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flowerandblood · 16 days

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The Fall from the Heavens (24)

[ dark • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, anxiety, a lot of half-truths ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard

Author note: For the purposes of this story, Lord Rodrik Arryn had a son and an heir, who in turn has a son of his own, to whom our Lady Strong was betrothed.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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After Alys' words and her warning, she ran out of the fortress feeling her heart pounding fast, a cold sweat on the back of her neck − it occurred to her that every servant she passed could be someone who would end her and her husband's lives.

Do not return here.

Look after yourself.

Trust no one.

As she left the walls of Harrenhal she noticed Larys Strong standing at a safe distance from her dragoness, propping himself up on his staff, a smile on his face that was sure meant to seem heartfelt and comforting.

"My Lady. I wanted to say a proper farewell to you and your husband." He said in a calm, gentle voice, which, however, only made her more uncomfortable. She looked over her shoulder as she heard someone's footsteps and was relieved to see the figure of her husband walking towards her through the gates of the stronghold.

For a moment she felt wonderfully relieved to see him, but then she noticed the expression on his face, how pale he was, his gaze blank, his lips tightened, his gaze directed towards the Lord of Harrenhal.

"− Aemond − I must −" She muttered, grabbing his arm, wanting to speak to him before they flew away, wanting to pass on to him what she had heard from Alys.

"− not now − we are leaving immediately − my Lord −" He said in a cold, matter-of-fact tone that sent shivers through her.

She knew something had happened, something that frightened and angered him, but she didn't know for what reason − his silhouette did not even stop at her words, his eyes did not even bestow a single glance on her.

He was afraid.

Had Alys warned him too?

Was that why he wanted to leave Harrenhal as soon as possible?

Somehow comforted by this thought, she nodded in front of Larys Strong, heading immediately towards Larax, who was watching them vigilantly from afar, anxious and tense. She climbed up onto her saddle and, not wanting to stay there a moment longer, had her head high into the sky.

It wasn't until the wind blew her hair tied up in a braid and she sunk between the clouds that she felt relieved, the grim silhouette of the walls and fortress of Harrenhal fading away until it finally disappeared completely into the distance over her shoulder.

She swallowed hard as she caught sight of the mighty figure of Vhagar soaring upwards in the distance, higher and higher, approaching them like a giant, dark, flying mountain.

As she flew over them Larax was much calmer than the first time, having been used to her scent and presence after travelling for hours the day before.

Even though she was about to see her mother for the first time in months, even though she was flying towards hope she felt terrified, her throat squeezed in anxiety, for some reason a cold sweat ran down the back of her neck.

I saw in my dream a river of blood taking the shape of a dragon's head wearing a crown.

I saw red flooding everything around me.

She pressed her lips together, thinking of Helaena saying something similar to her then, after she wanted to take her own life.

From the mingled blood will emerge a dragon’s crown.

She wasn't sure what this words might have meant.

Who was this prophecy referring to? Was it about someone's birth, or perhaps someone's death? Her marriage to her uncle? Was something about to happen that would change everything?

It terrified her that so much depended on whether she could convince her mother that war might be avoided.

Their journey to the Eyrie was far shorter and more pleasant than the one from King's Landing to Harrenhal, the sun shining high above their heads. She, unlike her husband, who had to fly high over the peaks, could dash on Larax between the crevices of the mountains.

When she finally caught sight of her grandmother's ancestral stronghold in the distance she felt heat filling her chest, a premonition that what they were about to do would change everything.

She landed at the bottom of the valley among the fields, knowing that they both had a way to walk to the top anyway. Vhagar took a moment to take her place right next to Larax, her large paws hitting the ground, causing dust and ashes to rise all around them.

She moved towards her husband as soon as she saw him slip down the ropes from her back to the ground, ordering loudly for Vhagar to stay calmly in place.

"− uncle −"

"− we'll tell them you're expecting my child −" He said suddenly, looking at her at last, his gaze dark, grim, sharp, weary. She blinked quickly, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad, and shook her head in disbelief at what he was suggesting.

"− what? − Aemond, we can't lie, not now −" She muttered, moving behind him as soon as he began to walk ahead, towards the trail that led them up the hill to the fortress itself.

He avoided her gaze, for some reason he couldn't look her in the face.

Why?

"− they must agree to our terms − I will not discuss my decisions with you −" He said in a tone from which she felt rage and discomfort − she stepped in front of him and smacked his chest with her palms to stop him. He actually stood in a half-step, looking at her with furrowed brows, furious, his jaw clenched.

"− you will − you don't know them as well as you do − Daemon can sense the lie, he will see it in your eyes − do you think that once they understand that you are manipulating them they will agree to whatever conditions you set for them? −" She asked with anger and disbelief that he dared to suggest that they would lie to her family and destroy everything they had managed to build up to that point.

What was happening to him?

She saw that he swallowed hard at her words, as if something in what she had said had made him snap, his face even paler than when they had flown away from Harrenhal.

"− that fucking witch − what did she say to you? −" He muttered wearily, as if he could barely get anything out of himself. She swallowed loudly, not knowing what she should answer him.

What if her prediction frightened him even more?

What if it makes him change his mind at the last moment, make him say they were returning to King's Landing immediately?

She thought, horrified, that she could reveal to him only part of the truth.

"− that we should not return to Harrenhal − that I should watch out for myself and trust no one −" She mumbled, looking at him uncertainly; she saw that something had changed in his expression, his lips had pressed together in a thin line, his eyes had glazed over.

Wanting to soften her words and the tension that reigned between them she walked over to him and touched his upper arms, stroking them reassuringly with her palms, looking straight into his empty, dark eye.

That look frightened her, but she knew, she felt, that he needed her now − something in him was screaming that he was dying inside, but she didn't understand what was the cause of it.

"− husband, what happened? − if you have doubts, let's discuss everything − but please don't close yourself in the fortress of your mind −" She mumbled pleadingly, feeling for some reason tears under her eyelids, some strange conviction that he was distancing himself from her, when just at night his lips, his hands caressed her so wonderfully, so tenderly.

He looked at her as if hesitating, his lower lip trembling slightly, his nostrils twitching in uneven, accelerated breathing. His gaze softened as she took his face in her hands, his eyelids closed as her thumbs began to stroke his wind-cold cheeks.

"− uncle − look at me − I am your ally − I always have been −"

"You're your parents' child too. Just like me. What will you do when one of them demands the other's head?" He asked lowly and his eye opened; she saw something unsettling in his gaze, some glint that told her he was distrustful again, that he was hesitant again.

Why?

How could he doubt her after all this time?

"− I will never agree to this − despite what your grandfather and your mother did to me, I will not agree for them to be harmed if you assure me to do the same − you know that I am not driven by revenge − and you? − you are the one who constantly doubts me, however, ever since I appeared in King's Landing you have been the one to let me down − yet I remain faithful to you − I chose you, uncle, when will you understand it? − when will you understand that there is no other way for me but by your side even if I come to burn? −"

She asked in a trembling, breaking voice, angry and disappointed that although she had proved to him so many times the sincerity of her feelings, he still demanded more from her.

But what had he given her in return?

How had he proved that she could trust him?

Their nuptials had been an expression of his love and desire, but she had never heard from his lips what he himself had planned and whether he stood by the words of the letter he had written to her before he flew away to Storm's End.

She saw that his eyebrows arched in pain, his eyes turned red and glassy, his body tensed all over as if he was trying to fight what he felt because of her.

He looked at her as if some part of him was wishing he could see the shadow of a lie in her eyes, his face expressing the enormity of some kind of weariness and helplessness from which she felt her heart squeeze.

She drew in a loud breath as his large hand rose to the height of her face, as his fingers took the unruly strands of her hair from her face, his thumb running over her cheek down the side of her jaw.

"Can I kiss you?" She asked in a whisper, exactly as she had then, that day − she knew he felt something intense at her words, she could see it in the way he took in a breath, in his gaze that grew soft and hot, in his lips that parted in some subconscious reflex, betraying his desire.

Their lips clung to each other as soon as he leaned in, his hum of satisfaction echoing in her throat as she threw her hands around his neck, his arms embracing her waist. She pulled away from him with a quiet, soft click, combing her fingers through his soft, long hair, feeling her lower abdomen squeeze as the words he'd also said that day burst involuntarily from his lips.

"One more time."

This time her kiss was more greedy and wet, her lips pressed into his, parted invitingly, the tips of their tongues licking each other lazily making them both breathless. She felt something warm against her cheek and only after a moment, again and again sinking into the softness of his lips did she realise it was his tears.

He was crying.

"I love you." He whispered between one kiss and the next, stroking her hair and back with his wide, rough hands. "I've always loved you."

Something in the way he said it, in his trembling, broken voice, in the depth with which those words left her throat, and the fact that he had referred to her confession just after their first nuptials made her let herself weep quietly as well.

She didn't believe she would ever hear it from his lips and she had come to terms with it.

That was just the way he was.

So how scared must he have been, what was happening in the depths of his heart that such a confession had left his mouth?

"− I feel that some weight has crushed you, my beloved − it covers you like a heavy black cloak − but I am by your side − I am with you − trust me − I know how to speak with them, I know them −" She mumbled pleadingly, holding his face in her hands. She heard something between a moan and a sigh leave his throat, his forehead pressed against hers.

He gave in.

"− will you be by my side even when all is lost? − even if there is nothing left but darkness? −" He whispered in a helpless, low, trembling voice, and she felt his question and the way he said it deep in her heart, which clenched all over. Even so, she smiled, her fingertips running over his skin.

"− yes − don't go the path I could not follow − let me stay by your side − if I am to leave this world, I want to die in your arms −" She said softly, warmly, her words like a sigh. She felt his fingers tighten on the material of her leather coat, his hot, uneven breath framing her face.

"− so be it − fall with me −" He breathed out before his lips clung to hers in a deep, hot, sticky kiss filled with so many feelings that she felt her voice get stuck in her throat.

He had made a decision, whatever it might be, and her heart hoped that he had decided to trust her and follow her.

Wherever she would lead him.

They moved ahead, heading towards the fortress they could see in the distance − she noticed out of the corner of her eye that he threw her a surprised look when he felt her small hand slip into his, tightening on his fingers.

He pressed his lips together as he looked at her, squeezing her fingers in his before he let her go, not wanting any guard to see it.

They walked the path to the top of the mountain side by side in silence, escorted by the eyes of the guards standing over their heads. Only when they reached the fortress gate itself did one of them, presumably their commander, address them.

"Who comes here and with what matter?"

"Prince Aemond and his wife are coming to meet Prince Daemon and Princess Rheanyra." Her husband replied coldly; it did not escape her or the man standing on the walls above them that he had not called her Queen.

Only when she looked into the distance did she see the silhouettes of two dragons, blood red and gold, shimmering in the sunlight.

They had arrived.

Her mother and her stepfather were indeed ready to listen to them.

After a while, the gates of the stronghold opened before them, and they were led inside; she had only been in the Eyrie once before, in the company of her mother, and even then the place had made a great impression on her.

Unlike the Red Keep, the Eyrie was a stronghold built of mountain stones, making the fortress inside seem much cooler and more spacious, the windows in the walls much smaller, created for defensive purposes so that archers could not take them as their target.

The Eyrie was a defensive stronghold almost impossible to conquer even with dragons − its lords could defend themselves in it for months, hiding from the flames deep in the underground of the mountain with larders filled with supplies.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the figure of a man she recognised with difficulty, and at the sight of whom her husband stopped, furious, refusing to take any further step towards him.

The grandson of Lord Rodrik Arryn, the father of her grandmother, Aemma, Ronnel Arryn, heir of the Eyrie appeared before them in an ornate blue tunic reaching his knees, despite the smile on his lips, a coldness shone from his eyes.

She thought with pain that she barely remembered him as a child. He was weepy and angry whenever he lost when they played, so she and her brothers had to let him win once in a while to calm him down.

As then, he had light, curly hair, although as a child he had been slightly plump now he had grown, clearly choosing an attire that best emphasised his muscles.

Her would-be betrothed.

She saw the way her cousin looked at her uncle, the corner of his mouth lifting in a mocking smirk when he finally glanced at his black eye patch.

"My Prince. My dear cousin. My aunt and her husband are already waiting for you." He said in a soft, low tone, pointing with his hand in the direction they were supposed to go. She nodded, smiling warmly, feeling the enormity of the awkwardness of this meeting – she heard her husband move behind her, tense, not taking his eyes off him.

Ronnel led them to one of the chambers, which was apparently used for council. When he opened the door the first thing that caught her eye was a huge circular table, behind which stretched an entrance to the balcony, the entire room shaped like an ellipse.

An involuntary sigh left her lips when she saw her mother, Rhaenyra rose from her seat, looking at her and only her, her father's crown of pure gold on her head.

"My child." Mumbled her mother, her Queen, walking towards her, and she immediately ran to meet her, falling into her arms. She tightened her fingers on her back, feeling her familiar, wonderful scent, the smell of home and safety, of everything that was so close to her, and that she had lost and thought she would never regain again.

Her mother let go of her and took her hands in hers, uncovering her wrists, her thumbs began to stroke and trail over her scars, evidence of what she was trying to do.

"My only daughter." She muttered with regret and pain as she looked at the pale lines on her skin, clearly imagining what she must have felt when she undertook this desperate act.

"I'm well, mother. My Queen." She muttered and bowed to her, reminding herself of who she was, stiffly not bowing to Aegon or using the titles he believed were due to him as King.

However, he never punished her for this.

She remembered then with a rapidly pounding heart about her husband and turned over her shoulder – her uncle and father looked at each other from afar, standing on either side of the room, Daemon grinning in a way that was disturbing to say the least.

He was mocking him, wanting to provoke him, she knew that.

"I would like to express my gratitude to you for being willing to listen to us. I know the suffering and humiliation all this has caused you. I pray every night that the gods will welcome my prematurely deceased sister into the heavens." She said in a voice trembling with emotion, her mother swallowed hard, lifting her chin high, wanting to maintain her dignity and not lose her temper. She nodded, showing her that she accepted her condolences and the apology in her heart.

"Let's sit down." She said calmly and took her seat at the table first, she sat on the other side, however neither Daemon nor her uncle moved from their places.

They both had their daggers and swords at their belts, ready for whatever the conversation might bring.

Her mother grunted loudly, trying to remain solemn and calm, glancing at her half-brother then at her. She placed her hands in front of her on the table top, in an involuntary reflex playing with the ring on her middle finger that she had inherited from her mother.

"My husband has conveyed to me that my brother-usurper wants to pact over the succession of the throne he himself has unlawfully taken. I must admit that this is a quite ridiculous situation." She confessed in a trembling voice filled with grief, fatigue and the humiliation she had carried on her shoulders since that ill-fated supper.

She glanced over her shoulder at her uncle-husband, who was looking at her expectantly. She swallowed loudly at the thought of him not even uttering a word.

He was letting her speak.

He had decided to trust her.

She turned back to her mother and drew in a loud breath, gathering her courage.

"My uncle, Prince Aegon, had no choice. His mother is deeply convinced that her husband, my grandfather, and our King, revealed his final will to her before he died. She mentioned to my husband about the Prince who was promised, about Aegon's dream. I think she misunderstood him, mother, I…" She fell silent as she saw her Queen turn to Daemon, clearly shocked by something she had heard, her father looking at her with his lips clenched.

They knew something.

"Mother?" She muttered uncertainly. Rheanyra gave her a quick, uncertain look, her chest rising and falling in accelerated, heavy breathing.

"Aegon the Conqueror's Dream. A Song of Ice and Fire. This is the prophecy my father spoke to me about. Whatever Alicent heard, it did not apply to her firstborn son." She said with certainty and thrill, as if something had suddenly become obvious to her.

"You mean to say that our father only conveyed the contents of this prophecy to you, but you don't believe my mother that he could have passed on to her that he changed his mind regarding the succession?" She heard her husband's angry, frustrated voice behind her. She turned to him, looking at him pleadingly, but his black gaze was fixed on his sister.

Rhaenyra drew in a breath and twisted restlessly in her seat, Daemon standing at her side shifted from foot to foot, frowning an eyebrow at the sound of his tone.

"Calm down, nephew. You are speaking to the Queen."

"She is not my Queen." Her uncle hissed, looking at Daemon with a look as if completely overwhelmed by madness, her heart starting to pound like mad as her father's hand went to the hilt of his Dark Sister.

"That's enough. We have met here because Aegon realises, as you do Mother, that his and your children's rights to the throne will be challenged, and the war will not end with your death." She said quickly, her mother throwing her an anxious, chastising look, as if she were looking at a small child.

"Are you undermining Jace, my firstborn son's right to the throne?" She asked in an embittered, trembling voice. She swallowed hard, feeling she had to do it.

She had to force them to agree.

"He's a bastard, mother. Like me, Luke and Joffrey, he cannot inherit the throne. Will you cut off my tongue for those words? Will you deprive me of my head, father?" She asked drily, looking at her mother and then the father – their faces expressed shock and horror that she dared to say it out loud, her husband stirred behind her back, anxious.

"We just lie and lie and lie until in the end we ourselves don't know where the truth is, but it is there somewhere, always, and sooner or later none of us will be able to deny it even if we beheaded all the men in the Seven Kingdoms."

"How dare you say such a thing? Your father, Laenor Velaryon acknowledged you and your brothers as his heirs. He gave you his name, recognised you as his child in the eyes of the Kingdom." Her mother muttered with a voice full of disappointment, anger and regret from which her heart squeezed.

"But the whole Kingdom knows, mother. Even if Jace were to sit on the throne after your death, his lineage will not be forgotten. Are you prepared to die knowing that neither he nor his children will ever be safe? That, like my uncle's coronation, his coronation would also be challenged by lords across the Kingdom?"

She asked, tired and terrified at the turn this conversation had taken, the things that were leaving her lungs, but she realised at last that everything she had said was true.

"I know what humiliation you experienced, mother, and how much suffering you endured. Believe me that I did too. I, too, do not believe my grandfather would change his mind on his deathbed. I did not and do not recognise Aegon as King, nor have I ever called him that or given him the honour he deserves.

However, if we do not find an agreement, war will break out not only in the Realm, but in our family. This is what King Viserys wanted to prevent at the last supper before his death. Mother, after all, you are siblings. Your brother, though a traitor, extends his hand, he is ready to relinquish the crown he stole from you."

Rhaenyra looked at her with her lips clenched, pale, tears of pain, grief and despair in her eyes, for here was her own daughter trying to say to her that she should give up her inheritance, something she was entitled to by all rights, something she had been preparing for all her life.

She glanced over her shoulder at Daemon, who was looking at her impassively, frustrated – she knew that gaze and she knew he was furious, but he did not speak, making it clear to her that the final decision was hers alone.

This was her crown.

Her throne.

And he, as always, stood faithfully by her side.

Her mother swallowed hard, turning towards her, fiddling with the fingers of her hands, clearly nervous.

"I can consider the terms my husband has conveyed to me, but I also have my conditions. I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

You and your husband will share the power of the Kingdom equally and neither of you will sit on the throne or wear the crown. Aegon the Conqueror's crown and my father's crown will be kept in the treasury.

In addition, my husband and I will sit on the Small Council, and deprived of their seats will be your grandfather and Alicent. In addition, Otto Hightower will be stripped of all other functions and privileges and will reside under our oversight in King's Landing.

Jace will inherit Dragonstone as my first-born son. If no male heir is born to you, the official heirs will be the children from my and my uncle's marriage, pureblood Targaryens."

She looked at her mother in disbelief feeling her heart pounding like mad, a cold sweat running down her back.

I will agree that it is your children who will inherit the Iron Throne, and you will be named as ruler-regents only if there are two kings, and you will be one of them.

She wanted her to be not her husband's queen, but another independent ruler at his side.

In some subconscious, involuntary reflex, she turned over her shoulder to look at her husband's face – his healthy eye was open wide in shock, his figure all tense. She saw him swallow hard, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, and then he nodded uncertainly and slowly.

He agreed.

She looked again at her mother, who was looking at her brother with her lips tightened – a quiet sigh of relief left her lips when she saw her Queen also nod.

"Pass on my words to my brother. Let him know that this is not just about my pride, but about the welfare of the Kingdom and our family. That I respect my father's will and hope that he will do the same."

She said in a breaking voice, from which she felt a squeeze in her heart, a grief at the thought that her mother, her Queen, for her and her family's sake, had to give up what was rightfully hers, what she had dreamed of all her life.

In her eyes, it testified to her greatness, to her maturity, to her loyalty to the affairs of the Realm.

She would make a fine Queen, she thought with regret.

Her mother grunted loudly, trying to calm herself, and straightened up in her seat.

"You are surely exhausted. My cousin has prepared chambers for you where you can rest to set off on your return journey as we will tomorrow morning. Let us have supper together. I have been separated from my only daughter for too long." She said matter-of-factly, glancing at her brother.

She wanted to respond already, knowing full well that her uncle had no intention of remaining in this place for a moment longer, however, he was the first to speak, startling her.

"No." He said coolly. "We'll spend the night in Dragonstone."

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luvistqrzzz · 1 year

Text

THE ACCIDENTAL POLAROID- a heeseung smau

we took a polaroid

capture the look in your eyes

PAIRINGS- heeseung x f.reader (slight sunghoon x f.reader)

SUMMARY- Lee Heeseung doesn't believe in love at first sight but what happens when he accidentally clicks a polaroid of a girl at the local diner? A girl he can't seem to get out of his mind.

Will he be able to return you the polaroid or will love follow him along the way?

GENRE- smau with written parts, college!au, strangers to lovers, fluff, crack, angst (veryyy slight), slight love triangle

FEATURING- 02z + sunoo from enhypen, yunjin and chaewon from le sserafim, beomgyu and hueningkai from txt and yujin from ive

WARNINGS- profanity, more tba in the respective chapters

TAGLIST- closed - @yenqa @xuimhao @ddazed-lhs @astrae4 @ghostiiess @seungminstaehyun @haechansbbg @chaechae-23 @ak-aaa-li @whippedforbeomgyu @ahnneyong @ineedaherosavemeenow @jhopesucker @j-wyoung @tnyhees @liliansun @rikizm @jadeluvsenha

STATUS- completed

UPDATE SCHEDULE- whenever i can tbh </3

STARTED- 25/04/2023

ENDED- 08/06/2023

NOTE- this is purely a work of fiction and it in no means represents the idol irl. also the pictures of yn are for reference purpose only. I have no intention of copying anyone, i really apologize beforehand if the idea or plot coincides with some other smau.

A/N- this is inspired by Jonas Blue's song Polaroid (check it out asap its a bop!!) ik ik i have another smau to update but i posted this one on impulse lolol... hopefully will begin with it soon <3! omg its already midnight here i think i really need to sleep lmfao😭😭

MOODBOARD | PLAYLIST

PROFILES- singlez+betrayer// young dumb stupid

CHAPTERS-

001- reason for my poverty

002- and i oop- (partly written::: 0.3K)

003- yunjin got brains

004- "responsible good friend" with a plot twist

005- Mr.H

006- plan failed? 100%

007- running late is not fun (partly written::: 0.2K)

008- simpsons minus the "son"

009- de-rizz someone with 0 rizz??

010- chaewon gets a happy meal (and third wheels)

011- HALF ver. - umbrella crisis

╰┈➤FULL ver.- weird feelings (partly written::: 0.2K)

012- ✨jEaLoUsY✨

013- 1/i■€h33$€♡&¿

014- Make dem moves

015- liquid courage gone wrong (written::: 0.5K)

016- smiley faced emoji

017- on read

018- FML

019- man w a mission

020- Love, Y/N ( written::: 0.47K )

021- it's like a polaroid love- FINALE- ( written::: 0.5K )

it's only a matter of time

before it starts fadin'

Enjoyed The Accidental Polaroid? Check out another smau L♡VE THEORY set in the same universe, starring Jake ^^!!

work belongs to @/luvistqrzzz do not repost, copy or translate my work.

reblogs are appreciated

#📸accidental polaroid !#— works !#enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #heeseung imagines #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen fanfics #enhypen fake texts #enhypen imagines #heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #enhypen #lee heeseung #heeseung fluff #enhypen social media au

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burnednotburied · 17 days

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Chapter 1: A New Prophet

AO3 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slow burn; enemies to friends to lovers; animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/injury; cutting (not to self, but still); religious/cult-like ideas

Note: So the idea for this started as a prequel to my first fic (linked here), but ended up turning into much more. It basically follows the plot of Abby’s Seattle Day 1, diverging from canon where necessary and using dialogue from the game wherever possible. I split this part into two chapters because it’s so long.

This is a lot of build-up (important to the story and hopefully enjoyable to read), but I promise romance is on the horizon!

Also, the idea of deadnaming or misgendering Lev—even in the flashback part where they’re little kids and wouldn’t have known otherwise—physically pains me, so we’re going to pretend that reader has been calling Lev “L” as a nickname for forever.

Hope you enjoy! :)

----------------------------------------------------------------

April 2038

Abby knew as much about the Scars as any of her fellow WLF members.

She knew that the group was founded by a woman who claimed to have a vision after the initial outbreak of Cordyceps brain infection in 2013, and then started spouting some bullshit about how it was all just a punishment for the sins of humanity. Said that the way to move forward was to go back to the basics. Live off the land. Reject technology and progress and pretty much all the good things in life.

She knew that they live on the island but they wouldn’t fucking stay on it, and that there was once a truce but they broke it, forcing the WLF into an endless war.

She knew that they fought hard and killed brutally, without hesitation or remorse.

She knew that, especially now that Joel was taken care of, killing Scars was pretty much her life’s purpose.

And she knew that the woman who started all of this became known as The Prophet. And that Isaac gave the order to have her killed ten years ago.

It was for that reason that Abby thought Isaac must have misspoken when he opened with:

“The Prophet is on the move.”

He was standing over the large map of Seattle in the center of the room, hands braced on the table, head down in thought.

She didn’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. A quick glance over at Manny confirmed that she wasn’t the only one who was confused.

One of them had to ask. It seemed Isaac wasn’t going to fill in the gaps unprompted.

“The Prophet?” Manny questioned hesitantly. “Sir… respectfully… She’s been dead for years. Died before we even joined.”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who killed her.” Isaac was always calm and measured, almost always spoke quietly. But sometimes there was something beneath his words, just below the surface. Something seething and kind of terrifying, although Abby would never admit that out loud. This was one of those times.

“My unwilling informants downstairs,” he said, referring to the captive Scars being held and interrogated on the building’s lower levels, “tell me that they have a new Prophet. One their Elders have been quietly grooming for the role for the last decade, maybe even longer.”

“Okay so… What does that mean?” Abby asked, finding her voice. This was not the conversation she was expecting to have when she heard that Isaac wanted to talk to them. She had hoped to get some answers about what was going on with Owen.

“There’s a reason why they’ve been more resilient lately. Bolder. Even more bat-shit than normal.” He clenched his fists on the table. “This… Neo-Prophet,” Isaac almost laughed, the words coated in venom, “is about to fully step into her role. She is of age now. Or so I’ve been told.”

Abby stared at Isaac, still waiting for him to tell her what all of this meant. And what exactly he wanted her to do about it.

Manny jumped in. “What? So the Scars are… celebrating? You’re saying that’s why they’ve been ballsier? Killing more of us. Pushing further inland.”

Abby let out a short laugh. “If this is what it looks like when they’re happy, I don’t want to see what happens when they’re mad.”

Isaac remained stoic. “They have a renewed sense of purpose. When we killed their first Prophet, the Scars were enraged. They fought hard for vengeance. But people will only fight on behalf of a dead woman for so long. Passion for the cause wanes without something tangible to fight for. They need that higher authority to look to. They need someone to honor and defend. Their Elders were smart enough to know that their people need a unifying symbol. A living one.”

“Right, and you said that unifying symbol was on the move so…” Abby said. “Want us to hunt her down? See what they’ll do when we take away their new favorite toy?”

“No,” Isaac said quickly. “She’s not our target. We’ll get to her in due time.”

“Then wha—”

He cut her off. “The Prophet will be leaving the island soon, for the first time. In fact, it’s possible she’s already here. One of our captives tells me there will be some sort of initiation for her. I don’t know what that entails, but I’m sure it will involve attempting to kill some of ours. I’ll spend some more time with our friends downstairs and see if I can’t get any more information on that. We’ll try to prevent it if we can, but that’s not our main focus right now.” Abby opened her mouth to protest, only to be cut off once again. “With the Prophet away and many of their best soldiers traveling with her, the island will be more vulnerable than ever.”

Manny gestured to the map, reinserting himself into the conversation. “Sir, we’ve tried attacking their island and—”

“Not like this,” Isaac said. “Not with everyone. There’s a big storm a few days out. We’re going to use it to mask our approach. And you two are going to lead the first wave. Pick your squads. Start prepping.”

“And the Prophet?” Abby asked.

“One battle at a time, Abby.”

“Are we sure it would be a battle?” she pressed. “Isaac, she’s just one girl.”

“You would be foolish to underestimate this unknown enemy. Besides the likelihood that the best of the Scars will be at her side, I don’t doubt that she will be a very skilled fighter in her own right.” Abby huffed. Isaac continued, “And if she’s anything like her predecessor, the greatest threat is in her words. Not her actions. I watched some of my most loyal soldiers abandon our cause for theirs after just one conversation with the one who came before her.”

At this, Abby raised her eyebrows, ready to argue. A look from Manny shut her up.

“We’ve only got one shot at this… And this is bigger than any of us.” Isaac pushed off the table, walking over to Abby and placing a hand on her arm. “I need you, Abby.”

She shifted uncomfortably before relenting, giving a curt nod. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Good.” He pulled away, heading toward the door. “Look over the plans and go through your rosters.”

“I want Owen,” she said. Abby thought Isaac could at least give her that.

When he denied her permission to go look for Owen, Abby went anyway.

----------------------------------------------------------------

March 2030 (8 Years Earlier)

The day of your scarring had been the first time Haven saw the sun in weeks.

Your mother said it was a sign. But your mother thought everything was a sign.

She told you that, no matter what, you were not to cry. That you, her only child, would not disgrace her by shedding tears during your ceremony.

You were to be brave. And strong.

The Prophet herself had ordained the act of scarring for all of her followers. A symbol of the innate imperfection of mankind. And so her people would never forget their own failings, even in the midst of their unending efforts towards perfection.

No one was meant to question the Prophet’s teachings, or the Elders who had taken on the responsibility of interpreting those teachings and carrying out Her will since Her death two years prior.

You could feel your mother’s breath against the back of your head as she huffed and decided that she was once again unsatisfied with your hair, roughly taking it down and beginning again for the fourth time.

While she worked, you sat still on the wooden stool in front of her and stared at yourself in the mirror, trying to memorize your features as they were now.

This was the last time you would see the face you knew. Next time you looked in the mirror, you would be different. Would you feel different?

You tried to picture yourself scarred, with two thin lines running from each of your ears to the corners of your mouth. Your eyes stung, tears threatening to fall at the thought.

But there would be no crying today.

Instead, you let your eyes wander to your mother’s reflection, hovering just behind and above yours in the mirror. You examined her face. Of course, you had never seen her without her scars, but you’d always thought your mother was beautiful.

Maybe the change in your appearance would not be so drastic. Maybe it was vain to care.

You were not supposed to be vain.

Once your mother was satisfied with the look of the braided crown of your hair, she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, meeting you gaze in the mirror.

“We are imperfect beings,” she recited. You joined your voice with hers for the second part, “And thus we make ourselves imperfect in Her eyes.”

She smiled softly, squeezing your arms lightly. “Good girl. I’m proud of you. I know you will do wonderfully today.” You tried to return her smile. “Now. Get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed.”

She turned to leave you, pausing in the doorway. “Remember what I said, child. No tears today. Do you understand?”

You nodded quickly. Obediently.

She seemed pleased as she left the room.

You changed quickly, wondering if she had been able to tell that you’d spent the whole night before crying. You hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep.

The stool squeaked as you sat back down, not sure what to do with yourself while you waited. You met your own eyes in the mirror once more, this time immediately averting your gaze. You felt sick. And close to tears. And so very scared.

On the other side of the door, you could hear Yara and her mom greeting your mother. The eight-year-old asked if she could come inside to see you. After just a moment of hesitation, your mother allowed it, and you could hear the slight creak of the door as she came in.

Yara said your name quietly, standing just inside the door. You turned to look at her. She smiled, happy to see you, just as always.

“Happy birthday!” she whispered excitedly, closing the distance between you and wrapping her arms around you tightly. You squeezed her back, holding her close for longer than usual. Yara, never one to be the first to break a hug, lingered for as long as you wanted her there.

You were neighbors, and your mothers had grown up together and had always been close. And although Yara was four years younger than you, the two of you were close too. She and five-year-old baby L were your siblings, as far as you were concerned.

Yara was mature for her age, even more so than most of your other friends. You knew you could trust her, so with her you were honest.

“I’m really scared,” you said quietly into her hair, still not releasing her from the embrace.

“I know,” she whispered back, squeezing you even tighter. “You’re the bravest person ever though. I know you can do this.”

You finally let go, retreating back to your stool, but Yara stayed close by, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly with one hand.

“She will be with you through this, and for all the days of your life,” she said, earnest. “Our pain is Her pain, and Her pain is ours.”

You couldn’t help but make a mental note of the fact that the Prophet actually did not receive the same scars as all of her followers, so perhaps this one specific pain is one that was not, in fact, shared between to two of you.

But Yara’s comment was made with a level of sincerity that you couldn’t help but admire—and borderline envied—so you chose to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Her presence was always a comfort, so you allowed yourself to relish in it for a quiet minute before your mother reentered the room.

“It’s time to leave,” she said simply. Firmly.

Behind her, just outside the door, you could see Yara’s mom standing there, holding a quiet but curious little L’s hand. They would all be walking over with you to witness the ceremony.

You forced yourself to stand, brushed your hands down your thighs as if to clear some nonexistent dust and smooth the phantom wrinkles. For a moment, you considered taking one last look in the mirror, but ultimately deciding against it. It would feel strange to do so, now that everyone was watching you and waiting.

For the briefest moment, you thought about making a run for it. Stealing a boat or even attempting to make the swim to the mainland. You could survive on your own, or maybe even join the Wolves. You weren’t scarred yet. You could lie about where you came from, and they would probably take you in…

The hiss of your name from your mother’s mouth ripped you back into reality, along with a gentle nudge from Yara.

You took a deep breath and started walking.

Once the home of the Prophet herself, Sanctuary was one of your people’s primary places of worship, second only to Martyr’s Gate on the mainland. (You had never seen it – You’d never left the island – so Sanctuary was where you most often prayed.)

Scarring ceremonies were held there, always on a child’s twelfth birthday.

You had witnessed many friends receive their scars. It was customary to attend the ceremonies of those close to you. Family, friends.

The process was always the same.

Elder Constance would lead all those gathered in a prayer, holding the ceremonial blade. You would recite a version of the Prophet’s Prayer. The blade would be blessed. Then Elder Duncan would make the incisions before welcoming you as an official member, a child of the Prophet.

It never took very long. Everyone had work to get back to, tasks to fulfill.

You would soon come to find that your ceremony would not be like any of those others.

The first indication of this was the sheer number of people who were gathered at Sanctuary. You had never seen this many people gathered in one place at one time, many of the faces you did not recognize.

As you approached the dais, the crowd silently parted for you, all eyes examining you carefully as if looking for something unseen. You couldn’t begin guess what it was.

You wanted to go home. You wanted to cry. To hold your mother’s hand. You wanted to not be here at all. Ever. For this to be a horrible nightmare.

Why were there so many people here?

Your eyes met Elder Constance’s. She was stiff and serious, as always, but there was a brightness in her eyes that you were not accustomed to seeing. A quick glance at Elder Duncan revealed a similar expression on his face.

The other five Elders also stood on the stage. Another thing that was unusual for a simple scarring ceremony.

Had you done something wrong? Were you in trouble?

You looked ahead, and your legs continued to carry you forward, despite your internal protestations.

When your feet were nearly touching the first step up, you stopped. And although your mind went blank, your body remembered what to do.

You bowed your head to each of the Elders, silently waiting to be greeted and invited onto the dais.

“Welcome, child, on this most joyous day!” Elder Constance’s voice boomed, carrying enough for everyone gathered to hear. “Come. Join us.”

You fought the urge to turn around and find your mother. You wanted to look at her face, to see if she knew what was happening.

But you knew that any moves you made in this moment other than exactly what was expected of you would be seen as hesitation, and therefore disgraceful. And you didn’t want your mother to be angry.

So you did as Elder Constance said, and you climbed the steps.

Your vision blurred. You tried to focus on your breathing.

“Two years ago, the ignoble Wolves took our beloved Prophet from us,” she began once you were standing center-stage. The reaction from the audience was instantaneous, full of outrage and despair. Elder Constance allowed this to continue for several moments before holding up her hand; and the noise stopped just a quickly as it began.

“But She is not dead! For the Prophet’s spirit cannot be killed by the evils of mankind.” The crowd hung on her every word as she continued, “She lives in all of us. In our actions and in our virtues. In Her teachings.”

“Here before you are all of your Elders, appointed to this honorable position by our Prophet, most wonderful and wise. She speaks to us, and it is our duty—our privilege—to share her words with you.”

“But today, She does not have words for us.” Elder Constance paused, the audience hushed, waiting for the reveal. “It is Her heavenly desire to give us a new source of hope. An advocate. A champion… A new Prophet.”

Elder Constance’s hands landed on your shoulders.

“Today, She has chosen Her successor.”

The crowd erupted in celebration.

You went completely numb and tuned them all out.

The Elders continued to speak, and the people continued to celebrate. All the while, your mind was reeling and your face was blank.

A new Prophet?

There can’t be a new Prophet.

What does that even mean?

There have never been any prophets except for THE Prophet.

And if there does need to be a new Prophet, why would it be you?

Why you?

It can’t be you.

If any of your questions were answered, you didn’t hear it above the ringing in your head.

Your attention was drawn to the blade that was now in Elder Constance’s hands, and you forced yourself to again begin to listen.

“…The Neo-Prophet will take on her full responsibilities when the time is right. But until then…” She continued on with familiar words, ones used in a typical scarring ceremony to bless the blade before it was used.

The knife was then passed down the line of Elders, each of them lifting it above their head and reciting the same words.

Your legs suddenly felt very weak.

Elder Duncan blessed the blade last and stepped forward, positioning himself just a couple feet away from you. You turned to him just as you knew you were supposed to.

This was the part in the ceremony when you would usually say a version of The Prophet’s Prayer. You weren’t sure if you were still meant to do that, given the circumstances, but you were operating solely on instincts now, so you began, “The world is not in balance, but I will do my part to right it.”

You weren’t speaking nearly as loud as the Elders had. You hoped you were loud enough. You hoped you were doing it right.

The pleased look on Elder Duncan’s face indicated that you had done well, but before you could go on with the next line, all of the Elders continued the prayer together:

“You will lead us through the storm May the current be calm May You guide us home.”

Their words had been slightly altered from the classic prayer, different than you would’ve said it if you had been given the chance. The strangest part was that they were speaking to you.

Almost like they were praying to you…

Elder Duncan took another step forward, gripping the knife.

You expected him to use his other hand to lift your face, to hold it at the best angle for the scarring. You’d seen him do the same to others many times before.

This was the part that you knew was coming. You had been at least attempting to prepare for it. You could handle it.

But you were thrown off once again when instead, he took your right wrist in his free hand and gently pressed your fingers down, making you form a fist. He then lifted your hand until it was by your ear, knuckles facing inward, arm bent at the elbow. His own hand gripped your elbow, holding your arm in place.

You were frozen, with no choice but to watch as the knife met the outside of your forearm and sank in. A slow, straight line was carved from the top of your wrist all the way to your elbow.

You didn’t look away. You didn’t cry. You did as you were told.

You wanted to go home.

“We are imperfect beings. And thus, we make ourselves imperfect in Your eyes.” Elder Duncan said, meeting your gaze. “It is for this reason that we proudly wear our scars on our faces.”

When his work was done, he released your right elbow and moved on to the left, lifting that arm into the same position. “But the Prophet, in Her kindness, bears the weight of our imperfections, carrying all of us in her arms. This is why You will wear your scars here.”

“Remember that You are part of us, but set apart.” The blade pierced the skin of your left forearm, and a twin incision was formed. “We look to You, Prophet. May She guide you. May She protect you.” With that, he took a step back, lowering the knife.

You slowly lowered your arms to your sides and turned back to face the enraptured crowd.

Finally, you found your mother among them.

And she was crying.

“My friends,” Elder Constance declared, gesticulating dramatically, “Your Prophet!”

The cheers were deafening.

As you scanned the masses, you felt the blood ooze down your arms and curl around your fingers, pooling on the ground by your feet.

You found Yara, who was somehow clapping and cheering more enthusiastically than anyone else. And then you saw L, held up on their mother’s hip, face concerned, eyes wide and wary.

At least someone was as skeptical as you were.

You wondered if you would get to go home now.

But Elder Constance placed her hands on your shoulders again, this time turning you and leading you in the opposite direction, into the Prophet’s grand house. Into Sanctuary.

There, servants’ gentle hands carefully cleaned your stinging wounds, took down and brushed out your hair, and helped you change into a new white dress.

You would never live in your mother’s house again.

And it would be eight years before anyone addressed you by your name.

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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Something In The Way You Move | The Redemption

Author’s note: I struggled writing this next instalment, and there was a lot of chopping and changing, so apologies for the late update. There’s one final part after this, and the plan is to have it out by mid-May. In terms of their apartment, this is how I pictured it but feel free to switch it up. This is only for fictional purposes only, but please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, bad language, couple reconciling, side chick confrontation, some relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)

famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham Word count: 8k words

///

‘So, Bestie,’ Winnie starts, ‘what’s the plan? And how are we going to pull this off?’

That’s a good question: how will you break the big news to Jude? It’s been five torturous days since the positive pregnancy test and you’re yet to tell him about it. The timing just hasn’t been right, and the next bit’ll sound silly, but you’ve kept this from him because you don’t want to take the attention from him.

His first season at Real Madrid has exceeded all your wildest expectations, and you just wanted him to celebrate it all without detracting from it with the baby news.

Girlfriend of the Year, right?

‘To be honest, Wins, I haven’t thought about it.’

You’re standing in the kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and Winnie’s in the living room, her limbs stretched out on the sectional as she mindlessly browses through one of the coffee table books.

Your best friend’s in town for work, and earlier today, she actually filmed a couple of scenes with you for the show, and that’s when you told her about the pregnancy.

Off camera, of course. However, looking back at the moment, you regret not filming it.

Between filming your scenes, you quietly pulled Winnie to the side and showed her the sonogram you now carry around in your bag, and her reaction was exactly what you expected it to be and more. There was squealing, excited jumping, and there were lots and lots of tears shed between the two of you.

‘Okay, well, when do you plan to tell him?’

Tonight. You think enough time has passed and yesterday, you went to your first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, but despite your excitement, you kept the news from Jude because you wanted the announcement to be well thought out—special.

Also, there has been so much distance between you, you’re hoping that the baby news could be the catalyst to bring you two together because you kinda miss being close to him.

‘I’ll be honest with you, Y/N/N, that doesn’t give us much time to plan it.’

Winnie makes a good point, but you’re not looking for perfection, all that matters is that he knows.

‘Well,’ the kettle boils and you walk over to where it sits on the counter to grab it, ‘it depends on what we decide on.’

You start pouring the boiling liquid into the cups.

‘My only request is that we incorporate the sonogram.’

‘Wouldn’t it be cute if we could find a pair of infant football boots?’

It’s kinda cheesy—very cheesy, actually—but you like the idea. A lot.

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’re getting somewhere with this.’

It’s almost hard to believe that you’re standing here, plotting out a way to tell Jude that you’re expecting.

If someone had come up to you the night you first met him and told you that in two years, you’d be standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment in Madrid, planning a pregnancy reveal, you would’ve called them a liar.

Excuse your French, but. . . ‘Holy fuck, Wins, I’m pregnant.’

It’s like it’s hitting you for the first time.

Winnie laughs, amused by your sudden realisation. ‘I can’t explain it, right? But it feels like a teen pregnancy.’

There’s no need for her to explain it further ‘cause you know exactly what she means. When you first saw the positive pregnancy test—you know, after your initial shock—you first panicked about how your family would react to the news.

You had to take a moment to stop and remind yourself that even though you’re still so young, you’re more than capable of raising this child.

With Jude’s assistance, of course.

‘Do you want to record it?’

‘Record what?’

You take the steaming mugs from the island and make your way over to the living room, where you place them onto the coffee table.

‘The moment you tell him. Not for Netflix,’ she clarifies, ‘but you know, home videos or whatever.’

Yeah, you’re definitely keeping this one in the family. Maybe if the show gets renewed for a second season. . . but you’re jumping the gun.

‘I want to, but’ you look around the ostentatiously decorated main living space ‘where can we put the camera? I don’t want him to see it.’

‘We’ll figure it out.’

Winnie’s composure is just what you need right now. You can always count on her to be calm in stressful situations.

‘Is your camera charged?’

You’ll have to check. It’s been some time since you last used it. Part of your job is that you’re a part time YouTuber, it’s something you dabble in because you like filming and editing. . . all that jazz, but lately, your channel has taken the backseat.

Why vlog this period of your life when they can catch it on Netflix when the show comes out?

‘Come,’ Winnie shifts to make space for you on the couch.

You take your seat next to her and by the time you settle, she’s already got her phone out, with her Pinterest open.

‘What’s that for?’

‘Well, something’s got to inspire us.’

Duh. It must be the pregnancy fog.

‘Don’t worry,’ she assures. ‘We’ve got this.’

And got this you do. A half hour and two cold teas later, there’s a plan, but this plan requires you to leave the house.

Booooo!

You’re not too keen on the impromptu outing, but there are baby football boots to be bought, and at least you’ll have Winnie there with you.

‘Well, that was easy.’

You beg to differ, but whatever.

Winnie locks her phone and sets it on the couch, ‘When’s The Boy coming home?’

You’re not sure when it started, but Winnie now refers to Jude as “The Boy” which you find to be endearing.

Probably late. He’s out with Toby and Noah, and he mentioned something about his other teammates joining them, but you weren’t really paying attention.

‘I’m not sure.’

And it’s not something you wish to discuss further because the thought fills you with dread. It’s been days since your discovery but given the circumstances, there has been no time to sit down and talk about Coralie.

The result of that is that whenever he goes out—and he’s been going out plenty to celebrate his victorious season—you can’t help but feel anxious that he might cheat on you again.

Surely this is no way to live.

‘But it doesn’t matter, does it?’ you rise off of the couch and start for the bedroom.

Naturally, Winnie’s trailing after you and you just know that this conversation is far from over. She’s persistent.

‘It doesn’t, but I think you should ask him.’

She makes it sound so simple. And you guess it is simple, he is your boyfriend after all, it’s your privilege to call or text him whenever and wherever.

‘We don’t want any surprises.’

You don’t, but if he does walk into something he’s not supposed to walk into, that’s all on him.

‘I don’t think it’s necessary, really.’

Inside the walk-in closet, you start stripping out of your house sweats to change into something appropriate. Once upon a time, you could leave your house in your house clothes without the fear of being pasted on the MailOnline and labelled “dowdy” and “unkempt”.

But that was a long time ago.

‘Oooh, what’s this?’

Winnie finds herself distracted by the Chloé box that’s sitting on the closet island.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a PR box they sent me on Monday,’ you state matter-of-factly.

She opens it and gasps when she sees what’s inside the large box.

‘What the. . .’

‘It’s crazy, right?’

She turns to you in utter disbelief. ‘They gifted these to you?’

You hum.

She grunts and confesses, ‘I’m so jealous of you right now.’

Twelve full sized perfumes, all gifted to you by the brand.

You tell her to take a bottle, and of course, she’s over the moon. And it earns you the title of World’s Best Best Friend.

‘Well, I still think you should text him,’ she states as she tests the different scents.

And here you thought she had forgotten about that.

‘Just so we have an idea.’

You don’t really want to send the text, but you don’t want to raise any alarms with your friend. Lately, things between you and Jude have been far from perfect, but you’d prefer to keep your relationship problems from the world—even if it’s Winnie and she’s your best friend.

‘Yeah, alright.’

Your phone’s in the living room, so you have to leave the closet to grab it, and when you come back, Winnie’s discovered your new Chanel handbag—a gift from Jude.

‘He bought this for you?’

‘Yeah,’ but you’re not trying to make a big deal of it.

Jude bought the bag for you about a month ago. At the time, it seemed so random—his urge to buy such an expensive gift on a whim—, but after seeing those text messages, you know it was the guilt that made him do it.

‘Lucky bitch.’

‘I’ve been telling you to bag yourself a baller,’ you tease as you take your seat on one of the ottomans.

You: Hey, when are you coming back tonight?

You read over the text to make sure you’re not coming off as desperate. . . a nag. But whatever, the text needs to be sent, and the way he interprets it is up to him.

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you don’t expect him to. He never does when he’s out.

You take a final look in the mirror. You look so good, it’s almost hard to believe that the look was put together in ten minutes. And you’d take a picture to post on your story, but there’s no time for that now.

‘You ready, Wins?’

She smiles, ‘Ready.’

‘Alright then, let’s go.’

///

When he did finally respond to your text, Jude said that he’d try to be home by midnight, which gave you more than enough time to prepare for the reveal.

For her visit, Winnie will be staying at the apartment with you, but she’s gone out because she’s not pregnant and she’s actually got a life. However, she did help you set everything up for the reveal, which you appreciated because she came with all the good ideas.

Like she suggested that you do it in your closet as opposed to the kitchen, where you had initially planned to do it, because the lighting and acoustics were better.

And now it’s a little past eleven o’clock and you’re rewatching an old episode of your favourite series. Earlier in the night—after Winnie left—you filmed a night time routine vlog for your TikTok, which you should be working on editing, but can’t be bothered about.

Waiting for Jude to come home has reduced you to a ball of anxiety, and despite your eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute, you simply can’t make yourself fall asleep. However, one thing’s certain, no pregnancy reveal will be done tonight.

Damn him, and damn your feelings for him.

You can’t believe he’s once again ditched you for his friends this week. It’s disrespectful at this point, but the worst part?

You keep allowing him to get away with it.

But what can you do, leave him? As if that’s an option for you. The love you feel for him runs so deep, you can’t bring yourself to imagine a life without him in it, especially with the baby coming. So apologies to all the feminists of the world, but your love for this man surpasses all reasoning.

Your phone dings with a notification and you quickly grab it, hoping to find a text from him—you’ll take an incoherent drunken text at this point, anything—but instead it’s Winnie asking if he’s home yet.

Fuck.

You: Not yet, but soon :)

You hope.

She’ll never confront you about it, but you think that Winnie suspects that things aren’t good between you and Jude. The lack of calls and texts throughout the day was a dead giveaway. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, and even when you’re apart, you’re constantly updating each other one way or another so the silence was deafening.

But whatever, right?

People across the world experience relationship problems every day. You’re not the first couple to experience this, and you’re certainly not the last. You just wish that your relationship problems weren’t because he stepped out on you.

‘Babe?’

And now your mind’s playing tricks on you, because you swear you can hear him–

‘Y/N?’

Oh shit, he’s home!

You quickly reach for your phone to check the time: 11:26.

Fuck!

In the last text you sent him almost an hour ago now, you gave him strict instructions to text you before he left the club.

Guess he didn’t catch that text.

‘Baby?’ he calls for you again, but his voice sounds distant, so you figure you have enough time to do what it is that you have to do.

But you’ve got to move fast, so you clamber off of the bed, and scurry to your closet. You head straight to the camera, which you’ve carefully propped on your Louis Vuitton jewellery box, and switch it on to start recording.

This probably isn’t the best of angles, but so long as it captures his reaction, hopefully with his face in the frame.

‘Baaaaybeeee?’

His voice sounds closer now.

‘In the closet, babe,’ you finally call back, then internally brace yourself for what’s to follow.

With Jude, the plan was always to get married and have children, but the when was never discussed in detail.

‘Why are you hiding in here?’

Some of that anxiety leaves your body at the sight of him. He’s beaming at you, so visibly happy to see you.

‘Hiya.’

This man has seen you in all kinds of vulnerable situations, why are you so shy all of a sudden?

As he closes the distance between you, you notice that his eyes are kinda red and glossy, the only sign of his intoxication. When he reaches you, his smile widens—if that’s even possible—and he leans forward to connect your foreheads.

‘Hi, gorgeous.’

He smells of mint with the faint scent of alcohol, and a smell you can only describe as Jude on a night out.

With your eyes shut, you deeply inhale the comforting scent, happy to have him back home.

‘Hey, why are you hiding in here?’ he asks again, his words running into each other, the second sign.

‘Uh, ‘cause.’

You weren’t anticipating that question, and you don’t know how to answer it.

‘“‘Cause?”’ he chuckles.

You hum.

‘Come here,’ he envelops you in his large and strong arms, practically suffocating you but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to release you because you’ve missed his affection and the intimacy.

You fear you’re starting to sound like a broken record.

‘How was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘The club?’

‘Fine.’

And that’s all he’s willing to offer.

‘I thought you said Winnie was staying over?’

She is, she’s just gone to a party with the new guy she’s seeing.

‘And you didn’t join her?’

‘No.’

You give him a half-baked explanation for why you didn’t, but all you’re thinking is how this isn’t going the way you hoped for it to go. This isn’t what the other significant others did in the videos you watched earlier.

But how do you save it?

‘Why are you asking about her?’

‘Just curious, I guess.’

‘Alright then,’ you fist his jacket in your hand. ‘It’s good to have you back home.’

He likes that, you know that because his heart rate picks up. Things are still a bit awkward between you, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t been talking much.

With your arms around his neck, you press onto your toes and crane your neck to peck him on the lips. ‘And actually, babe, there’s something I want to show you.’

Jude tenses up at that, but it’s so subtle, if you weren’t in his arms, you would’ve missed it.

‘You do?’

And like magic, he’s sobered up. Only a bit though.

‘Don’t worry,’ you assure him, amused. ‘It’s nothing bad.’

Your assurance does nothing to ease his wound up body.

‘Jude, relax. . . please.’

Still tense. Whatever, you won’t dwell on his anxiety.

With a final peck to his lips, you step away from him and direct his attention to the island, where the football booties you went out to buy earlier are placed next to a toddler Real Madrid jersey, a positive pregnancy test—you took another one a couple of hours ago—and the sonogram.

‘Surprise,’ you say softly.

You want to sound excited, but it just comes out dejected.

You watch as he takes it in, your heart hammering against your chest. Unfortunately for you, you only have a view of his side profile but even from this angle, you can see that his usually expressive face is perfectly still. You can’t read him, and it feels like an eternity before he turns to face you.

‘Is this for real?’

You nod, the lump that has found a home in your throat making it hard to speak. Your vision’s also blurred, courtesy of the tears that have pooled in your eyes.

‘It is?’

The first tear falls.

‘Oh, baby.’

Jude lifts you into his arms and squeezes all the air from your lungs.

Man, he’s so strong.

Then he sort of holds you like that for a long time, and the next thing you know, your neck is damp.

‘Babe, are you. . are you crying?’

He denies it, but you can feel the damp spot grow with each passing second you’re in his arms. Oh goodness, he is.

‘I think you are.’

‘Shut up,’ he mutters, his voice muffled.

You giggle when he tickles you.

His reaction’s quite the relief and it feels like a ginormous load has been lifted off your shoulders. In terms of his reaction, you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is the best reaction possible, and as he holds you, all the lingering resentment about his past transgressions are forgotten.

Eventually, he sets you down to reveal his red rimmed eyes and similarly hued nose.

‘How far along are you?’

Seven weeks and three days today, according to your doctor. When Dr Hernandez told you, you couldn’t believe you were so far along and didn’t notice.

‘That’s what, almost two months?’

In defence of you though, between your work and Jude’s chaotic football schedule, you’ve been out of touch with your body.

‘Did you know?’

‘I suspected it.’ You tell him about the morning after that night when you noticed that your period was late. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to take the test first.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me after?’

‘I wanted the doctor to confirm it.’

You’ve grown so tired of standing, so you sit on the carpeted floor of the closet, and Jude joins you, pushing the ottoman to one side so that he can lean against the island.

‘I called Dr Morena who referred me to Dr Hernandez.’

He scowls, ‘Who’s that?’

‘My obstetrician.’

The scowl deepens.

You sigh, ‘The doctor who’ll care for me during the pregnancy.’

‘Oh.’ With his legs spread and stretched out before him, he pulls you into him and sets you between them. ‘And you said that Dr Morena referred you to this. . .’

‘Obstetrician.’

‘Yeah, that.’

You hum in agreement as you rest your back against his torso.

Dr Morena is your family GP.

There’s a silent beat then he asks, ‘So he knew before me?’

‘Winnie too,’ you turn your head so that you’re partially facing him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Winnie knew before me?’

The offence is evident in his voice.

‘I had to tell her,’ you defend, but this isn’t where you want to steer the conversation. ‘She helped me set this all up.’

He grunts.

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘Kinda.’

Well, now you feel bad.

‘I’m sorry,’ you sit up and turn to face him, maintaining eye contact as you explain, ‘Had I known it would’ve offended you, I wouldn’t have done it.’

But she was so integral in all of this, a part of you’s glad you did. . .

‘Oh, come on, Jude.’

He’s pouting, your big baby.

‘Cheer up, will you?’ you straddle him, cupping his face to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. ‘I’m really sorry.’

It’s about another minute of silence and avoided eye contact, and you’re about to give up and on the verge of tears when:

‘Babe, I’m only messing with you.’

A quiet beat, then there’s relief, followed by loud laughter.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ you grouse, slapping him lightly on his chest. ‘I almost cried, you know.’

‘Come here,’ he pulls you into him.

The traces of alcohol still linger in his speech, but he’s significantly sobered up since he got home ten minutes ago.

‘I can’t believe you’re pregnant.’

And you can’t remember the last time Jude was this excited about something outside of football. His reaction almost makes you wish you had waited to share the news with him on his birthday, but that wouldn’t have worked because he’ll be in Germany then with the national team for the Euros.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘How the pill doesn’t work a hundred percent,’ you pull away.

But then again, with all the jet setting you’ve been doing, you probably weren’t taking it at the same time every day.

With a flash of his signature smile, he concurs.

‘My knees are starting to hurt,’ you announce as you move off of his lap and back to your previous spot between his legs.

Jude places a hand over your stomach, and with your hands over his larger ones, you move them lower to the pelvic area.

‘There.’

He chuckles. ‘You know, I always dreamed of being a young dad.’

You didn’t know this about him.

‘Not at twenty-one,’ he continues, ‘but you know, in my twenties.’

It’s comforting to know that this baby fits into his life plan.

‘How about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit after a moment of consideration.

You’re still wrapping your head around the turn your life’s taken. The WAG thing kinda blindsided you, the fame too. The craziest part of this all is that you’ve made a career of it, built an entire brand.

‘But I’m not mad at this plot twist.’

‘Our kid’s a plot twist?’ he chuckles.

You nod. ‘Clearly we weren’t paying attention in sex education.’

He kisses the top of your head.

‘Dr Hernandez said that the baby’s about the size of a blueberry,’ you tell him.

It’s such a random fact, but you feel compelled to share it with him.

‘That’s really tiny.’

‘Right?’

Jude keeps rubbing over the area, and you have an inkling he’ll make a habit of this.

Some minutes pass, and then you remember that the camera’s still going, so you excuse yourself from Jude.

‘Where’re you going?’

His grip is firm around your waist.

‘I’m going to get the camera.’

He looks confused, but he releases you. On bended knees, you shuffle over to the other end of the island to quickly grab it, but you don’t stop the recording. When you get back to Jude, you find him in a daze, silently staring at the sonogram in his hand.

‘She’s so tiny,’ he comments when you sit at your previous spot, facing him.

‘She?’

Talk about wanting to be a girl dad.

‘You think the baby’s a girl?’

He looks up to find a camera in his face. ‘What, you think it’s a boy?’

You shrug, you haven’t actually given it much thought. ‘Well, do you think you can handle a mini me?’

He makes a face.

‘Ah, take it back,’ you giggle.

He takes the camera and turns the lens to you. ‘Well, now I’m asking you. Y/N, do you think Baby Bellingham’s a girl or a boy?’

You pause to think about it. A mini you or a mini Jude, how difficult. ‘Well, I’m going the opposite, I think Baby Bellinghamʼs a boy.’

You snuggle into him, ear pressed against his chest, camera still in your face, but you’re both in the frame. One fact people don’t know about your boyfriend is that he’s a master vlogger, and he’s actually recorded many segments for your vlogs that will never see the light of day because when it comes to Jude, you’re a shameless gatekeeper.

‘I want to shower before bed,’ he proclaims once the recording has stopped. ‘Join me?’

You’ve already taken your shower, but you figure a second one wouldn’t hurt. Jude takes your hand and leads you out of the closet and into the bathroom, where you strip out of your clothes.

‘Is it my imagination, or are your boobs getting bigger?’

Huh?

You look down at your exposed breasts, ‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m not,’ with a hand on each shoulder, he turns you towards the mirror. ‘Look.’

You’re looking at them, but they still look the same to you, but he’s adamant. Then, in a move you deem perverted—in a good way, of course—, he cups them in his hands.

‘What are you doing?’ At this point, you can’t contain your laughter.

‘How are you not seeing this?’

He must’ve drank more than you realise, because what the fuck is this?

‘Are you high?’

His face twists with disapproval, ‘No, why?’

‘The boobs,’ you turn to him, ‘what’s with the sudden fascination with them?’

‘I like your boobs, you know this.’

You do. And you like his butt.

‘Come,’ you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him into the shower. ‘I think you’re tired.’

And horny.

You turn the faucet to run the water.

As you’d imagine, not much showering is done.

‘Careful not to wet your hair,’ you warn him, but it’s too late.

‘I don’t care,’ he says flippantly as he takes your face between his hands and leans over to kiss you.

This is not what you came here to do.

You’re both covered in suds.

‘Jude, I need to rinse my body.’

‘Later,’ he mutters against your lips.

‘Jude!’ you squeal.

He’s such a Silly Billy when he wants to be.

You gasp into his passionate kiss when you suddenly feel the cold shower wall against your back. In a swift and slick movement, Jude trails kisses across your left shoulder and you tilt your head to one side to give him better access to your neck.

A soft moan escapes your parted lips as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

‘Jude. . .’

You want to tell him to stop, but the hand on his naked lower back pulls him into to you.

He hums into the kiss as his hand moves up your body to cup your boob, ‘Tonight, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’

His vulnerability catches you off guard, how can you not give into him. . .

///

For breakfast this morning, you’re making honey butter toast using a recipe you found on the internet. It’s your first time making it and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but Jude saw it on Pinterest the other week and begged you to make it, so that’s what he’ll have for breakfast.

It’s a simple enough recipe, but knowing you and your iffy cooking skills, this could either be a major success or an epic fail—nothing in the middle. If it does fail though, you’ve got the regular bacon and egg fry-up on standby.

But only positive thoughts in this kitchen.

You’ve got your favourite morning playlist going softly in the background, and today’s what you consider the perfect Saturday morning. The sun is fully out, and the expansive windows of the apartment allow for the natural light to pour into the space and warms it.

You put the toast into the oven and set the timer.

At the end of the summer, your lease for this apartment will be up, but the likelihood of you extending it has significantly shrunk with the latest development in your life. The song goes, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage,” but you’ve skipped parts, so some things need to be shifted around.

That means that the house hunting that you’ve been putting off needs to start. . . now, really.

This is where Coralie comes in handy, but you’re not talking to her. She actually reached out to you Sunday morning to apologise for your awkward encounter at the restaurant that night. Her text read:

Coralie: Last night, I overstepped and I’m really sorry and embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

You’re yet to respond to the text, but you don’t plan to anytime soon because you don’t accept her stupid apology. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an insignificant homewrecker. She is two-faced and vindictive and incredibly cruel for subjecting you to such humiliation.

She laughed with you, acted like a friend when she was fucking your man behind your back for six months.

‘Bitch,’ you mumble as you load the dishes into the wash.

But she’s not worth the time, emotions, nor the energy. So with a deep breath, you bop thoughts of her out of your mind, and move on with your day.

Easy.

A half hour later, breakfast is ready to be served. You’ve gone all out with this meal, and it would be an absolute shame to not take a picture to post onto your IG story. Very quickly, you snap a picture to post later, and take the food to your sleeping boyfriend before the ice-cream starts to melt.

He’s still fast asleep, but he’s since shifted sleeping positions, and he’s hugging your pillow.

How cute?

When he wakes up, you expect him to be hungover and grouchy from all his boozing, and you just know he’ll play it up for attention. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend it’s that he dies for attention, and he simply cannot resist being babied.

‘Wakey wakey sleepyhead.’

You place the heavy tray onto the bedside table, on the other side of it to avoid it getting bumped by mistake, and attempt to wake him again.

Still, nothing.

‘Jude,’ you mount him, peppering a million tiny kisses against the side of his pretty face. Even in his slumber, he looks perfect. ‘Come on, you got your eight hours, it’s time to wake up.’

He grunts, then sends you away.

‘But I got food,’ you object with feigned sadness.

But he doesnʼt budge.

Alright, sweet coaxing out the window. ‘Babe, I made honey butter toast and the ice-cream’s rapidly melting. Wake up.’

There’s another silent beat and then, ‘What the hell is that?’

Of course he doesn’t remember what it is.

‘Honey butter toast,’ you repeat, as if it’ll somehow miraculously make him know what it is. ‘That bread you saw on Pinterest and begged me to make.’

He’s still clueless, but at least you’ve got his attention. Finally, with a long groan, he sits up, moving cautiously to not send you tumbling to the floor.

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’

He cusses softly as he rubs his face. ‘I’m supposed to meet with my parents at eleven.’

You didn’t know that.

But it’s clearly nothing pressing because he doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that he’s running late. He yawns, rubs his eyes and face some more, then turns to you—sitting comfortably on his lap—and smiles. ‘Good morning.’

You mirror his expression. ‘Morning. You hungry?’

‘Starving. What’s for breakfast?’

‘Here,’ you slide off his lap to take the tray and hand it to him. ‘It’s my first time making it, so be nice.’

He assesses the tray of food you’ve placed before him, then looks back up at you. ‘Nine out of ten for the presentation.’

Your brows furrow, ‘Why not ten?’

‘Some of the ice-cream has melted and it looks a bit sloppy.’

‘Yeah, and who’s fault is that?’

He lets out a hearty laugh, but you’re not amused by this judge.

You climb back onto the bed, your eyes fixed on Jude as he puts the first forkful of the honey butter toast, with a little bit of the vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce, into his mouth.

He chews, then he moans, his eyes widen, more chewing, and then finally, he swallows.

This is a good reaction.

‘You like it?’

‘I love it,’ he cuts another piece of the toast. ‘Ten out of ten for the taste. Did you make the ice-cream and caramel sauce yourself?’

‘Alright, Paul Hollywood.’ You grab the extra fork you had on the tray and dig in—curious about the taste—and are met with protests from Jude. ‘I just want a little taste.’

‘Get your own.’

Your bottom lip juts out, it’s your turn to pout. ‘Yeah, but I’m pregnant.’

With a heavy sigh, he proclaims, ‘And so it starts.’

You can’t help but laugh at his solemn tone.

The two of you remain in bed, even after he’s finished having his breakfast, because his outing with his parents has now been postponed to two o’clock. If it were any other day, you’d join them, but you promised to accompany Winnie to the art gallery and you don’t think you can get out of it.

Turning into your side, Jude questions, ‘Why does she have to go to the art gallery?’

Because she’s in her art girl era, inspired by her latest fling, an up-and-coming visual artist from Portugal. His name’s Baltasar, and they met at Coachella a couple months back, and lately, he’s all she ever talks about. You think she’s in love.

‘A visual artist?’

‘Yep.’

‘So he’s broke?’

‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ you chide.

He doesn’t care though, he thinks it’s funny.

‘You’re such an asshole, d’you know that?’

‘Babe, I’m just kidding.’

Yeah, right.

‘Well, she really likes him so if she mentions it to you, keep the bad jokes to yourself.’

‘Noted,’ his mouth connects with your cheek.

The conversation smoothly transitions from Winnie’s new boyfriend to Jobe, who’s relentlessly trying to convince his older brother to take a short trip to Ibiza before he has to report for international duty. You think it’s a great idea, a final hoorah before it gets serious again.

‘Will you come with?’

‘Ibiza sober? Count me out.’

‘I’ll drink for the both of us.’

‘Uh, definitely not,’ your fingers glide up and down his naked back. ‘And I think Jobe wants this to be a boy’s trip. No girlfriends.’

‘But you’re not my girlfriend.’

Huh? ‘I’m not?’

‘You recently got upgraded to baby mum.’

He’s an idiot. Who even laughs at their own jokes this much? Either way, you’re not going to Ibiza with them. It’s another half hour of mindless chatter before you ask,

‘What time is it?’

‘Early.’

‘Jude, I’m being serious,’ you reach blindly for your phone and find it on the other end of the bed. ‘I need to start getting ready.’

‘Can’t you postpone it for another day?’

‘Winnie leaves tomorrow night.’

But he’s not budging, and so you have to use all of your might to shove him off of you.

Your strength leaves him shook. ‘Where’d that come from?’

‘It’s all those training sessions you’re paying for.’

He swells with pride—men.

‘Will you join me?’

Jude perks up.

‘But we’re only showering, nothing else.’

And he’s dejected.

‘I’ll just sit on the side and watch.’

That’s fine by you.

He follows you into the bathroom, and you think you hear him mumble something about you making it worth his while.

///

What your gallery date conveniently forgot to mention was that Baltasar would be joining your gallery excursion. Had you known he’d be here, you would’ve asked Jude to tag along so it could be a double date or something.

Jude: How’s it going? 🖼️

You’re miserable here, and you’re pretty sure you’re third wheeling. And look, you want to be supportive of your best friend, right? But it’s so hard to be when the guy she’s seeing’s the textbook definition of an asshole.

You’re one pretentious comment away from faking morning sickness to get out of this.

You: I’m having the worst time

You: The art is great, but he’s so smug 🙄

And he’s rude, so rude, and he’s determined to talk over you.

Jude: The artist? 🎨🧑‍🎨

You: Yeah, I don’t think he likes me :/

And you’d actually be doing him a favour by leaving, you’d be doing you both the favour because at this point, you feel like you’re intruding and you’re starting to feel awkward.

Jude: Well fuck him��

His text makes you chortle.

At least Winnie’s making an effort to include you. Every now and again, she’ll ask for your opinion on certain pieces, but in the end, you just can’t do it.

You can’t be here anymore.

‘Hey,’ you lightly tap Winnie’s shoulder.

She turns to regard you, ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’

‘Sure.’

She excuses herself from Baltasar, who’s really displeased with your intrusion, and you find a quiet corner.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the art’s great, but I’m not feeling too hot.’

‘Oh no,’ her brows knit in concern, ‘is it morning sickness?’

She’s buying it, good.

‘I think I’m going to head home, you know, to lie down for a couple hours.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ she takes your hand in hers and lightly squeezes it.

‘But how will you get back to the apartment?’

You are her ride home after all.

‘I was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon with Baltasar,’ she looks over her shoulder at him and when she looks back at you, she’s blushing, ‘but what about you? Are you fine to drive in your condition?’

‘It’s just a little nausea, I promise I’ll be fine.’

It takes a minute to convince her, but you don’t relent, and in the end, you manage to convince her.

‘Now go,’ you nudge her towards her waiting love interest. ‘Have fun with your boyfriend–’

‘Uh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ she quickly interjects, her voice dropping to a scolding whisper.

You smile knowingly, sure he isn’t.

‘What makes you say he’s my boyfriend? Did he say something to you?’

‘No, but I saw the way you were looking at him,’ you shrug, ‘the way he was looking at you.’

Winnie’s uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.

‘I’ve clearly misread the situation,’ you start backing away from her. ‘But we’ll talk more about it later, okay?’

‘Promise to text me when you get home.’

‘I pinky promise to call you when I get home,’ you blow her a kiss.

You wave goodbye to Baltsar, who seems pleased to see you go, and then you’re out of there.

It’s a short drive home from the gallery, and you’re glad to be back home, but you wish Jude was here with you.

You: I miss you.

As soon as the message’s sent, you regret sending it. But you can always blame pregnancy for making you so clingy.

You fall back onto the bed with a long exhale. What to do with your time? You could watch a movie or you could go the self-care route.

The other day, a skincare brand sent you a few collagen face masks you’ve been dying to try. It’s one of those that melts into your skin. And since you’re on that path, you can also soak in the tub ‘cause you haven’t done that in a while. And if you’re really up to it, maybe you can do your nails.

But first:

You: Got home safe. Have fun with your friend ;) can’t wait to hear about it later x

Jude misses you too. He’s also still with his parents but should be home before dinner.

You: Did you tell them about… 🫄

Jude: No. I thought we’d do it together.

That’s a good plan.

You: Great idea. I’ll see you later, I love you x

Jude: I love you more 😘

Dinner time’s a while away, so you’ve got plenty of time to have your self-care afternoon.

The tub is halfway full, the bubbles foaming, the steam and aroma engulfing the space when your phone notifies you that someone’s at the door.

Your body’s sheathed by a robe, but you still feel indecent as you make your way to the door.

The doorbell goes off a second time just before you reach the door, and when you open it, the last person you expect to find standing on the other side of it is Coralie.

Yes, Coralie’s at your door and she looks like. . . Well, she looks like shit.

‘Y/N,’ she forces her lips into a tight smile. ‘Hi.’

The shock has you frozen for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. ‘Jude’s not home.’

You’re curt because you want her out of your sight and you’ve left the water running in the bathroom.

‘I know he isn’t.’

She does?

‘I’m not here to see Jude, I’m actually here to see you.’

Of course she’s here to see you.

‘Why?’

‘‘Cause there’s so much we need to talk about, woman to woman.’

“Woman to woman”, what a joke? And it takes everything in you to stop your eyes from rolling. What the fuck does that even mean?

‘Can’t we schedule this for another time? I’m kinda in a rush.’

‘It won’t take long, I promise.’

Hell, she can’t take a hint, can she?

‘Can I come in?’

‘We can’t talk about whatever it is here?’ you tighten your grip around the door handle to stop your hand from shaking. ‘I mean, you said it yourself, it won’t take long.’

‘Yeah, but it’s weird doing it at the door, so can I come in?’

‘You’re in no position to call the shots.’

‘Please,’ she sounds desperate. ‘I just need ten minutes of your time, then I promise I’ll go.’

The more you look at her, the worse she looks. Honestly, she looks like she’s been to hell and back, and if you didn’t hate her so much, you’d feel sympathy.

‘Ten minutes, then you have to leave.’

‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’

And so despite your better judgement, you step to one side to allow her into the apartment. As you shut the door, you offer her a drink.

‘I’ll have a water, thank you.’

‘We’ve got water in the fridge.’ You walk towards your bedroom to shut off the running water, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’

On the short trek, you dig your phone from your robe pocket.

You: Coralie’s here she says she wants to talk but i’m uneasy

You shut the faucet. You quickly change out of your robe into the first clothing items you stumble upon, which are the sweats Jude was wearing earlier. They’re loosely fitting, but they’re comforting because they smell like him.

Coralie’s in the living room, bottle of water in hand, and she’s focused on something out the window.

‘Sorry I took so long.’

Your sudden intrusion snaps her out of her reverie, ‘It’s fine.’

Her eyes are fixed on you as you move around the space to take your seat on the sectional, feet tucked beneath your bum.

This is so awkward.

‘So,’ you start, breaking the ice, ‘you said you wanted to talk?’

You heard Jude out, so it’s only fair that you hear Coralie’s side of the story.

‘Right,’ she clears her throat. ‘I assume you know about our. . .’

‘Affair?’

She winces at your choice of words.

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘And he told you everything?’

‘That you got drunk last December and hooked up? That you’ve been hooking up behind my back for the last six months?’

She sits perfectly still, but her trembling lower lip betrays her.

‘That you were sending inappropriate texts, pictures, and videos. . .’ you continue, pleased to see her squirm in her seat. ‘Am I missing anything else?’

It’s only been, what? Five days since you last saw her, but in the short time span, she’s aged a decade. Coralie’s never disclosed her age, but you’ve always placed her in her late-twenties, maybe early-thirties, but today she looks well into her forties.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I saw the drunk text you sent him, what did it say again?’ you pause for dramatic effect. ‘Right, “I’m drunk and I miss you. Call me.”’

She’s fidgeting with the bottle in her hand, her head bowing in shame. ‘Y/N, I’m really sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

‘All of it.’ She looks up at you, ‘I’m sorry that you found out the way you did.’

You hear her, but you’re not ready to accept her apology. Especially because she’s cutting into your self-care time with this crap.

‘Who made the first move?’

‘Jude did.’

Your heart aches at the revelation, it’s like someone has driven a sharp knife into it.

‘He was upset at you, he didn’t say why but he was really cut up about a fight you had,’ she proceeds. ‘And if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.’

You think you might throw up.

‘But he was drunk, we both were, and. . .’ her voice trails.

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room because really, what else is there to say?

‘Do you love him?’

‘Does it matter?’

It doesn’t matter, but you want to know. Let’s say it’s curiosity.

‘He’s hard not to love.’

That’s true.

‘But am I in love with him? No.’

Some of the tension in your shoulders eases.

‘And he doesn’t love me either,’ and she almost sounds sad when she says that. ‘It was only ever sex between us, nothing more.’

But the texts. . . what did they mean?

‘Nothing,’ she insists. ‘Call it harmless flirtation.’

‘Harmless?’

She flushes, ‘You know what I mean.’

So you now know that he was mad at you, they were both drunk, they fucked and you think Coralie regrets it, but you’re not sure.

‘Who pursued it?’

‘What?’

‘Your. . . thing, the affair,’ it irks you to say it.

‘Oh, Y/N, I don’t think you–’

‘Was it Jude?’

‘He loves you.’

‘I know he loves me.’

Coralie’s quiet which furthers your frustration at her.

‘Did he pursue the affair?’

‘Why does it matter? It doesn’t change anything because in the end, he chose you.’ It’s like it pains her to say it. ‘He’ll always choose you.’

You nod.

After another long and awkward silence, she professes, ‘You know, I felt awful deceiving you because you really are such a good person.’

‘Don’t start with that crap.’

‘No, I mean it. You’re a good person, and we were friends–’

‘We were never friends,’ you interrupt. ‘You were never my friend.’

You tolerated her, there’s a difference.

‘I know you’re upset with me, and trust me, I get it, but come on,’ she persists. ‘We were friendly with each other.’

‘You sleep with all your friends’ boyfriends?’

That shuts her up.

‘Look, Coralie, I appreciate the apology,’ you pull your phone from the sweatpants pocket to check the time and discover eight missed calls from Jude. ‘But you said you’d be here for ten minutes, and you’ve exceeded that time.’

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but there’s one last thing I want to tell you.’

Your stomach twists with dread—she better not tell you that she’s pregnant. The cheating you can move past, but a child you can’t recover from.

‘You’re pregnant?’

‘What?’ She looks offended that you’d even ask her that question. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

You sigh in relief.

She’s not pregnant, but she did lose her job. She received the call this morning to let her know that her services were no longer required by the club. She’s certain Jude had something to do with it, so she’s here to plead with you to talk sense into him.

‘And I meant what I said, I really am sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused in your life, but Y/N, I really need this job,’ she concludes.

‘How are you so sure he had something to do with it?’

She shoots you an incredulous look as if to say, ‘Really?’

‘And if he did have something to do with it, what makes you think he’d listen to anything I have to say?’

‘Because you told him to end our arrangement and he did.’

‘But you said it yourself, you mean nothing to him.’

She flinches again.

‘I mean, I can try to talk to him, but I can’t promise you anything.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘That’s all I ask.’

‘Well, like I said, I have somewhere to be so–’

You don’t get to finish the sentence, ‘cause you’re cut off by a panicked Jude who storms into the apartment, followed by an equally panicked Mark.

‘Babe?’

Thank the heavens he’s here.

///

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Jude’s side of the bed empty. At first you think he’s in the bathroom, but when five minutes pass and he’s not back, the panic sets in. You grab your phone off of the bedside table to check the time: 2:38.

Where the hell is he?

You sit up and search the dark room for traces of him, but there’s nothing—only his phone on the bedside table.

It’s been hours since your confrontation with Coralie, but you’re yet to process it all. You’re still in shock at the fact that she rocked up at your door the way she did, but you’d be lying if you said the conversation wasn’t cathartic.

‘Jude?’

You push the covers away and climb off of the bed. After you locate your house shoes, you set out to find him.

His phone is here, so he shouldn’t be far.

‘Jude?’

As you make your trek down the short passage, you hear soft chatter coming from the TV room. When you turn the corner, you find Jude sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table.

A smile takes over your face at the sight of him.

‘Hey, you,’ he greets you as you crawl into his lap.

‘Hi,’ you tuck your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. ‘What are you watching?’

‘Pulp Fiction.’

Of course he is.

‘Why’re you up?’

You trace patterns on his t-shirt clad chest. ‘I woke up and you weren’t in bed. I panicked.’

He tightens his arms around you, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ you sit up. ‘This pregnancy has me acting weird.’

‘Yeah, blame it on the pregnancy,’ he teases.

‘Shut up,’ you shift to straddle him. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

His hands settle on your waist, ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

There’s still so much to discuss in terms of Coralie and her claims, but tonight just isn’t the time for that.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?’

‘Yeah,’ he takes your mouth into a deep kiss.

‘Come to bed with me,’ you whisper against his lips, moaning when he slips a hand between you, teasing his fingers through your slick folds.

‘I don’t think we’ll make it to bed.’

///

Tagged:

@luv4bellingham

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham scenario #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #Jude Bellingham one shot #Jude Bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #Jude Bellingham scenarios

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harrys-sunflower-bakery · 6 months

Text

What if I told you I love you? (Giyuu Tomioka x Reader)

Hiii I hope y'all are doing well! I wanted to write something for my favorite Hasira, so here's a fanfic for Mr. Tomioka. Hope you enjoy <3

Summary: You are in love with the Water pillar but you managed to convince yourself he's in love with someone else. So how does your story end up when he almost dies while on a mission with you?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, a little bit of gore/ description of blood, mentions of death, Shinobu being mean (I love her I promise, it was for plot purposes)

I look down at my sweating palms as I walk to the hashira meeting, anxious to see Giyuu again. The last interaction between the two of us had been a bit more than a month before today, I missed him dearly. When I get to the mansion, I see the rest of the hashira chatting while waiting for the master, my eyes scan over the yard and see Giyuu sitting to the side on one of the picnic chairs located in a corner of the courtyard. A smile graces my face as I make my way over to him. His face stays in its usual emotionless resting position, not that I mind, I’ve always found him beautiful no matter what his facial expression is.

“Hi Tomioka! I missed you, how are you?” I smile brightly at the Water Pillar, he looks up and his lips twitch ever so slightly. I almost got a reaction, it’s progress!

“I’m okay, you?” He murmured softly, glancing at me.

“I’m good, I’ve just been lonely without you and the others while on that mission. It was fun to see other parts of the country though! There was this one place I think you would love, it was a whole field covered in cherry blossoms, it was so beautiful…” I trail off at the end seeing his zoned-out look. My gaze follows his to the other hashira, only to be met with Shinobu’s smiling face while she’s chatting with Mitsuri. My attention moves back to Giyuu who looks mesmerized by the one and only Shinobu Kocho.

I frown slightly, feeling jealousy bubbling up in my stomach, I catch yourself before acting on it though. “I’m going to go say hi to the others, excuse me. It’s nice seeing you again Giyuu” I nod to him before walking over to the rest of the hashira saying hi and hugging the pillars you were close to: Rengoku, Tengen, and Muichiro. “Hey, you three, you been behaved?” I asked jokingly while pulling each of them in a hug.

“I have been good as always my friend!” Rengoku answers in his usual peppy tone making me smile at him.

Uzui steps closer and takes my hand in his and lifts it up to his lips before placing a kiss over my knuckles, “Much better now that my future fourth wife is back after a month. We missed you,” he teases before pulling me into a gentle hug.

“Y/N?” Muichiro asks as if suddenly remembering me, his reaction makes me smile and pull him into a hug. Muichiro was living with me for a few years now as the master didn’t want him to stay alone with his amnesia as well as the fact that he’s still a child. He was staying with Tengen the last month though and I missed him a lot. We have a very good relationship, but it can be a bit hard seeing him not remember me sometimes. Not that I mind, at the end of the day I’ll always be willing to help him remember me.

“Hey there Kiddo, how have you been?” I asked while ruffling his hair.

“I’m okay, I’m glad you’re back,” he answered before hugging me again making me grin at the teen.

“I’m glad too, buddy.”

“Hello, my children, glad to see you all here, healthy and intact,” we kneel in front of the master as soon as we realise that he’s arrived, and I greet him.

“Hello Master, it is good to see you in good health.” We all keep our heads down waiting for him to address us again. I could hear Mitsuri mumble something about her wanting to be the one to greet the master making me only look down more.

“Thank you, my child. Now as for why I have brought you here, as you all know Y/N has been away this past month on a mission to try and get more information on the upper ranks of the Twelve Kizuki. She has found some information about a suspicious number of demons in Tokyo, we suspect one of the demon moons is behind it. So, the reason I have gathered you all here my children is to ask for two volunteers to go with Y/N to infiltrate the city and take down the demon. So, my children, could two of you join her?” he speaks gently as always but in such a way that made everyone know there was no arguing, not that any of you would.

After a few minutes of silence, Giyuu spoke softly as usual, “I will go with her if you’ll allow me Master,” he was still in a kneeling position, his voice filled with respect for our leader.

“You may go if you wish to do so my child,” Master Kagaya answered him with a smile, “anyone else?”

“I will go, Master,” Muichiro spoke from next to me making me look at him with a frown.

“Very well then, Y/N do you have any objections to your partners?”

“I- Master forgive me for not agreeing, but I do not think it wise to bring Muichiro with. I understand that he is powerful and that he is a Pillar like the rest of us, but he is still a child. And he is under my protection, I do not want him to get hurt,” I speak my concerns.

“I understand your views and I respect them, but as you said Muichiro is a hashira just like the rest of you and he has taken down a member of the upper moons before, so I think it would be good to take him with you and Giyuu.”

I sigh slightly still not liking the idea but agreeing nevertheless, not wanting to go against the master’s wishes. “Yes, master.”

The meeting ended a while after and I was saying goodbye to Kyojuro and Tengen, “Take care of yourselves please,” I said looking at the two men towering over me.

“We should be the ones saying that to you, cupcake,” Uzui answers before pulling me into a hug.

“I’ll try my best,” I smile up at the sound pillar holding onto his bicep before turning to Kyojuro and giving him a hug as well. After goodbyes, the two of them walk away while talking and I look around for my two teammates and find them both sitting in silence waiting for me so we could get our orders from Master Kagaya. I walk over to them and get their attention.

“You two ready?” I ask standing in front of them now making the two Hashira look up at me for a second before nodding their heads, the three of us then walk to the master.

Here we go.

Muichiro and Giyuu follow me in silence as we make our way to the train station, we finally see the lights in the distance and I turn to them, “Okay, so you both know that the corps isn’t exactly… legal according to the government, so we’ll have to hide our swords from the train staff. So if you don’t mind giving them to me for a moment I can get them safely on the train.”

They look at me and nod before handing the two nichirin blades over to me. We finished our walk and found seats, I took out the swords and handed each to the two boys sitting in the compartment with me. Muichiro sits next to me and rests his head on my shoulder, “you okay Buddy?” I ask before bringing my hand up to smooth out his hair.

He nods softly before deciding to talk “I am, I just missed you,” he answers before slowly starting to drift off eventually falling asleep with his head against my shoulder making me smile.

“He really cares about you,” I hear a voice speak from across where I was sitting. I look up at Giyuu as he looks at us with his usual expression on his face with a hint of something I can’t quite catch in his eyes.

“I guess, I care about him too,” I smile at he boy sleeping, his face peaceful, not an ounce of worry on his face. “I care about you too, you know,” my words fall out of my mouth before I can process them. I look up at Giyuu and smile at him, he was always so quiet so I didn’t expect him to answer me, but to my surprise he did.

“Why?” he asked, a slight look of confusion on his face.

“Why what? Why do I care about you?” he nods making me frown, “because you’re my friend Tomioka, you were always nice to me when I first joined the corps, even before I became a hashira,” I take a breath wondering if I should say what I want to. All logic got thrown out the window when I look into his deep blue eyes. “Do you remember the first time we met Giyuu?”

He nods, his brows furrowing slightly as if wondering why I’m bringing this up “Yeah? Why?”

I smile “Do you remember your reaction to seeing me in Mr. Urukodaki’s house? You looked so surprised to see someone there. Your facial expression was priceless, as if you couldn’t believe your eyes. And then Mr. Urukodaki started teasing you about picking up your jaw. After a while you came in and ate with us and fell asleep,” I smile looking at the boy sleeping next to me before looking back up at Giyuu. “And then a few hours later when I couldn’t sleep you came to sit with me outside to look at the moon.” I look out the window to see the moon shining in the night sky. “Looking at you that night, the moon lighting up your face, I didn’t ever see anything as beautiful as you were that night. I care about you because you’re a kind person, you’re a hard worker, you’re funny, and so very stubborn. I care about you because you care for others with such a deep part of you that you don’t even realise it. But to be honest, I don’t care about you…” I contemplate my words, my pause and words making Giyuu frown. “I- I love you Giyuu.”

He looks at me in shock for a moment before blinking several times, his mouth opens and closes a few times before keeping his lips sealed making me speak again “I- Giyuu, you… you don’t have to say anything. I just- I wanted to let you know how I feel. Don’t let what I told you make you feel like you need to return my feelings, I just thought I should tell you.” I say quickly before looking away, “I think you should get some sleep now, tomorrow’s a long day. I’m a light sleeper so we don’t need to take turns staying up, you can sleep, I’ll wake up if there’s a problem.”

Giyuu looks at me for a few seconds before nodding and turning to the side to rest his head on the wall of the train compartment. He falls asleep in a few minutes and his breaths slowly even out.

I watch him a bit before turning my gaze to the window and watch the moon as we pass by the trees, the moon truly is beautiful, isn’t it?

The next day we got to our destination, I sneak our swords off the train and grab my luggage. Giyuu, Muichiro and I walk through the streets of Tokyo and find a place to stay. I speak to the clerk and pay him for the room. The man shows us our room and I thank him before closing the door and turning to the boys. “He seems nice,” I say smiling, “You two should get settled, we need to start investigating the area where the demon attacks happened a few days ago and the area surrounding the house.”

The boys grab their things and place them to the side of the room. I start up a conversation with Muichiro while we unpack. Giyuu just focused on his things while staying silent, only replying with a hum of agreement when you asked him something.

Maybe I messed up, my feelings should have remained a secret, an unspoken words that bonded you to him without it being returned. There has been a tension between us the whole day and I hate it, he hasn’t really spoken, not that he every really does, but this time it seemed more forced than his natural quietness he usually has. He has something he wants to say, but he’s trying not to.

“So, what’s up with you two?” Muichiro asks.

His questions makes me bink a few times, the words still being processed. Muichiro may be a kid with memory difficulties, but he’s one smart kid. I sometimes wish he would be a bit more oblivious to these things, but that’s never happening. “Nothing happened, why would you think something happened?”

“I can sense it,” he replied sticking out his tongue making me laugh and ruffle his hair.

“Well stop sensing it, everything will be fine,” I say smiling at him. We take a few more minutes to unpack our things and we leave to the area we need to investigate.

Once we get to the house we make our way inside, the bottom level seems normal, a clean corridor with a table and ornaments. A kitchen to the right of the hallway, a common area on the left and then a staircase straight ahead.

“Do you want us to split up?” I could hear Giyuu ask, speaking for the first time today making you turn to him.

“No, I think it’s best we stay together, we don’t know what we’ll find.”

“Okay then,” he answered before following me and Muichiro upstairs. We take slow steps to the top floor. Once we enter the hall I gasp and cover Muichiro’s eyes and I see Giyuu’s eyes widen ever so slightly. I regain my composure and look at the scene infront of us. The doors were smashed over, broken into numerous pieces, the grey walls were drenched in dark red stains, the floor covered in it as well. In between the blood splatters are several scratch marks spitting the wallpaper.

I look at the scene and move my gaze over to Giyuu, his eyes meet mine, a slight look of terror and sadness filled his eyes. I lean over to Muichiro while still covering his eyes. “You know I’ve seen worse right?” he mumbles.

“Mui, now’s not the time. I know you’ve seen worse but that still doesn’t mean that you should see this,” I said before pulling out a piece of material out of my pocket and tie it around Muichiro’s eyes.

“Oh c’mon,” he pouts, making me roll my eyes before holding onto his shoulders ushering him forward.

“Just keep that on please, I’ll help you around,” I say softly before guiding him to Giyuu to stand there. “Giyuu, can you please just stay here with him? I want to make sure the rooms are safe before you two go in.”

Giyuu stands there for a few seconds before speaking, “I think I should go check it out, you stay here with Tokito,” he spoke with a little more emotion in his voice than usual. I open my mouth to object but he does something I never would have thought, he smiles at me, and with that he walks into the room. I stand there with Muichiro for a few minutes and wait for Giyuu to call us or come out of the room. After about five minutes he hasn’t left the room making me take Mui’s hand and pulling him behind me to go look for Giyuu.

As we step in the doorway, I hear a yelp and a thud making me run into the room as fast as I can, “Mui, take off the material. You need to move alone now,”

“Finally!” He exclaims before ripping it off and letting go of my hand. I stop and look around the room to see any sign of Giyuu but fail to find any. I hear a soft grunt from above us and look up only to see Giyuu trapped in a sort of wool trap stuck to the celling while being choked by a thick rope like crochet part of the trap.

“Mui, stay vigilant, they have to be dangerous in order to have a Blood demon art such as this,” I say before removing my Katana from its sheath and holding it defensively. Right after I hold my katana in my hands, I see a figure move across the room and I move into a defensive position. “Tokito, can you try and free Tomioka? I don’t know if he can breathe in that thing.”

The mist pillar responds with an “Okay” before jumping up and slicing the crochet trap making Giyuu fall to the floor. “I got him down, he looks badly hurt though,” Mui told me softly before checking his pulse “He’s still got a pulse though so that’s good.”

I look at the demon feeling anger bubble up my stomach, how dare they hurt the man I love? How fucking dare they hurt the kind man that risks his own life every day for the sake of others? “You’re a fucking coward, hiding on the other side of the room in a shadow. Show yourself bastard!” I yell into the area I saw the demon. I look into the darkness before I see something jumping towards me.

I dodge the attack quickly and swing my blade as I turn around, I use the momentum in from my turn and let the force of it fall into the blade as I aim for the demon’s neck. In a second the demon’s neck rolls to the ground and the body stands there for a while before turning to ash. As soon as the body and head disappear, I run over to the boys.

“Mui we need to get him out of here and to Shinobu as soon as possible,” I said looking over his wounds, he was without air for a while so I’m afraid it might have affected him more than it looks.

I move his body and pick him up before telling Muichiro to follow me as we make our way out of the house. “Shouldn’t we wait for the Kakushi?”

“Giyuu may die if we don’t get him to someone who can help, so I don’t give a shit about the kakushi right now, I’m getting him to Shinobu’s!” I snap at him immediately regretting it afterwards as he flinches. “I’m sorry Mui, I didn’t mean to yell, I’m just scared. Can we go?” I apologize and he nods before following me. We both start running in the direction of the Butterfly Mansion with Giyuu unconscious on my back.

Please Giyuu, please be okay.

I look over at Giyuu in the infirmary bed, his breaths even and face in a peaceful rest. He looks so beautiful. He’s been like this for two weeks, the damage was worse than I originally thought, Shinobu said that if I didn’t start running when I did he would be dead right now.

I’ve been here with him since we got to the mansion, only ever leaving when I started to smell bad and needed a shower. Right now, I was starting to fall asleep in the chair next to his bed, I move my arm a little to hold his hand and I fall asleep. After a few hours I feel a soft squeeze to my hand causing me to wake up.

I look over at Giyuu, his eyes start to flutter making my eyes widen in shock. “Shinobu! Aoi! Tanjiro! Someone!” I yell out the door before turning my attention to Giyuu again, “Please wake up Giyuu, Please wake up,” I murmur as I hold his hand to my lips. After his eyes flutter a few more times they open.

“Oh my gods, yes! You’re awake! Oh, thank goodness!” I cry before standing up and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay, you scared the shit out of me. Please don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry what happened?-“ he gets cut off by Aoi and Tanjiro running in while Shinobu comes walking in casually, pissing me off. Could she at least pretend to care?

“Mr. Tomioka! You’re awake, thank goodness!” Tanjiro exclaims while running over to the bed.

“Oh, you’re awake Tomioka,” she says with her usual empty smile rubbing me the wrong way. Why am I getting so angry. “You’d think a Hashira wouldn’t get caught so easily by a lower rank demon, you’re lucky the River an Mist hashira were there.” As soon as she finished her one sided conversation my patience snaps.

“Your friend almost died and all you can say is ‘your awake’ and insult him for being attacked while trying to make sure it was safe for his team to enter? What the fuck is wrong with you?” I spit angerly.

“I think we should leave,” Aoi said to Tanjiro before the two of them leave.

“Are you jealous that he looks at me more than he looks at you Y/N?” Shinobu asks teasingly.

“You bitch-“ I move to pounce on her only to be caught by Giyuu still holding onto my hand.

“Please don’t fight like I’m not here. Y/n it’s okay, it’s just her way of speaking.” Giyuu says softly looking up at me.

“It’s not okay Giyuu! She treats you like trash and you always just say “It’s okay” but its not okay Giyuu! It’s not okay that you fell in love with someone who can’t even show a small amount of happiness that you’re okay after you almost died, that’s not good for you-“ I get cut off by Giyuu’s lips on my own.

The moment is short but it fills me with so much joy, the one thing I’ve wanted most for years is now finally happening. His lips are as soft as they look, they are gentle against my own. I wish we could always stay like this. But I pull away before letting my mind wander.

“I- what was that for?” I stutter.

“To get you to give me a chance to speak. I don’t have feelings for Shinobu. I don’t know what gave you that impression, but I only have feelings for you. You’re the only person I’m interested in, Shinobu is just a friend,” Giyuu replies softly holding my face in his hand.

“I think I’ll take my leave now,” Shinobu mutters before leaving the room smiling at the two of us, she planned this didn’t she?

“You… you really have feelings for me?” I ask softly, my face turning into a slight frown as tears pool in my eyes.

“How could I not? You’re wonderful, I love you, I can’t tell you why, or how. But I love you and I know I wouldn’t change that for anything.” He smiles at me, like actually smiles. His eyes wrinkle at the edges as his lips lift in an expression of happiness.

“I love you too,” I smile back at him with teary eyes. “Can I please kiss you?”

“Of course, you can,” he answers before pulling me in for a kiss. “I’m so happy that I finally got to do that.”

“Me too, Giyuu, me too.” I kiss him again and move to lay next to him on the bed, warmth washing over me as I fall asleep.

#demon giyuu au #giyuu tomioka angst #giyuu tomioka smut #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #giyuu x reader #demon slayer giyuu #kimetsu giyuu #muichiro #tomioka giyuu #muichiro tokito #kny muichiro #demon slayer muichiro #muichiro x reader #tanjiro kamado

141 notes · View notes

simpxxstan · 7 months

Text

perfect complements (ch. 1)

pairing: professor!seungcheol x professor!f.reader

genre: fluff, enemies to lovers, angst, slight smut

series summary: four and a half years of working together breeds familiarity, resentment, and everything in between. it's almost like living together.

chapter word count: 2.1k

warnings: bickering (will be a major feature in this story, so please do not read if verbal fights are not your cup of tea), seungcheol smokes.

a/n: seventeen is my new addiction and i'm not backing off! this is inspired from my dream life (hehe i want to be an econ prof). the series title is an econ term lolol sorry if it's too geeky. i think this series will have multiple spinoffs, maybe you can guess for which characters? all i can hope for is that i'll be able to pull through the plot till the very end and not get writers' block midway :(

slight heads up? seungcheol is 32 here, and the f. reader y/n is 33 here. wonwoo is 35-36, and minghao is slightly younger than seungcheol, probably 30. chan is 24-25 years old. y/n is shorter than seungcheol, and wears glasses. not much other physical description of y/n. also, this fic will probably have different povs, so this chapter is from seungcheol's pov.

thank you so much for reading! your reblogs, likes and comments mean sooo much honestly. i know every content creator says this, and i know we all mean it from our hearts.

enjoy some of my ult svt bias, seungcheollie!

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With four and a half years of working together comes a ton of familiarity. Choi Seungcheol knows it annoyingly well: annoying because he’s greeted by the sight of your coat on his chair again, and well because this is a sight he sees nearly every Monday. Four years ago, he would have tried to explain to you that it’s a Monday morning, he didn’t want to come to take classes this early, and his patience is running thin, so it would be very nice if you could remember which chair was yours every morning when you came and took off your coat. Three years ago, he would have shrieked out, irritation burning through his veins. Two years ago, he would walk up to your desk, and spill your coffee all over the term paper you were currently checking. One year ago, he would purposely ruin your day even if it increased his headache tenfold just thinking about ways to annoy you.

But not any more. Choi Seungcheol has decided you are not worth a penny of his hard earned money, a moment of his precious time, and a nano atom of his genius brain cells. He simply picks your coat and dumps it on the ground, deliciously close to the dustbin. He knows his ears shouldn’t perk up, but they do, and when they hear your reaction, it is so gratifying, it feels like he has won a World War.

“Prof. Choi, if you feel you cannot respect the personal property of others, feel free to accompany me to the Dean’s Office.” You have somehow stomped up to him, standing right before him, as he pulls out the chair to his desk, taking in the endless papers and books that are arranged neatly before him. Your attitude never ceases to surprise him, given that you’re an entire head shorter than him, and even if you’re wearing heels, he can tower over you whenever you stomp up to him in these little furies. It makes you look like a little furry puppy, your hands on your hips, and Seungcheol thrives off the fire burning in your eyes. “There, there. I’d actually love to, but it seems that you need to remember how to respect public property and not hog over the space of others.”

You’re staring at him above your glasses, which have slipped down to the middle of your nose, and god, Seungcheol finds it hilarious. He wants to burst out laughing, the only thing holding him on is his determination to not break character and push you further.

“And if your routine morning tantrums are over, Seungcheol and Y/N, please settle down in your seats. It seems like I have to send you both to college again.”

Said Dean’s voice booms out behind you, and although his voice is surprisingly firm, there’s a shit-eating grin on his face, and he walks towards the two of you. He picks up the coat, lying on the floor, and hands it to Y/N. Jeon Wonwoo does not miss out on how flustered you both look on getting caught during your little lovers’ quarrel, as Wonwoo likes to call it in his mind, all alone in the Economics Department Staffroom.

“Morning Wonwoo! Enlighten me why no one else is here. Why am I stuck with this lady through this sad Monday morning?”

Seungcheol leans back on his chair, casual now that Wonwoo has calmed down the mood. You walk back to your desk, which unfortunately is right opposite Seungcheol’s, but he’s used to your ugly face to stay unfazed by it now. It’s like a terrible gift from a nosy relative you’ve hung up on the wall for long enough that it doesn’t catch the eye anymore and is just… there. But he’s quick to take note of how you’re smiling at Wonwoo, your glasses have been pushed to the top of your head, revealing your forehead and the same tiny pair of diamond hoops you wear every day.

It is, like he knows well, a scene of familiarity. And he really despises that fact.

“Minghao has a conference, he’s in the States. This is in preparation for his exchange program thing.”

“Oh yeah, he texted me on Saturday that he’s leaving soon… wasn’t aware it’s today.” You speak softly, already opening your laptop to get started with your work for the day.

“And Minhee is in the Girls’ Hostel.”

“Why?” You both ask, confused. “I thought Prof. Kim from History is the warden?” “Yes, but they’ve recently gone on their maternity leave. Minhee has to take over. And, bad luck for her, but on the very first day, there’s been a kind of emergency. Some punches were thrown while drunk, and now Minhee’s lecturing them.” “As if anyone’s gonna take her seriously,” Seungcheol scoffs, since everyone knew Minhee to be one of the coolest professors in the university.

“Hey! They took me very seriously, thank you. This is the problem with men. Give them a woman with good tits and a kind face and they think she’s a dumb bitch to run over.” Minhee walks into the small Staffroom, looking very much exhausted but she’s never going to admit it. She plops down on your desk, pushing away the laptop. “Is the situation better now?” you ask, holding out your coffee to Minhee, asking her silently to take a sip. “Yes, thankfully. I’ll have to go and check again after classes get over for the day.”

“Well then, you’re all up to date. Don’t forget the meeting with the Faculty Coordinator today at 5 pm!” “Yes Sir,” you all echo unenthusiastically, as Wonwoo chuckles and walks out of the room. It’s going to be a long day and Seungcheol can already feel his temples buzzing.

Six classes down, and he’s feeling the Monday blues wear off into a blissful exhaustion. At the end of the day, this is a profession he has not once regretted choosing. He absolutely adores spending time with his students- mostly. There’s always going to be a black sheep, like Lee Chan from his Advanced Game Theory course. Chan isn’t a bad guy, per se. He’s just over-enthusiastic and is always looking to impress: which results in him reading texts beyond his level just to try and make Seungcheol happy and end up confusing the entire concept.

But at least dealing with the well-meaning Chan is better than going to the faculty counselling meeting with you. Well, not just with you. But he knows very well what he’s going to hear at the meeting, and he’s absolutely dreading it. He has nearly the same look on his face as his students do when they get the term results, he’s just better at masking it.

As he walks into the Faculty Coordinator’s office, he sees you’re already sitting in a corner, staring outside the window, while Minhee is chatting with the Coordinator. He notices you glancing his way once, before turning your eyes towards the sky again. “Good Afternoon Prof. Choi! How are you doing?” Ms. Song looks at Seungcheol with warm eyes as he takes a seat. “I’m fine, thank you, and you?” It seems that nervousness has rendered Seungcheol incapable of forming sentences beyond nursery-level, and both Minhee and Ms. Song let out a small laugh at his childish response. “I’m sure you know why you’re here, Prof. Choi, as does Prof. Y/L/N. I’ll spare you the intro.” Minhee asks, “Am I really needed to be here?” Ms. Song says, “Prof. Jeon, unless you seriously want me to be alone with this pair who want to murder each other, I would really prefer if you could be here.” Seungcheol is blushing now, embarrassed to the toe. He can hear you groan, and Minhee somehow finds it all funny enough to smile. “If it's so amusing to you, Minhee, you can leave. We swear we won’t kill each other today, if we’ve been able to control ourselves all this time.” Seungcheol’s not even looking at you, but the sarcasm is biting his skin.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, Prof. Y/L/N. Remember, aggression is not the key. We’re here for resolutions.”

“Well then, could we please proceed to the point directly?”

“You’re in a rush on a Monday? You play baseball with the kids after class-” you ask him, staring into his face.

“I have a date today after class.”

That shuts you up for good, and Seungcheol feels queasy. It’s one thing trying to get the last word in, and it’s another to hit your weak point just to get the last word in. He wants to explain but Ms. Song interrupts. “I’ll cut the chase. From what I can see now, and from all the reports I’ve received in the last three months, there’s been not much improvement from the situation we had observed earlier. In fact, it’s only gotten more alarming-”

“Ever since I’ve turned thirty-three,” you sigh, but Ms. Song ignores you.

“I’ve spoken to the Dean, Dr. Wonwoo, and also to some of the other faculty members you share your classes and university space with. We collectively think it’s only fair to say that your interpersonal relationship is harming the kind of environment we want to foster in our university. It is, by no means, a new development, and students of several batches have noticed this relationship of yours as well. This kind of banter, which includes quite serious threats at times-” she raises a hand to quieten Seungcheol’s attempt to interrupt, “is not conducive to a healthy academic environment.”

You both sigh, you whisper something along the lines of it’s not that serious, and although Seungcheol hates to say it out loud, he agrees with you.

“I would recommend you both to go to the University Counsellor and take a few… bonding sessions over the next semester. We think this kind of banter is not too serious, we’re extremely hopeful of a resolution. It’s just not happening right now, because you’re not aware of the efforts to be taken. Once you sit with a counsellor, the path will be clearer-”

Seungcheol doesn’t even realise when he’s stood up. It feels stuffy. He had thought he was long past the age of getting reprimanded for fighting with his peers.

“I really have to leave now. Thank you for the talk, Ms. Song. I’ll get back to you with my schedule and we can set up the meetings with the counsellor.”

“Prof. Choi.” The voice is stern, and Seungcheol holds up. He needs a cigarette, or fresh air. Neither is really available right now, so he grips on to the chair to steady himself. “I will mail you the meetings and Plan of Action, and you shall adjust your schedule accordingly. You know the consequences-” Seungcheol nods before the threat gets completed. Wonwoo has explained the consequences several times to him.

“I will do so. Don’t worry, Ms. Song. You shall get nothing but my best efforts.” “I hope so. Really.”

Seungcheol finally steps out of the room, and heaves deep breaths to get his brain working again. His phone rings, as he walks down the stairs to get away from the building. He picks it up while lighting the cigarette between his lips as he leaves the campus-

“Hello Cheollie! Should I come over to your place to pick you up or-”

“Hyerin?”

“What? Did you forget about our date? Yah! Oppa!”

“No no, I just-” he realises that you’ve just left the campus walking past him, not even sparing him a glance. He watches you as you walk farther away from him, your car blinking in the distance, and the tap-tap of your heels fading out amidst the sounds of the wind. The campus is remarkably quiet for this time of the day, or maybe he’s just too out of it all.

“I’ll meet you at the cafe. We can go to your place later, right?”

“Yes yes, I’ve talked to my roommate already, but why not Oppa’s place this time?” the sickly sweet voice from the other end of the phone irritates him, but he knows she’s acting cute just for fun.

“You know why-”

“Oppa, Kkuma doesn’t care about the girls you bring over.” “She does! She’s a very sensitive princess.” “Cheol-ah, you can just say you don’t care enough about me, and I’ll get it. Don’t bring the poor baby into this.” Seungcheol sighs. This is why he likes Hyerin, she can be mature when she wants to.

But it seems like now is not the time.

“I’ll see you later then, Oppa! Maybe tonight will change your mind!” “Hmm!” Seungcheol hears the call get cut, and he finally drags a puff from his cigarette. You’ve disappeared out of sight, and Seungcheol’s mind is clear now.

#choi seungcheol #s.coups #s.coups x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #s.coups series #s.coups fluff #s.coups fanfiction #seungcheol fanfiction #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol series #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seventeen fanfic #perfect complements series #simpxxstan

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totheblood · 8 months

Note

I honestly think a big reason we don’t see as many fics that are focused on plot is because a lot of people currently in the fandom haven’t even played/watched a full play through of the game and are literally only here to read smut about a hot masc lesbian they don’t really even know much about.

I feel like the stories posted in this fandom used to be so rich and the writers used to write Ellie so well because they joined this fandom because they loved her as a character. So many of them were based in tlou universe (which we hardly see anymore I feel like) and had plot beyond smut. And the AUs that used to be put out were about life and falling in love and not just being railed by hot masc (true blue always comes to mind <3),

I feel like I may be wording all of this weird but basically, I think initially everyone’s love for the video game itself and their love for Ellie as a character made the fics more complex, interesting, and passionate by default. But now, with so many ppl who write for Ellie for the pure purpose of smut, it seems like a lot of the magic has been lost.

Also, as much as all of the responsible adults in this fandom try to avoid it, there are minors at every corner. It’s extremely evident by their writing and the way they post.

Idk. I love smut. I don’t want to sound like a hater because I feel like it’s really hard to say anything without being labeled as one. And at the end of the day, people can write what they want. But there is a clear different in the quality of this fandom in Jan-March vs how it is now!

this is beautifully written, and with the last part i agree. i hope i don’t come off as a hater or anything as someone who really enjoys smut as well and i dont ever want to dictate what someone writes and doesn’t write. in these posts im mostly speaking for myself and not really saying a lot about other people. we have insanely talented people who primarily write smut with interesting plot lines, etc etc etc. i know tumblr is mostly smut in any fandom though, i just really love fleshed out fanfiction stories which is why i try to write those.

but the first part is true and i fell victim to it. as someone who has played the game and watched run throughs multiple times, i’ve strayed soooo far from the plot and most of my fics are au’s with ellie’s character still semi intact. this is also a main reason i wrote cutty love because i saw myself primarily writing modern day au’s and wanted to delve back into canon tlou. the fortunate part is the world tlou is set in gives a lot of opportunities for plot, storylines, and angst and i wish more people, including me, took advantage of that.

there is a deep magic to loving a character dearly that i know a lot of people have here. so i hope we get more of that!

#asked & answered #anonymous #ellie williams x reader

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ss-skyearn · 1 year

Text

Incandescent

PAIRING : Lee Minho x afab!reader.

WORD COUNT : 5.7k.

GENRE : Angst, Smut, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Vampire au (identity of the vampire not revealed in the warnings for plot purposes), explicit sexual content, switch!Minho, switch!reader, grinding, dry humping, desperation, unprotected intercourse (can we not, please), blood (got a little creative with it), just really emotional and fulfilling for both parties *sob* they're in love.

A/N : To all those waiting, I'm working on part two to Sugar Rush but the break I took from writing is proving to be a massive hinderance, so this a little something I wrote while trying to get back into it. Enjoy, lovelies. ♡

"Or I will," it's not a threat, but the potency with which you state it makes it seem like one.

"Do it," it's not a challenge, but the voracity with which he says it makes it seem like one.

A tug of war between rationality and derangement, that is what being with him is like. Always.

Because Lee Minho makes you do vile things, makes you want to corrupt every part of you, and him in the process.

The night is young, the moon looming over the horizon, a mere twinkle all that's seen among the heavy clouds settled at this hour of night.

But you don't need it, not the gleam of the moon, not the dazzle of the nightlights laminating the cheap motel room.

For his silky smooth skin does just the job.

Doesn't help that the buttons to his equally silky shirt are undone all the way.

There he stands, leaning against the window sill, looking into the distant sky, gaze stoic, as if challenging the moon.

If he actually did, you know he's already won.

There's no match for him, not the moon, not the stars, not the galaxy. It's him, only him for you.

Has been, for far too long.

Longer than you've let yourself accept. You'd known when he'd started growing on you, when you saw him for who he was, when you let him peel off the layers to your heart, your soul, albeit unwillingly. For the grief of acceptance of your wandering heart wasn't something you could stomach. For your sake and your love's. A past love. But a love, nonetheless.

He suddenly pushes forward, standing straight before glancing over his shoulder to your sleeping form— what he thinks is your sleeping form.

You quickly squeeze your eyes shut, perhaps a little too tight to be considered natural, and pray he doesn't notice.

But of course, he does.

A drawn out sigh is all that's heard, all that needs to be heard. You know he's onto you.

You'll pretend all the same.

You keep your eyes shut, ears hyperactive, making out the path the soft pad of his shoes follow. He's moving somewhere away from the bed where you're nestled, and you heave out an inaudible sigh of relief. You don't fool yourself into believing he doesn't know. He does, he always does. But you're thankful he's choosing not to point it out. You're not sure you could handle it right now.

The slow sound of liquid hitting a surface echoes through the eerily quiet room, followed by a splash, then ice cubes clinking.

He's swirling his drink, twice clockwise. The best way to enjoy bourbon, he'd always say.

He walks again, this time towards the bed and you can't help crackling open an eye, enough to catch a glimpse, for this is the first time you're able to without the crushing weight of regret, without the guilt eating away at your insides.

There he sits, back reclined against the armchair, legs on the opposite chair, one swinged over the other. One elbow rests on the edge of the table, the same hand clawing the base of the lowball glass. Still. Not swirling.

Only twice, clockwise.

The chain that goes around his ankle length boots glimmers, the long expanse of honey skin visible through his open shirt that now is pulled further apart his torso, given his leaning stance. Reclined there, he paints the picture of beauty you've never been subject to, the picture of beauty you've never been allowed to be subject to.

He'd always been there— no less attractive— but he wasn't yours to see, yours to admire. He still isn't, you suppose, but he isn't not yours either.

Indeed, this limbo of nothing but something is far better than him simply being off limits, a fate you'd accepted long ago. But that supposed fate no longer stands, and he's all your eyes can seem to want to admire, to desire.

And it's that very same desire that has now forced your eyes wide open, sleeping pretences forgotten. You curl in yourself, hiking the blanket further up your cheek, hand fisting it just underneath your chin, eyes wide and twinkling, taking him in, drinking him in.

Though his posture mimics a relaxed bearing, you know it's anything but.

The slight downward frown to his full lips, the locked jaw, flexed cheekbones, phlegmatic eyes give it away. He might be leaning back, physically relaxed, but his mind is running a mile a minute.

You would know. Yours is too.

His eyes suddenly cut in your direction, locking with yours. Your own gaze doesn't falter, for all the sleeping act was worth, you both know you had been awake anyway. No point in continuing with the facade.

He brings the glass to his plush lips, eyes still peering into yours from behind the rim. He tips his head back, knocking the entire shot in a gulp.

No hiss follows. Bourbon is watered down coffee to him at this point.

No buzz, just a lingering burn on the tongue, he'd said.

As his Adam's apple bobs with his gulp, you no longer can help your gaze as it follows, making its way from his clavicle, to his chest, to the taught muscle of his abs, the sharp angle of the v line you want to see more of, before it disappears behind his tight fit pants.

He observes you checking him out, indulges you for a moment, before wordlessly getting up.

Placing the now empty glass on the nightstand, he slowly slides under the covers, with you, but still so far.

He's on the far end of the bed, the literal edge. As far as is possible while still sharing the same sleeping space. And it's not for lack of want, you know. His desire is lucid, swimming in the honey pools that are his eyes. You only hope that your own isn't as evident as his.

Slowly, as if testing the waters, he slides his hand forward under the duvet, eyes carefully studying your reaction, making sure. What exactly, you haven't an idea.

His cold hand slips into your warm one, fingers brushing and you shudder. Visibly.

It's a simple touch, the simplest there is, you'd argue. One you've been subject to at various instances by various individuals.

None of them being him.

Really, he's the only one that can get you pliable like this, can get your body to react like this.

Your eyes flutter shut, heart teetering close to arrhythmia, and whisper with a voice appallingly weak, "Dont."

"Why not?"

His answer is quick, almost a reflex, as if expecting you to say something along the lines. And with good reason. That's all you've been saying to him the last however long he's been haunting your existence, toying with your heart, coaxing a side of you you don't want out.

But your body had by now been trained to listen to him over you where he's concerned. There's simply nothing you can do. Doesn't stop you from trying, though.

His thumb slides over your knuckles slowly, reassuringly. His eyes still flick across your face, looking for even a glimpse of reluctance.

You know he won't find any. But what he will find is what you're afraid of. The want. The yearning. The longing. And for all the show you're making of pushing him away, the fucking excitement of finally being alone with him.

It's a dangerous game you're playing, tipping treacherously close to the precipice of doing something you know doesn't have a turnabout. You need to stop this. Now. Before all else is forgotten, caution thrown out the window. Anytime now.

So you do the only thing that you can, forcing your body from under the covers and gliding off the bed. The sudden gush of chilly breeze slides the sleeve of your robe off and it's then that you realise that it had come undone at some point during your rustling on the bed.

You don't have to glance back to know that he's looking.

Quickly winding the belt around your lower torso, you make work of the knot and move to stand in front of the window he was before moments prior.

Looking up at the moon, you're sure about it all over again. No lustre beats the honey tone of his skin, the one you want to run your hands all over, the one you want to feel against yours.

The mere thought stirs shameful desire within you before you have a chance to eliminate it, and you suppose it can be allowed once. Just once. You'll let your mind live the imaginary fantasy.

Or perhaps the real one. If he's so inclined.

You know this because you can hear the rustle of the sheets, heeled boots clacking on the hollowed floorboard. The speed at which they approach you is nothing like the soft pad you'd heard while laying in bed, just a touch on the frantic side.

He stops just behind you, almost touching but not quite. You know he won't. Not unless you give him the green light.

You've both kept your distance for as long as you've known him— or rather known of him. You've endured it all that time, you can go a little longer.

He's right there, a mere inch behind you. All that's needed is for you tilt on the heel of your foot just so, and you'll actually experience his warmth, instead of just feeling it radiating off him.

But you don't move that one inch backward. And he doesn't move that one inch forward.

"Why not?" he reiterates.

"You know why."

"I honestly don't. What's wrong, now?"

You exhale into the night air, leaning forward a tad, fingers gripping the rail. He moves closer still, the body heat intensifying. Yet not quite touching.

"What's wrong, kitten?"

"I—"

"I know you want to."

Of course you do. That hasn't ever been a question. Not even back then, back when it was supposed to be.

Of course you want him, of course you crave him. He's invaded your life, infested your mind, took over your being. Merely by existing. That just goes to show the extent of damage that can be done.

The brighter the flame, the more ghastly the burn.

But you'd burn for him. You'd let him walk you to whatever condemnation there is, right through the gates of the abyss that lies ahead.

And the longer he stays behind you like this, in such proximity yet the farthest he's ever been, you're that much closer to accepting your fate, to giving in, to finally letting your heart have what it's been denied all this time.

You turn just slightly, glancing over your shoulder, and one look at his gaze, so stern, so powerful, yet with a glint of tenderness only you've ever been subject to, and all walls come crashing down, the desire overflowing, the metaphorical dam reaching its breaking point.

You lunge forward, fisting your hands into the collar of his open shirt, yanking him towards you until there's no distance left to close, your breaths mingling together, lips mere centimetres apart.

"I- don't."

Just why are you asking him to stop when it's you who's desperately clawing at him, you don't know. Perhaps you fool yourself into believing that this isn't on you, it's not you who's pulling him in, not you who's moments away from tasting him.

Come to think of it, it's all you've been doing. Pretending to be the one with morals, fooling yourself into believing that you're doing the right thing, posing to be the picture of scrupulous, when you know damn well you're none of those, far from it.

And the faint smile that takes over his striking features is reminder enough. Reminder of how he never once complained even as he saw right through you, how he never called your feelings out even as he knew of your straying heart, how he never tried to deny the accusations, the insults, the rebukes, taking it all in stride, storming through it all.

Yes, he's the bastard who fell in love with his brother's girl.

Yes, he's the scoundrel who tried to steal her away from him.

Yes, he's the motherfucker who did finally steal her away from him.

And yet again, he's falling into the character he's taken on these past few months, of taking the blame, of silently suffering. Anything if it means he has you.

Just like this, so close and alone. Nothing more. Nothing less. In a spiral of time, where this moment never ends, where you don't have to worry about the consequences, the repercussions.

But it seems like you do, for the look on your face is positively screaming for help, your eyes unsettled, lips parted in trepidation.

And so, he takes over the role of the responsibility bearer, if only to assure you that yes, it is in fact his fault, he's the one who brought you here, and he's the one making the first move.

His hands move your waist, grasping at the curve of it, large palms easily engulfing it in warmth.

Breaths hitching, for it seems touching you has just the same effect on him as his touch does on you, and it takes all of a minute for you to know what he's doing.

"Don't," seems like that's all you're capable of saying today.

Yet this utterance is not quite the same as the ones you breathed before.

Before, it was a warning, a cautious withdrawal, a plea to not touch you anymore for you're not sure you can handle it.

Now, it's an understanding, a discernment, a plea to stop playing the part of the bad guy, for you're not sure you can handle that either.

He makes you weak.

Weak in a way that makes you want to run into his arms and let him protect you from all that is wrong, all that is malicious, all that keeps him away from you.

And you know he will. Protect you with his life. Cherish you with his soul. Love you with his heart.

And as you lean into him at long last, you embrace it, accept it— he's what you really want.

You're both gasping, skin tinged a shade of pink, equally breathless at having finally had a taste of what you'd been craving for far too long, what you'd been denied longer than that. It had been you— you who had denied yourself this, so you have no one else to blame. But in this moment, when his hands slowly glide up your sides, caressing you with gentle care, the soft touches juxtaposed by the way his eyes turn crimson in reflection of his unadulterated want for you, you suddenly don't remember why had you done that. It's unmistakable, the ardour he holds for you, the desire you do for him. You thought you were good at masking it, but were you really?

With the way your body betrays your sense of reason, the way you slot your lips in between his in a wanton display of want, the contented hum that leaves you involuntarily when you push your tongue and slide it over his, you wonder if it was this apparent even before.

Did Hyunjin really not know? Did he not catch the fire that burnt so bright between you, the electricity tying you together, the way you crave him. Did he not know or did be simply not want to know? Turning a blind eye, waiting for you to come back to your senses, to come back to him.

Did he know, an iron rod left in the company of a magnet gets magnetised; the longer it stays, the closer it rests, the more intense the field, the greater the conversion. And convert you he did, into an electromagnet no less. The field of force so strong, growing fiercer by the second, it was only a matter of time before it consumed you whole.

"Stop thinking of him," a whisper says against your lips.

Your drifting mind comes to, and you find Minho peering with his eyes into yours, the crimson in them dulled.

"I'm here, so stop thinking of him."

For some reason, your eyes water, throat constricting, thick with emotion you dare not try to describe, for you don't know yourself.

But of course, he does.

You find your face cradled into the palms of tender hands, kind face looking down at you with a wistful smile playing on the plush kiss bitten lips.

"It's okay, kitten, it's okay."

"It's not," a weak whisper, indicative of your equally weak state of mind.

"It is. It's normal to think of him when he's all you've ever had. But I'm going to change that, I want to change that. Will you let me?"

You give him a meek nod, not finding it in yourself to hold back any longer.

"I want you to say it, kitten. Please, I want to know it's what you want."

You clench your fist into his shirt that dangles of his frame, sliding it off his shoulders, letting it pool behind him, "I want you. So bad."

"Then have me," he pushes forward with a sudden force, all the care having dissipated in favour of passion.

The breath is knocked from you with the way he whisks the two of you to a nearby wall, with a speed impossible for a human to achieve, but it's no task for him. Indeed, he has to hold back as to not go too fast, lest it render you both dizzy, something you're already teetering at the edge of.

You gasp when he tears your top off in a display of sheer strength, and again, it's no chore for his supernatural strength, evident in the way his orbs once again glimer scarlet, putting any flame to shame. His voice is hoarse when he says what he does next, another reminder of his inner demon emerging out in the haze of his arousal.

"Could've had me whenever you wanted," he noses at your jaw, hums at the sweet scent hitting his nostrils.

"Minho—"

He growls, pushing forward into you until you're compressed against the wall with nowhere further to go, your mind enveloped by everything that's him.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Stop saying my name like that," he begins a frantic rub of his lower half against yours, fingers digging further into your waist where he holds you.

"It's all I've wanted to do," you say through glassy eyes, head falling back onto the wall.

He hurtles you away yet again at that inhuman pace, pushing onto the bed proper with his frame hovering over yours.

"Why didn't you, then?"

It's a rhetorical question, the answer to which he knows himself, so you choose not to answer, simply wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging onto him as he tastes your neck.

The chill air from the open window causes goosebumps to break across the wet trail his tongue leaves on your throat, a gentle moan escaping you.

"You smell so sweet," he murmurs against you, voice muffled by his unwillingness to detach himself from your skin, "fuck."

Once again, he begins his mindless rut, and you know it's involuntary, for the way your hips respond in the same manner is unintentional too.

"Taste me," you gasp out, winding your fingers into his silver locks and pushing his face further into your neck.

His movements still, and he easily lifts his head off you despite the hold you have on his hair on account of his paranormal strength.

"Don't say that."

"But I want you to," you say looking right into his eyes, that now glow the brightest they ever have. His face is paler than usual, lashes longer and prettier than they have ever been, lips more pink than you recall, and you know that it isn't the direct result of your attack on them. You'd heard the effect arousal can have on vampires, their beauty being intensified multifold. You thought you'd witnessed it every time you spent a night with Hyunjin— his features accentuated, face framed more delicately than usual.

But on Minho, it's all so different. It's not a change that's slight, in any sense of the word. Unlike Hyunjin, he's glowing, with his high cheekbones dusted rosy, mouth parted to release rapid huffs of breath, his breathing laboured. You'd never even entertained the idea, that he could be any more beautiful than he already was, but here he is, painting the very picture of etherealism.

"Drink from me," you echo, running your hand over his forearm in silent encouragement.

It's then that you witness it, for the first time on him. The way the nerves on his under eyes bulge out, hot red blood running through them all too visible, the pulse in them loud enough to roar in your ears. You reach forward, gently trace your fingertips over the cascade they make. They're uneven under your touch, ridges that throb with every beat of his once alive heart. Indeed, it lies still underneath your other hand that rests on his chest, no sign of life for there is none.

"You know what that means," he sighs, resistance already cracking, gently clasping his hand over your wrist, making no attempts at taking it off his face.

Another thing that's so vastly different from Hyunjin. He used to coware in on himself, turn his face away, going as far as to stop midway, just to hide the predator that resided within him. Despite your constant reassurance of wanting to see every part of him, incessant pleas to trust you, to let you behold him for the beauty that he is, he hadn't allowed you that.

But Minho makes no attempt to stop you from admiring him, even snuggling into your touch further, confident in all that he is. He knows it, has accepted it a long while back.

"You're thinking about him again," there's no malice in his voice, no hint of resentment. And that makes you feel all the more guilty.

"I'm so sorr—"

"Don't be," a kiss is planted straight on your lips, so gentle it might as well not be there at all, "I knew what I was getting myself into."

"Minho, I—"

"Don't need to explain yourself, kitten."

"No," you nudge at his chest and he allows you to push him back onto the mattress, to straddle his thighs and rest yourself in the comfort of his lap. It's an unfamiliar position, as is just about anything with him. Having spent far too long craving for— and being denied of— the intimacy of his body warmth, you don't know when it'll stop feeling so foreign, so electric.

"I do. This isn't fair to you. Or me. He's no longer in the picture, I should be here with you."

He winds his arms around your waist, pulls you further into him, "You were with him a long time, it's only natural to compare."

Oh.

So he knows.

Gentle scratches on your scalp lull you to a state more vulnerable you would ever allow yourself to be exposed to, but right now, with him doing doing just the same, you suppose it's alright to let go of the control you hold so dear at all times.

"I—"

"Besides its not like he's completely out of the picture," he rambles, a rarity for him, you're aware, "this is stolen time we have right now—"

"All the more reason to make good on it."

"So it's more than enough that I even get to do this with you, who knows if I'll ever get to do it again—"

"I've made my decision."

"So it's fine really, just try, okay? I don't mind—"

Further incoherent maundering silenced by a firm press of your lips on his, he melts into you, slumping back against the headboard.

"I've made my decision," you repeat, knowing full well he didn't hear you the first time around.

His eyes droop, acceptance spelt out in bold on his face.

"Tell me after we're done?"

"No."

His hold on you unwinds a little, eyes losing their fire.

"Kitten, I don't think I can go through with this after you tell me you're going back to him—"

"I choose you," you smile, and the crimson, with its flames roads in his orbs once again, "I choose you, Lee Minho. Will you choose me?"

Overcome with emotion, he lunges for you again, kisses you in a way that makes it difficult to breathe, but with him so near, so close, you simply don't wish to. He's the breath you need, the reprieve to your burning lungs, the respite on this chilly night.

"Always did," he speaks into your mouth, moving further down south where he nips at your collarbone.

"Bite me, then."

And yet again, he stills, looks up at you through his lashes, the veins under his eyes prominent once more. He doesn't need to voice his reluctance, you see it all too well, your patience running thin.

"Or I will," it's not a threat, but the potency with which you state it makes it seem like one.

"Do it," it's not a challenge, but the voracity with which he says it makes it seem like one.

Your own eyes burn crimson, you know because you see it reflected in his orbs that widen in want. It's instinctual, the way your lips part, canines extending past the length of neighbouring teeth, the way your tongue swipes over the pointed ends, your own veins hardening and protruding under your eyes.

"Fuck, you're beautiful like this," he says, witnessing the vampire in you take over.

You're similar to him in this respect, you realise. For as much as Hyunjin hates what he is, you both embrace it with open arms, resign to being what you once weren't. Denial can only last so long, and truth be told the perks far outweigh the demerits— not least of them being how your senses, ever on high alert, are even more so when you indulge in intimacy, the heat of the moment intensifying, feeling every touch, every caress straight to your core.

You lean down towards him, gently grazing your fangs on the soft expanse of his neck, his scent driving you off the edge.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he knows you do, and the recurrent reminder only serves to make you want to do it even more.

But he needs a clear answer, deserves it. So with the last shreds of patience you still somehow possess, you manage to pull away from the crook of his neck, looking straight at him, "He gave me a choice. To choose him or you. That was the whole point of us coming here, right?"

He nods. You chuckle.

"He eventually saw this- this thing between us, and asked me if I had feelings for you," you don't know why you're reiterating the entire backstory, it being far from something he doesn't know, "He didn't believe me when I denied and so he sent us here, for me to figure out what I want."

He just nods again. You take his face in your hands, thumbs stroking the area adjacent to his ears, rubbing gentle circles, getting him to relax into you.

"Turns out I knew what I wanted all along. You. I want you. All of you."

And your mouth is back on his throat, kissing down along the length, suckling until it's painted in blues and purples.

"You want this, baby?" you whisper.

"Only if you keep calling me that," his voice is wobbly, cracking around the edges, and judging by the hardness that pokes your thigh, you have a pretty good idea as to why.

"Baby. My baby."

"Fuck—"

"Can I have your blood, baby? Smells so good…"

"Shit, have all of it."

You huff out a laugh, "Mm, a sip will do."

The notion couldn't be more erroneous if it tried.

As soon as you lick a bold stripe up his skin to soften it, preparing it for the no doubt excruciating pain that is to follow soon, and finally sink your fangs into him, you're a goner. The growl that leaves you, blended together with his moan is music to your ears, the perfect backtrack to his flavour that floods your mouth.

He tastes piquant, tart and spicy, an undernote of sugar lingering somewhere on the back of your tongue. You hum, sink your canines further into him, and meet no resistance. If anything, he tangles his hand in your hair, pushing you into him even more.

"Fuck, you're delicious."

He laughs, the gentle rumble reverberating through your chest from his, and you will yourself to detach from where you're still biting into him.

A few stray droplets trickle from two freshly made cavities that now mark his once flawless skin, and you collect them onto your tongue, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Swiping a thumb over the blood that still lingers on your bottom lip, you bring it to his mouth, and yet again are met with no defiance. He parts his mouth all too willingly, sucking his own essence off your fingertip, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he does so.

Thumb still in his mouth, you bite into a fresh patch of skin, right by his clavicle. The cry that leaves him buzzes and dances around your digit, which you instinctively push deeper into his heated cavern. The lack of opposition from him is getting to your head, making you wonder if he'll do anything you ask of him, if he'll bend to your wills, just where do his limits lie— if they do, at all, for he is nothing short of competitive, driven for all the right reasons— and the wrong— and in this instance, you choose to use it to your advantage.

So you take in a generous mouthful of his ichor, prying his mouth apart with the thumb nestled deep into it. He's confused for all of a minute before he catches on, the glint in his eyes in addition to the crimson fire that has not once dimmed since you started indication enough of his approval of just what you're about to do. Indeed, it isn't something typically indulged in, certainly not with this kind of liquid.

But Lee Minho makes you do vile things, makes you want to corrupt every part of you, and him in the process.

Your lips connect, he tips his head back without you having to ask him to and as the red liquid travels from your mouth to his, you clasp his head in place, giving him every last bit of him from you. It's a messy affair, as one would expect, droplets trickling down between your connected mouths, but if the contented hum that leaves him is any indication, he doesn't seem to mind either.

You begin to pull away, but his hand suddenly pushes into the space between your shoulder blades, keeping you— and your mouth— pressed to him. He licks into your mouth, hot and heavy, caressing your tongue with his, and it's only a moment's delay when it hits you— he's cleaning any remnants of him still left in you.

By the time you part, you're both panting, gasping for breath, and he once again brings up the inevitable,

"You know what this means," it's not as much a question as it is a fact this time around.

"I do. You're stuck with me now, whether you like it or not."

His eyes sombre, carrying so much fondness you feel undeserving; he gently rolls you to your back on the bed until his face hovers mere inches away from yours, "Unbeknownst to you I already was, the day I saw you with my brother at the ball."

"I'll tell Hyunjin about us when we get back," you brush his long locks away from his forehead and behind his ears, only for them to fall back down on your face, soft and tickling, "about this," your thumb gently runs on the fang marks you've left on him, ones to stay there forever, to mark him as yours, never to fade away.

"You think he'll take it well?" his face drops to the junction between your neck and shoulder, voice a mere whisper.

"You know the answer."

"He loves you."

"But I love you," you stroke his hair delicately, praying this is enough to let him know of the gravity of your feelings for him.

"What if- what if you don't one day? You loved him too, but you don't now. What if you decide you don't love me anymore and that he was better—"

"Baby."

"I'm sorry," he sighs, realising he let his insecurities take over, yet again.

"Don't apologise, my heart. I do love him still, as a friend, as a support system in my life; I'm just not in love with him. You're it for me. Please believe me."

"I do," wet kisses littered across your neck, gentle and faint, enough to make you crave more.

"Mark me, then."

"What?"

His head snaps up then, furrowed brows roofing even more confused eyes.

"Mark me as yours, too. Like I did you," your eyes flit to the bite mark on his neck, clear as day. Maybe you should've marked him in a place where it wasn't so easily visible, or maybe you should've bit in a place more apparent.

A tug of war between rationality and derangement, that is what being with him is like. Always.

"I-I can?"

You have to say, you're a little hurt at the surprise to his tone.

"I told you to believe me, didn't I?"

"B-but—"

"Please?"

"Fuck—"

And it's only with him filling you with a delicious stretch that he finally sinks his teeth into you, the paradox of pain and pleasure addicting in a way you thought impossible, and surely, this isn't a one time thing— it can't be.

"We belong together now."

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dbnightingale24 · 2 months

Text

Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart

A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story

Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!

Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?

Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.

“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.

“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.

“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.

“When isn’t he?”

“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”

“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.

Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.

Everyone except Curtis.

You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.

She never did.

You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.

It never has and it never will.

That was the first time you saw him.

You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you.

It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.

They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself.

At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference.

“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.

“Clearly I do!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Edgar-”

“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”

“Edgar-”

“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”

“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.

“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.

After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.

“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.

“Having one what?”

“Child?”

“Fuck no!”

“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”

“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”

“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”

“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed

Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.

“Why don’t you believe in him?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.

“Y/N-”

“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”

Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time.

Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together.

“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”

“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”

“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”

“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”

“I’m not having another argument about this-”

“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re gonna be late. Go.”

You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.

“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”

“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.

“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”

“Edgar-”

“We’ll have a future, children, space-”

“I just want you! Please-”

“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him alive.

When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something.

Everyone except you.

“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar.

Sansa, who’s his regular girl.

“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time.

You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train, that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.

He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train.

“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.

In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.

“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.

He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.

“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”

“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.

“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”

“Edgar made his choice-”

“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”

“That’s not true!”

You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.

No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you.

He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.

With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.

However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.

Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.

A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”

“Could be you.”

“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”

Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”

Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”

“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”

“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”

You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.

“Never!”

“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”

Of all the fucking times to be turned on.

“Curtis-”

“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”

You push him off of you and glare at him.

“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”

“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”

“He trusted you!”

“That was his fault!”

There it is.

“So you admit it!”

“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”

“You’re monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”

His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.

“Bitch!”

You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.

“Get out!”

“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”

“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.

“HELP!”

“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.

Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.

“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”

“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”

You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.

Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.

“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.

“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”

“Curtis-”

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.

“O-oh! Curtis!”

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.

“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”

Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“You’re fucking soaked!”

“Stop-”

“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”

You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.

“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.

“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”

“Oh fuck!”

You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.

“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.

“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”

“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace.

He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way.

You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”

The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”

The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.

“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.

“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.

The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.

“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”

“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.

You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.

“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.

Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.

Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”

“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.

That’s new.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.

How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.

The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now.

“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.

You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.

“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.

“Shit!”

He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”

He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck.

“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”

You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck.

“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.

You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.

It feels so fucking good.

“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, there it is!”

“Too much!”

“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic.

The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.

“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.

Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.

You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”

Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.

You’ll want him again and again.

A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.

“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.

Well, you’ve fucking done it now.

He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.

Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.

You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”

He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.

“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”

You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”

“Ngh!”

“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”

The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.

“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”

You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.

“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.

“DADDY!”

“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”

You lazily shake your head ‘no’.

“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.

That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.

“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.

You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.

You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.

“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.

Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.

You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.

The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”

“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.

You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.

“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”

Curtis.

All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”

“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.

You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.

“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.

It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.

You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?

‘I love you.’

There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?

“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.

When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”

You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.

“What?”

“Please...just go away.”

“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”

“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”

“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are.

Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.

“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.

It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”

You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?

Curtis’ P.O.V.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.

You wanted me all along.

It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him.

You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much.

Two fucking years.

Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.

I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.

“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.

Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.

“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted?

Because you’re not a monster at all.

Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.

How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.

You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.

How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too.

“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.

“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”

“Did you explain?”

“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”

He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”

“What now?”

“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”

“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”

He’s not wrong.

“Did you hurt her?”

“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”

“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.

I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.

“Will you stop with that shit?!”

“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.

“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.

He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”

“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”

I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.

“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.

I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know.

“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.

“Yes sir.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.

In time, you’ll understand.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.

You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.

You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”

“You’re hungry-”

“What will you eat?”

“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.

You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”

“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”

He had a point there.

“Go on, take it,” he offered again.

“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”

“Y/N-”

You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”

He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”

You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.

God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone.

Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.

The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.

As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.

All of this was your fault.

“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.

“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”

He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”

“Curtis-”

“Why have you been crying all day?”

You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.

“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”

“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”

“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”

“You can literally have whoever else you want-”

You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.

“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.

His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.

“You don’t-”

“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”

“Curtis...stop.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not love-”

“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”

For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.

He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”

“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”

“Curtis...”

“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”

Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him.

“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”

You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that.

“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”

You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.

He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”

You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.

Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.

“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him.

He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.

“AH SHIT!”

He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”

You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”

“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.

Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.

“Please....please!”

His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”

He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.

You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”

Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.

Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.

“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”

Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.

“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”

He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.

“Aht!”

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.

You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.

“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”

“Always gonna be mine?”

“A-an-anything you w-want!”

He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”

Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”

You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”

The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Do you love me?”

The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”

He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.

You’re too tired to fight it.

“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.

Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.

The very front of the train.

That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.

“I’m here,” he calls softly.

You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.

“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”

He’s not wrong about you being sore.

“Nothing-”

Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.

“It doesn’t matter right now-”

“Curtis, what’s wrong?”

There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.

“That’s the problem right there.”

“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”

“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”

“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”

“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”

“It’s a simple yes or no question-”

“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”

“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”

“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”

“Curtis-”

“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”

You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”

“Just tell me!’

“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.

He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad.

When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”

You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.

“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

“Curtis-”

“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.

You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.

“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”

Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together.

You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”

“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.

“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”

He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”

Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, Curtis.”

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lusthurts · 9 months

Text

**SPOILER WARNING FOR THE RED WHITE AND ROYAL BLUE MOVIE**

This movie was very entertaining. It hit all the beats of a great rom-com. I personally enjoyed the music a lot, even if it was at times very different from the music in the book. Nicholas Galitzine was a standout of the main cast for me - he really made me feel Henry’s angst just like the book did, and I think this is a character that the film truly did justice. My personal favorite character from the movie though was Zahra - Sarah Shahi was absolutely incredible. She had fantastic comedic timing and her dynamic with Alex, Henry, Shaan, and Ellen. I really enjoyed Bea, Nora, & Pez as well, although I think they were severely underused and I kinda hated how the Nora/Pez dynamic worked without June. I think the romance was beautiful - I particularly enjoyed the polo scene, the karaoke scene, the Texas stuff, and the V&A museum.

I also laughed out loud a ton during the movie. Zahra’s scenes were hilarious, and the royal wedding/cake debacle was handled perfectly. I miss June here a bit, but I generally was very satisfied with how it all went down. Also, despite many fans early fears of a lack of chemistry between Nick and Taylor, I thought their chemistry was fantastic. Maybe not the best I’ve ever seen, but it was definitely believable, entertaining, and one of the most compelling parts of the story.

I also liked that we got more of Henry’s POV than we did in the book. It didn’t add a ton in my opinion, but I do think it allowed Nicholas Galitzine to show off his acting chops. I think the heart of the book remains, and after the press/everything I’d heard about the movie going into it, I was pleasantly surprised with how the political stuff was handled. Alex’s arc with Texas in particular was beautiful, and I think the end of the movie left me with a similar feeling to the book.

As for things I didn’t love, and I will say there were kind of a lot of small things, I’ve made a list that I’m sure no one cares much to read.

I missed June a lot. I identify a lot with her character, and although I totally understand why she was cut out (I do think in the book she serves less plot purpose than Nora), I actually think the choice to exclude her made even less sense after seeing the movie than before seeing it. Nora and Alex’s relationship felt very underdeveloped in the movie, and none of the romantic elements that I thought made their relationship important to the book ended up mattering at all in the movie. He kisses a different girl on New Year’s, there’s no mention of a sexual history between them, there’s no fake dating setup to detract from Alex/Henry, and Nora’s just generally absent. I feel like June would’ve served that purpose fine if not better.

The romance felt kind of rushed. The whole Christmas phone call that imo is so crucial to Henry & Alex’s relationship and character development doesn’t happen at all (probably because his parents are still together), and I didn’t have like a timer or clock or anything but it felt like the 100 or so pages leading up to the NYE kiss was like less than 20 minutes.

I hated that Alex’s parents were happily married, and I think it massively takes away from his character development. His arc honestly fell very short for me which is disappointing since he’s a character I identify so closely with. I don’t feel like they do his like major anxiety justice, and I think he goes from kinda being an idealist, reckless dummy to being a heartfelt, romantic, ready for a big commitment guy in the span of a few minutes.

I honestly could’ve done without the sex scenes. They were good, and I could tell the intimacy coordinator slayed with this one, but they were more explicit than the book imo (especially the one in Paris), and while I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that, I would’ve much rather had more fade to black so as to save screen time to develop the romance more at the beginning.

I didn’t enjoy the Miguel character at all. He has no character development, and I do not at all understand how this character is the Luna/Liam blend he was promoted as. He functions as a ruthless journalist who despite being queer himself decides to out Henry and Alex to the entire world, and we NEVER get an explanation for why. It’s alluded to that maybe Miguel had feelings for Alex and did it because he resented Alex for not feeling the same? But like, he literally outed two prominent figures to the entire world at risk of benefitting a homophobic predator running for office. And he never apologizes? Or faces any repercussions???? Like this is just kind of there?? And that is NOT AT ALL Rafael Luna or Liam who are both generally speaking positive forces in Alex’s life. I just don’t get it at all.

This is a personal issue I had that most probably don’t care about, but I’m from Minnesota, and seeing Minnesota red in the movie was infuriating. MN is not a swing state, never really has been, and was basically the only state in the upper midwest to stay blue in the 2016 election. I’m biased because this is my home state, but MN would NEVER vote red and I’m kinda just annoyed at the implication that it did instead of them just choosing to blame it on all the actual swing states.

Okay those are my thoughts. I doubt anyone cares that much, but I needed to get it out of my system. I will say I really enjoyed the movie, and I can see why the bulk of reviews are positive. I think anyone who didn’t read the book won’t feel like anything is missing, and fans of the book will for the most part still really enjoy it. I will definitely be rewatching when it comes out officially on Amazon Prime tomorrow, and I can see myself rewatching hundreds more times in the future. But it sort of needs to exist independent of the book for me, I guess. And that’s okay! I think everyone involved did a great job with the adaptation, and I look forward to watching it again.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #red white and royal blue movie #red white and royal blue review

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thedevilssinner · 3 months

Text

Sanguine Hearts

Pairing: Astarion x gn elf Tav (it was first written with a female tav in mind, so let me know if I accidentally forgot to rewrite it somewhere)

Warning: angst - but with somewhat happy ending?

Story is based on mix of THIS and THIS headcanon, set mainly before the BG3 plot and Tav and Astariona are thiramin - elven word for soulmates. It's from Tav's POV and mostly about how they try to deal with the loss of Astarion and their reaction when they meet someone who 'looks like him' after the Nautiloid.

I also gave Tav a last name but it's only used once and only for the purpose of the story. The last name is Ignotus = latin for unknown.

Hope you enjoy 🩷 and big thanks to @yeoldtrashcollector for helping me with this. I really apreciace it 🩷🙏

The Upper City's bustling streets overflowed with people. Some hurried to their workplaces, others diligently carried out their job duties, and a few of them were enjoying the splendor of a beautiful sunny day. Among these fortunate souls were two elven lovers who found a serene spot by a fountain. The man sat there, his eyes closed, face upturned to bask in the sun's warmth. His companion nestled beside him, leaning slightly against his shoulder. They watched with amusement as a cat, not far off, playfully attempted to catch a fluttering butterfly.

After a while, their gaze shifted to their partner, a mischievous grin crept across their face as they watched him bask in the sun. Their fingers dipped into the fountain's cool water, and with a playful flick, they sent a shimmering spray in the direction of the elf beside them. Startled, he jolted, the styled curls bouncing around his face as he turned his head towards the other person, an unamused expression on his face.

Then he suddenly attacks, as a cat, reaching out to catch his companion, his intention evident. Yet, the other elf evaded his grasp, leaping away from the fountain, their laughter carrying through the place.

The silver-haired elf shook his head in disbelief but promptly gave chase, the sound of their shared mirth echoing through the city streets. He finally closed the gap between them and encircled their waist with his arms. Turning them to face him, he whispered with a triumphant smile, "I've got you."

Their laughter persisted, though they attempted to free themselves from his embrace, their efforts proving futile. "You do," they gave up at the end, sighing.

A mock sternness colored his features as he mused, "I should have you arrested for disrespecting the Magistrate."

The elven lover responded swiftly, their confidence unwavering. "You wouldn't do that."

Arching an eyebrow, he inquired, "And why do you think I wouldn't do that?"

“Because you love me too much for that." They replied immediately.

The white-haired elf sighed, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Even though I don't understand why, with how much you tease me all the time… yes, I do love you."

"I love you too, my lovely magistrate." they murmured softly, wrapping their arms around his neck.

Astarion couldn't help but reciprocate their affectionate gesture, pulling them closer. The world around them faded into a distant hum as they exchanged a tender gaze. The streets of the Upper City, the bustling crowd, and even the relentless sun all seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in a world of their own.

His lips curved into a gentle smile, as he whispered, "My darling Tav, you’re making me love you more and more every day."

Tav's eyes sparkled with an undeniable love as they leaned in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Their embrace spoke of shared laughter, stolen moments, and the profound bond that had brought them together in this vibrant city.

Moments later, they pulled away from the kiss, their foreheads touching, their breaths in harmony. Astarion spoke softly, "We should probably end this soon. The council meeting is approaching, and the magistrate should not be late."

Tav nodded, their expression a mix of reluctance and understanding. "You're right," they conceded. "But let's savor this moment a little longer."

They remained locked in their embrace, cherishing the warm, sunny day, the love that bound them, and the enchanting beauty of the Upper City. Their laughter and love echoed through the city, a reminder that even the Magistrates could find solace in the arms of love.

A few months had passed since that idyllic moment by the fountain when Tav was awakened by an insistent knock on their door. They groggily crawled out of bed, hastily donning a soft robe, and shuffled toward the door. Upon opening it, they were met with the sight of a city guard who visibly stiffened upon seeing them.

"Are you Tav? Tav Ignotus?" he inquired, and Tav, still half-asleep, confirmed their identity.

"Yes, that's me. Is something wrong?" they asked, their sleep-induced haziness giving way to a sense of unease.

The guard pressed on with a heavy expression, "Are you in a relationship with Magistrate Ancunin?"

Their uneasiness rose. "Yes, I am. Please, what's going on?"

With a somber expression, the guard delivered the devastating news. "I'm very sorry, but Magistrate Ancunin is dead. You were listed in his records as someone to be informed if something happened to him."

Tav's world seemed to crumble at those words. The silence was heavy, broken only by the frantic pounding of their heart. Stumbling backward, Tav leaned against the doorframe to steady themselves, disbelief washing over them. The guard extended a hand to support them, but they could hardly process it. "No, this... This can't be true," the elf muttered, shaking their head in denial.

"I know it must be difficult to accept, but unfortunately, it's true. Our patrol found him this morning. I'm really sorry," the guard offered sympathetically.

Tav clung to him, desperation in their eyes. "What... What happened?" they managed to utter through a constricted throat.

The guard hesitated but then responded, "He... He was beaten to death."

"What? But... by whom? Who would do something like that?" they asked, though they already had a painful inkling. Astarion had his share of enemies – those who disagreed with his judgments and the families of those he had sentenced.

"We don't know, though we're trying to find out, I promise. I'm really sorry about what happened," the guard repeated, offering his condolences.

Tav's world was shrouded in silence once more as they tried to process the horrific news. They gazed at the guard with a desperate determination. "Can I see him? Can... Can I say goodbye?" they implored, voice trembling, the glimmer of hope that this was all a mistake still lingering deep within them.

The guard hesitated, reluctant to grant their request. "I'm not sure if it's the best idea. Magistrate Ancunin... he... It's not a pretty sight," he warned.

But Tav's grip on his arm tightened. "Even so... I... I need to see him. I need to know if it's really him. Please," the elf begged, a note of desperation in their voice.

Eventually the guard agreed, leading them to the place where Astarion's body was being held until the funeral arrangements were made. He unveiled only his face, the rest concealed beneath a sheet. Tav saw the battered features, the bloody lips and nose, dark bruises all over, and they couldn't bear to imagine the rest of his body.

Seeing Astarion's face shattered their last glimmer of hope. They recognized the pallor, the snow-white hair, and the familiar features, despite the injuries. It was him.

At that moment, Tav broke down completely, tears streaming down their cheeks, uncontrollable sobs wracking their body. The guard had to lead them away, offering words of consolation that they couldn't even hear. Tav felt apathetic, angry, and desolate, a whirlwind of emotions tearing them apart. They didn't want to bury Astarion; it was unthinkable. Their lovely little star… gone.

Back in their apartment, Tav's eyes landed on a painting of the two of them, created by a street artist. Their heart ached at the memory of their happier times. What were they supposed to do now? How could they possibly cope with this unbearable loss?

In search of some comfort, Tav discovered one of Astarion's discarded shirts he left in their home and crawled into bed, burying their face into it, to inhale his scent. It wasn't the same as having him beside them, but it offered a small measure of comfort in the midst of their overwhelming grief.

And then Tav cried again.

Tav existed in a state of numbness, unable to face the world outside. They hadn't mustered the strength to attend Astarion's funeral that was happening on the same day they discovered his death. They heard that an anonymous benefactor had taken care of the arrangements but despite that, they couldn't go. The thought of watching their beloved being lowered into the cold unforgiving ground was simply too much to bear.

Their days blended into nights, a mess of irregular sleep, missed meals, and a profound sense of loss. Astarion's shirt, which they clung to desperately, no longer carried his scent, but it was their last tangible connection to him.

Concerned friends, aware of their suffering, took turns visiting them. They offered condolences and support, attempting to coax the devastated elf into eating and taking care of themselves.

Tav barely noticed their presence. The weight of their grief keeping them locked in their own world.

When one well-meaning friend tried to gently pry Astarion’s shirt from their clenched hands, it led to a visceral reaction – screams and tears – as Tav withdrew further into their emotional cocoon. They were a mere echo of the vibrant person they once were, their soul yearning for Astarion's return.

It was getting out of hand, so Tav’s friends decided to contact their parents and it made their hearts ache to hear about their child's heartbreak. When they arrived at their home, the sight of Tav in their grief-stricken state shattered them. Tav’s father held them in a tight, protective embrace, cradling them like the little child they still were in his eyes. Their mother sat beside them, her gentle hand tracing comforting circles on Tav's trembling back.

And Tav cried once more, the tears flowing as they clung to their father, calling out for Astarion and pouring out their agony.

The parents recognized that their child could not remain in the city or in their current state of self-neglect. They faced the difficult decision of taking them back to their village, their childhood home. It was their hope that the familiarity and solace of their roots would help Tav find some semblance of peace. With heavy hearts, they began the process of gently coaxing them away from the city and toward the heaven of their village, a place where perhaps, in time, their shattered soul might start to mend.

The journey to their childhood village was long and somber one, with Tav still clinging to their parents, episodes of tears coming and going like unpredictable storms. The forested surroundings of the village welcomed them, the familiar sights and sounds enveloping their senses. The soothing embrace of nature that once surrounded them, combined with the echoes of their past, offered a glimmer of hope for solace. Their parents hoped that the serene village would help mend their child's shattered spirit.

But Tav felt disoriented.

They were now far removed from the bustling city and from the places that reminded them of Astarion. His loss continued to haunt them, an ever present pain that seemed impossible to bear. They left the village a long time ago to explore life beyond its borders, an adventure that had brought them into Astarion's life and led to their love.

Now, they were back, but he was gone, leaving them feeling utterly lost.

Grief is a peculiar thing for anyone and could change a person in many ways. Tav's mourning lasted over fifty years, not that long of a span for their kind who could live for centuries, although their prolonged sorrow still raised eyebrows.

But most also understood that their love for Astarion had been genuine and profound. Shared souls that were ripped apart by death.

In the beginning, their parents played an active role in ensuring Tav ate and took care of themselves until they regained some semblance of independence. They coaxed Tav to join them on walks through the woods and gently encouraged them to engage in household chores.

Slowly, Tav began to reintegrate into the life in the village. They offered their assistance to the village in any way they could, participating in tasks when they felt up to it. Yet, the sight of happy couples still caused a painful constriction in their heart. In time, however, they grew accustomed to it, and the raw grief evolved into a dull, enduring ache. They could now think of Astarion with a mix of fondness and sadness. Bittersweet mix that stays probably forever inside of them.

Tav believed that nothing could ever be similarly devastating as the loss of their beloved. But some 200 years passed and during an unexpected and fateful encounter, their existence took a perplexing turn.

Snatched from their life by a Mind Flayer's ship and a tadpole implanted into their brain wasn't something they expected. Their journey on the ship was fraught with danger and confusion. It was there that they met the fierce Githyanki warrior Lae'zel and then freed another named Shadowheart.

Together, they somehow managed to crash the ship, surviving who knows how.

Now, Tav stood on the shore, with Shadowheart by their side and the Githyanki nowhere in sight, the blazing sun bearing down on them and the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid smoldering in the background as they began to explore. It was then that a man's voice called out for help, drawing Tav's attention. Eager to assist other survivors, they approached, but what they encountered was beyond their wildest imagination.

There, before them, stood Astarion. Or at least, someone who appeared to be him. His eyes were crimson, and his complexion even paler than Tav remembered. Their emotions swirled into a turbulent mix of sadness and anger. How dare anyone impersonate Astarion after their beloved had been dead for two centuries? And do such a bad job!

Without hesitation, Tav lunged at the imitation, a fierce cry escaping their lips as they tackled him to the ground. They straddled his body, a dagger pressed to his throat. “How dare you?! How dare you take his form?! Show me who you really are... now!” Their command was laced with fury, even surprising themselves with their own actions. But Tav couldn't stop when someone was using Astarion's face for an unknown purpose. Shadowheart behind Tav was looking surprised and confused, trying to call for Tav to ask what the hell is happening but with no avail.

The shapeshifter under their form seemed taken aback but replied, “Darling, there seems to have been a little misunderstanding. I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d appreciate it if you’d remove the dagger from my neck.” His voice is smooth and flirtatious and so unmistakably Astarion’s that it hurts, and Tav presses the dagger a little harder against his neck.

“Shut up, shapeshifter!” Tav snapped at him, their eyes locked on the face that was so familiar yet different. “Where did you even get his face? His voice?” Their grip on the dagger shook. “You have no right to pretend you're Astarion when he's... when he's gone. And to do it so poorly!” Beneath their anger, a deep-seated sadness could be heard.

The imposter's eyes widened, revealing fangs that sent a shiver down Tav's spine. The terrifying thought that he might not be a shapeshifter but something far worse began to take hold.

“Tav?” The fake Astarion finally spoke, voice filled with longing, as though he had just remembered something long-buried in his mind. His flirtatious tone had vanished, replaced by confusion. “You are them, aren't you? Gods, how could I forget... so beautiful.” His red eyes traced their face, and he lifted his arm tentatively toward them, fingers twitching with the yearning for touch but withholding.

Tav's resolve wavered as they listened to the shapeshifter. The voice, the face, everything about him screamed Astarion, and their heart ached. But they knew, or at least they thought they knew, that it couldn't be him. “No, stop! Stop it! You can't be him. You can't... he's dead, and your eyes are wrong. You're wrong!” Tav cried, their entire body trembling, dagger still dangerously close to his neck.

The shapeshifter easily took hold of Tav's wrist and moved their hand away from his neck. He wrenched the dagger from their fingers and discarded it, his lips forming a sad smile. “That's what vampirism does to you, my love,” he admitted softly, his voice heavy with pain and sadness.

And just as if the universe wanted to show them the truth, their tadpole stirred, connecting them to Astarion's. They could feel pain and see through his eyes a bloody hand, his hand, reaching up towards a dark figure, red glowing eyes looking down at them.

The figure kneeled down, revealing a man with dark hair and a cruel smile, fangs bared. Before they could comprehend what was happening, the man sank his teeth into their throat, and everything plunged into darkness.

“No... no…” Tav's voice quivered, tears welling in their eyes as the connection ended, throat tight with emotions. Their beloved was still somehow alive, transformed into a creature of the night. “Astarion…” They whispered his name with a shaky breath, their hands clutching his shirt as tears streamed down their cheeks. Their Astarion, their little star, was alive.

Astarion, too, seemed disoriented by the shared connection. “What in the hells was that?” he asked, confusion etched across his features. His hand reached up, finally touching them and wiping off the tears from their cheek, his touch cold, so devastatingly cold.

Tav struggled to compose themselves, wiping away the rest of the tears. “It's the Mind Flayer’s worm - it connects us which means that you… you were on the ship too.” they came to a revelation.

Astarion nodded, confirming their words. “That worm, of course. That explains things. Somewhat.” he said, sounding defeated.

Silence falling over them for a few seconds, until Shadowheart’s voice reached them. “Can someone finally explain to me what just happened?”

And that was the end of their meeting, at least for now. There were so many questions forming in both of their heads but no time to ask them. Not when there was still burning Nautiloid behind them and possible death creeping in their heads, so any conversation they wanted to have, they kept to themselves for now.

Meanwhile, Tav tried to explain everything to the best of their ability and comfort, to Shadowheart. Leaving huge chunks unsaid, because they'd only known each other for a few hours and the dark haired half-elf didn't seem like a very sharing person herself.

Still, both Tav and Astarion knew they would have to talk as soon as they had the chance. For 200 years they thought Astarion was dead, and Astarion had completely forgotten their existence... that definitely leaves plenty of topics to talk about, especially when you add in their new situation and the fact that Astarion is now a vampire.

So far, they had only exchanged a few glances from time to time as they continued to wander along unfamiliar paths, waiting, yearning and hoping. Hoping that this meeting would bring them at least something resembling the happiness they had felt all those centuries ago.

#astarion fanfic #astarion angst #astarion x gn tav #astarion x gn! reader #astarion x elf!tav #elf tav #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 10 days

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Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Heeeeey, y'all!! I'm so, so, so excited to introduce this new story to everybody! I've been having a (horny) cowboy fixation for THE LONGEST time now after seeing a fanart of cowboy!Geto by the amazingly talented @sanjisblackasswife. Please go support a fellow black woman & go check out her work! I hope y'all enjoy the first two chapters! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen PT I & PT II. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Epilogue. Soundtrack.

********

SIX: FOR A SINNER’S EARS ONLY.

You awaken the next morning to the sun barely peeking over the horizon, just as Geto instructed you to do.

It feels good to sleep in a comfy bed for once, especially after you made sure you patted it down with the bug powder you packed. You sit up in the bed, slightly clammy from the heat of the hot, dry air creeping into the motel room. It is quiet and relaxingly so. For once, you feel good despite the circumstances.

You still can’t believe Geto and Gojo decided to pay for a room for you. They walked you to your room right next to theirs after getting a key from the lobby. “Just remember to get up before the sun rises,” Geto gently said, mostly to keep his voice down in the motel hallway. “It will take about five days to get on the Devil’s Trail since it’s outside the West. That works out well for us since we have a list of baddies to catch on our way there.”

“And most of them are Benji’s accomplices,” Gojo stated as he handed you the key to your room. “Which means we’ll probably find him too if we play our cards right.”

You looked down at the key, clutching it. “You know, y’all didn’t have to get me a room.” You couldn’t help but be suspicious of this. Why were they being so kind? Were they tricking you in some way?

‘Or maybe they’re just nice guys, you crazy girl,’ you thought.

Gojo raised an eyebrow at you. “Well, where else were you gonna sleep? With us?” A smirk appeared on his face. “‘Cause if you want to–”

You cut him off by moving to unlock the door, purposely stepping on his toe as you do. “Fuckin’ pervert,” you muttered under your breath as the motel door opened. It was identical to the duo’s though empty and clean.

“Ignore him,” Geto chuckled while Gojo complained about you breaking his big toe. Just get some sleep and yell if you need anything. These walls are paper thin, so we’ll hear you.” He gave you a kind, warm smile, leaving you to your privacy. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

Gojo gave you a wink as he held the doorknob, nodding at the bed. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite,” he teased. He then closed the door, still behind it. “I’m serious!” he called. “You might wanna lay down a towel or somethin'!” And then you were finally left alone to take a hot shower and get ready for bed.

You lay here now, thinking to yourself how fast everything is happening. You still can’t believe you’re here with the most notorious outlaws in the West, about to go on a long journey with them that could either go really good or really bad. You think of Shoko, wondering if she read your letter. Is she looking for you? Does she miss you? And what about the others at the saloon? Are they okay? Are they safe?

You suddenly hear a tiny chuckle from behind your headboard where a wall separates your bedroom from the duo’s. Gojo’s voice drifts through the wall, sugary sweet and seductive: “Sugu~”

“What?” Geto sighs, sounding exhausted. There is a rustling sound like bedsheets shifting. “C’mon, Satoru, not now. I have to clean up before we leave.” The bedsprings creak as someone sits up––probably Geto.

“Can I clean up with you?” Gojo purrs. “C’mon, I can help you clean all of those spots ya can’t each.” Then you hear it: a deep, soft moan that makes your face grow hot and your mouth part in shock. Are they…?

Another one of Geto’s velvety moans makes it very clear that they’re not cuddling over there. “Shit,” he sighs. “C’mon now, stop it. I’m serious, you slut.” Gojo giggles–giggles–as he continues to do whatever he’s doing. “Oooh, I love it when you call me that, almost as much as you loving it when I call you my cock whore.”

Your jaw goes slack. Are they that slutty? “No, I don’t,” Geto growls. “I’m not about to do this while Y/N is in the other room. These walls are thin as ice!” His words are cut off by another series of quiet moans and hums of pleasure. “The water will be on, so she won’t hear,” Gojo assures him. “And even if she does, I think she’d enjoy it. Especially when she hears how hot your moans are.”

You would never admit it, even to yourself, but the sounds of Geto’s moans are getting you hot. They are so smooth yet syrupy; deep yet soft. Seductive. Sexy. They make your body tingle, especially one body part in particular. You can feel your pussy throb annoyingly so from beneath the sheets like it has a heartbeat.

You can’t remember the last time a man-made you this aroused. Even the ones at the Blackwater saloon barely got you wet. And sex with Valentine was never a fun time. He did nothing to turn you on despite his pretty face. There was barely even a wiggle down there for you. But now? Now, you feel like you need a release or you’ll go insane.

“Let’s get in the shower, baby,” Gojo seductively says. “We have no time to waste, remember?” And so they do. You hear the bedsprings as they get up from bed and their footsteps as they walk to the bathroom on the left side of their bed but still behind your bedroom wall. You can hear the rustling of their clothes as they strip; their breathless giggles and the soft, wet sounds of their lips meeting each other’s.

Their soft moans and hums of ecstasy mingled with the sound of pounding water light your body on fire. You find yourself squirming uncomfortably in your bed, especially when Geto begins to moan. You begin to feel a tingle from down below that only grows the louder Geto’s velvety moans become. “Fuck, ‘Tarou,” he sighs. “You’re so fuckin’ good at that.”

Your hand slides down your stomach to wedge between your thighs. You know that this is wrong. You know that you’ll regret this later, but fuck, they sound too hot to resist. And it’s only natural, right? You just need some release. They’ll never know. So you begin to slowly rub your tingling, needy clit in time with Geto’s deep moans and swears.

It doesn’t take a village idiot to figure out what Gojo is doing, but when you hear the soft, sucking sounds and the sloppy noises of his tongue swirling around Geto’s dick, you get your answer. “Yeah?” he chuckles. “You wanna give me a reward, Sugu?”

You hear more lewd sounds that take you to unholy places and bring colorful visuals to your head: Gojo on his knees gagging on dick with Geto’s hands in his wet, white hair, his hips bumping into Gojo’s mouth as he fucks his pretty face. “Just make sure you keep it down,” Geto instructs. “You don’t wanna wake the whole hallway, do you?”

Gojo giggles and there is only the sound of water until both men moan in unison. The sound nearly makes you gasp, your back arching as your fingers work faster on your now slippery clit.

“Oh, fuck!” Gojo moans. His language has become nothing but slutty moans and whimpers while Geto lets out soft grunts and gasps. “Soon as I’m inside you, you’re singin’ like a little songbird,” Geto chuckles. “What am I gonna do with you, Satoru, huh?”

You close your eyes, picturing the long-haired outlaw pressing Gojo against the wall, grinding his hips into the white-haired outlaw from behind. You see Geto’s cock, long, thick, and gorgeous, sliding in and out of Gojo’s taught and firm yet soft asscheeks, stretching out his hole.

“Sugu, please,” Gojo begs. “Don’t stop! Keep goin’ just like that!”

“Just like what?” Geto teases. “Like…this?” He must do something with his hips or his cock because Gojo is moaning uncontrollably, slutty gasps and whines leaving his pink lips. The sound of wet, slapping, of skin against skin, emits from the wall. “C’mon, babe, shhh,” Geto shushes him. “You’ve gotta keep it down.”

But Gojo is too far gone just as you are as you rub your pussy in time to Geto’s thrusts. “C-Can’t help it!” he stutteringly, pathetically says. “You’re fuckin’ me too good!”

“Cover that slutty mouth then,” Geto demands in a voice that has your clit throbbing increasingly so. “Yes, that’s it, my love. Let’s see how quiet you can be filled with all this dick.”

You imagine him saying the same thing to you, his cock stretching you out while Gojo tweaks your hardened nipples that one of your hands has begun to do for you. Briefly, you imagine yourself sandwiched between them, nothing but stolen kisses and breaths between you. You can almost feel their muscles and warm skin under your hands. You can almost taste them on your tongue.

As their moans and the lewd slapping grows louder, your hand grows a mind of its own and works your clit faster, harder, wanting to peak with them. You picture yourself doing the same thing while Geto fucks you from behind while Gojo fucks your throat, both cocks filling you up the way you want to be. The way you need to be.

“Fuck, Sugu, I’m gonna cum!” Gojo warns, high-pitched and needy. Geto responds with a grunt, loud and so unlike him, that nearly sends you over the edge. “Me too,” he growls. “Cum with me, ‘Tarou, c’mon. Don’t you wanna be my good boy?”

‘Do you wanna be my good girl, Y/N?’ he asks in your head. ‘Don’t you wanna be our good girl?’ You want to say yes. You’ll do absolutely anything to feel like this all of time, even be theirs.

“Cumming!” Gojo suddenly gasps. “I’m cummin’, Suguru, fuck!” ‘Me too,’ you think. ‘I’m cummin’ too!’ And you do. As a series of slutty, loud moans and groans of release drift through your wall and into your bedroom, you let out a whimper and cum all over yourself. For a moment, you’re soaring through the clouds, covering your mouth to muffle your moans as Geto and Gojo cum together.

Then as soon as it happens, it’s over. The sounds die down and the pleasure fades, leaving you feeling icky and your fingers coated in your cum. You can’t believe you just did that.

You can’t think about it for long though because three loud, terrifying knocks on the duo’s motel door next to yours nearly make you jump out of bed. “Oh, shit!” Gojo gasps. “What the fuck was that?”

You think the same thing before you hear the knocks again. “You sure this is the door, sir?” a rough-sounding voice asks.

“Yes!” a high-pitched voice replies. The shower immediately shuts off and the pitter-patter of feet stomping around behind your wall makes you jump out of bed and grab your clothes set out for today. “Th-This is the front desk clerk with security!” the same man calls through the door. “We know you’re in there, gunslingers! You’re not gonna get away with not paying for these rooms! That’s a crime!”

‘What the fuck?!’ you think. ‘Those mother–’

Four more demanding knocks silence your thoughts and make you hurry to get dressed. “Gunslingers!” the guard barks. “Either come to the door and surrender to us now or we’ll break down this goddamn door and take you into custody. Don’t think we won’t do it!”

You toss on your clothes, pull on your riding boots, and tie your bandana around your mouth. You begin to look around for an escape route as the knocks become more agitated. The door is out of the question, so you look at the window which is about twelve feet above ground.

‘I’ve gotta get out of here,’ you panickingly think as you hurry to the window, only to see Gojo already there and waving at you from outside. He is fully dressed with his hat, gloves, and blinfold on as if nothing happened before. You throw open the window, allowing him to climb inside with ease. “Hi there, little miss,” he greets you, tipping his hat. “You’re up early.”

“You bastard!” you hiss, wanting to punch him. “You ain’t pay for the rooms?!”

“Well…not exactly,” he sheepishly confesses. “We paid for half for this one, but inflation is a bitch and these rooms are expensive! I ended up havin’ to steal away one of the keys to this room while the clerk wasn’t around. Can ya blame a guy for tryin’ to help?” He shrugs, giving you an apologetic smile.

You want to cuss him out, but before you can, another bang on the door next to yours stops you. “Open the fuck up!” the guard yells. “You’ve got ten seconds to come out or we’re breakin’ down the door!”

“Get me out of here,” you demand, glowering at Gojo. He only gives you a tiresome look as he snatches the drapes off of your window. “That’s what I’m here for,” he scoffs. “Just get your things together and follow my head. Geto is roundin’ up the horses. By the way, is that black one with the braided mane yours? She’s such a pretty thing!”

You could’ve kicked him out the window, but instead, you hurry about and gather your shit. Luckily, your bag is already packed with toiletries and everything else you’ll need on your journey, so you toss it onto your body and put on your cowgirl hat. The sound of a large bang from the next door makes you gasp in fear. “Gojo!” you snap. “Hurry!”

Gojo is currently tying the drapes together into a makeshift rope, taking his sweet time doing so.

“Alright, alright,” he sighs. “And…finished!”

He then tosses the rope outside the window, tying the end to the leg of a chair. Next, he climbs out onto the ledge, grasping the rope. “Stick your feet out first and grab hold,” he instructs you. “All you have to do is climb down. Don’t worry; I’ll meetcha at the bottom and catch ya if you fall. See ya at the bottom!”

“Wait!” you hiss, but he’s already inching down the makeshift rope. You watch him as he climbs down the rope with ease and precision, his upper strength doing all the work until he finally meets the ground. Obviously, he’s done this many times before, but you haven’t. Even just looking down makes you want to throw up.

You grip the window ledge, suddenly dizzy. ‘I can’t do this,’ you think, the words repeating like a mantra. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t–’

BANG! The door to the motel room next to yours busts open and the sound of stomping footsteps makes you jump out of your skin. “They ain’t in here!” one of the guards angrily growls. More footsteps, this time out in the hallway. “Try the other one,” the clerk says. “I know someone is in there!”

When you hear them at the door, now you know you have no choice. You look down again, finding Gojo standing there with his arms waiting for you and a smile on his face. You don’t think––you just do.

You turn around, put your hat between your teeth, and stick your legs out the window first before grasping onto the rope and gently, carefully, edging yourself down. The wind hits your face, the sun warm against your cheek. Its warm rays and the promise of the ground below are the only things that keep you from looking down.

“You’ve got it, little miss!” Gojo calls up to you. “Keep goin’!” His words help somewhat though the feeling of your feet dangling in midair and the burn of your arms are all starting to get to you. You’re about halfway down the rope when you hear the sound of a bang and the guards and the clerk now in your room: “Where are they?!” the guard demands.

“The window!” the clerk shouts. “Hurry before they get away!” Fear leaps into your heart and before you can rethink your decision, you release the rope and leave it all up to God. You feel nothing but the wind in your hands, slipping through your fingertips, as you soar through the air.

You expect to feel the hard ground below, but you don’t. Instead, you feel muscular arms and a solid chest. You look up into the blindfold and smile of Gojo. “Told ya I’d catch ya,” he chuckles. For a moment, you feel secure and safe in his arms, hating that you do.

Luckily, the moment is ruined when Geto comes running up with your horses and the guards come to the window. “There they are!” he shouts, pointing down at you. “Shoot ‘em!” The glint of the sun off of metal frightens you even before you realize that his partner has a pistol.

The first bullet zips past you and Gojo, scaring the horses. You begin to squirm in Gojo’s arms, enough for him to put you on your horse himself before jumping on his own.

“Hurry!” you yelp, snapping your horse’s reins. “Let’s get the fuck outta here!” The second and third bullets hit the dirt as you three begin riding like hell away from the motel, your horses’ hooves thudding against the dirt.

“Don’t come back here ever again!” the clerk yells at you. “You hear me?! I’ll make sure you’re all behind bars if I see you again!”

‘Don’t worry,’ you think. ‘You won’t.’

********

When you’re finally out of Blackwater, you feel like you can finally breathe and relax.

The shops, homes, and all signs of civilian life have since disappeared, replaced with a dusty trail, trees, and mountains dusted with snow in the distance. Blackwater is but a blip in your memory, nothing but nature there now as you travel alongside the gunslinging duo. You feel Reneigh’s body move underneath you as she slowly walks up the road, the sun’s rays turning her black hair golden.

You sense a presence beside you and turn, finding Geto riding his horse with one hand. You try not to think about how good he and Gojo look on top of their horses. “Sorry about earlier,” he says, actually sounding guilty about it. “I would’ve preferred us to be gone earlier than we did to avoid that, but I ran into some…complications.” He coughs into his gloved hand.

‘Yeah, I know,’ you bitterly think, but then feel a pang of guilt due to the fact that you willingly flicked your bean and came to the sound of these “complications”.

You still feel weird and guilty like you invaded on something you shouldn’t have. But then again, they’d have to have known you’d hear them since the walls were so thin…did they want you to hear them?

“Long as we’re alive and not behind bars, I’m good,” you sigh, looking away from Geto. “Thanks though. So where to first?” You hear the sound of him unraveling something and look back to see him taking a map out of his pocket.

“Bull’s Creek, which is only five miles from here,” he answers, reading the map. “We’ve got a gang of wanted outlaws to catch that are residin’ there who robbed a town in another county. A woman there wrote to ask us for help because apparently, these four are terrorizin’ their town too.”

Gojo hums in acknowledgment from in front of you, a weed in his mouth. “Not only that, but these four are old accomplices of Benji’s that we worked with: Zankoku, Makima Murakami, Angelface, and Arata Katana. We plan on shakin’ ‘em down and askin’ either one of them where Benji is without resorting to too much violence.”

Geto rolls his brown eyes from beneath his hat. “Too much violence,” he parrots. Gojo looks back at him with a smirk. “Excludin’ killin’!” he cackles, wagging a finger at him. “If we wanna stay outta prison.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply, and it does. Anything to get your hands on your target. A peaceful silence falls over you three as you totter up the road, the breeze cool and sweet. Suddenly, Gojo speaks: “Y/N, where are you from? You’ve got a distinct accent on ya that I’m just now noticin’.”

You wonder why the fuck he cares, but curiosity couldn’t have killed the cat that badly. “The South,” you vaguely reply. “Born an’ raised.” The white-haired gunslinger looks back at you in awe. “Really?!” he excitedly asks. “I’ve got friends from the South! What town ya from?!”

“Why?” you ask, more harshly than you intended. The silence becomes awkward almost immediately. “C’mon, Gojo, don’t make her feel weird,” Geto calmly criticizes his partner and gives you an apologetic smile to ease the tension. “I think he’s just tryin’ to make conversation. It makes these long travels easier.”

You don’t know why, but you feel guilty about being so harsh. You don’t like being asked about your past. It’s just too painful. But if they can tell you about your past, you can at least answer Gojo about where you’re from. “Pinewood,” you answer. “It’s a small town in the Southwest county.” Gojo hums thoughtfully, not missing a beat. “Hm…haven’t been there before.”

‘And you never will,’ you think.

“So how did y’all meet?” you curiously ask, quickly changing the subject. “I mean, since we makin’ conversation or whatever.”

The duo share a smile you can’t decipher as they look at each other. “We were childhood friends,” Geto explains. “We both lived in a small town with about a couple hundred people. One day, we were playin’ by the lake after a bad rainstorm and I slipped on the mud by the bankside. I nearly drowned that day, but Gojo saved my life. That day was it was for us: we fell in love instantly.”

Even as cold as you are, you feel yourself thaw at such a cute story. It’s like a fairytale romance for them.

“But we didn’t start dating until we were older,” he continues. “As kids, we both had tragedies we helped each other deal with. Gojo’s mother died in childbirth and his father was pretty much absent. And I came from a family of alcoholics who never accepted me. So we became each other’s family.”

Gojo looks back at you, the weed still in his mouth. “Didn’t think two of the most notorious gunslingers in the West had tragic backstories, huh?” he sarcastically asks. “It’s a damn cliche.”

You don’t say anything, letting their stories and honesty wash over you.

“So what about you?” Geto asks. “What’s your story? You got anyone waitin’ for you back at home?”

“Like a lover?” Gojo adds. “He or she is a lucky bastard…or bitch.” Geto shoots him a sharp look.

“Shut up,” you mutter. “And no. I ain’t never been with nobody before…well, nothing that was real anyways.” All the “lovers” you’ve had were either hook-ups or false relationships on your part, like yours with Valentine.

“So you’ve never been in love?” Geto asks, and he sounds almost saddened by this prospect. That irks you and you don’t know why it does. How is it that two of the most notorious and dangerous gunslingers managed to find love in such a harsh world and you haven’t? Maybe you’re just meant to be alone.

So you give them both the realest answer you can as you stare ahead at the rocky road: “Love ain’t never done nothin’ but get me in trouble and cause me pain.”

And just like that, the conversation ends.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love

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twig-tea · 3 months

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Love Senior: Final Thoughts

I've been putting off making a post about this because I don't like trashing things that are small efforts and especially not GL because we don't get enough of it to begin with. But I was enjoying Love Senior through episode 7. The leads were lovely, they had chemistry, their characters were both interesting, and one of them had casual sex with someone else before they got together and it was fine! They even talked about it! And they were thirsty! I love it when women get to have sexual desire in shows.

After episodes 8-9, the narrative took a serious turn and I broke and wrote a content warning post because of how gross the turn in the plot was. With one episode left, I watched to see whether it would undo any of the damage it had done, but instead it doubled down on awfulness.

The last episode is truly a smorgasbord of some of my least favourite tropes all rolled up into one miserable finale, and makes the show truly unwatchable even though it delivers a "happy ending". It didn't make sense, it wasn't good characterization, it served nothing but unnecessary angst, and it meant we didn't even get satisfying reconciliation or dealing with the issues laid out in 8-9. After this ending, I was extremely unconvinced these two would last, or that they should.

I know this isn't the worst there is in the world of QL. I've watched a lot of stuff. I used to just stay quiet if I didn't like something, but honestly, I want folks looking for info about this show to know what to expect, and I also want folks creating content to know that audiences expect better these days. I don't want people to think GL flops because nobody wants to watch it. We're so desperate for good, or even half-decent content (the viewing numbers for GAP should have made that obvious)! But things need to hold together at least somewhat, and this very much did not.

Most of the cast in this show is in a girl group together, so you can support them, continue past the cut if you want details on what makes this finale suck (I've kept it vague but obviously there will be spoilers), and I hope this is taken as it's intended--to help inform the watching decisions of us who love GL and want more of it, and to give information to those making it.

[I'm just going to note also that this show was by StarHunter Entertainment which is not known for its queer rep or good treatment of its people, so I don't feel like I owe this production company any loyalty].

Details about the last episode under the cut.

In episode 10, the following happens:

we get told the SA that I warned about in my 8-9 post was just staged for the purposes of blackmail/breaking up the leads

[the show doesn't acknowledge that the characters were still left in a position that they could have still been sexually assaulted, and that they were put in that position by someone they trusted]

Someone gets hit by a car

One of the leads falls into a coma, and on waking, gets amnesia

Her friends and family conspire to lie to her, not just erasing her girlfriend from their picture of her life, but saying that one of her other friends who has a crush on her is her boyfriend. They all go along with this lie for months

On finding out that her girlfriend had been told that she's actually dating some other guy, her girlfriend decides to noble idiocy and disappear from her life

More time passes, and they see one another at the amnesia girl's graduation, and hug for a happy ending.

THE END.

No conversation. No reconciliation beyond acknowledgment that they still have feelings. No mention of their breakup before the coma. Nothing that convinces me this couple will actually last at all, or reason (in the form of character growth, or narrative purpose) for why they've gone through this. Nothing about the main character being lied to by all of her friends and family for months. This ending says 'everything is fine as long as the two people you want to be in a relationship are in a relationship at the end of the story', and that doesn't fly with me.

#love senior #love senior the series #thai gl #sapphic media #typed so that i can stop thinking it

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joelsmochi · 1 year

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Be The Boss - Javier Peña

loosely (actually extremely) inspired by the song you can be the boss by lana del rey ♡ i woke up with this idea and immediately got to writing, i love you smut sluts <3 hope you enjoy :3 this is also all lowercase ! i'm thinking of making a part 2... >:)

plot: ofc genie stumbles across javier in more places than one, and they... can't get enough of each other.

warnings: SIMP!javi, language, soulmates trope, mention of drug use, reader is a bit of a javi apologist (i meannnnn), creampie, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), some angst, mentions of death, choking, office sex, public sex, chance of getting caught, sex with other people nearby (not involved), i may have flexed the timeline of the story a bit + steve is there during the cali cartel job (just for storytelling purposes), prob typos + grammatical errors (english & spanish). lmk if i missed anything pls!!!

wc: 9.1k

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ✮ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

those blue jeans and that white button-up shirt had genie fanning herself since she walked into the supermarket, but what kept making it worse was that the universe seemed to be forcing the two adults into the same aisle. she’d purposefully skip an aisle she needed to go down and circle back later only to find he still spawned wherever she went.

not like she was too awfully mad though. she knew it was just a mere coincidence, or maybe he found her attractive too. maybe she was the one following him, and not the other way around. maybe she was just reading into it too much — this happens often. you know when you go grocery shopping and can’t seem to get away from another customer? maybe that’s all this was. maybe.

later that night she decided to take her friend's boyfriend’s offer up to get out and go to a bar with them, and since she was feeling a little sad that the man from the market never approached her even though she was too bashful to do it herself, she needed a pick me up. third-wheeling with her friend and her boyfriend may just be the motivation she needed to stop feeling sorry for herself.

a couple hours into the night genie was having more fun than she expected. her friend, aimee, was much more considerate than previous ones; she made sure genie felt included in the conversations and even spoiled some inside jokes just so that genie could laugh too.

playing pool, turning down pushy men for dances and drinks, and watching strangers basically have sex in the middle of the bar was more entertaining than she expected. that could just be the alcohol talking though.

she knew the universe was laughing at her, however, when the man from the market walked in with two rubios trailing behind him. genie’s eyes widened a bit, having narrowed from her tipsy state, and as if she couldn’t get more tense at that moment he made eye contact with her. she pretended to be confident about it and gave him a sweet smile while waving. he frowned for a second trying to remember where he’d seen her before.

the pretty girl in the pretty sundress from the market.

he gave genie a half smile and waved back before glancing as his shoes briefly and walking back to his friends.

“go talk to him!” aimee smacked genie’s arm over enthusiastically. “if you don’t i’m dragging him to the table.”

genie laughed knowing she is 100% serious. “i will, just let him settle in for a few minutes. can’t seem like a groupie,” genie bargained.

“who is that?” aimee’s boyfriend, cory asked while eyeing the trio from across the room.

“no idea,” she admitted, “we just kept bumping into each other at the market earlier. i think he was eyeing me, but i didn’t wanna just stare so i don’t know. seems like he recognized me though.”

“well, duh, you’re fucking hot,” aimee exaggeratedly compliments. “especially when you wear those sundresses, your ass looks so big and juicy in those i’m literally jealous.”

“please, you’re literally built like jane fonda, and everyone knows that jane fonda has the perfect ass. i’m jealous of you.”

“can we not talk about how you two basically want to fuck each other when i’m right here?” cory grimaces, but genie could see the smile creeping on his face indicating he was joking.

“awe, if i wanted her i’d have her already,” genie teased.

“she’s right,” aimee confirmed. the two best friends began laughing loudly at cory’s expense when they heard a voice from beside the table.

“perdóname.” [excuse me].

genie turned her head and met eyes with the moreno, grinning widely at his seemingly timid presence. “¿cómo puedo ayudarte?” [how can i help you]

“no tengo mucho tiempo, pero, lo quería darte esto.” he extended a cigarette out to the brunette; she admired how his harsh features softened at the sight of her for a moment, ultimately taking it from his slender fingers with a confidence that she forced yet seemed natural to everyone surrounding. [i don't have much time, but i wanted to give you this]

“gracias. acabas de llegar, ¿no?” [thank you. you just got here, no]

“claro, pero el trabajo llama.” [of course, but work calls]

genie nodded once clearly not believing him as a sly smirk tugged the corners of her lips while she fiddled with the cigarette. she turned it over quickly finding his phone number sloppily written on it. “¿trabajo, sí?” [work, huh]

“what’s he saying?” cory asked; aimee shushes him and genie ignored him, finding herself aiming to maintain the eye contact she held with the handsome stranger.

“¿llámame? salvo que no quieras.” [call me? unless you don’t want to]

“¿cómo debería llamarme?” she was poking at his boundaries which was something she found herself doing often. she loved to laugh and joke, so it was important to her to test those waters. [what should i call you]

he squints, unsure of what exactly she was asking until it dawned on him. “javier. javi.”

“javi,” she tutted after saying his name a way to tease him making him just bashfully smile. “bien. te daré una llamada, javi.” they exchange goodbyes and she turned back to her friends. [good. i’ll give you a call]

“i got javier,” the boy says, “that’s about it.”

“he just wanted me to have his number, that’s all,” genie said.

“are you about to have your first summer fling, genie?!” aimee nearly shouted in attempt to make her blush (which worked every time). “i want every juicy detail when you taint him.”

“you’re lucky i love you.”

genie waited a few days to give this javi a phone call. she didn’t want to seem too eager or desperate as she typically enjoyed waiting until men begged for attention.

but when she did decide to call it was like he had been posted by the phone for the last seventy-two hours because he picked up on the second ring.

“¿bueno?” [hello]

“¿javier?” she asked much more softly than she intended. unbeknownst to her the delicacy in her voice made him weak in the knees.

“sí, ¿eres la mujer del bar?” [yeah, are you the woman from the bar]

“mhm, soy yo,” she answered. she grabbed the phone from the console table and brought it around the corner to sit in her chair by her big kitchen window; the weather was perfect for her: sunny with some big clouds here and small clouds there, not too humid or dry. she just watched the leaves dancing between the wind and focused on how peaceful the world seemed from inside her temporary home. [it’s me]

“nunca supe tu nombre,” he replied while inhaling sharply as he took a hit of his cigarette, “¿cómo se llama, dulzura?” [you never told me your name / what’s your name sweetheart]

she couldn’t fight the laugh that surfaced from the base of her throat as the nickname surprised her. “¿dulzura? mmm, no me hagas colgar, javi.” [sweetheart? don’t make me hang up]

“¿qué?” he laughed along with her, “tenía que llamarte algo, ¿no?” [what? i had to call you something]

“¿me llamaste así a tus amigos?” [you called me that to your friends]

“¿no te gusta? okay, okay, veo.” [you don’t like it? i see]

“no, no es que me no guste. es simplemente… sorprendente, eso.” [no, it’s not that i don’t like it. it’s simply surprising, that’s all]

neither of them could swallow their smiles behind their receivers. they talked for hours, and she still managed to keep her name a secret for the time being. he quickly got in the habit of calling her dulzura and it grew on her just as fast. the way spanish flowed off of his tongue made her cave deeper and deeper into her chair, having to “readjust” her legs a few times to resist her urges to tell him how sexy his was.

“javier…”

his throat was straining from all the talking and laughing they were doing but he ignored it by inhaling cigarette after cigarette. “¿sí, mama?” he cooed quietly.

the way the new little nickname from his lips gave her goose skin and a flushed face, and she was thankful he wasn’t in front of her in that moment because she just might have giving up on her wait and see rule.

“tengo que ir, tengo que ayudar a mi amiga mañana. pero… fue encantador hablar contigo.” [i have to go, i have to help my friend in tomorrow. but it was lovely talking with you]

“yo veo. voy a despertarme temprano mañana también. una cosas más.” [i see. i gotta get up early tomorrow as well. one more thing]

she giggled, somehow already knowing what he was going to ask about. “me llama genie.” [my name is genie]

“genie… ya has hecho realidad mi deseo, dulzura,” he flirted. [you’ve already made my wish come true, sweetheart]

“obtienes dos más, cariño,” she teased. it wasn’t the first time someone used her name as punchline in attempt to flirt with her, and it sounded just as corny coming from javi. the only difference was that she liked it coming from him because he wasn’t trying to hide how bad the joke was, whereas most men try to make it sound original as if they’re fucking poetic legends. javi knew he made stupid jokes and didn’t shy away from it. he didn’t try to put on some stupid façade (at least not with her). [you have two more, love]

“¿dos deseos más? debe ser mi día de suerte.” [two more wishes? it must be my lucky day]

genie gave him a sweet giggle, whispering, “hasta luego, javi.” [later]

“buenas noches, genie.” [good night]

it was like night and day, her first impression of javier was that he was just some man trying to find his way in life, in colombia. she got a real glimpse of him tonight: they got to the bar about an hour ago, and to the other men nearby it was like javier wasn’t even there. they’d stroll up to the table and flirt, hard.

she was trying to be polite and avoid a scene by saying thank you, but i’m not interested or i’m here on a date with this gentleman, but there are other pretty girls around who i’m sure are single.

after the fourth guy, though, javi became noticeably irritable, and well… lost his temper at the fifth guy. genie told herself that they were lucky to not get kicked out after javi’s already bruised fist knocked the other man flat on his skinny ass, but it shook her a bit. a man so sweet and so kind to her yet so violent with others. as fucked up as it was she found it a bit of a turn on, but couldn’t help but wonder if maybe one day he’d lose his temper with her.

all her worries swam away when he sat back down and apologized, a look of pure embarrassment pooling his eyes.

“sorry, i don’t know what took over me,” he whispered, “if you want to go home that’s perfectly fine—“

“javi,” she cooed, “you’re fine.” and she meant it. she not only saw his resentfulness, she felt it radiating off of him. she didn’t want the night to be spoiled by some fuckers who lacked respect. “honestly if every girl was coming up here asking you for a buck and a blowjob i’d probably punch one of them too. no, i would do it.”

“you’re not mad?”

she scrunched her face up and grabbed her drink, raising it to her lips and sipping before she said, “fuck no. well, not at you. it’s not like this is our first real date, anyways. the real one will come soon, i hope.” she gave him a tight smile that showed off parts of her teeth showing javi that she was hopeful and willing to try again. “ugh, i hate saying that.”

“what?” he took a swig of his whiskey.

“‘it’s not our real first date.’ god, that just sounds like i’m crapping on this.”

“no it doesn’t. that’s what we said this was, right? not a first date? just two new friends hanging out?”

she snickered at him. “uh-huh, do two friends just hanging out get jealous and possessive over each other?”

he rolled his eyes wonderingly and bit back a smile. “you know what i mean.”

“sureee i do… then you won’t mind if i go out there and dance, hmm?” she pointed behind herself with her thumb. she wanted to toy with him a little to see what kind of man he was so that she knew how to navigate him.

she only received a squinting glare in response as he asked her to elaborate with his eyes, so she ever so slightly rose up from her chair to lean over the table. his face relaxed at her close proximity, maintaining eye contact with the vixen before him.

“for other guys? since we’re just friends right now, that won’t bug you, right?” she gave him no time to respond as she gave him a kiss so endearing that it swept his mind clear of any thoughts that didn’t include her. she almost moaned at the lingering taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his lips, craving him even more now. the kiss felt like an escape from all of her troubles. she only needed this moment of control and then he could have the rest of her — something she’d never give to anyone else. the kiss was over before it even began, and he found himself simpering for her. “can i go dance for other guys, javier?”

he could only nod like a coward.

javi watched how her thighs glowed underneath the yellow lights as she danced shamelessly in the bar they first met in. he couldn’t take his eyes off of her in the white sundress with her blow dried hair flowing around her shoulders and cheekbones. she wasn’t drunk, no, not even tipsy so he knew that she was just a free spirit with the way she was acting, she spoke her mind and let her body express itself uncaring of the other people in the bar that stared.

he liked the fact that other men were staring at her because even though she was dancing where everyone could watch, she was only dancing for javi to see. he also enjoyed it when a man would approach her and she would just dance her body away from them as it confirmed her growing loyalty to him.

sure she’d forgiven his lack of self control earlier, but now he knows that he doesn’t need to act out to get her attention because he already has it. he didn’t quite understand what was so intriguing about genie, but he wanted to explore her depths (and not just in a sexual way).

he stood up to strut over to her after drinking the rest of his whiskey; he clasped his arms around her waist from behind and took in a deep breathe of her sweet perfume which contrasted the woodsy perfume he noticed her wearing when he gave her his number. he planted a needy but light kiss on the curve where her neck met her shoulder, pressing his hips into her butt firmly before swaying and bouncing with her to the upbeat song.

“people are staring at you, dulzura,” he whispered huskily onto her ear lobe. “these men think you’re single. can’t have that.”

she couldn’t help the cocky grin that spread across her face. “i saw the way you were looking around the room, smiling like you own the place…” she turned around in his tight grasp staring into his territorial eyes with an innocent, but knowing look. “like you own me.”

“i don’t own you, darlin’,” he says monotonously, not even the slightest hint of humor behind his tone, “but i do control you. at least for the night.”

“you can be the boss, daddy.”

she watched the surprise waiver his once stern expression and rather than playing her usual confident self she couldn’t ignore what he said.

i do control you.

she wanted to let him take the reigns on this one and see what javier peña was all about. after all, wait and see was far out of the window at this point.

she just pouts with her eyes and brows and folds her lips between her teeth like she had no idea the effect she had on him. she felt his warm hand slide down to the small of her back, gripping into the clothed skin desperately while he hissed at her facial expression and her dumb eyelashes batting up at him.

she filled him with what felt like so much destitution it was beginning to irritate him. the wanting to take it slow. the giggles and smiles. the dresses—god, he just craved fucking her in that little white sundress. how so much woman fit into one person was beyond him, but he looked at her like she was god created just for him.

yeah… waiting wasn’t happening.

the two of them ran out to his car like a pair of schoolchildren, and javi almost hit other cars or pedestrians at least twice on the way back to his apartment. she just laughed and told him to slow down, the few shots of dark liquor she had getting to her carefulness a bit.

next thing they knew they were naked on the couch, just kissing. that’s all they needed to do. just feel each other’s impure warmth. their lips were far beyond numb but they still went at it. she clung to him like wet on water, and he held her close with his sturdy forearms atop his lap while she rocked her hips occasionally. she poured every moan into his salivating mouth and he swallowed them with pride.

they were in no rush to have sex, they just wanted to need each other for a little bit. their craving for each other exceeded physical intimacy and stretched into every curve of their being as they wept onto each other. she giggled every time she felt more of her juiced pool onto his erection that was nestled between her legs and curved up to her ass. he loved her moans and her giggles and her smiles so much that he found himself smiling with her more than he had with his recent partners.

“javi?” she asked softly after finally pulling away from their hour-long kiss. he hummed and looked at her through his low eyelashes, seemingly drunk off of her kisses. “¿crees que podemos esperar un poco más?” [do you think we can wait a little longer]

he frowned, feeling a tad offended that she seemed a little scared to ask him that. “sí, dulzura. no tienes que preguntar.” he pinched her chin lightly and dragged his fingers around her soft face. [you don’t have to ask]

“no quería asumir.” [i don’t want to assume]

he offered her a loving smile and brought one of her hands up to his lips. “yo puedo esperar, mama.” [i can wait]

she blushed at the compassionate stare he was giving her and rewarded him with a tender kiss on his lips and another one to his forehead. “¿tienes agua?” [do you have water]

“mm-hmm. solo agua de la llave.” [only tap]

she carefully stood up from his thighs and stepped from between his legs to the kitchen. “no soy exigente.” she took it upon herself to grab a couple of glasses from his cabinet and them up up halfway with lukewarm water before she peered her head to her right to find a ring sitting in a small bowl nearby. “javier?” she called, unable to take her eyes off of the jewelry. he hummed and she heard as he stood up from the couch and walked towards her. “are you married?” she asked, finally breaking her stare from the ring and looked at him. [i’m not picky]

he eyebrows knitted together and he gave her a dumbfounded look. “no, why?”

“who’s ring is that then?”

he followed her pointed thumb with his eyes and saw how the ring was perched on top of the junk bowl like a trophy. “shit,” he whispered, glancing at his floor bashfully. “uh, no, genie i am not married. i was engaged, but, i left her… the day of the wedding.”

she couldn’t tell why, but she grew worried. “why?”

shrugging, he couldn’t come up with an answer. “i’m still trying to figure that out myself… i guess i kept the ring hoping it’d give me answer,” he laughed incredulously at his confession. “that was definitely not how i wanted you to find out.”

she nodded and a sense of relief came to calm her down. “i run all the time too,” she replied, waiting a moment before holding out the glass for him to take. he found solace in her words even though he didn’t fully understand it yet. he took a lame sip of his water and set it down on the counter before closing the gap between their still feverish bodies. “we don’t need to talk about it.” her tone was so serious but her smile was playful. “we can just make out for another hour or something.”

they laughed at her suggestion, but just as javi was leaning into kiss her as an acceptance his phone rang. he rolled his eyes and groaned before walking over to answer it. genie didn’t want to eavesdrop so she just strolled over to steal a cigarette from him and walked to his bedroom to blow her smoke out of his screen-less window whilst she looked over the other apartments and the streets. she heard a few gunshots far away and poked her nosy head out to see if she saw something, and when she didn’t she just kept looking around quickly forgetting about it.

it is colombia after all.

she was almost done with her cigarette when javi made an appearance next to her also holding a cigarette.

“everything okay?” she asked, glancing up at him. he nodded and grinned down at her nipples perking up from the cool breeze. “take a picture, perv,” she teased once she realized he was staring, then kicked his calf gently.

“maybe i will, smartass.”

she shook her head and laughed indulgently as he pointed his polaroid up to her naked body that was being illuminated by the orange street lights. he laid the photo on his dresser before hugging her from behind like earlier, and he swayed their nude bodies to music that was heard playing from another house in the distance. she hummed and tossed her cigarette outside before stealing his right off of his pouted lips; he took the liberty of his mouth as opportunity to kiss her shoulders.

she wanted him so badly, but she knew it was just her wound of impatience waiting to be peeled open again. she wasn’t afraid of giving in to him. she was afraid of giving in to herself. javier didn’t make it easy at all, and he saw it, but he just couldn’t help himself.

“mi dulzura…” he breathed onto her hot flesh, trailing his lower lip up to her ear and smacking a kiss on it while his hand found the base of her stomach. she felt herself clench around nothing and moved his hand down to her clit before she could stop herself. he wanted nothing more than to make her feel good and she just gave him permission for that in some aspect. “tu coño todavía está tan mojada… tengo suerte, ¿no?” he rubbed tiny little circles around her clit the same way she would when she’d touch herself. [your pussy is still so wet. i’m lucky, huh]

“alguien podría vernos.” she worried like she wasn’t the one to initiate it. [someone could see us]

he waited a moment to respond. “que nos vean.” [so let them see]

she gave in and let him please her for the whole world to see. the pads of his fingers felt like heaven on her heat as she let go of the fear of getting caught; she leaned her head back onto his shoulder and closed her heavy eyes.

javier wanted to felt her tremble in his arms and hear her call his name. he needed to give her a reason to come back and he knew he could do that with his fingers alone. just like he said: he could wait. and he would wait for her. she was gentle and kind but fearless at the same time. he thought it was sexy the way she never cared what anyone thought of her (anyone she wasn’t familiar with anyways).

“¿te gusta?” [you like that]

she simply nodded rapidly as her chest heaved, her mind straying from reality as she sank deeper into the trap he laid with his fingers. her eyes flew open, however when she heard a group of people walking nearby. “javi,” she panicked, “deberíamos mover—“ [we should move—]

“shut up,” he whispered in her ear through gritted teeth while simultaneously wrapping his free hand around her elongated neck, “tengo esto.” [i got this]

genie moaned louder than she realized and allowed herself to no longer care after javi made his demands. if the people wanted a show then they were going to get it. “claro, después de todo… eres el jefe, papi.” [sure, after all, you’re the boss daddy]

weeks of harmony went by, and even the bad moments weren’t so bad. sometimes javier would meet genie after a shit day at work and wouldn’t be in the mood for company, but he didn’t want to push her away because of it. he still wanted her near and she saw that despite feeling like sometimes she had to walk on eggshells around him on his moody nights. she didn’t mind it too much, it was more of her still trying to learn how to read him which came with some difficulty.

he knew that when they went almost a week without seeing other and constantly missing each other’s phone calls that he was falling hard from how much he missed hearing her voice. genie filled her free time with her friends and gardening but her mind always trailed back to javi.

they’re schedules finally aligned on a tuesday; javi got the day off and wanted genie to meet his partner steve so she took it upon herself to have them over for dinner along with aimee.

“hi, i’m genie,” she introduced excitedly as she shook the man’s hand before inviting them in.

“hey, i’m steve. sorry my wife couldn’t be here tonight,” he said.

genie just waved him off. “oh, don’t worry about it. i’ll make some extra for her if that’s alright?”

“sure, thank you.”

“my friend aimee is here in the other room, feel free to make yourself at home. dinner should be ready in about an hour.” he excused himself and genie turned to javi and immediately gave him a sultry kiss. “mm, i missed you.”

he chuckled and wiped the corner of his mouth before giving her a hug. “i missed you too. how ya doing?”

“better now,” she whispered. “come help me in the kitchen?”

“not sure i can be much help.” he watched her hips bounce back and forth as she led him to her kitchen. “you have a nice home,” he commented; he walked behind her and enveloped her body into a warm hug as she stirred the sauce in her pot.

“thank you.” he gave her neck a few kisses, placed his fingers on her chin to turn her head toward him, and pecked her lips a few times. she blushed and focused on her cooking again, but javi wanted to play with her again as it had been too long since the last time he’d heard her delicious moans. “javier,” she hissed and he just slid his large hands into her tight jeans. “javi,” she laughed, “we are not having a repeat of last time.”

“you’re right, this time we’re not doing it in a window, we’re in your kitchen,” he teased after his fingers found her wetness and dove into it.

she exhaled softly and felt her nipples harden against the fabric of her shirt. “i don’t wanna mess up dinner.”

“focus on dinner then, baby, don’t think about me,” his voiced strained. she nearly laughed again but couldn’t because a moan nearly surfaced. she brought a bowl of diced onions over the pot and let them fall in as an attempt to distract herself. “i’m sure dinner will be lovely, dulzura.” his breath hitched up against her ear when he felt her clench around his fingers. “what are you making?”

“lasagna.”

“it smells good.”

“thank you—oh.” she accidentally smacked the spoon on the counter and sauce flew specks around the wall and stove. “shit!” she reached for a towel and immediately bent forward to wipe the mess up, but she only applied more pressure between her sex and his digits. he took the liberty to ram his fingers as fast as the angle would allow which had her struggling to stand straight, but she continued cleaning her mess up—well, her javi-induced mess. once she was done she put the lid on the pot and told him that she was close.

“already? seems like you needed this more than me. is that right?”

“yes,” she huffed, gripping the ledges of the countertop. “right there.”

“you’re doing so good keeping quiet.”

“me corro, me corro!” she breathed out. she swallowed every other noise that tried to leave her fragile body while her orgasm took over. it was strong and overpowering almost, unlike most of her orgasms that were slow and drawn out. she felt every bit of her climax in the span of just a few seconds but it was well worth it. [i’m cumming]

javi eased up on her fairly quickly and freed his hand, careful to not get any of her cum on her clothes. she tried to steady her body while she resumed dinner and he washed his hands before helping her trembling hands with the heavy pot. they didn’t say anything but they could not stop giggling.

“are you guys stoned or something?” aimee asked spooking the couple.

“we’re literally dea agents,” steve retorted as he stood next to her.

“eh,” genie edged receiving a warning look from javi. “are you?”

“genie,” javi hissed.

“don’t worry, i won’t tell steve about the time you and i got high before watching star wars.”

“really peña?” steve questioned accusingly.

javi gave genie’s ass a light smack, but he knew steve would ultimately forget about it so he just went back to watching genie cook.

the night went by slow which made genie happy. she got to bond with steve and aimee got to bond with javi. it was like the formation of a new, happier, stronger family for genie and she hoped everyone else felt the same way. aimee and steve teased the other two about how smitten they were being all night and how cute it was to see the love they have for each other growing. they all got a little tipsy from whiskey and wine which caused the formation of a brother-sister relationship with steve and aimee — one that javi and genie found adorable, especially with the way they bullied each other for their music tastes and political views in a chaste way.

when the night was closing in steve and aimee made their exits to their significant others and homes, and aimee naturally made the comment, “don’t be too loud now,” more than once.

as soon as they were alone, genie and javi made their debut to her room for pillow talk and cuddles having gotten their release of sexual tension out earlier.

“do you think they heard me?” genie worriedly asked.

“i think we’d know if aimee heard us,” javi quip, snickering as he did so.

“good point.”

genie admired all of his facial features which made him smile keenly. he was handsome, smart, romantic, and caring, but he was also daunting and reserved for everyone but her. she wouldn’t dare resist love from someone so sweet after she experienced a life in the absence of love. javier gave her all the smiles she needed for one lifetime already, but his desire to keep that smile on her face earned him a special place in her fragmented heart because he was making it whole again.

“do you want to keep seeing me? i’m just checking in, making sure we’re all good.” javi’s insecure tone put a frown on her face.

“i do. i like you.”

he blushed and crawled on top of her. “yeah? you like me?”

“yeah i like you a lot, papito. te quiero mucho, papito.”

he closed the space between their lips and he snaked his arms around her back. he felt closer than before to the woman below him because she forgave his sins faster than he did himself. he didn’t know what he did to get this lucky, but he refused to question one of the only good things in his life.

“te quiero, genie,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose along hers.

“me encanta la forma en que dices mi nombre… y la forma en que me besas… la forma en que me tocas. me gustas mucho, javi, no sé lo que haría sin ti.” [i love the way you say my name… and the way you kiss me… the way you touch me. i like you a lot, javi, i don’t know what i’d do without you]

days later javier ended up getting sent home for playing with the enemy, and it left genie in a state of uncertainty. part of her blamed him for the new distance placed between them but she also knew she didn’t understand everything nor did she want to. in this case ignorance was bliss for her.

they set time aside every couple of weeks to keep up with each other for phone calls and she even began considering moving back to the states to be with him, but her loyalty to beth always pushed those thoughts aside. he worried about genie often because her mental health seemed to decline with how much more she was taking care of the sick woman. he’d never ask her to stop knowing he’d do the same for his own family, but once he got put on the case for the cali cartel he knew him being there would put her in good spirits. at least he hoped so.

it had been nearly a year since they’d last seen each other and he wanted it to be a surprise. from what steve had told him she never really moved on despite javi telling her it was okay and that staying friends was best for them for the time being. it angered her how easy he seemed to want to give up, but this wasn’t a fairytale and she knew that it may have very well been years until she was able to see him again so she understood.

genie became more reclusive, only ever seeing her few friends in the foreign state. she and aimee lacked the mental drive to go out and party like they did in the earlier stages of their arrival so beth, steve, connie, and cory were the only other people they spent time with.

javi knocked on her door and as he stood there waiting for an answer he drummed his fingers over his clad thighs. would she look different? would someone else answer the door? would she not want to see him right now? all these thoughts that ran through his head a million miles per hour vanished when he saw that pretty sundress appear before him.

“javier?” she asked softly as if he were unrecognizable.

“it’s me,“ he whispered hoarsely. her beauty sucked all of the air out of him and his body turned to mush when she collided into his broad frame. “it’s me.” he clung to her and breathed her in like she was a wasting memory.

“¡te extrañé, javi! te extrañé mucho.” [i missed you]

“también te extrañé, dulzura,” he whispered into her hair. “i came to surprise you.” [i missed you too]

“come in,” she urged. she ran upstairs to her bedroom and practically dragged him with her. “i need you,” she told him breathlessly. “can i have you?” he simply pressed his soft lips to hers as permission; they ripped their clothes off of each other and she laid him on her bed. just then everything fell back into place.

all of the midday to midnight conversations they had developed meaning. there was no doubt in her mind that her waiting wasn’t pointless or a waste of time. it meant something to the both of them and they wanted to permeate it.

she reached between their bodies and gave his already hard cock a few slow strokes to build up the anticipation. “are you mine?” she asked, a hint of possession in her eyes.

he felt like his soul mended to the shape of hers, her spirit captivating every corner of his mind. he nodded helplessly. “yes,” he moaned with his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“were you loyal to me?” she teased her entrance with his tip, sliding it in slowly.

“yes, i was l—loyal to you.” he couldn’t stop gasping; just the feeling of her slick walls around the first inch of him had him on edge. “i promise.” just then she sunk onto him without further question and felt her wetness pool around him as he stretched her out. they let out sweet moans for each other and began kissing as she bounced on him. “fuck, ya vas a hacer que me corra.” [you’re going to make me cum (already)]

she giggled, lifted herself up, then put her hands on his stomach for better balance. “dame tu leche, papi.” [give me your cum]

he threw his head back while cursing loudly, giving her plump ass a tight squeeze and refusing to let go. “necesito que me des tu leche lindo primero.” [i need you to give me your pretty cum first]

genie groaned and pinched her nipple lightly, feeling the sensitivity spiral down to her pussy. “ven aquí.” he sat up and ran his warm hands over the goosebumps on her back. “lamer mis pezones.” [come here / lick my nipples]

“yeah?” he licked a teasing strip up one of her nipples, giving her puppy dog eyes. “¿quieres que te me lama los pezones?” she hummed at his question and fluttered her eyes shut when he began sucking one and used his thumb to rub circles on the other one, his mustache grazing her skin adding to the pleasure. she continued her rhythm on top of him while he kept her steady. he felt his eyes light up at the sight of her. sweaty, eager, desperate. he knew that he never wanted to feel anyone else do this for him, and no one could make him feel nearly as good. he had to let his mind wander from time to time because of how close he was getting to cumming inside of her. he didn’t want this to end so soon. he wanted this to be the memory she touched herself to whenever he couldn’t be around. he needed the feeling of his thick cock stretching and pleasing her slick cunt to be engraved so deeply into her mind that the thought of it alone would make her cum on her own fingers. “eres tan jodidamente perfecta, mama. so fucking perfect.” [you want me to lick your nipples / you’re so fucking perfect]

she loved the way he cowered his face into her chest as a way to feel more of her and the way he kissed up her sternum until his lips met hers. he cradled her in his arms so that he could switch their positions wanting to see how good he could make her feel. he freed her face of loose hair strands and gave her tiny kisses while he started slowly inside of her, not fully inserting himself in while doing so. genie loved everything about this moment.

javi with messy hair.

how sheen and warm their bodies were from sex and not the humidity.

the cool breeze that often snuck in through the open windows.

javi worshiping her body.

how pretty her body looked under the sun.

how careful and attentive he was with her.

their heavy breathing

and moans

and pants

and whimpers.

javi knew he couldn’t hold back much longer so he pulled out to bury his face between her thighs. she let out an ungodly sound as he opened his mouth as wide as possible and sucked up everything. she clawed at his scalp with her back arching off the bed not able to form any words at the sudden sensation.

he slurped as he closed his mouth and flattened his tongue on her throbbing clit, roughly shaking his head side to side tickling the skin around her clit with his facial hair (and it drove her insane). she tried to squeeze her shaky thighs around his head but his sturdy arms wouldn’t allow that. she cried out his name and let the vibrant and warm and forceful feeling take over he flailing body. her body shook so hard the bed creaked with the headboard smacking the wall a few times. she had no time to recover when he filled her up with his throbbing length and continued her orgasm by rubbing his fingers around her wet clit.

“hazte correrme otra vez,” she pleaded. he rammed into her and held her legs up while she perched on her elbows. [make me cum again]

“¿quieres otra más? hmm,” he grunted. [you want to cum again]

“yes, fuck—fuck. you’re gonna make me cum again!” he rested on top of her, laying her flat down again. he fondled her breast briefly but moved his hand up to her cheek to caress it. “can you cum with me?” she asked; his eyelids battered down and he nodded. she felt his body jerk and she grinned at his flushed face. “¿tú estás corriendo?” [are you cumming]

“mm. mm-hmm,” he moaned, “solamente para ti.” she felt her mouth go dry and his thrusts lose a steady rhythm. his hips dug into her thighs and his cock pulsed when her pussy began convulsing against him. [just for you]

she pouted up at him when he pressed their foreheads together and felt dizzy until that one second of pure stillness carried her body up and back down to reality again. she forced her heavy eyelids open to see him in her most vulnerable state of mind as a way to let him know he had her always and forever. she held onto him tightly, letting out whimpers of overstimulation that turned into exaggerated moans when she couldn’t hold onto the feeling anymore. he got there not too long after, but instead his focus sharpened on her rather than hazed; he thrusted sloppily into her exhausted body and gave her body every last drop of cum he had saved up for her.

their breathing synchronized as they just laid together; he made sure she felt loved when he pressed a few plump kisses over her face, feeling his heart punch against his ribs every time she cooed at his lips on her damp skin.

he carried her to the bathroom so that they could shower together and they didn’t even realize neither of them said anything for the next half hour until they climbed back in bed.

“doing alright?” he asked her as he lit her cigarette up.

she smiled with her eyes and nodded, pressing her back to her headboard. “you?”

“yeah… honestly thought i was gonna have to put up more of a fight to get in bed with you,” he teased. she nudged his foot with hers and laughed. “i came back for you,” he said once the mood shifted.

“i thought about leaving beth and going to you.”

“i know. steve told me,” he admitted. “i wouldn’t want you to do that. sounds like she needs you and aimee more than ever right now.”

“yeah.”

“hey.” he held her chin then gave her a kiss. “i’m here now.” he wiped a tear that fell onto her cheek and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “i’m here now.”

“you’re being so fucking loud right now, shut up,” genie scolded. she covered his mouth with her left hand and choked him with the other. he shook his head in protest but gave up when she resumed riding him in the office chair. he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled even harder as he shot his release inside of her. she finished him off and they had a brief make out session before he tapped her hip.

“how much time we got?” he asked before pulling his pants up and fixing his shirt.

“uh… ten minutes."

“i bet i can make you cum in five,” he challenged.

her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to his chest. “that is a dangerous game you’re trying to play.”

“come on, can’t you make me feel like the boss here for a few minutes?”

his smile won her over and he received the biggest ego boost when she lifted the skirt to her dress. “five minutes.”

he got down on his knees and smirked at her paranoid expression. “an orgasm per minute?”

“shut up.” she pushed his face into her slippery heat, mewling at the curl of his wide fingers and flick of his thirsty tongue. “move to the left… right there.” she held his face in position and watched his tongue work miracles along her clit. the squelching of her discharge mixed with his semen around his fingers was louder than she expected, and she worried about people walking by hearing them.

javi knew how to work the divots and curves of her more than she wanted to give him credit for, and knowing how crunched they were on time he focused on the spongy hill that’d get her to her climax fast especially when combined with tongue despite how badly wanted to taste for hours.

she didn’t warn him or let out any noise other than a few deep breaths, but he could tell by the way her hips jerked on his face and the locking of her knees that she was already cumming. seconds later he felt all he had given her pool around the base of his knuckles. after removing his fingers he licked her and his fingers clean before helping fix her dress.

“come on, we’ll make out in the parking lot,” he whispered to her with that everlasting smirk that she pretended to hate.

“i am never doing that again, that was too close,” she told him once they made it to her car.

“you loved it,” he said confidently. “come ‘er.” his face carried the scent of her and it made her feel good knowing that he’d have to walk around like that for the rest of the day. they kiss until another officer makes fun of javi for becoming a one-woman man to which he just waved off. “ignore them,” he chuckled dryly. “admit that you loved it.“

genie rolled her eyes and a smile crept on her face. “you’re wrong,” she said tugging at his shirt and pulling him in, “but you’re so much fun.”

they kissed once more before saying their goodbye’s and parting ways. when javier made it back to his desk steve could tell he seemed much happier than he was an hour ago.

“fuck are you grinning for?” steve interrogated. the brunette gave him a noticeably fake look of surprise. “what? did you have genie come up here and give you a blowie?” steve huffed and leaned forward when javi’s face went pale. “dude! i was joking!” he whispered harshly.

“do not tell anyone else.”

steve muttered something under his breath but then looked back at his partner through his eyebrows. “where’d you do it?”

he smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “go big or go home, right?”

“oh-ho-ho!” steve laughed proudly. “you dirty son of a bitch.”

“how you holding up?”

genie gave him an endearing look and said, “i’m alright. i miss her a lot already, i’m just glad i got to be with her in her final moments.” he nodded slowly at her answer, watching her pick the strawberries from her garden as they sat together in the grass. “how are you doing? you know with work?”

“i’m managing.”

she rolled her eyes from him back to the garden. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“i’m managing,” she mocked in a peculiar tone. “you can talk about it.”

“i don’t want you to feel like i’m ignoring your feelings, though.”

she glared at him and adjusted her posture. “i’m sad, not broken. plus, i asked because i care about you. we’re not just flirting anymore, javi. i thought this was becoming something.”

“this is something.”

“okay so fucking talk to me. don’t tiptoe around me and give me two word responses because i lost beth a couple weeks ago. you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but you’re not just managing. i wanna know what goes through your head.”

javi sighed and rubbed her back as she got back to work. “you’re right.”

“i know.”

he rolled his eyes but still gave the back of her head a kiss. “i’m thinking of retiring after cali’s done.”

“oh yeah? why’s that?”

she already knew why. the late nights, the constant losses, everyone dying… she saw how he clung to her metaphorically because she was the only stability he got to have every week but he tried hard to not become dependent on her. she appreciated his consideration, but it led to him being unable to vocalize his emotions which made her feel like there was an unnecessary barrier between them.

“can’t do it anymore. i want you to come back to texas with me when it’s done… if that’s something you want.”

she snorted and gave him a raised eyebrow. “you haven’t even told me you love me yet and you want me to move with you?” she was joking, but he noticed how her eyes bored into his as if she was waiting for him to say it.

he thought it over every time he was away from her — was genie just an impulse for him? just another woman? and every time he questioned it his heart screamed no. she could be bratty, lord knows, but she wasn’t complicated. she was sweet and so full of life that she gave some to him and it made him feel warm inside again. she loved all things and all people, she never judged yet she always stood her ground. she could be needy at times when he wasn’t in the mood for attentiveness but she always waited. he didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer.

“i do love you,” he responded nonchalantly, a frown reaching his brows.

she sat her basket down and turned to face him. “you’re just saying that.”

“no i’m not.” her smile faded momentarily, but came back even bigger; he held her face gently and kissed her blushing nose. “genie, mi amor, te amo tanto te esperaría por siempre. i loved you before i even knew who you were.”

“oh,” she pouted, “you break my heart.” she kissed him and sat on top of his lap whilst reaching for his belt buckle to undo it.

"mm, lemme take you inside," he mumbled against her shiny lips.

"right here," she begged quietly; she pulled her sundress over her head which made javi's eyes touch the back of his skull when he noticed she had no panties on. she didn't bother ridding him of his tight jeans. she just pulled out his velvety cock and teased it along her opening, waiting until he was fully hard to sink onto him. she rested her weight on top of him after he opened the rest of the buttons on his shirt, pressing her lips to his. "tell me again," she demanded. she wasted no time to rock her hips at a quick and eager pace as she lusted after the feeling of his cum painting her wet, rubbery walls.

"i love you." he twitched and moaned weakly beneath her, her movements sending shocks and tickles up his spine. he repeated it more than a dozen times like a broken record and boy was the noise music to her ears.

she whimpered against his neck and her hips chased his orgasm more than hers before she whispered, "i love you," back to him. "i love you, i love you, oh, i lo-love you!" she shouted without a care in the world and watched him through weighted eyes. he held her hips in place and fucked her back, ignoring the strain in his thighs from the fabric restricting his range of motion. "i love you, i love the way you fuck me!"

"you take it so good, dulzura." he pinched her cheeks between his palm and fingers causing him to lose his leverage inside of her, however it didn't stop him. he loved seeing how weak he made her: the way she just molded into him no matter how far he'd bent her or throw her around. he loved how red her face got when he squished it in his brawny hands. "that feel good?"

she nodded shyly in his grip. "yes, everything you do f-feels so fucking good."

"good," he boasted, "you're such a good girl for me, hmm... i love you."

"i'll always be a good girl for you," she told him; he felt his steady pace lose its rhythm and his cock twitched so hard and deep inside of her it felt like his skin had meshed with hers. "i'll always be a good girl for you because you're the boss of me."

fuck. he couldn't stop the arrival of his climax at her sinful confession, his cum pouring out of him seconds later with his head digging into the ground beneath him while he silently cursed at himself for cumming so easily. she liked it though and felt comfortable with leaving it off here. she knew he'd make it up to her later in whatever way she wanted. he asked to stay inside of her for just a little longer so that he could savor the moment and she happily obliged. she helped him escape his nerve-racking high by combing her hands through his hair and a firm kiss.

"my god..." his breathing jagged and his arm trembled around her bare waist. "you're gonna be the death of me one day."

"hmm, that's my job." she put her dress back on to sit next to him lazily pulling his jeans up over his slippery length. "you mean it? wanting me to come back with you to texas?"

he laid his head on her thigh after lighting a cigarette and fiddled with her hand. "course i am. i'll buy us a big farmhouse, and you can raise horses, goats, and shit. whatever you want. i'll make you tea every morning and rub your back when you wake up. we can go for walks and watch the sunset... whatever you want. that’s my second wish.”

"you are gonna be setting feminism back a few years if you keep sweet-talking me," she bantered. they shared a few laughs and smoked in silence for a while before he told her it doesn't have to be that. "mi amor... i'll follow you wherever you go. like i always say… you can be the boss."

"you gotta stop saying that. it makes my dick hard every time."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #javier peña narcos #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #javier pena imagine #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal is daddy

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bloodynereid · 1 year

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maybe like one with karen and reader where its like the one you did for warren but like how karen and readers relationship was while living with the six. ohhh or like you could do the beach scene with karen and maybe its just karen and reader or like they also tag along with graham and the blondie. lmao im dying for more karen fics

Echoes of Pain & Love

pairings: karen sirko x fem! reader & karen sirko x graham dunne (for plot purposes)

a/n: hiii anon! hopefully this is up to standards cause i really enjoyed writing this fic - even if it is really sad (i'm sorry about that btw). i didn't add the second part of the request cause i didn't feel like it fit in naturally with the story if that makes sense. i love writing for karen (we are in desperate need of more karen fics) so i hope you enjoy this. used a different perspective with billy on this one cause i thought it would be interesting to look into that avenue of family ties. also i promise my next karen fic will be fluffy instead of the whirlwind that this is.

tw: drug addiction, mentions of cigarettes, swearing, religious trauma (slightly mentioned), abortion, pregnancy, period typical homophobia mentions, mafia mentions (? honestly it's like a comedy point so not really a tw), angst angst angst, kissing, drinking, rehab mentions, mental health problems kind of mentioned, overdose

description: the rise of the biggest band in the world and the cloud of pain and love that surrounds a particular member and the love of her life.

Y/N Dunne: Hi? Is this on? Okay yeah great. We ready to start?

You were born in a small town called Hazelwood, Pittsburgh. Around 2 minutes before your twin, Billy. From that moment on you two were inseparable so when he wanted to learn guitar, you also learned guitar. When you took up your strange art hobby, he also started bringing a sketchbook everywhere along with him. So when your little brother Graham convinced him to join his little band, Billy also dragged you along with him.

You took the band almost as seriously as Billy, even if you still had some aspirations for going to university (which you never told Billy). Over the years until little Graham graduated high school you guys didn’t practice as much as you practiced the year after graduation. After each session your fingers were stinging and calluses upon calluses started to form.

You guys were playing gigs upon gigs and it was going incredibly well. Until you had to play a wedding, a wedding where your father was in attendance.

“Billy, Y/N what the hell? Are you guys okay?” You had rushed after Billy when you noticed that the creep dancing with the girl ages younger than him was your father. Currently you were holding your twin in your arms as unbridled rage filled your very being. You could feel that same rage radiating off Billy.

“You noticed the creep with the combover?”

“Yeah…”

“He’s our dad.” You responded, that made Billy unwarp himself from your arms and go thundering back into the wedding. You quickly followed him in and stood by his side as he confronted your father before smashing his guitar and storming off.

“Do you remember me?” You asked your absentee father after Graham punched him and walked off.

“Of course, girl. You have grown into quite a beaut huh?” A grossed out look overtook your face before you kneed that stupid little man right in the balls. As he kneeled over in pain you took the opportunity to spit on him and walk off in the direction of your brothers.

Warren: Y/N was and still is a badass. Never and I mean never underestimate that woman.

After that incident, life calmed down a bit. Practice continued and Camila appeared in your life after somehow Billy miraculously whisked her off her feet at a laundromat. You were happy to have another girl around and you would constantly tease Billy about how in love he was with her.

“You are such a softie!”

“I am not!” Billy had just gotten back from the dinner with Camila’s parents and he had found you watching tv and painting your nails in the living room with Graham napping on the other side of the couch.

“You know when you find someone I’ll be reminding you of these moments.”

“Shut up!” You threw the pillow that Graham had his head on towards Billy’s face which caused Graham to violently wake up to find his grown up siblings having a pillow fight in the middle of the living room.

Y/N: The night we opened for the Winters… right. Fuck that was night we all met Karen. *strained laughter* Graham was so in love with her. Oh! And Chuck right yeah that’s how I became the bassist. Billy nearly gave it to Eddie.

Chuck had basically rushed back inside his house, probably intimidated by all the very judgemental looks you all were giving him. Who would leave the band just like that? And to go into fucking dentistry?

“Okay how the hell are we going to play next week?” You asked as you stamped out your cigarette harshly.

“Eddie, you're going to have to be on bass.” Billy said with his usual commanding tone.

“Like hell I will.” Eddie responded with a scoff.

“Look we need-”

“I can do it.” You piped up, Eddie and Billy’s fights never ended well; it was as if a cloud of tension just permanently lived between them.

“What?” Your twin turned to you with a confused look on his face.

“Well I worked on the bass lines with Chuck cause he’s a mediocre player anyways so I pretty much know them front to back. Plus we don’t really need another rhythm guitarist anyways.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. You guys want to come over to practice at our house? I’m pretty sure mom went out with some of her friends.”

“Yup.”

“Sounds good.”

Y/N: I was lying about those bass lines by the way but someone needed to diffuse that situation.

Eddie: Fucking hell Y/N was a saving grace that day. She always was when the band was still together. I think it’s cause she knew Billy the best. They had this way of communicating that was downright creepy. Twin telepathy and all that crap.

The day you opened for the Winters started with cramping fingers and a slight tickle in your throat. You had barely been sleeping. Billy always called you a perfectionist and it was probably the worst trait to have when you were trying to prepare for the biggest night of your life. Then you saw… her.

The venue for one was stunning and huge. But what really lit up the place was the blonde on the keyboard. She was like an angel. So deeply entranced in the music and so fucking confident.

Men never really interested you. Sure they were attractive in the objective sense but whenever you thought of who you wanted to walk down the aisle for it was always a woman you envisioned. It had been like that since childhood. What made it worse was the church. Your mother wasn’t particularly religious but you always went to church on Sundays and the priest always spoke about homosexuals being part of the devil’s work.

You thought you needed to be fixed. Which is why you had tried throughout high school to date men or rather boys. But it never worked out. Whenever they got too close to kissing you you ended it with them or got Billy to help.

After that you just stopped trying to pursue that idea and just decided to live for the rest of your life alone. Or… with a woman if you ever found her. But living in Hazelwood, Pittsburgh had its challenges in that department. You would become the town pariah if you told the wrong person. And… you had no idea how to even start to mention it to your brothers.

But she was like an angel. Radiant under the stage lighting.

“Ooo somebody’s in love.” Oh fuck. You quickly spun around trying to see if Warren’s voice was directed at you but thankfully it wasn’t. Instead it was to your little brother who was staring at… her. Your heart clenched and your grip on your bass case tightened. The sharp pain sent through your aching fingers brought you back down to Earth. Of course she would never go for a girl, hell she’s probably straight. You briskly walked away from the pair and through the backstage door.

If you had turned around you would have noticed the girl’s eyes staring at you as you disappeared behind the swinging doors.

Y/N: I think I played okay that night. I mean the atmosphere was electric and I guess you could say that it was the night that marked the beginning of everything.

Billy: Y/N was incredible that night. She always downgrades her playing skills but it was as if she was born to play guitar. And no I’m not just saying that because she’s my twin.

Karen: I was stunned by Y/N when I first saw her play. When she told me, years later, that she had learnt all those riffs in less than a week I was blown away.

Y/N: Anyways after that night we headed off to the city of angels. Fucking Rod Reyes somehow convinced us. And well Billy also miraculously got Cami to follow us. Still don’t know how my imbecilic twin did it.

You were all gathered at one of the numerous LA diners as Graham made the phone call. The phone to that stunning woman that your brother (and you) had a big crush on. Her name was Karen. Karen Sirko.

You passed the cigarette you were sharing with Warren back to him as you watched your youngest brother flounder on the phone as he tried to talk to the supposed woman of his your his dreams.

“Look, just pass me the phone.” You said as you got up and took the phone from his slightly sweaty hands. Ignoring his protests you spoke into the receiver.

“Hi Karen. This Y/N Dunne.”

“Hi… Y/N Dunne. The bass player right?” Her silky British voice filled the phone and a slight shiver ran down your back.

“That would be me. Anyways what my idiotic little brother was trying to say-”

“Hey!” You heard Graham protest in the background.

“How would you like to join the band?”

“Oh bloody hell it’s burning. Guys it’s burning.”

“Uhh…”

“Sorry about that. Minor kitchen emergency.”

“You’re all good. So… what do you say?”

“To what?”

“Joining the band.”

“In Pittsburgh?”

“We’re actually in LA now. Gigs are lined up and we have a house in Laurel Canyon.”

“Hmm what do you think?”

“What do I think about what?” You asked as you leaned against the phone booth as everyone stared at you with anticipation, Graham most of all.

“Do you think it’s worth it?”

“You’re asking the wrong person. My mother always called my brother and I dreamers.”

“Hmm… you know what, yes. Send me the address and I’ll see you then.” Karen hung up the phone and you replaced it in the phone booth before turning around.

“Well?”

“We have a new member of the band!”

Y/N: I remember during those months that I had the strangest assortment of jobs. I worked at a movie theater, a bakery, an ice cream parlor, in a record store and I even think that I might have accidentally been working at a front for a mafia business. That was the secretarial job and it was the one I kept the longest. Employers let just say didn’t particularly like me. At least the mafia did so you know. That definitely says something about me. I had the secretarial job when Karen finally arrived.

You had had a very long and grueling day at the office dealing with a strangely large amount of angry Italian men. But you got through it and you finally came home… bearing the gifts that Warren and your twin always loved. Two slices of apple tart from your boss's mother who always appreciated giving them to you since he had a specific dislike of apples but a fear of his mother.

“Honeys I’m home!” You walked into the living room to find Graham, Warren and Eddie battling each other with the random things, a daily occurrence.

“Ooo did you get the apple thing?”

“Of course.”

“You are truly an angel sent from heaven.” Warren gave you a forehead kiss before he whisked away the white box in your hands.

“Yeah yeah.” You moved to go to your room which was quite literally the size of a broom closet but at least you had a bed. Even if it was crammed on top of a bunk with a desk under it. After you had changed out of your formal wear and into a button down and shorts. You slid into the living room with your pair of fluffy socks and snatched the blunt out of Eddie’s hands.

“Hey!”

“Oh shush I had to deal with a mob of angry Italians, this is the least you can do.” You slumped down on one of the couches and took a long hit that instantly relaxed your tired muscles.

“I don’t know how you’ve even held this job down for so long.” Eddie said as you passed the blunt back to him.

“No idea. It’s a fucking miracle.” You grabbed a random magazine from the pile and started to flick through the photos of really attractive supermodels.

“How many jobs did you have before this, remind me?”

“Probably like 20.” Graham said as he took a seat next to you.

“Fuck off.” You answered back as you blindly tried to kick him. “At least I tried to go get a job while the rest of you just idle around here like lazy dogs.”

“She does have a point there.” That was a new voice, you perked up and took a peak over your magazine as Karen took a seat on the couch in front of you and held out a glass of wine.

“Thanks. So are we ordering in or…”

“Nope, Billy and Warren said they were going to cook something.” That made you spin around and look at her with a horrified look on your face.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No? Cami went to process some of her film a bit ago and they just volunte-”

“Oh fuck.” You quickly handed her the wine and threw the magazine on the couch before basically flying into the kitchen. Trying to salvage whatever disaster the boys had decided to cook up. Some kind of alien monster most likely.

Y/N: *laughing* Those were some good months. I actually miss those days a lot. I guess everything changed after Billy met Teddy Price at a supermarket. Weird coincidence but I swear on my life that it happened. Well I’m actually trusting Billy’s word on this so who knows?

Graham: Y/N was really happy in those months. I mean she was always happy. Like a ball of fire and positivity.

Karen: I got to know everyone a lot more due to how close we were living together. Y/N and I bonded as well but she mostly avoided me. Probably because of work. She was really busy, even with gigs. Cami and Y/N were basically the ones getting the extra money we needed to pull through each month.

Y/N: Karen said I was avoiding her? I mean… maybe I was. It was a weird time for me. It was also the time I met Daisy. Oh she didn’t tell you? Yeah I met Daisy ages before she joined the band.

Daisy: Y/N told you we met earlier than expected? Well she’s only telling the truth. Y/N was a truly kind hearted soul, she actually was there the night I first played for a live audience.

The girl on stage, Daisy Jones, was absolutely dazzling. You almost felt like a kindred flame was lit up in your heart. So of course you decided to come up to her with a glass of whiskey and a smile.

“Hi sorry to bother you but I just have to say you have an incredible voice.”

“Aww thank you darling. I’m Daisy by the way.”

“Y/N.” The rest of the night was spent around a bottle of whiskey and you also got to meet Simone. The three of you created a comfortable atmosphere around you and so over the painful months of trying to get Teddy to produce the band you kept in touch with the duo. Going out for drinks when none of you were playing gigs or recording.

Y/N: Like I said those were some good months. But I guess every good thing has to come to an end. *A sad smile appears on your face and you turn your face from the camera to quickly wipe your eyes.*

Graham was obviously enamored with Karen. Everyone saw it, everyone knew except for her. Your heart stung every single time he sent her that puppy eyed look. How could you be jealous of your brother?! It’s not like someone as beautiful as her would ever go for someone like you.

You bitterly took another sip of your drink when you felt a presence next to you. Carefully turning your head you were surprised to see Billy. It was his night after all. The night of his wedding. Really you couldn’t believe it.

“Hey? You okay?”

“Yeah.” He most definitely wasn’t and you had an inkling as to why, so you just leaned your head on his shoulder and gave him a one armed hug.

“Just know I will always love you okay. Through thick and thin. I’m your twin so you sure as hell are never getting rid of me.” He let out a wet chuckle before burrowing his face in your hair and giving you a squeeze back.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a father.”

“You’re going to be a good one, Billy. I’ll make sure of that and Cami will make sure of that.”

“I don’t deserve either of you.”

“Nope don’t you go on saying that Mr. Dunne.” He laughed before pulling away from you and taking a swig of his beer.

“Do you want to be the kid’s godmother?”

“What?!” You looked up at him with widened eyes and a surprised expression on your face.

“Well I kind of talked it over with Cami and well we want you to be the godmother.”

“I’m already going to be the aunt though.”

“So should I tell her you said no…”

“Oh shut up Billy of course I’m saying yes.” You both laughed and he hugged you again. Harder this time.

“It’s all going to be fine.” You said into his shirt, trying to reassure your anxious twin.

“I believe you.”

Y/N: *silence as you anxiously pick your nails* Umm the tour right. I think that was more of the tour from hell. I was basically watching my brother destroy himself and his family. And I was powerless to stop it. So when you feel powerless what do you think we did back then? I took up pills. A secret little habit no one ever knew about.

You carefully tucked Billy into his bed after throwing the groupies out of his room and throwing out all the empty beer bottles. The remnants of cocaine were also swept onto the floor, and just as you were about to close the door you heard a voice.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah Billy?”

“Uh… thanks.”

“Anytime.” You said with a sad smile as a tear ran down your face before closing the hotel door.

“Fuckkkk.” You slumped down against the door and buried your face in your hands. It was this exact same routine. Over and over and over again. What were you going to tell Cami? Would you ever tell her?

“Hey you okay?” You heard that British accent that never failed to make you feel butterflies in your stomach, even if you sat devastated in a random hotel.

“Fine. You?” Quickly wiping away the remnants of tears and standing up so you were at eye level with Karen.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Karen. No need to worry about me. Have you settled in okay?”

“Right yeah everything is great. I was just about to go for a smoke on the roof care to join me?”

“Sure sounds good.” You dusted off your hands and followed Karen up onto the roof before lighting up one of your cigs.

“Okay now tell me the truth. How are you really feeling?” She asked after an awkward beat of silence.

“Conflicted I guess.”

“About the whole Billy thing?”

“Yeah he’s my brother but… I hate seeing him like this. I don’t know. Shit… this is such a messed up situation isn’t it?”

“It really is. Now just stop thinking about it and watch the stars. That always does the trick with me.”

“Thanks Karen.”

“Anytime.” She sent you a comforting smile and you laid your head in her lap. That constant weight on your shoulders already dissipating by just being around her.

Y/N: A few more shows in Cami came to visit. It was a surprise and honestly I’m pretty sure she knew something was up. I met up with her when I went to do my nightly check up on Billy since I had been at the record store all day.

Camila: I would never blame Y/N for what was going on with Billy. I think she was the one who at least didn’t let him slip off the deep end but I wish she had told me about it.

You didn’t know about Cami’s trip so when you went to check up on Billy suddenly the door swung open and a very pregnant Camila stormed out.

“Cami?” You asked in a strained voice.

“Y/N hey.”

“Look I’m so fucking sorry. I tried to get him to tell you or I would have called-”

“No no I get it. You’re his twin, you will always try to protect him. I gave him an ultimatum.”

“I’m assuming you’re letting him fuck around until the kid is born right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll try to make sure he gets better okay?”

“That isn’t-”

“No it is. Now come here. Let me hug my favorite sister in law.” You enveloped Cami in a hug and smoothed your hands across her back as she started sobbing into your shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay. Shhh, it’s all going to be fine. When is your flight?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“How about you come stay with me until then? That way you don’t have to see Billy or pay for another room.”

“Yeah that sounds good.”

Y/N: Those shows were a disaster. Billy was getting worse and I had no way to stop it. I didn’t try to take away his drugs or the fucking groupies. The one time I tried… no okay he doesn’t even know about that. So the day Julia was born, that wonderful little bundle of joy, Teddy got Billy into rehab. And I became Jules’ godmother. I thought everything was going to get better after that and it did for a while. For everyone else.

Billy: I came out of rehab and I quit the band. I think Graham and Y/N were the only ones who understood why. Y/N got the brunt of my addiction though. She was like a shining beacon but I never realized how much it had affected her…

Y/N: I wasn’t fine.

That stupid green monster called jealousy invaded your veins each time you saw him with her. You should be happy for your brother but it was the complete opposite. Warren was even questioning you as to why he never saw you with anyone, you only brushed off those questions by telling him to fuck off.

Pill numbers were multiplying by the day and as you sat in the recording studio waiting for whatever miracle Teddy thought would save your band you could almost feel the chemicals moving through your blood. You took another swing from the coffee cup in your hand to try and distract yourself from how big Karen’s smile was as she looked at Graham.

Falling for a straight girl. What an fucking cliche.

“Can I get a glass of milk and a whiskey? Or just a whiskey if you don’t have milk. Or just milk if you don’t have whiskey?” Now that was a familiar voice. You perked up from your little alcove in the recording room to see that chaotic ball of pure energy which belonged to one of your best friends. Daisy Jones was in the house.

“DAISY JONES? Do my eyes deceive me?” You rushed up and enveloped her in your arms. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming?”

“Well I didn’t know until last night.”

“You look incredible, I love this shirt.” She smiled and did a little twirl to show off the buttondown.

“Stop, now you look absolutely stunning. Where did you manage to find a coat like this?”

Karen: I remember feeling a strange kind of anger the day we met Daisy Jones. It wasn’t directed at her, it’s just… I don’t think it really clicked that Y/N had a life outside the one I saw her in.

Graham: It wasn’t really a surprise, Y/N was friends with everyone. Did she tell you about that mafia thing?

“You guys done with this little reunion cause we need to get on with it.”

“Stop being such an asshole Billy. But yeah we should probably get this show on the road.” You made your way into the soundbooth with the rest of the band after giving Daisy one more squeeze and a comforting smile.

“So how do you know Daisy?” Karen whispered in your ear, making you jump. She was way closer than you had anticipated.

“Oh I went to one of her shows. We got to know each other after, that’s how I met Simone as well. Where do you think I disappear off to all these nights?” That response elicited a slightly guilty look on Karen’s face.

“I always thought you were in your room. I guess I’ve just never seen you sneak out.” Wow, you hadn’t realized how good you had gotten at hiding your little bad habits.

“Hmm.” You hummed back and then turned to look at your brother and Daisy, nervously picking at your nails. Oh god why did you tell Karen that. She now thinks you’re some kind of crazy party girl.

The rest of the recording session was kind of a mess. You suddenly realized why you had been so entranced by Daisy when you first met her. She reminded you so much of your twin. You had felt that instant connection because you had the same connection with Billy. Their personalities bashed against each other because they fit so well together.

Y/N: I think we all noticed the Daisy and Billy thing. But I was just scared. I was scared for Billy and for Daisy. I care for them so so much but I don’t think I could have predicted what all came next. I had an inkling though. And that is what scared me.

You had joined Karen when she basically dragged you to go to the record store with her. Ever since your admission about your nights out it seemed as if she wanted to spend more and more time with you. Not that you minded.

You stood next to her as you sifted through the rows of different music selections. You weren’t particularly looking for anything but were looking out for some new stuff. It was always interesting to hear new sounds when suddenly you heard the girl at the till.

“Is this the one with ‘Look At Us Now’?” You exchanged glances with Karen with giddy smiles starting to paint your faces. No fucking way.

“Oh shoot I don’t think I have enough.” Karen was about to pull out some money but you stilled her hand by grabbing her wrist. Winking at her you grabbed a 5 dollar bill from your jacket pocket and put it on top of the record. Your record.

“Here.”

“Oh thanks.”

“No problem.” You linked arms with Karen before heading out of the store letting out giggles.

You took a seat next to Julia as you fed her little pieces of food whilst cooing at her. Billy was once again complaining about the song and Cami was trying to calm him down.

“Has anyone looked through the mail recently?”

“Oh fuck sorry I meant to sift through those last night. Mia culpa and all that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Karen sent you a soft smile before her face turned to shock as she stared at the envelopes. “Does anyone know what these are?”

“No way.” You quickly snatched the letter that was addressed to you from her hands and started dancing around the kitchen. “Look Jules, aunty has got some money now.”

Y/N: The first thing I bought… Karen tried to get me to buy stock. But no… I umm I bought a motorcycle.

Graham: Okay so one thing you need to know about my sister is that she has like zero self preservation.

Y/N: Graham said that?! Oh that little shit. That isn’t true. I got a helmet too. That bike basically became my baby.

You were sitting out on the balcony after Billy and Cami moved out. Which meant you could finally do drugs freely, well not that freely but that’s beside the point. You were lying on the floor staring at the stars as Warren went on and on about how he and the canyon were connected. It was strangely funny in your drugged out state that you burst out laughing. Pills and psychedelics might not have been the best combination.

In your defense you thought you were about to go to bed so you took a combination of sleeping and pain pills but then Karen dragged you upstairs to try out whatever this thing was. And all in all you were having a great time until it happened.

You peaked through your fingers to see Karen’s hand on Graham’s chest. It was just against his heart. Like she was metaphorically holding his heart in her hand but in that moment it felt like it was your heart that she had just crushed into a pulp.

So you just closed your eyes and let the drugs overtake your senses. Letting them all wash away that pain of heartbreak.

Y/N: Hawaii was incredible. Billy was an asshole. And Daisy shined. I think that’s about all I can remember from that time. *a tight smile appears on your face* People never notice things until they come to the surface. I hid things very well for a long time.

Cami had invited you to the housewarming party and when you were having a catch up with Daisy in her hotel’s pool you realized she was too. You hadn’t told her about the whole being a lesbian thing, not that you didn’t trust her but you didn’t want her to treat you differently. You were just scared of what she would see in you even if she had fully accepted Simone.

Simone had gone to New York because of a woman. Simone who was the only person who knew you liked women. Simone the glue that held Daisy together. You both missed her deeply and that is why you were hanging out with Daisy at the pool.

So on the night of the housewarming, Daisy’s arms were wrapped around your waist with a pineapple balancing in your lap as you sped through the streets of LA until you arrived at the house.

Daisy was the first to hop off before taking off her helmet and handing it to you. You did the same and took the keys out of the ignition before following Daisy inside. You weaved through the crowds with her arm around your shoulders when Cami spotted the two of you.

“Daisy you came! And with Y/N. Now this is a strange development.”

“You didn’t mention me before? I am offended.”

“Well it’s not my fault it’s so hard to describe someone so radiant. I’m going to go check up on Billy. It’s good to see you, Cami.”

“We need to see each other more often Y/N. Jules has been missing you.”

“Oh I bet.” You gave her a smile before bounding over and enveloping Billy in a bear hug. “How is my favorite twin doing?”

“Hi Y/N, it’s good to see you too. What’s got you so energetic today?”

“Wow I can’t just be excited to see my brother?” In reality, you had sneaked some of Daisy’s cocaine stash while she was in the bathroom. It was your first time on the drug and you suddenly realized how Billy got addicted to this stuff. You hadn’t felt this good in ages.

“No no that’s not at all what I’ve been saying. How have you been?”

“Good. I’ve missed having you and Cami around.”

“No you haven’t.” He said with a conspiratorial smile on his face.

“We haven’t been separated before Billy before I miss having my twin around.” That second the mask slipped, the mask that said I’m fine.

“Y/N?”

“I umm I’m going to get myself a drink. See you later Billy.” You slipped out of his grasp and grabbed a glass of whiskey and made your way to the living room where you saw Graham flirting with some blonde. Okay now that is a strange development. You took a seat next to a confused looking Karen on one of the couches.

“You okay?”

“Oh hey you came.”

“That I did. So what’s going on?”

“Did you know that Graham was in love with me?” That made you spit out the remaining whiskey in your mouth.

“What?” You said after coughing for a solid minute.

“Graham told me he wanted to be with me.”

“And you said?”

“No obviously.”

“Oh okay.” That stupid sentence shouldn’t have made you fill up with hope but it did.

“So you don’t have any comments?”

“I mean what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right I umm I’m going to leave you alone then.”

You spent the night at Cami and Billy’s house, they had already set out the spare room for you since Billy didn’t want you driving on that vehicle of death as he liked to call it in the middle of the night.

Y/N: The first day that we were officially Daisy Jones & The Six couldn’t have started anymore disastrously. I was finally starting to cut back on pills because after the cocaine inci-

Interviewer: Sorry to interrupt but uh what was the cocaine incident?

Y/N: *a pained look overcame your face* I don’t think you want to hear about this.

Interviewer: I want to know it all.

Y/N: Right so I guess you will be the second person to ever know the story about the cocaine incident. The first was the doctor who found me overdosing in a park. It had become a habit to swipe Daisy’s coke stash. So on that night I had been adventurous and took a little more than usual. That ended up with me on a park bench with foam coming out of my mouth. Mark found me after a shift, he basically revived me by throwing me in a lake and getting me to his house. There he was able to flush the drugs from my system. I made him promise the next morning to never tell anyone and that was that. I don’t remember much of the encounter but I stopped the majority of the drugs after that.

Interviewer: I’m sorr-

Y/N: *with tears rolling down your face* Don’t be sorry. I’m alive and yeah it was probably not a good idea to not have told anyone but I was one of those people who didn’t believe in weaknesses. Anyways, I was kind of going through a big withdrawal period during that first session. Teddy was a fucking saviour as always and got Daisy and Billy to go write a song. I spent my day cruising around the streets of LA on my bike trying to fight off a killer migraine.

You arrived home before Warren and Eddie did and what greeted you was the sounds of moaning. So you quickly slipped into the back and took a peek into the living room. The sight on the couch made your heart split in two. Karen and your brother…

You soundlessly turned and closed the backdoor before quickly wiping the tears that started to form at the sight of Warren and Eddie.

“Where have you two been all day?”

“We could ask you the same question.”

“Well I was at the garage for a bit and then I went to the hills and cruised around. And by the popcorn I’m guessing you went to see Rollerball again.”

“Damn right sister.” You laughed and followed them inside when you heard the phone ringing.

“Is anyone going to get that?” You asked as you walked into the living room, looking at Karen and Graham who looked very disheveled.

“Uh yeah.”

Y/N: That was the first time we heard Let Me Down Easy. And it was incredible… but Daisy and Billy. They realized that connection. And that hug at the end of the session. Well it said it all.

Interviewer: So did you notice anything different about Y/N around the time you recorded Aurora?

Billy: Uh not really? I was kind of immersed in the writing process of it all. Why? Did she say something?

Graham: She was more reserved I guess. I barely saw her other than in recording sessions and at home. I was kind of busy too with uh I guess you could call it love.

Karen: Yeah she was avoiding me. I wanted to be around her a bunch but Graham was giving me something I always wanted. And she was more tired. Like almost lethargic.

Warren: Not really? She spent a lot more time with me though. We discussed movies a lot together.

Eddie: She looked exhausted a lot of the time. Wait, why are you asking this?

Y/N: I was mentally drained during that time. I was avoiding Karen and Graham because of obvious reasons. I tried to date a few guys. That was a bad time. Me and men don’t go well together but uh I was grieving a lot and on top of that I was heartbroken. I wasn’t in the greatest place and it kind of fucked with me.

Daisy: I wasn’t spending as much time with Y/N as I probably should have been.

Y/N: After the album was finished and everyone went their separate ways, I went to a rehab center in Switzerland. The only person who knew was Teddy. I was an insanely secretive person but I needed to have someone know where I was. Teddy was like a father to me and he helped with everything.

Billy: I kind of freaked when I realized that no one knew where either Daisy or my sister were. Teddy had no idea where Daisy was but he told me Y/N went on a trip. That she would be back in a month and she was. But she was different. I think that was when I realized how fucking miserable she must have been while I was trying to deal with all my shit.

Y/N: Rehab was the best thing I could have ever done. I went back home and I moved out to this little apartment which was next to this secret beach. I finally felt so much better. I remember that day when I came to collect all my shit from my old room. I had bought a mustang when I left the airport. My beloved car.

You took a deep breath before cutting the ignition of your car and stepping into the house that held so many memories. So much heartbreak.

“Y/N holy shit you’re back.” Warren grabbed you and pulled you into a bear hug which everyone quickly joined once they realized who had stepped through their front door.

“Where the hell have you been?” Karen asked as she looked at you with a deep worry in her eyes.

“I uh went to rehab.” Their shocked faces made you burst out laughing. “Oh god I needed that, it has been a somber few days.”

“Why did you even go to rehab?”

“I needed to go away and get shit straightened out. Now how have all of you been?” You spent the rest of the afternoon catching up and drinking ginger beer while everyone drank regular alcohol. When you broke the news that you were going to move out it didn’t really faze anyone since Warren had basically permanently moved into his houseboat. That crush you had for Karen was still there but you were happy for your little brother. Wow, you could finally say that truthfully in your head.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice.” Karen said as she helped you pack up some of your valuables.

“Notice what?”

“How much you were struggling.”

“Karen, it’s okay. Plus I know you were busy having a boyfriend.” You forced out a smile before placing another one of your numerous trinkets into your suitcase.

“How did you know?” Karen had an almost guilty look on her face that made you look at her with a confused expression.

“I’ve known for ages. I’m not as clueless as the other idiots.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“Well I’m happy for you of course. Graham really likes you.”

“Is that it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“I… thanks.”

“No problem. Thanks for helping with packing.” After all that was finished you put everything in the trunk with the help of Warren.

“When the hell did you get a Mustang?”

“Well I needed an extra car since my bike wouldn’t hold all my stuff. I got her this morning.”

“I always did appreciate your taste in cars.” You both laughed and exchanged a hug.

“Take care of yourself Warren. I’ll see you at the meeting on Monday.”

“You too. You heading home?”

“Nah I’m going to check in with Billy first.”

“Okay. Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Warren.” You waved at the group who had collected at the front porch before speeding off in the direction of your twin’s house.

You stood in front of the door before finally having the courage to knock. The door was immediately swung open by Camila.

“Oh my god you’re here. Billy get down here!” Cami yelled into the house before grabbing you and squeezing you into a hug.

“Are you okay? Teddy said you were on a trip but we were worried.” All of a sudden Billy appeared at the door carrying Julia and having the most relieved smile on his face.

“Oh Y/N. Come here.”

“Yes, come in. I’ll get you some tea.” Billy put down Jules before he enveloped you in that familiar embrace. God you had missed him. Julia came over and hugged your leg, making you laugh as you picked her up.

“Hey there Jules. You’ve gotten so big.”

“Where were you?” Billy asked as you took a seat on the couch as Julia nestled into your chest.

“Switzerland. I wanted to tell you but I really didn’t want to disappoint you, Billy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to go to rehab. I know I should have talked to you-”

“No no, I get it. I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t there for you. You deserve someone better than me as a brother. Cause I sure as hell don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up, Billy. You’re my twin and I’ll love you to the ends of the earth.”

The rest of the night was spent in tears and laughs. You finally spent some much needed time with your other half. Being a twin meant you had a companion for life but it hadn’t felt like that for a while.

Y/N: I spent most of the tour around Billy. We shared the separate bus with Graham but he usually ended up staying over at Daisy’s bus. And Nicky well Nicky was a horrible fucking person and I noticed how much of a hold he had over Daisy. I felt powerless all over again. I tried to talk to her about it but she wouldn’t listen to anyone. I understood that feeling. I was that person only a few months ago.

Daisy: Y/N and Billy tried. Y/N tried to help so much that now that I think back on it she might have been the only thing keeping me from really surrendering myself to Nicky.

Y/N: Billy found her overdosed in the bathroom one night. That kind of changed everything for Daisy. Oh and Karen and Graham became official.

You were snuggled up next to Billy as you watched a random movie. Ginger beer was sitting in front of you and popcorn littered the bus's couch. You had spent the past few nights crying yourself to sleep. As if that would change the fact that Karen was in love with your little brother.

Then the bus’s door unlocked and in walked Daisy Jones. You felt Billy instantly perk up and shut off the tv. Billy Dunne was in love with Daisy Jones and you were powerless to do anything. Billy couldn’t admit it to himself but you knew the truth. You had known the man since the second he was born.

“Would it be okay if I slept here tonight?”

“Of course Daisy. I’ll leave you guys to it.” You gave your brother a quick nudge before disappearing into the bunk section. Snuggled under the covers you drifted off into dreamland with the sound of their intermingling voices in the background.

Y/N: When Teddy nearly died, it felt like the world stopped. I even went to a chapel. I couldn’t have him leave us just yet.

You were kneeling in one of the pews of the hospital chapel. Praying and just begging God to let him live. You would do anything if you could just have him back.

When you got the news that he was going to be fine, you went into the room before Billy did. He understood the importance of that to you.

“Hey old man. I’m glad you’re not dead yet.”

“You ain’t getting rid of me that easily.” That was when Teddy noticed your tear tracks. “ Oh sweetheart.”

“Can’t have you dying on me okay?”

“I won’t. I promise you.”

Y/N: Pittsburgh never felt like a home to me. LA had become that. At least I didn’t feel judged in every corner of the town. But I missed my mother.

The night before you were meant to leave for Pittsburgh you heard a soft knock on your hotel room door. Rising from your position on the bed, you threw your journal and pen back into the covers and padded over to the door. And there stood Karen. As beautiful as ever but with tears running down her face.

“Kare? What’s going on?” She looked into your eyes and suddenly you knew. Oh she was pregnant.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” She visibly brightened a little before she delved into your arms and you held her through the night. Selfishly feeling happy that she was spending the night in your arms instead of your brother’s.

You awkwardly sat at the edge of your mother’s backyard. Taking sips of a glass of lemonade as you leaned your head on Karen’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” You saw Cami walk up to the both of you with a concerned look on her face. You twisted your head to look up at Karen as she gave Cami a sad smile. Cami’s face morphed into something concerned before she gave you both a hug.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey I’ll leave you two to discuss for a bit, okay?”

“Yeah I’ll see you later honey.” Karen’s little nickname for you made your heart flutter as you gave them both a smile before making your way to where Billy was talking to Chuck. The fucking dentist. You put your hands over your twin’s eyes and leaned next to his head.

“Guess who?” You asked, trying to deepen your voice as much as possible.

“Hmm I don’t know. Who could it be? I’m thinking it’s Y/N.”

“Spoilsport. Hey Chuck.” You made your way to stand next to Billy as he let out a chuckle at your childish antics.

“Hey Y/N. You look good.”

“Why thank you. I’m wearing Dior.” You gave him a slightly cutting smile before taking another sip of lemonade.

Warren: Y/N could be incredibly cutthroat when she wanted to. One of the best things about her.

Y/N: The Pittsburgh show went well. It was weird being home again. But the crowd was insane and Daisy and Billy well… they were Daisy and Billy.

The next morning after the show you went to the clinic with Cami and Karen. You held her hand during the procedure and gave her a comforting smile throughout it. She didn’t want pity or sadness and you knew that. You were always going to be there for her. Even if it was only as a friend.

Y/N: In all honesty, I thought everything was going great. Obviously I could see the tension between Daisy and Billy, I was literally living with them. I felt like a third wheel a lot of the time.

You could feel the palpable tension in the air as you played through the set. Billy looked heartbroken but also fucking elated, Daisy looked like she was having the time of her life, Eddie had a black eye, Graham couldn’t even look at Karen, Karen looked devastated but she kept sneaking glances your way, Warren looked like well Warren looked normal and you just did what you normally did, you observed. You mostly observed Karen because she looked really fucking hot in that outfit.

Then the set ended. Billy ran off to chase Camila and Daisy kept on singing. You knew it was the end. So before you went backstage you looked out onto the crowd one last time and sent them a kiss with a sad smile.

You were packing up your guitar when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see Karen. In all her glory with a bright smile on her face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this. I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize it.” Then she pulled you into a kiss. A kiss that reminded you of all of the things you had gone through since the start of the band. A kiss that felt like that pulsating crowd. A kiss that felt like pure unadulterated love.

“Wow Karen Sirko I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Well Y/N Dunne I can’t wait to live out life with you.” You laughed before grabbing her and pulling her into a deeper kiss than before.

Daisy watched on as one of her favorite people in the world finally got her happy ending. And she felt calm for the first time in a while.

Karen: I wasn’t being completely honest with Graham for our entire relationship. I was literally in love with his sister throughout most of it but I didn’t know that I was. Until that night she just held me while I cried about being pregnant.

Y/N: *entwining your hand with Karen’s as the camera pans to allow you into frame* Karen is the only person I could ever imagine a life with. We live out in the mountains and I became a writer. And this incredible woman right here makes some of the best music out there.

Karen: Now you’re exaggerating.

Y/N: Shh I’m having a moment. So yeah Jules that’s how this whole thing has come to pass. I wouldn’t have changed one bit, it all led me to being with this beautiful woman whom I love with my entire being.

Julia: You know I think you’re like one of the coolest people ever right?

Y/N: Aww I love you so much kid. You’re definitely one of my favorite nieces, don’t tell Graham’s kids. *the camera cuts as you and Karen let out loud laughs*

THE END.

taglist: @yesshewrites1

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