, and roughly wrenched him away and threw him into the wall. With how drunk he was, the stranger slid down the wall into a heap before Aemond pulled him straight back up like a rag doll.

All Aemond could see was red. Bright, shining rays of red reflecting all around him, glistening brightly from the man who was on top of his wife. He had heard his name clawing off the stone walls when he walked up the stairs and it made his blood curdle like sour milk. He had never heard (Y/n) scream like that or call out for him in such a desperate, terrified way before.

He grabbed the knife from his belt and pressed it against the man's neck before he hauled him up and tossed him against the wall, breathing heavily like he had drowned and was coming up for air.

But when he dragged the man up to his feet and watched him take a breath, Aemond could feel every nerve in his body burning and tingling and being put on edge.

What the Hell was Jace doing attacking his wife?

Aemond dragged his eye over to where (Y/n) was slumped on the floor on her back. He could see how heavily she was breathing from almost being strangled and pinned down. Her eyes were wide with tears falling down her cheeks but when he looked down and saw her dress was asquew around her chest and raked up past her thighs, he could of exploded on the spot.

He couldn't help it, the moment he turned back to look at Jace his hand was already moving before he could process it and the tip of the knife sliced into his cheek and dragged down to his chin. It caused a painful howl from Jace and (Y/n) gasped, flinching whilst she tried to fumble to her feet.

Aemond pressed the sharp edge of the knife against Jace's neck to pin him up in place and stop him from cradling the wound, allowing the blood to drip steadily down his neck like a leaky tap.

"Jace. What were you doing to her?"

If the situation were any different, (Y/n) would have thought Aemond's voice was sensual and it would have made her weak at the knees with lust with how low and gritty he spoke.

His jaw jutted out and he tilted his head to the side, his eye piercing Jace and suddenly making him sober up on the spot.

"I- Aemond, come on, it was just some fun..."

"Fun?" The sudden smile that crooked onto Aemond's lips made Jace shiver, he looked like he was about to start cackling as if the best joke in the realm had just been spoken. But the smile was a hard, cruel one with bad intentions. "You think forcing your hand up my wife's dress is just some fun?"

When he didn't get an answer, Aemond shook Jace by the shoulder but he was just staring at Aemond, stunned into silence. He wouldn't have gone near her if he knew she was married to his uncle. No one told him Aemond was even back at the palace, let alone back with a wife on his arm.

"I..."

"Go on. You had her pinned down by the throat and now you're lost for words? I'll show you some fun."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in terror as she watched Aemond grab Jace by the collar and dragged him by the collar of his shirt over to the stairwell. She could see what her husband was going to do before he did it. He was going to throw him down the stairs. In Jace's state it could kill him and (Y/n) couldn't have his death on her conscience, she couldn't have Aemond kill him because of her.

"Aemond don't! Please..." (Y/n) couldn't stand up. The shock was setting in her system and she couldn't stop shaking, let alone try and get her legs to work. All she could do was shakily throw the hem of her dress back around her ankles before she looked up at her husband, the tears in her eyes melting his anger away.

"Leave." Aemond pointed the knife at the stairs to emphasise his point before he let Jace go, watching him scramble away down the stairs to be out of sight.

The moment Aemond knelt down beside (Y/n), floods of tears fell down her puffed cheeks and she couldn't help the sob that bubbled past her lips. she felt so stupid, she should have known Jace wasn't in the right frame of mind, he was drunk. She should have just bypassed him and made her way to her room, she should have been able to fend him off without screaming the walls down for Aemond to come to the rescue.

"I- I'm so sorry," (Y/n) hiccuped and wiped her eyes on her sleeve before she pushed forward and burrowed her face into Aemond's neck, breathing in his scent that automatically soothed her like a calming medicine.

"What? Sweetheart, what on Earth are you sorry for?" Aemond slowly dragged his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair and peppered kisses on top of her head. he hated to see her this upset. He should have told her to wait for him and walked her back to the room or at least asked someone to walk her back so she hadn't been alone.

"I got lost a-and I should have stopped him-"

"He shouldn't have laid a finger on you, nothing he did was your fault. Let me look at you, love."

He smoothed his hand over (Y/n)'s cheek until he had hold of her chin and gently tilted her head up so she was looking at him. There was a mark on her neck that sent his blood boiling but she didn't look to have any bruises or damage which was good and when he feathered his fingers over her side and down her thigh, she didn't pull back. If anything, he noticed her lean into the touch and her breathing got deeper.

When he moved his hand to cup her head he frowned when (Y/n) whimpered causing him to lean over and part her hair to see if she was bleeding or had any swelling.

"I think I broke his nose." (Y/n) murmured quietly to let Aemond know how she had hurt her head.

"I should have broke his fucking neck for touching what's mine." The fire that started to burn up again in Aemond's voice dwindled down when (Y/n) pulled him down to her for a kiss. "Come here, love."

In a matter of seconds, Aemond swooped one arm under (Y/n)'s bent knees and the other stayed around her back and he held her in his arms, pressed safe and secure to his chest. He could feel a genuine smile creeping onto his lips when her arms loosely looped around his neck and her lips peppered against his skin.

He could feel her starting to calm down against him, the shock dwindling down and the shaking subsiding as Aemond slowly turned and walked down the corridor towards their room. He wasn't going to let her out of his sight for another second while they were here. No one was going to touch a hair on her head while Aemond was around.

"You're safe, sweetheart."

#aemond #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond x you #house of the dragon #jace targaryen

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scary-lasagna · 5 months

Text

The Christmas Express of the Underrealm Pt ii

Snowflakes softly fell atop the growing blanket of snow, speckles twinkling from the moonlight glittered amongst the empty plain surrounding the mansion. The tree line seemed distant through the foggy snow, and branches weighted heavily with pillows of white fluff dragging them toward the ground. Some distant trees have succumbed to the weight and broke off branches completely, and bushes have split in twain.

The hallways of the manor stood unusually quiet, and no one was awake to wonder how Santa could drive in the snow, even with Rudolph pulling the sleigh.

Not that anyone outside of Sally fully believed in him. Demons, beasts, and the like existed, but a happy man who lived to deliver presents to all of the terrible creatures in the Underrealm? It's too far-fetched to believe that they would ever make the nice list, anyway. The clock on Sally's bedside ticked patiently. A small Disney princess-themed alarm-clock, topped with a tiara for a snooze button. The moon pushed shadows further into the girl's room as the night dragged on.

12:05.

A jingle jostled on Sally's stocking on her window, the silver bells ringing against the pink bow she had sewn on earlier that day. The final touch to the Christmas magic. A deep rumbling unearthed from beneath Sally's bed, startling her awake with wide eyes and a panicked hesitation of where to run to.

She quickly jumped out of bed, watching as her own autographed painted masterpieces fell off of the walls with loud clanging, the butterflies spiraling to their death, and the neon yellow light scanning quickly across the princess-pink walls of her bedroom. The frills of the canopy flickered and jostled from the otherwordly sound, threatening to fall onto the messy bed.

The rumbling paced quicker and faster as it approached outside her window. Sally thought it was about to leap in and eat her alive, so she hid in her play tent as a roar, followed by a deep whistle, passed by her window.

Sally froze. She didn't move. She didn't breathe. Has death finally decided to come for her the day before Christmas? Right before she would finally get that expensive Barbie Dreamhouse she's always wanted?

The only answer she received was the terrible screech of metal pulling along the bricks of the manor pathways accenting Slender's garden.

The chugging noise slowed to a halt, puffing out a final sigh as the supposed creature of death hissed and squealed with a metal-like resistance.

Sally, although she didn't want to, felt obligated to look out the window, being the sole witness of whatever creature that was lurking outside.

If this was Santa, Sally would never steal a dessert again. Or pull Jeff's hair. Or cut the hair off of her dolls. Or-

Sally finally peeked her button nose over the sill of her window, lined with fallen Polly-pockets and other small vintage knickknacks of when she was still an alive little girl with rosy cheeks.

The wall of fog was as thick as her eyes had ever seen! It was beast-like, the size of the fog, obscuring whatever terror that lay behind it. Her lip wobbled. She didn't want to leave everyone just yet. She may have been dead for quite a while, but she didn't want to just leave. Especially alone.

She had to find someone who wouldn't just dismiss her and tuck her back into bed without even entertaining the idea of looking out the window.

***

"Ben." She poked his cheek.

"Nggmmmh." Ben rolled over, stuffing his face into the pillow.

"BEN!"

"WWHHAAAT?" Although the yell was directed toward the pillow, it was still quite loud and startled Sally. She doesn't even recall seeing him sleep, his door was always open whenever she fetched water from the downstairs kitchen. She thought he was only pretending or she wouldn't have startled him so badly.

"There's something outside." She said with as much worry as an 8-year-old can express without seeming like a cold-faced liar.

"You're just hearing things, Sal. Please go back to bed."

"Ben, I'm so serious right now! It's a giant wall of fog, and it roared, and it hissed, and it knocked all of my paintings down and broke my paintbrush cup!" She explained with haste.

Just as Ben was about to dismiss it as a dream, the whistle howled into the night, and Ben reflexively stood between Sally and the window.

The whistle of death was no stranger to any ghost that roamed the Underrealm. A whistle of death of only something you hear right before you die. But it's supposed to be a lovely pitched note, not a roar-like screech that shook Ben's controllers off of his specially-made desk pockets.

He slowly approached the window, hands shaking as he peered through the sparse cross-hatching. Ben rested his shaking hands on the white, dusty, sill, observing as the fog fell and ghosted along the iced exterior of the steam engine. "A Baldwin 2-8-4 S3-class Berkshire type steam locomotive…" He whispered, narrowing his eyes, observing the exterior with a keen, knowing eye. Ben always seemed to have the answers for most things Sally asked.

"You mean a train?"

"Yeah, it's a train for sure. But how the hell did it get here with no tracks?"

"A ghost train?"

"Maybe." Ben thought for a moment. "Let's go check it out."

"Ben, oh my God, that is a TERRIBLE idea." But it was too late, Ben was already putting on his beloved Zelda-themed bomber jacket and thumping down the stairs. "Ben!" "Ben! You're so gonna be on the naughty list for this!!" Sally clenched her fists and bounced on her heels, looking back and forth between the stairs and her room, not knowing if this would qualify her for the naughty list or not. But Santa would understand, right?

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta imagines #creepypasta blog #ben drowned #ben drowned x reader #christmas #christmas x reader #creepypasta x reader #sally williams #the polar express #creepypasta christmas #creepypasta christmas x reader

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greywritesthings · 2 months

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You're okay

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Angstish / fluffy fluff

TW : nightmares, mentions of death / kidnapping, panic attacks, other supernatural related things

A/N: i should be doing my final year project but here i am. There is no beta so all feedback is appreciated! This can be seen as romantic or platonic :)

Dean Winchester masterlist

Masterlist

No! No! Please, god, no! Let them live! Please, you can keep me just let them go! They dont deserve this its my fault! Please! She screamed as the figure crept towards the brothers who were unconscious against the wall. Blood dripped from her nose as she cried and screamed wrestling against the chains that kept her in place as she pleaded to everything she knew for her brothers to wake up. She had been kidnapped a week ago now after she decided to ignore the boys warning and follow a clue without them. And now because of her mistakes and overcofidence it would be her fault they died. She had no idea what monster it was that was keeping her and going after them or even if it was a monster at all. All she knew was that the boys deaths was on her hands.

She woke up in a panic, screaming out before she realised it wasnt real. She scrambled across her bed knife in hand to turn on the light, relife rushing over her when she confirmed she was alone in the room. As she came back to reality her brain quickly took over and she began crying over the nightmare. A seasoned hunter, on the road for 12 years, crying over a nightmare in a perfectly safe bunker with sam, dean and castiel on either side of her room was having a panic attack over a nightmare. Sobs wracked through her body for a while as she fell down a rabit hole of terror. After a while she had calmed down enough to recognise she was having a panic attack and had manged to calm down enough to go get water.

She stood in the kitchen with the dim light of the fridge casting a glow about the room, allowing her to see just enough so that she could confirm to herself nothing was going to jump out of the shaddows at her. Sipping the glass of water she had gotten she stared out the window at the trees moving slightly in the breeze, only visible thanks to the full moon above on the cloudless night. She was calm untill she closed her eyes and then she was straight back into the nightmare, reignighting the panic attack that wasnt so long forgotten. Once again her mind spiraled out of controll, sobs wracked her body as she sank to the floor, drink abandoned on the side and fridge still open.

She didnt know how long her was like that before a hand touched her knee nearly causing her to yell out and reach for her blade again that night just for a hand to catch her own. "Hey hey sweetheart its me, Dean, its okay" and at that she lunges towards him clinging onto him for dear life, acting as if she let him go he would evaporate. "Okay okay babygirl its okay iv got you, you're safe, you're okay now, lets go back to my room yeah?" He asks reciving a small nod into his chest as she tries to calm her breathing down.

He would normally ask what caused this but given that it was 2AM and he had heard her muffled scream and the clatter of her turning on the lamp he guessed it was a nightmare. He picked her up easily then carried him off to his room. He put her on the bed where he had been just a few minutes ago so she had his warmth then went to the otherside to lay down next to her. She shiffled over to him as he got comfortable, silently requesting his physical comfort that he was all too happy to give her. After a while her breathing evened out and she fully relaxed into the much needed sleep. "Night night sweetheart. Your okay now." Dean whispered into the darkness of the room before pressing a kiss to her forehead and allowing himself to once again fall into sleep.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #supernatural x reader #supernatural #x reader #greyswritings

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mothicalspoken · 2 years

Text

There’s burning where her lungs should be.

Gasping doesn’t help much. Not in this state- her eyes are all blurry and she closes them hard against the onslaught of smoke.

It’s hard to tell what’s up and what’s down, whether this fire under her palms was connected to a wall or the floor, whether she’s still on her bed or how long she has been laying here. She thinks she can hear sirens in the distance. Along with the crackling of wood, it’s getting closer.

Breathe, she tells herself. It’s a silly thought, honestly. Breathe.

This air isn’t right for her.

There are a lot of things flashing right now. She wonders where Sasha and Marcy are, whether they’ve been sleeping as soundly as she has. If it didn’t hurt to move, if she could move at all, maybe she could crawl out of here. Somewhere. There are heavy footsteps on the stairs. Probably. Maybe it’s her parents.

She’s got time.

It’s the last thing that crosses her mind before her candle is snuffed out by lack of oxygen.

—

She opens her eyes to a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors.

It’s just as calming as it was the first time. She could train her eyes on it forever, relax in the cool grass with the stars gently spiraling across the night sky.

Unfortunately however, there’s a familiar cat blocking her way.

I didn’t expect you to come back so soon. The deity murmurs, putting a paw on her face. She mumbles, and gently pushes it off. It’s not your fault though. You were asleep when the fire engulfed the room.

“I thought I still had time,” Anne answers back, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. She looks over the edge of the island. It’s nothing but abyss, and somehow that doesn’t scare her. “You said 78 more years. I should have had 68 to go.”

That was more of a wish on my part, Not-Domino says, calmly sitting next to Anne and yawning. 91 is an ideal age to die. 23, not so much. I didn’t expect this. Thought I’d give you a fulfilling life before taking over this job. It’s stressful.

“...So can I go back?” Anne asks, and she almost feels bad for leaving so soon.

She puts a hand to her chest and inhales. It doesn’t feel any different. Just like last time. The pins and needles weren’t there at all when she first woke up in this place. She wonders if this is a blessing on the deity’s part, or if it’s simply a part of this space.

You will. You’d be surprised at what medical technology can do these days. The deity almost seems sad. Anne can’t help but feel bad for it- it must be pretty lonely up here. She’s always been a social person. Being away from others for this long must be unbearable. Amongst other things. Any moment now.

“Not looking forwards to the health problems,” Anne says, and she laughs a little to stave off the anxiety over future medical bills. “You can’t make another copy of me, right?”

You still have your body that I gave you last time. It will be a little dysfunctional for a time, but I trust that it will work smoothly given human technology.

“Right. Well,” Anne murmurs, looking over the edge once again, her legs swinging mindlessly as a bright light opens up underneath them. She’s seen how this goes. “Guess this is goodbye.”

Fur brushes its way past her arm. You could stay. I could make you stay, if you wanted. Are you sure you want to go back?...

“Sorry dude,” Anne says, as the white void rises up. She avoids looking at the deity. She’ll keep justifying it with her own development, until the time comes. “Got lessons I need to learn. Like how to fireproof my house.”

Right. Well. I wish you luck.

“Good luck to you as well,” she says, and she lets the void swallow her whole.

–

She awakes to the sound of monitors.

Her entire body aches. Which is to be expected, given the amount of scratchy white bandages she can make out on her body, even without moving her head. Right. Lessons. Fireproofing her house.

She didn’t ask the deity about the stones.

Damn it.

“Holy shit, Mars- she’s awake! She’s actually awake! Oh thank frog-”

Right. She’s got people looking after her too. She didn’t mean to die, but it must have been stressful for Sasha and Marcy to have their best friend dragged out of her apartment.

She closes her eyes again. The lights are too bright, nothing like the faded hues of the afterlife.

Hopefully, she’ll have enough time between lives to forget again.

#this is very barebones but it's only because i wanted to try out the idea #okay so. deity is in the form of a cat. cats have nine lives. you see what i'm getting at #like i think anne getting the chance to have conversations with the deity about various things over and over would be pretty interesting #but i wanna know what poeple think #because. i don't enjoy killing off characters over and over it's ick #my writing #like maybe it's more of a anne almost dies sort of thing #idk but have this anyways #tw character death #tw death #tw fire #amphibia #amphibia spoilers

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Paradise Circus - Chapter Eight.

Another chapter for you all to enjoy, the PCBC. That’s Paradise Circus book club, all my wonderful regular readers!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,112

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. NO MINORS, PLEASE!

The feel, the heat and the weight of him against her back had Darla spiralling with lust before he’d even touched her, turning to kiss him heatedly, her attraction for him ignited strongly. It would only ever take the smallest of sparks with him.

Bending, he picked her up, carrying her through to the bedroom and throwing her down on the bed, Darla moving to sit up, grabbing him by his belt, her fingers running up under his t shirt to reveal his perfect abs to her mouth, kissing up the line of hair leading up to his navel, Tommy removing his shirt, pushing her back onto the bed again and blanketing her with his hugeness.

He stripped her rapidly, desiring nothing more than to have her naked beneath him, tongue circling each of her beautiful, dark nipples in turn, eventually covering her small, yet beautiful tits in little greedy nips and open-mouthed kisses. Already, the bubbles of lust began to float through her, Darla trailing his scalp with her nails, indulging in the feel of his back beneath her hands, too. Oh, those muscles. They’d forever be her weakness.

His hands ran down her sides, skilled fingertips chasing a plethora of goosepimples across her flesh, mouth burying at her neck, Darla gasping when his fingers finally slipped down further, a hand roaming between her legs.

He explored her folds with teasing strokes, just enough to wet his fingertips without delving too far. The result was her arousal burning furiously, moaning into his mouth when it returned to hers. She nearly bit his tongue when at last, his fingers skimmed over her clit, flickers of pleasure invoked by a touch that left her breathless.

He circled it softly, her nails grazing over his back as their kisses keened, growing in hunger, Darla biting his lower lip when those fingers slipped inside her, her sodden walls grasping around them with a series of firm contractions, her arousal spiralling. Crooking them, he stroked her deftly, gliding in and out of her as he gazed down at her, her eyes a hazel flame of desire. God, she was gorgeous.

As he slowly began kissing his way down her body, she felt herself tingling with delight, the feeling of his tongue slipping over her clit in a circular sweep causing her to jolt, a soft moan escaping her lips. More volume was pushed from the throat when he applied further pressure with his tongue, eventually removing his fingers from her to take a long, hard, sweeping lick at her slit, Darla wailing as her legs brushed his face.

He gripped her thighs in his hands, holding them apart as he continued to eat her vigorously, her moans, the pools of wetness bathing his tongue, the way she tasted and smelt all contributing to his cock hardening rapidly. She panted and writhed, her mouth completely agape as she panted, the tip of his tongue beating relentlessly over her clit.

“Oh my god. Fuck!” she gritted, one hand gripping the sheets as the other flexed in his hair, Tommy delighting her further by continuing to lick at her faster, her wails as unrelenting as the mouth driving her out of her mind with ecstasy.

Ther fervour of his tongue was assisted by his fingers returning to her aqueous cunt, her walls fluttering around them as he pushed back within, beginning to move them circularly, dragging them in and out, emerging for only the briefest of moments to kiss her magmatically before descending again. He had her foggy and overcome with arousal, stopping to lay kisses all over her stomach and down her thighs as his fingers worked her diligently.

Returning his mouth to her heat, he began sucking her bud, plump lips bathing it in pillowy heat, tongue circling the tip at the same time, building her up until her body stiffened, hurtling through the dark towards the light, before there it was, the blinding white of her undoing.

She was too overcome from such a ferocious ascent to speak, fighting to catch her breath as she felt him circle her navel with his tongue, fingers still gently stroking her fluttering walls. He moved back up to kiss her again, Darla liking the way she tasted on his tongue, panting heavily into their kisses as she stroked his neck before reaching to undo his jeans, their combined effort freeing him from his last remaining clothes.

“I think I’m going to need you to put your dick where your fingers are,” she requested, stroking his neck with her nails.

“Yeah, I can feel.” She laughed softly at his assertion, whining a little in impatience. “I will, but not just yet.” Turning her onto her front and smacking her butt, Darla giggled, groaning when he did it again much harder. “Damn, that’s a gorgeous ass.” He complimented, moving to bite one of her peachy cheeks, fingers returning to her soaking cunt as his tongue ran in a slow drag up her spine.

She couldn’t remember a time when she had been attended to this generously, her back covered in licks and kisses as his fingers began to stoke the fire of her sumptuous, wet heat once more. He planned to take his time while enjoying every last inch of her.

His free hand stroked swirls his mouth then followed, her body trembling gently beneath his touch, his hard bulk at her back feeling deliciously erotic, especially whenever his cock nudged her thigh. Oh, he was incredible, whatever land of sexual paradise he had her absconded away to, she knew she didn’t want to be found anytime soon. The first time could have been a fluke, maybe even the second, but no. This was him, and he was nothing short of amazing.

Two fingers within her became three, raking, nudging, curling and dragging the second orgasm from her as she cried out, completely overcome once more. He left her bereft for a few moments, pausing in scandalously unfair tease, furthering this by stroking the tip of his erection through her slippery folds, before he pushed her legs wider apart with his thigh and sank into her fully.

Her mouth dropped as inch after inch of rock-hard cock slid against her walls, bottoming out and retreating again as he kissed her neck, his shuddered breath breezing over her collarbone as she moved to her forearms, the rest of her flat against the bed and at the mercy of him entirely, his chest sliding sumptuously against her back. He felt thick and heavy, both inside and atop her, Darla completely prevailed over by him in this, the slow burn sexual magic he imposed upon her.

The feeling of him sliding in a little deeper with a barbarous groan jolted her back to the moment, his hand then sweeping through her curls to reveal the back of her neck to his mouth, which he duly kissed and gently bit, leaving her dizzy, drunk on him and the moment they shared.

She allowed him to remain in control for a short time longer, before crawling out from beneath him and manoeuvring him onto his back, sinking down onto his cock with a satisfied gasp, stroking his huge arms as his hands flexed at her breasts. He was, as ever, utterly transfixed by her, how sexy she was, how incredible her body looked when she rode him.

The way she moved on atop him, it was hypnotic, unlike anything he’d ever experienced, her body rolling and undulating like she was made of liquid. Quite simply, he’d never been ridden like the way Darla rode him in his whole life. She absolutely blew his mind.

The pace became more urgent and frenzied, voracity replacing the slower and more sumptuous enjoyment that had prevailed thus far, Darla grinding down on him eagerly as he moved beneath her with more purpose, both of them driving deeper moans from one another.

Each keen undulation caused him to feel sparks flickering his spine, while she had her own bliss pulsing softly, increasing more the faster she moved, fervidly chasing her release as she began to rub her clit, her other hand flexing at his chest, nails digging in.

A string of panted expletives left her mouth as she felt herself reach boiling point, bubbling up and over and taking him with him to a gloriously sweet climatic finish, intensity throbbing through them and leaving them both a sweaty, shuddering wreck.

“Please say once was enough, because I’m dead now.” She couldn’t help but laugh, dismounting him carefully and stretching out by his side, his huge chest heaving.

“I get it, you’re tired. Go to sleep, it’s fine.” She was going to get up and read for a bit, but after a while felt her eyelids grow heavy, her brain releasing all the lovely, sleepy, happy chemicals that sent her off into slumber, not to wake again until she felt Tommy climb over her the next morning at 5am and begin to dress.

“I have a training session in an hour and a half, so I have to leave. When do you want to meet up again, so we can talk more about the...” he trailed off, resting a hand to her lower abdomen. He did so in such a gentle way, it made her heart flutter for a moment.

“I’ll call you in a few days, if that’s alright?”

“Yeah, no problem. Stay where you are, I’ll see myself out.” Pulling the last remaining item of clothing over his head, he picked up his cell and keys, smiling before leaving. Darla didn’t have to get up for a further hour, when she’d be hitting the road home to Pittsburgh early so she could spend the day with her mom and brothers. At a drive time of five hours, she liked to leave nice and early so she got to spend as much time as possible there. With the news she was going to share, she sensed she’d need such.

Finding it impossible to drop back off, she got up and took a shower, deciding to leave even earlier, taking a flask of coffee with her, eating a couple of peaches and some grapes for breakfast and filling her water jug before getting into her car and hitting the long road ahead.

Five hours, all of her coffee, most of her water and a couple of bathroom breaks later, and she was driving into Highland Park, a substantially more affluent neighbourhood than the one she’d lived in as a child. After her parent’s restaurant had begun to truly thrive, they’d bought their current house the same year Darla had begun at college, a beautiful detached three-bedroom abode. Well, four bedrooms, except the fourth was used as her dad’s man cave. She was so proud of them and their success to be able to finally afford something so nice.

The tree lined road wound around several turns until she reached the pretty, white picket fence lined abode, the purple wisteria in full bloom outside, as well as another welcome sight in the garden.

“I thought you were at work today!” Darla cried, racing out of the car and into her father’s arms as he stepped away from the lawn mower, hugging her tightly.

“I was, but I thought the hell to it, you and your brothers are making the effort, so I can take a day away from the barbecue pits,” he told her, kissing her hair fondly. Only one of his kids still remained in Pittsburgh, and he’d spent so much of his life dedicated to being diligently industrious and not getting to spend precious time with them in order to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads. Now they were grown, Mike realised he needed to slow down and make more time for his family.

“So, the smelly people are already here?” she asked, of course, referencing her two elder brothers, Anthony and Luke, and her younger, Gene.

“Gene and Luke are bothering your mother; Ant is on his way.” She left him to his work, heading up the path and in through the open door, the house smelling of furniture polish and her mom’s blend of oils burning away in the large, white ceramic burner Darla had bought as part of her Christmas presents the previous year. Today’s choice of scent was peony and tulip, if her nose hadn’t failed her. Also, as well as the comforting smells of home greeting her, the familiar sounds of merriment reached her ears, the scene unfolding as she walked in.

“Nah, man. I ain’t eating it! Nope, no way, get out!” Gene resolutely stated, while Luke waved around something that looked to be of the insect species.

“Try it, Gene. They’re not half bad,” their mom chimed in with, Darla paused at the doorway while she watched it all unfold.

“That means they aren’t half good either, mom! Nope, I’m not eating a cricket, no matter how much honey or whatever else it’s been dipped in is on it!” A comic chase around the island followed, Gene spotting Darla and scooting to hide behind her. “Vegan in the house, vegan in the house! You can’t torture me with dried insects any longer, she’ll get mad!”

“Get out from behind me and fight your own battles, you huge baby!” she exclaimed, greeting Luke with a big hug and a kiss before he continued to chase a very reluctant Gene. “You’d think they were still sixteen and nine, not thirty-six and twenty-nine.”

“I know, darling,” her mom began. Sweeping her up in a big hug. “But the house would be too quiet when they’re here if they weren’t boisterous.” Taking Darla’s face in her hands, she kissed her forehead, frowning instantly. “What’s wrong?”

Even the slightest of changes in the demeanour of her offspring, and Nancy Cooke spotted it a mile off.

“Can I tell you later, when Frick and Frack aren’t close by?”

Nancy nodded, feeling a little worried. “Sure, no problem. What can I get you to drink? I have chilled mint tea, wine, beer, peach tea, whatever you fancy.”

“I’ll take the mint, but I’ll do it, you’ve a pan about to overboil.”

“Crap on it!” Nancy exclaimed, rushing to the stove and rescuing the potatoes, or more so the burner from being doused in water. Just then, the hurricane that was her brothers came crashing back in, Luke crying with laughter as Gene further reacted to the cricket, before shrugging and eating it. Darla heaved. Even if she wasn’t vegan, eating dried insects definitely wouldn’t have been of interest.

“So, are these a delicacy from your travels?” she asked, Luke nodding. He was a geologist, spending large amounts of his time away overseas with his work, horrifying his family with what interesting delicacies he returned with. Especially if your name was Gene Cooke, who had been squeamish over insects since childhood.

He’d refused to go into Darla’s room as a child, when she’d had a pet tarantula named Squish who had an uncanny knack of escaping his vivarium. Mike had thought they were being robbed one morning when Gene’s blood curdling scream awoke him at 4am, racing to his room to find his youngest cowered at the foot on his bed, and an unfazed Squish scampering across his pillow.

“Man, can’t you just come home with interesting rocks?” Gene announced as Luke continued to eat from the bag of crickets.

“Can’t eat those though, bro.”

“Well, lunch is almost ready, so put those away and stop terrorising your brother,” Nancy advised as she drained the potatoes, Darla assisting by taking the roasted vegetables from the oven. They had one of those six burner, double oven cookers that Darla was very envious over, reasoning that even if she could afford one, it would dominate her modestly sized kitchen.

A late coming Anthony arrived just as Nancy had assembled her brood to begin putting everything into serving dishes, the eldest of the Cooke kids kissing his mom and sister hello before taking the basket of dinner rolls Darla passed to him, Nancy hollering for Mike as they made their way through to the dining room.

All the way through the dinner, Darla felt nourished for the time with her family, reconnecting, enjoying the simplicity of a family meal to take her mind off of her mentally tiring predicament. Her face told a thousand words to her mother, though, Nancy noting the little flickers in her daughter’s expression throughout the lunch, knowing whatever she wrestled with, it was of definite weight upon her.

“So then, buttercup. Now it’s just you and me, let’s hear it, whatever it is that’s troubling you,” she broached, bringing the jug of iced tea out onto the porch where Darla sat on the swing seat after they’d eaten, leaving the dishwasher running and the boys watching a football game in the lounge.

“Oh, ma. I’ve messed up,” she began, taking the glass Nancy handed to her. “I’m... well... I’m pregnant.”

“Okay, alright. Wow, that is big. I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone! I take it from your face that this is conflicting, hence why I’m holding back the urge to jump for joy at the possibility of becoming a grandma. I don’t feel celebration would be appropriate when I sense you are at an impasse with it.”

This was typical Nancy Cooke all over. She processed before emotionally reacting, strong, steady and rocklike. It was something Darla had always admired in her, and in that moment, sorely needed.

“I’m not, seeing him, that is. Well, this is where it gets complicated. We’re kinda friends with benefits, but not really friends because we don’t get on, it’s mostly purely sexual, and I feel uncomfortable now, talking like this with you!”

“Hey, enough of that! You know I’m not a stuffy mother who expects there to be a boundary, I’ve always encouraged you kids to be open with me,” Nancy interjected with, Darla nodding.

“Right, I know, I know. But yeah, that’s essentially the set up. He isn’t just a random guy either, he’s someone I’ve known a damned long time but lost touch with. You know him, too, in fact.”

“I do?” Her ears pricked up immediately at that.

“Yeah. It’s Tommy. Tommy Conlon.”

“What the hell? Little Tommy Conlon got my daughter pregnant? What?”

“Mom, keep it down!”

Sometimes, Darla found herself surprised when her mother acted out of character with an emotional outburst, and the decibels she’d reached in expressing her surprise could definitely be constituted as one of those moments.

A/N - Now, here’s the really, really important part. Did you enjoy it? If so, please don’t just redundantly click that heart. Reblog it. Also, I love to engage with my readers, so a little comment would not go amiss either! Doesn’t have to be long, just reach out. I’m all about building community here and there is nothing more lovely than readers and writers supporting one another!

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riahlynn101 · 1 year

Text

"Pandora's Box" (5).

Chapter 5

Most mornings start off the same. Nisuke will get up around six-nearly three hours before he’s even remotely needed by his subordinates-to get an hour or so of bonding time with Izuku. Their son is usually either asleep or close to by the time he gets home, so those few hours each day are precious to him. Besides, Yoichi and Hikage are not morning people - in the slightest.

He cuddles his son close, the baby drinking his morning bottle. The news plays quietly on their TV.

A woman with dark hair and serious eyes reads off a teleprompter. All boring events that anyone with access to the internet would already know, but the noise is nice to keep his thoughts from whirling into a downward spiral.

“How are you doing today, Izu?”

His son blinks sluggishly, milk spittle escaping the side of his mouth. Nisuke chuckles, wiping at the spittle with a burp cloth.

He turns his focus back to the screen. His eyes widen as he reads the banner displayed across the bottom. It passes by fairly quickly, but the shocked look on the woman’s face is enough to tell him he didn’t imagine it.

Nisuke leaps up from the couch, startling his son into letting go of the bottle. It falls to the ground. Izuku’s face scrunches up.

He murmurs an apology, lightly bouncing the baby. Once his son is no longer on the verge of screaming his head off, he makes his way to Yoichi and his bedroom.

As expected, his lovely husband is still dozing away. His hair-which is usually well-kept-is a mess, all fluffed out on his pillow. Nisuke considers leaving the announcement for another hour when he wakes up.

He really wants to tell Yoichi now…..but he looks so peaceful…..Nisuke braces himself, placing Izuku down in a bassinet near their bed.

“Yoichi.” Nisuke shakes his husband by his shoulders. “C’mon, Yoi’, wake up.”

An exaggerated groan is the only response Nisuke receives. Beyond that, though, Yoichi remains asleep.

“I know you can hear me. Get. Up!”

Yoichi ignores him, pulling a blanket over his head. Defeated, Nisuke sits at the end of the bed. Izuku watches from his place in the bassinet, chewing on a chubby fist.

He sits there, running over his options to get his husband to wake up. If he wanted to be evil, he could pour water on Yoichi, but even he wouldn’t be immune from a death sentence for messing up his hair.

There are not really any more options - he can’t use the kids, because Yoichi is averse to touch without first knowing the person or knowing what their intentions are, and if he’s asleep, he might accidentally lash out. And no one wants to go to the hospital this early in the morning (not to mention the lasting guilt Yoichi would feel when he actually woke up). Unless….

Nisuke climbs into bed. Pulling back the blanket covering Yoichi’s head, he joins his husband under the covers. He signs, contently, cuddling closer to Yoichi. For someone so sickly and thin, he’s a few degrees away from being classified as a human heater.

He can still hear the TV - mostly due to the paper-thin walls of their apartment. The noise is muffled, but it renews his excitement. He smiles big, gingerly moving a strand of his husband’s hair that was stubbornly blocking his view of Yoichi’s face.

His husband mumbles something unintelligible, leaning into his touch.

“Does that mean you’re up?”

No response.

Nisuke resigns himself to waiting for another hour. It wouldn’t hurt to wait, but-

Clearly still awake-despite the quiet atmosphere-Izuku coos. The bassinet-an old secondhand (of a secondhand) hand-me-down from a donation sale at the base Izuku was born at-creaks as the baby squirms around.

A smile breaks across Yoichi’s handsome face. His eyes blink open. “Someone sounds happy,” he murmurs.

Nisuke hums his agreement. “I bet it has something to do with the news we just watched.”

Yoichi sends him a are-you-stupid-look. “My dear, the light of my life, the wind beneath my wings, part of my reason for living, you do know that Izuku can’t comprehend “Blue’s Clues,'' let alone the news. Right?”

“Okay, smartass,” Nisuke sasses back. “I was being facetious. But now that you’re awake, I can tell you the greatest news we’ve gotten in a long time.”

He leans in too whisper in Yoichi’s ear.

“It can’t be that- no way!” He looks at Nisuke with wide, excited eyes. “Have you called Sanshirou yet? Or any of your work associates?” Yoichi sits upright - positively radiating energy. A stark difference from a moment earlier where only a tornado had the ability to wake him up.

Nisuke sits up as well, mirroring his husband’s energy. “No, I…I honestly didn’t think of that.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to tell you first.”

“Aw,” Yoichi says, placing a hand over his heart. “That’s so sweet.”

If it were anyone else, Nisuke would feel like he’s being mocked. But he knows Yoichi enough to know he’s being genuine.

“But you should probably call them, right? I can’t imagine this is going to go over well with everyone.”

Nisuke sighs. “Nothing ever does. They could cure cancer tomorrow and someone would find a way to disagree. But you’re not wrong. I’ll give them a call while you get Hikage up. I’m sure he’d love to hear about the new law.”

Not five minutes later, Yoichi stands in the doorway of the nursery. Nisuke has taken Izuku with him while he makes his phone call.

The small space has gotten even smaller with the newest addition. The changing table now sits in the corner of their room, along with a bassinet, and boxes of diapers and toys Izuku’s still too young for that they received during the baby shower.

A twin bed is pushed up against the wall opposite of the crib. A middle school uniform lays neatly folded on top of the boys’ shared dresser. Hikage’s backpack sits on the ground next to his bed, a comic book peeks out the top. Pictures of superheroes cut from the fiction section in magazines are taped to the wall. Nisuke and he already have Hikage’s birthday presents wrapped. One of which includes a poster of his favorite superhero.

Yoichi sits on Hikage’s bed. Gently, he cards his hand through the boy’s choppy hair. “Hikage,” he says, voice quiet, “it’s time to wake up.”

The boy groans, slowly opening his eyes. “Uncle Yoichi…? Did something happen?”

Sensing Hikage’s growing anxiety, he shakes his head. “No, nothing bad. Everything is perfectly fine.”

Hikage relaxes. “Then why are you up so early? You’re never up before me.”

“I’m not, am I?” Yoichi jokingly asks.

Hikage giggles, shaking his head.

“Well, today is a special day.”

“It is?”

“Uh, huh.”

Hikage pouts. “Uncle Yoichi,” he whines.

“Okay, okay, I suppose I can tell you. You know how the government made a ton of discriminatory laws against meta-users?”

Hikage nods, listening intently.

“Well, today, those laws were shot down by Japan’s supreme court. They said it was unconstitutional.”

A large smile overtakes Hikage’s face, a rare sight. “Does that mean the kids at school will stop bullying me for having an ability?”

Yoichi frowns. “Unfortunately, no, progress is slow. The movement is gaining traction, but there’s still a lot of prejudiced people in the world.”

Hikage grasps the covers in loose fists. “Oh, okay.”

“I didn’t realize your classmates were still bullying you.”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad…most of the time. They just call me names and push me down during recess and write mean things on my desk.”

“That sounds awful. I thought after the last meeting with the principal the school had it handled.”

Hikage stares down at his blanket.

“Well, it’s not an ideal setup, but if you prefer-as long as Sanshirou doesn’t mind-you could homeschool. They have a few different options for virtual learning that would match your needs better than going in-person.”

Hikage perks up. “Really? You’d let me do that?”

“Now, I’d have to get Sanshirou’s permission as he’s still your legal guardian. But if he says yes, I don’t see why not.”

Hikage leans forward and wraps his arms around Yoichi. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Yoichi returns the hug. “Anytime.”

-x-x-x-

A few weeks on from his less-than-stellar performance at the entrance exam, and Izuku has still not heard anything from All Might. He should have expected this. All Might is probably just letting him keep the quirk for a bit longer. He’s kind like that; Izuku should be grateful he’s kept it this long.

Izuku watches the television with minimal interest. A rerun of an old sit-com plays. His mom and him have been watching these old shows all day - something she usually does to take his mind off quirks and pro heroes.

He listens to her buzzing around in the kitchen, making dinner. His mother refuses to let him help with anything besides setting the table, so Izuku is left looking blankly at the TV.

“I know waiting is hard,” she says, using her quirk to pull a bottle of thyme from a cupboard. “If you’d like I can check the mail once dinner’s in the oven.”

Izuku perks up. “Actually, mom, can I go right now?”

His mom is quiet. The stove beeps as she sets it to the correct temperature. A key lands in his lap. He looks up, meeting his mom’s gaze.

“Be safe and come back quickly.”

“Yes, mom. Thank you.”

-x-x-x-

He takes the stairs two at a time. They’ve lived on the sixth floor for longer than Izuku can remember, and the elevator is regularly out of service, so he has a lot of practice.

Some of his neighbors are chatting by the mailboxes. He recognizes Mrs. Garcia-a foreign diplomat that’s staying in Japan temporarily for work-and Suzuki-San who used to watch Izuku when he was smaller. They smile at him before returning to their conversation.

He collects the mail, sifting through it as he climbs the stairs. “Bill…. bill…junk….” He catches the unmistakable symbol of U.A. “Yes!” He thrusts the letter in the air.

A draft of air pulls the letter from his hand. He gasps, clawing at the open air. It doesn’t work and he watches as the letter’s blown back downstairs. Groaning, he secures the other mail in his hoodie pocket and makes the trek back downstairs.

His neighbors are still chatting in front of the mailboxes. “Everything alright?” Mrs. Garcia asks.

“Have either of you seen a letter? I dropped it and it’s really important.”

Suzuki-San points to the staircase that leads to the basement. “I think I saw something fall down that way.”

Izuku bows, resigning himself to chasing down that letter. “Thank you.”

The basement is technically not a basement but a series of apartments that their landlord rents out for a cheaper price. People rarely take him up on this offer, rather taking their chances with apartments that aren't in the dark, creepy basement with poor cell reception. It doesn’t help that this area of the apartment building is regularly under construction with random holes cut out from the floor that the landlord is slow to replace.

He uses his phone’s flashlight to look around. Now, where did that letter go? What if he’s lost it? All Might will be so mad, on top of being mad at him for failing the entrance exam. Izuku worries his bottom lip.

Something extremely cold drips onto Izuku’s shoulder. He jumps, turning his flashlight upwards. A water-stained ceiling greets him.

He shakes his head. “Relax,” he whispers to himself. “Find your letter and go home before mom gets worried.”

He spends the next five minutes searching every crack and crevice of the bottom floor.

Closing an air vent, he sighs heavily. “It’s not here.”

He stands up, dusting off his clothes. Maybe U.A can send him another rejection letter? Or they can tell him over the phone? It’s not ideal but he’s out of options.

Just as he places his foot on the first step to go back upstairs, he spots a flash of white. In a matter of seconds, he’s hurrying towards it.

He catches one last glimpse of it before it falls through a large hole in the ground. Izuku lunges for it, barely stopping himself in time. “No,” he murmurs, defeated, as he watches the letter flutter uselessly to the bottom of the hole.

He lays there, arm hanging over the edge of the hole. If only he had his mom’s quirk. He shuts his eyes, resting his head on his other arm.

Izuku hears his heart rate slowly steady itself. His bracelet cools the side of his head, taking away part of his growing headache from running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Something hits the palm of his hand. Out of reflex, Izuku catches it. His fingers run over the material. It feels stiff and papery.

“Please, don’t be a bat,” he whispers, shifting to look at the object. The longer he stares at the object in his hand, the more his eyes widen in disbelief. “No way!”

-x-x-x-

By the time he makes his way back to the first floor, his neighbors are gone but his mother is looking around frantically.

“Izuku!” She shouts, upon seeing him emerge from the basement.

“Sorry, sorry, I dropped my letter.” He shows her the letter as proof.

His mom takes a deep breath, calming down. “It’s okay, Izuku. Dinner’s getting cold, let’s go back upstairs.”

-x-x-x-

That night, after finally getting to open his letter, Izuku is restless. He knows, logically, he needs to rest. But he can’t get over the fact that he’s going to be a hero!

He lays on his bed and stares up at his hands. Did he have a quirk all along? Or does All Might’s quirk include telekinesis?

Something falls off his nightstand.

Peeking over his bed, he sees a toppled over family photo. Izuku gets out of bed and places it back on his nightstand. The photo is of his father, his mother, and him at his first day of kindergarten. He smiles at it. Things used to be so much easier.

The picture is thrown from the nightstand, landing across the room.

Izuku scrambles backwards onto his bed. He sits with his knees close to his chest. He thinks of calling his mom’s name, but he finds his voice isn’t cooperating with him.

Another photo, this one of him and his father interacting during Izuku’s sixth birthday, is flung off his bookshelf.

He cringes back, covering his face.

This happens a few more times, each crash louder than the last. In between every thud and crash, Izuku wonders where his mother went.

“Stop,” he begs whatever is causing the mess. “Please, stop.”

And just like that, it does.

He doesn’t dare open his eyes, still too frightened to move. Izuku feels tears start to fall from his eyes. He cries quietly, holding his hands over his ears.

His bed dips, like someone’s sitting on it.

Izuku’s breath hitches. He shakes his head. “Leave me alone,” he pleads. “I’m sorry if I upset you somehow.”

“Izuku,” a voice says. Distantly, he remembers hearing it at the entrance exam. “Izuku, open your eyes.”

“No! Mom!”

The person grabs him, their icy hands holding him by the biceps. “Izuku,” they say again, “just please look at me.”

“Mom! Help!”

Another voice-and just his luck, there’s two of them-tells the person to take a step back and let him breathe.

Over his rising panic attack, Izuku hears the two discuss something in hushed voices.

He hopes his mom’s okay. She was reading a murder mystery on the couch when he went to bed. It doesn’t seem like the intruders came through the front door, so she’s probably alright.

But what if she’s not?

What if she’s dead?

What will he tell his dad?

Scratch that, what will he tell the police?

Yes, hello, my mom is injured or worse and something or someone with a quirk that makes them intangible and invisible. Oh, yeah, and it’s not just one person but multiple.

He’d be charged with assault or attempted murder (or worse, depending on the state his mom is in. His heart aches at the notion that she might be dead.) before he could say the words, I’m not kidding.

But he begins to wonder, what kind of quirk has those attributes?

Most quirks are straightforward, simple. Quirks also tend to run in families, but they can differ based on genetics, environmental factors, and upbringing. So, perhaps the intruders are part of the same family? Being intangible and invisible are both strong quirks on their own - unpredictable but strong, nonetheless. Having both at the same time would-

One of the intruders laughs. The sound stirs something deep, deep inside his memories. A warm fuzzy feeling fills his chest. It eases his anxiety just the tiniest bit.

Cautiously, he opens his eyes.

#mha au #mha fanfiction #mha inko #yoichi shigaraki #mha izuku #Izuku and yoichi #Dad for all #uncle for one

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