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anime-addict-362 · 10 months

Text

Just a Taste

Request: I wanna say one about Denki sucking readers fingers. I would want the kinks of mommy kink, degradation kink, and some that you would like to add as well!

CW: NSFW, Bottom Denki x Top Female Y/N, lots of sweetness at first, degradation, slapping, finger sucking, anal penetration, hair pulling, vaginal penetration, fingering (male and female receiving), pegging, riding, handjobs, crying, overstimulation, edging, reassurance, spanking, Denki sucks at taking things serious, lots of jokes

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Denki stared at Y/N, who stared at his empty TV screen. Nothing was playing, yet she was staring so intently.

"Oh my god, you finally lost it," Denki blinked and Y/N looked to him.

"You've been losing it, I don't wanna hear it from you," She chuckled, then pointed to the TV screen. "I was looking at how fucking dirty it is bro. How do you even get a TV screen THAT filthy?"

"By owning a cat that climbs all over it," He snorted, moving over to her. "Wanna watch a movie?"

"Sure," She nodded, leaning over to kiss him. "Make popcorn."

"Yes ma'am," He kissed back, then walked off to the kitchen. "Pick a movie!"

"What are we in the mood for," She yelled out, grabbing his TV remote.

"Nothing that has animals dying," He yelled back.

She hummed, scrolling through the movies. Most of them looked like shit. "What about action?!"

"Yeah, that sounds good!"

She grunted and clicked on some superhero movie. Maybe it would end up being funny. It didn't matter anyway, Denki's commentary made anything funny.

And soon, Denki was sat by her, popcorn in hand. She started it and turned the lights off. "Extra butter?"

"Of course. Light butter is for pussies," Denki snorted, wrapping an arm around Y/N. "And you my dear, are not a pussy."

"Thanks," Y/N chuckled.

Denki eyed the movie as it started. "What's it about?"

"I don't know. It looked basic. Probably some basic ass superhero trope," Y/N shrugged, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

"...okay. So like child who gets powers and grows up with them in secret, not wanting to ruin their identity, but learns that they eventually have to use it, to save people," Denki explained.

"More basic," She smiles, looking up to him to see the concentration.

"Hm... Born without a super power, was shunned for it, but randomly gets one because... He was bitten by a bug. An out of world bug. And he comes out on top in the end," Denki offered, looking back to her.

She kissed him. She couldn't resist his dorky grin. He kissed back, leaning in. "You're a dork."

"You love it," Denki pointed out, kissing her forehead before pulling away. "Now movie time, I gotta see if I'm right."

She snorted, shoving more popcorn into her mouth. "Surprised you didn't bring in time travel."

"Oh my god, don't get me started," He shook his head.

She didn't look at the at the TV, instead, just eyeing him. His face was so cute. His eyes looking so excited, even if the hero looked like it came straight out of a children's cereal commercial.

After a minute or so, he noticed her looking at him. "Yes?"

"I love you," Y/N smiled.

Denki grinned back. "I love you too," He kissed her, staying there for a few moments this time. Then he pulled away, grin getting even bigger. "C'mon, you're missing his orgin story, it's so riveting."

"Riveting," Y/N repeated as Denki wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him.

They managed to make it halfway through the movie, and while Y/N thought it was poorly written, Denki's comments we're funny and entertaining enough.

At one point, she reached into the bowl to discover, popcorn was gone. She frowned. "Damnit."

"What," Denki looked to her, then followed her gaze. "Damnit! I don't even think I got a bite."

Y/N snorted. "No one was stopping you."

Denki grabbed Y/N's wrist, and picked her hand up. "I see the evidence right here. You're the first culprit I've seen covered in butter."

"I admit to the crime," Y/N snorted, then pointed a finger in his face, wrist still being held. "What's my punishment?"

"Slobbery hands."

"What-"

Y/N's face scrunched as Denki licked her hand, wrist to the tip of her middle finger. "I can't tell if you want to be a dog or your just horny and don't know how to express it."

Denki shrugged, freely bringing two fingers into his mouth. "Does it matter," He slurred around the fingers, watching how Y/N laughed.

"Yes, it does," Y/N pushed the empty bowl to the side, climbing into his lap. "One makes you... Someone who wants to be a dog, and the other one makes you a whore so..."

Denki eyed her, letting go of her wrist to hold her hips. He felt Y/N's fingers start to wiggle, and they slid back into his throat. He felt his face burn, hands holding her hips harder.

"What's the safeword," Y/N asked, pulling her fingers free, just enough for him to speak.

"Strawberry," Denki grinned. "It's such a dumb safeword."

"You're the one who picked it out," Y/N grinned back, kissing his cheek. "Anything you want to avoid?"

Denki thought that over. Y/N always asked, and he never really had an answer. But he did this time.

"I have that hero party, gala, shitty thing in a few days. Maybe don't leave any too obvious marks," He spoke, as Y/N's kisses moved to his neck.

Y/N nodded. "Okay baby. C'mon. Bedroom," She stood from his lap, finally pulling her fingers from his mouth. He was disappointed, actually, but followed her.

They made it to the bedroom and she sat down on the edge of the bed, standing him in front of her. "Take your shirt off."

Denki smiled, and took it off. He was far from ashamed of his body, especially when it came to Y/N. He always liked showing off to Y/N.

"Beautiful," Y/N chuckled, eyeing Denki's smile. She was pretty sure it would be gone soon.

In a good way of course.

"Just get naked," Y/N leaned back on her hands, giving him a small smile.

"Gladly," Denki smirked, sliding off his sweatpants and boxers with no fanfare. Just quick and easy. "Do I meet your requirements?"

"Always babe," Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him to her, and sat him on her lap. "Gonna be a good boy?"

Denki felt his face burn again as he nodded, kissing her. "I love you."

"I love you too," Y/N hummed, hands moving to his hips.

He didn't stop kissing her, even as her hands moved to his chest, then down to his abs, then to his half hard cock. He couldn't pull away, even when he started moaning softly into her mouth.

Y/N moved her hand slowly, feeling the few veins around his cock, letting her thumb circle the head. And Denki was on the verge of making her pass out.

She pulled away, letting out a breathless laugh. "Jesus, Denki."

"Sorry," Denki laughed back, taking a deep breath. He ran a hand through her hair, kissing her neck.

Y/N hummed at the sloppy kisses Denki left on her neck. She let her hand moved down to the lower base of his cock, and he huffed out a hot breath, hips starting to fuck up into her hand.

"Are you about to come," Y/N asked, sounding amused.

"Don't laugh," Denki huffed. "Your fault."

"I'm just sitting here," Y/N raised an eyebrow.

"And you look go good just sitting there," Denki groaned.

"God you're acting like a slut right now," Y/N huffed, feeling the way Denki paused for a second.

"Oh god," Denki whispered as he realized which way this is going.

"Okay," Y/N asked and Denki nodded quickly.

"Yeah, that's okay," He spoke, pulling his face out of Y/N's neck.

"Good," Y/N whispered, giving him a sweet kiss before pulling her hand away from his dick. Denki gave a small groan, obviously an annoyed one, but he didn't protest.

"Lay over my lap," Y/N pulled away completely, waiting for him to stand.

Denki didn't argue, standing before taking a second to think. One, what would this lead to? Two, how uncomfortable would this be?

Eh. Only one way to find out.

He draped his front over her lap, and took a second to adjust. "Your knee is so goddamn sharp."

Y/N snorted while she rolled her eyes. "You suck at taking things serious."

"Do you remember who you fell in love with?"

"I'm reminded everyday."

"That's a good thing," Denki turned to eye her. "Right?"

"It's lovely," Y/N grinned, then pushed Denki's head down. "Now shut up, I'm trying to seduce you."

"Consider me seduced," Denki threw in, but did listen to her.

It was more comfortable than he first assumed, now that her knee wasn't digging into his stomach. And the hands that started to massage his back? Godly.

He felt his breath hitch as one of those hands moved to his ass, just grabbing and feeling. He sighed a bit, letting his eyes close.

Then there was a smack laid on his ass. A hard, loud one.

Spanking wasn't something new with them. It had always been on the table, but they didn't do it often. Not a specific reason for that, it's just how they did things.

So he was caught off guard, to say the least.

He groaned a bit, a hand moving to grab something but realized there wasn't much to grab. "Fuck Y/N."

Y/N hummed, eyeing the mark on his ass that was already turning red. She ran her fingers over it gently. "Hand me the lube."

Denki easily reached over to the nightstand and grabbed it. He handed it to her, adjusting where his dick sat against her leg.

She brought her leg up slightly. "Stop moving."

"Yes ma'am," Denki nodded.

He fought the want to squirm when two lubed up fingers were pressed up against his ass. And he knew, he KNEW, she wasn't going to stop at a single spank. He was just awaiting the slap now.

The fingers slid in with a little resistance, but Y/N took it slowly, using her free hand to rub Denki's back as he tensed. Sure, she was domming, but she didn't want him to be uncomfortable.

Denki gulped, going to grab Y/N's legs but stopped himself. "Ma'am- can I- FUCK-"

The hard slap on his ass caught him off guard and he let out a whimper at the sting. But regardless, he tried again.

"Can- Can I grab you," Denki asked quickly.

Y/N took a second to process why he was asking that. "Yes, you can."

"Thank you," He nodded, and used a hand on her leg as those fingers slid back in. Good, he really needed something to hold onto.

Then something else popped up into his mind and he came to realize he didn't know how to ask. He should really start asking questions before they get in the middle of it.

"Wa- wait," He huffed, sitting up. "Strawberry? But not really," He felt Y/N stop instantly, gently pulling her fingers out.

"Yeah," Y/N asked, meeting his eyes as he turned and almost felt onto the ground.

"Can I call you Mommy," He asked, with a small grin.

She couldn't hold back the laugh. "That's what you wanted to ask?"

He grinned and nodded. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable!"

"You wouldn't baby," She grabbed his chin and kissed him. "Thank you for asking though."

He hummed and kissed her back. "Sorry for interrupting."

"It's okay," Y/N nodded. "Is that it? Anything else?"

He thought that over, really wanting to avoid another interruption. "You owe me an ass massage after this."

She rolled her eyes and pulled him back onto her lap. "Yeah yeah, whatever man. Anything for the prince."

"You think I'm hot enough to be a prince?"

"And pretty enough to be a princess, now head down asshole," She chuckled.

She slid the fingers back in him slowly, listening for any real discomfort. When she was sure he was fine now, she continued.

She started rougher this time, sliding the fingers as deep as they could go before roughly pulling them until it was almost just her nails in him, then slamming them back in. She loved the way it made Denki jump.

Denki moaned, legs tensing when the fingers just barely cut onto his prostate. Then she roughly pull her hand out and spanked him again.

"Yes Mommy- Thank you Mommy," He moaned out, eyes closing and putting his hand back on her calf.

"Good boy," Y/N grinned, using her free hand to drag his head up. She turned his head so she was looking him in the eyes. "You're being so polite. You're Mommy's good boy, aren't you?"

She watched the way his eyes widen, and the he was nodding in her grasp. "Uh huh- Yes I am, Mommy."

She spanked him again, and watched his eyes widen a bit more before they closed and his head fell more into her hand, as if he didn't wsnt to bother keeping it up. "Thank you- Mommy."

She slid the fingers back in him roughly, watching the way his eyebrows tensed for a second, before he moaned while his face relaxed.

"You're such a whore," She whispered. "Such a dirty fucking whore. Just laying over my lap and barely reacting to me beating the shit out of your ass."

He moaned at her words, knowing it wouldn't help, but he couldn't help it. "I can't help it Mo- Ah-" He hissed at another spank, right after she ripped her fingers back out.

"Don't fucking talk back," She held his face harder, and watched his eyes go straight to her's.

That's one of the many things she always found so endearing about Denki. He always looked at her.

Dates, going out with friends, or just being alone, he always saw her, noticed if something was off, or if she wanted something.

But also when they had sex. He always, always had his eyes on her, never looking away. He looked everywhere, where they connected when she rode him, her tits when she took her shirt off, her ass before he took her pretty underwear off.

But something about him and just looking her in the eye while she was fucking him? It drove her crazy.

She stood, taking her hand to hold him, ensuring be wouldn't fall or something. "Lay on the bed, face down."

"Yes ma'am," Denki huffed, following her instructions.

He grabbed hold of a pillow and laid on it for both comfort, and just needing to hold something. He knew Y/N wasn't done, she was always careful about prepping him enough to fuck him.

He's sure she's had an incident in the past with someone else, because she genuinely had a fear over messing up his ass. He never asked, wasn't sure if he ever would.

Soon, she sat on her knees behind him, between his legs. "On your knees, keep your chest down, keep holding the pillow if you want to."

"Yes ma'am," He brought his ass up, and felt her freshly lubed fingers enter him again, just as roughly as before.

He groaned as they fucked in and out of him as a pretty quick speed, still rough. Then he whined as she spanked him, hard.

"Fuck," He whispered into the pillow, fighting to not squirm.

"God, you're beautiful," He barely heard Y/N whisper suddenly, and he felt his face burn. He didn't think he was supposed to hear it, if she even meant to say it out loud, but he appreciated it anyway.

But then a hand was coming down on his ass again, and it left him moaning at the how sudden it was. At this point, his ass was just sensitive. She could slap his ass with little force and it would make him jump.

He swore a bit louder when a third finger stretched him out. She went slow now, a hand massaging his ass as she focused on the fingers.

He buried his face in the pillow as she hit his prostate. The second he was okay with the stretch, she went back to being rough but was hitting his prostate so perfectly now.

He moaned into the pillow, until she grabbed his hair and pulled his head up. He moaned freely now, the pain of the hand in his hair helping the building coil in his stomach.

"Mommy," He moaned. "Can- May I come? Please Mommy?"

Y/N grinned. "I haven't even touched your cock, and you're going to come?"

Denki nodded quickly, the hand in his hair limited the movement. He yelped as he was spanked again, but then moaned. "Fuck- Yes, just for you Mommy. Please."

"No," Y/N snorted, in a degrading way. "Honestly babe, you should know the answer to that by now."

He should. But it was worth a shot.

She pulled his hair again, until he was on his hands, back arched. She leaned over and kissed his neck, and he breathed heavily as her fingers kept that even pace on his prostate.

"Oh fuck," He groaned, hands gripping the blanket under him.

"You're such a slut," Y/N huffed out a laugh. "Taking 3 of my fingers like it's nothing. You're gonna feel so good around my cock."

He started panting, body starting to get really hot. He whimpered as a fourth finger slid in with the rest, back to a slow and testing pace.

"Mommy," He whined out.

"What," She practically spat out, and it made a shiver run down his spine. She had yet to let go of his hair.

"I wanna- Please Mommy, can I come," He asked again, before groaning as the fingers hit his prostate once again. "Please! Mommy please- I'll be so good for you- I need to come-"

She let go of his hair and slapped him across the face. It wasn't hard enough to leave any type of mark but he did whine.

"God, you're a fucking whore," She laughed. "You know what? Yeah, come. Prove to me that you're a dirty, needy slut."

He felt his eyes roll back as he came, the feeling of it being truly amazing. But it was short-lived.

Now he couldn't stop his squirming as her fingers still attacked his prostate.

"Mommy," He felt tears come to his eyes. "Oh God- Mommy, it's too much-"

He was slapped across the face again, and this time she ripped her fingers out of him and grabbed his face, pulling it back to hers, roughly. He whimpered and she grinned.

"Did you or did you not beg to come," She asked and he nodded.

"Yes Mommy," He responded, breathless.

"What makes you think you can complain about it being too much now, huh," She asked, tone angry in his ear.

"I'm sorry Mommy," He breathed out. "Won't do it again, I promise," He looked to her, eyes definitely full of tears.

"There's my good boy," Y/N grinned again, kissing him roughly. He kissed back with a groan.

She flipped him and laid him on his back now. He knew what would happen next. He's gonna be fucked. But like always, Y/N kissed him first.

Okay, sex was great, OBVIOUSLY! But something about just kissing while being naked, and holding each other. It turned him on so much, while also making him blush uncontrollably.

So he took the moment of pure affection, and kissed Y/N as long as she let him. Which was only about a minute before she was pulling away, and getting up.

He watched carefully as she took her sweatpants off, grabbed her strap, and adjusted it on her hips. He held back his snort as she swore at it when it wasn't working right.

But she got it worked out and came walking over, sitting between his legs and grabbing the lube. He gulped as she lubed up the dildo.

It wasn't huge, but most definitely not small. 8 inches, and on the thinner side. And holy shit, she knew how to use it on him.

She leaned over him and kissed him again. "Doing okay," She whispered, eyeing him carefully.

"Yeah, I'm good," He nodded, giving her a small smile.

She nodded back, returning the small smile and kissing his cheek and sitting up. She grabbed one of his legs and put it over her shoulder, giving her a lot of room to work with.

He groaned quietly as she slid inside of him, slow and careful, one hand on his leg and the other on his hip.

He bit his lip as it went further and deeper in him, and he could only groan as it finally stopped. He huffed out a deep breath, hands grabbing at the sheets.

Denki felt the rough fabric of Y/N's shirt against the back of his leg, the way her hand massaged his thigh, the other one moving off his hip to the bed next to him. He heard the way his own breathing staggered, maybe even the way his heart raced.

Y/N moved closer, and he groaned as their hips were pressed together, the strap sliding deeper in him. Y/N ran a hand through his hair and kissed his jaw.

Denki knew she was waiting for him to give her the go, and once the pain was gone, he nodded to her.

"Use your words," Y/N asked, surprisingly kindly.

Denki took a deep breath. "I'm ready, Mommy."

"Ready for what," She asked, tilting her head in the slightest.

"Please fuck me," Denki begged, a hand grabbing the back of her shirt. "Please Mommy?"

Y/N grinned and kissed his neck. "I love it when you're a good boy for me."

"So always," Denki let out a breathless chuckle.

Y/N kissed his cheek. "Yes, always. It's just for me too, isn't it?"

Y/N pulled her hips back, then pauhed back in slowly. Denki groaned, moving his hand to her shoulder. "Just for you, Mommy."

Y/N started a slow pace, still holding his thigh, keeping him from moving. He groaned, relaxing back in the bed. He kept his hands on Y/N's back, holding her shirt, nails digging into her skin, any touch he could get.

"Mommy," He groaned. "Can- Can you go harder- Please? Please Mommy," He begged, starting to squirm. "It's not enough- Please."

Y/N stopped her hips, pulling out and kissing him. Denki brought a hand to the back of her head as he kissed back.

Y/N sat up, letting . "Get on your stomach."

Denki laid on his stomach, spreading his legs just enough for her to get comfortable between them. Y/N didn't wait, fucking into him faster than before.

Her hands grabbed his hips, holding him down as she slammed into him. He could only moan, holding the pillow under him.

"Yes- Yes! Thank you Mommy! Fuck," He moaned eyes rolling back.

"Such a good slut," Y/N laughed. "You take it so perfectly, baby. And you sound so damn pretty."

Denki whined, fighting from moving his hips against her's. "Thank you, thank you!"

Y/N kept her pace even, keeping him held down into the bed by his hips. She was careful to not make any marks on him, no bruises or scratches.

Denki felt his dick grind between his stomach and the sheets under him, rough along with her thrusts. He knew he was getting closer with each one of her thrusts.

"Mommy- I'm close, I'm so close," He moaned.

Y/N laughed. "Honestly, might me a new record. It's been what, 5 minutes? Maybe 7?"

Denki nodded quickly. "Please? Please Mommy- I'm sorry Mommy, please."

Y/N hummed. "And what are you sorry for?"

Denki moaned, moving both of his hands to grab the mattress. "Sorry- For not being enough-," He spit out without really thinking.

"Don't fucking say that," Y/N wasn't laughing anymore, and maybe Denki was just imagining it, but her thrusts felt harsher, deeper. "God, you're doing ao fucking good, you're so pretty under me like this."

Denki whimpered, small shocks sent up his arms. "I'm- Y/N-"

"Say it," Y/N demanded. "Tell me how fucking amazing you are."

"I'm amazing," Denki cried out. "I'm- I make you feel so good sometimes," He fought off his orgasm, eyes borderline rolling back. "It's so- So good, Y/N- I'm doing good, for you."

"Yes you are," Y/N assured him. "Come for me."

Denki let himself come, sobbing out a moan, grabbing the pillow under him even rougher. "Y/N," He whimpered.

Y/N pulled out of him slowly when he collapsed into the bed, and took the strap off. She straddled his back and kissed his neck. "You are just the best."

Denki let out a tired chuckle. "Fuck yeah I am."

Y/N yelped as Denki turned, almost throwing her off. He turned and kissed her. "I love you."

"I love you too," She smiled and kissed him back. "How you feeling?"

"Like I got my ass pounded," Denki smiled back and kissed her cheek. "Listen, I love you and I love getting you off but I don't know how much work I can do right now."

Y/N snorted. "I figured. You're so sensitive sometimes," She flicked his nipple, grinning as he swatted her hand away.

Denki kissed her. "Lemme in your legs babe."

"And they say romance is dead," Y/N laughed and took her underwear off.

"I am very romantic," Denki got back on his stomach, in front of her as she opened her legs. "And you love my romance."

"I do," Y/N put a hand into his hair. "So you know how I went like, pretty rough on you?"

Denki kissed her thighs. "Very aware, my ass still feels it."

"I beg for your mercy," Y/N chuckle as he bit the inside of her thigh.

He looked her in the eye as he brought his teeth closer to her clit.

"Denki," Y/N yelled, using her foot to push his foot away as he cackled.

"What?! I would never," He grabbed her ankle and started to kiss up her leg. "Never have to beg me anyway, I'm too obedient."

Y/N yelped as he blew a raspberry on the inside of her thigh. "No teeth."

"When have I ever used teeth," Denki asked genuinely.

"That one Halloween, you put those fake fangs on?"

"...that was an accident-"

"You put fangs in my vagina!"

"I said I was sorry," He laughed and kissed her stomach. "You loved those fangs."

"Not poking holes in my vagina."

Denki shoved a pillow in her face. "Shut up and lemme woo you."

"I'm woo'ed babe," Y/N chuckled, putting her hand back in his hair.

Denki finally leaned in and used his tongue to slide in between her lips, before parting them with his fingers and going for her clit. As promised, he was gentle and didn't bite.

Y/N sighed, letting her head fall back into the bed. "Fuck I love you."

Denki hummed, looking up at her as he sucked her clit gently. He pulled away moments later to slide two fingers in her, slowly. "Good?"

"Very good," Y/N hummed, dropping a leg on his back, and he chuckled. "Mouth please."

"Still so demanding."

"I said please?"

Denki hummed and went back to sucking her clit gently, fingers thrusting in and out of her. He didn't push them in too deep, it wasn't needed as long as he kept a decent pace, and gave her at least some clit stimulation, not too rougly though.

...he did this a lot, okay? He knew what she liked, she made him aware of it the first time they had sex, and then made him practice until he had it down before he was even allowed to fuck her properly.

Point is, he got her moaning pretty quickly. Not loud, she wasn't a loud person unless she was truly overstimulated. Really, she never faked a moan so just hearing it was a huge praise towards him and his ability.

Then Y/N wrapped her legs around his head, just enough to hold him in place. He could escape if he really wanted to, but of course he didn't want to!

So he kept his gentle, quick pace with his fingers, while switching between licking and sucking her clit. The hand in his hair tightened.

"Oh my god," She chuckled breathlessly. "The only thing better than this is when you let me ride your face."

Denki pulled his mouth away from her clit. "I always end up shocking you!"

Y/N laughed now, and Denki almost cackled at how she tightened around his fingers. "It doesn't actually hurt!"

"Its for holidays only!"

"And birthdays, I know," She rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Put your mouth back right now."

"Fine," He dipped his head back down, going straight back to her clit.

She moaned softly, hand moving to his, where it held her thigh. They interlocked fingers, and he pulled away just to sigh, then leaned back in to get back to it.

It wasn't long before she was getting rougher with him, pulling his hair, her thighs holding him in place more, and her moans got more insistent.

"Denki," She moaned, and he felt the heel of her foot dig into his back as she tried to press his face closer. Yeah, he was definitely hard again.

He didn't pull away, didn't speed up, just kept his pace the best he could with how she was moving him. He groaned as she pulled at his hair, and that must've been perfect because she came right after.

He still didn't slow his pace, until she was whining and letting go of him. He pulled away, taking a deep breath.

Y/N looked down at him. "How did you get that thing back up?"

Denki looked down at his dick and back to her. "It has a mind of it's own."

She flipped them and moved to straddle him. "You are a god with your mouth."

"And fingers," He added, with a smile. "Do I get a reward?"

Y/N chuckled and carefully sat back on his dick. "This is your reward. Maybe we can get cake later."

"Fuck yeah," He held her waist.

"To me or the cake?"

"Both," He slowly sat up, pushing his soreness away, to wrap his arms around her back. "But mostly you."

"Better be," She kissed him, finally sat fully down on him.

He kissed back, pressing them together. "You still owe me that ass massage."

"I would never deny you an ass massage," She kissed his cheek. "I'll give you the best ass massage known to mankind."

He grinned and she moved down to his neck. "And cake?"

"Only if its chocolate," She put her arms on his shoulders as she grinded against him. "Love me some chocolate."

He groaned at the grind. "Not even vanilla frosting?"

Y/N huffed. "Maybe, we can talk about it," She pulled away to take her shirt off.

Denki's hands followed the exposed skin as she showed it, and leaned in to kiss her chest. "I'll take your tits over any cake anyday."

Y/N snorted at that, bringing her hips up, then back down slowly, putting her arms back on his shoulders. Denki looked back up at her with a groan at the movement, kissing her jaw.

"You feel so good," He mumbled, burying his face in her neck. "I fit so perfectly in you, Y/N. It's so perfect."

Y/N moaned, bringing a hand up to his hair. "I know," She breathed out. "Always slide into me so easily, its like you were made to be there."

Y/N started to ride him properly, bouncing slowly and not hard, and holy shit, they could feel each other so perfectly. Y/N could feel every inch going in and out of her, and Denki could feel the way Y/N sucked him in, before she pulled off and the feeling repeated all over again.

They moaned together, keeping their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Denki didn't move, letting Y/N set the pace she wanted. Not that he wanted to, she was doing so perfectly.

"Oh fuck Y/N," He gripped her waist as he moaned, then kissed her. She kissed back, both of their moans muffling.

He brought a hand down to her clit, using his thumb to circle it. He felt Y/N's hips stutter and she held him tighter.

"I love you," She moaned out, and he could feel her nails dig into his back. "You have no idea how much."

"I love you too," He kissed her neck. "So fucking much."

She moaned, leaning into him more. He held her weight easily as she started grinding against him.

He felt himself getting close, and he moaned against her neck. "Are you close?"

She nodded. "Uh huh," She huffed. "Come in me."

"You sure," He asked, looking at her and she nodded.

"I'm sure."

He groaned and held her tightly. "Gonna come with you."

"Good," Y/N used a hand to drag her nails down his back and he groaned heavily.

It was just moments before Y/N was coming, and Denki allowed himself to follow right after.

Y/N collapsed into him with a laugh. "Best dick ever."

Denki cackled. "Fuck yeah it is. Didn't do much though," Denki watched as Y/N sat back, hands on his knees as he pulled out.

He watched the come fall out of her. "Thinking of baby names."

"That one isn't even funny," Y/N pointed a stern finger in his face.

He leaned forward and bit her finger, before she pulled it away. "You told me too!"

"I did," She nodded. "You know your job after your ass is better?"

"Go to the store to pick up a cake, plan b, and maybe some pizza?"

"Bingo."

#mha smut #x reader #x y/n #dom y/n #dom reader #denki kaminari smut #denki smut #kaminari smut #y/n x kaminari smut #dom y/n x denki

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somethingblu3 · 3 months

Text

Velvet Green | Simon Walker

Read on Ao3 Here.

18+ minors dni.

Masterlist

Fandom: Hollyoaks.

Summary:

Moving back to Ireland after Lynsey's death, you bump into Walker, who loves messing with you even right in front of your older brother, Brendan..

TW: Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent , Incest, mention of religion.

Pairing: Simon Walker x Female Reader.

Word Count: 2,053 Words

"Come on, you can take it; I know you're no amateur", Walker smirks as he looks down at your lips, gagging around his cock.

It had been so long—almost a year since you last saw him—that your life had completely changed. You had to leave Hollyoaks if you wanted to survive; everyone seemed to end up dead there, and Lynsey was the last straw, so you packed up your backs and moved back to Ireland with your Sister Cheryl. For the most part, the move had gone smoothly until you bumped up to Walker in a bar. You had done a double take, not expecting to see him at all. At first, you thought you were dreaming or maybe spiked. Perhaps it was only until he grabbed you, pulling you into a firm kiss, that you realised he was real.

Walker shoves his hands onto your head, forcing you up and down on his cock. Part of you wants to slap the smirk off his face as he continues to thrust, increasing the tension with every pull of your hair. His cum dribbled down onto your chin as you pulled back with a 'pop' sound. He looked almost pleased as he wiped it away with his thumb from your chin. Forcing you up onto your knees, he then shoved you onto the bed. Stumbling back, you grabbed onto the headboard to brace yourself as Walker pulled down the rest of his jeans, exposing his dripping cock, still stained with your drool and saliva.

"God, how much I've missed this pussy”, Walker grins as he spreads you wide, already entering a finger inside you. Luckily, you are wet already, as always. Your underwear is practically drenched as he moves his fingers around it in your clit.

The moan you make is embarrassing, almost a whine. It had been so long since you had Walker inside you, even just a finger alone.

"You've been keeping yourself prepared for me, I bet? Like a good Catholic girl," He smirks.

At that comment, he now adds a second finger inside one that makes you shiver as he glides it up and down in your slick. You could come just like this, you think as you arch your back to give him access. As your hands grip the bed, they play with the light lavender fabric of your panties. You're determined to break them so you can at least feel the ghosting of his throbbing cock.

"Please…" You beg

You know he's not giving in yet.

"Come on, little one, I know you can take another. Don't you want to be good for Daddy?” He knows you've been waiting so long for this.

He grins, your eyes land on his tongue as Walker takes one finger out of your clit. How you long to have his mouth sucking against your pussy, but instead, he inspects his fingers dripping with your cum and shoves it into his mouth and swallows.

"Fucking gorgeous, you taste just as good as I remember," He praises

He seems to know what you want, you whine, your gaze never leaving him as he scoots to the bottom of the bed so his face is buried between your legs. And, of course, Walker doesn't give you what you want as he ignores the aching of your clenching walls instead of biting down hard on the inside of your thighs. You whine in frustration as you dig your hands into his hair, trying to inch him closer.

"Ah ah bad girls don't get rewards" He warns

He teases you even more, his tongue running up your leg even further until he stops at your toes and stops at your ankles, which makes your legs vibrate.

"I kept thinking about you when I was with her - My Wife" He grins.

A smirk grows across your face, and you can't help it. It feels almost powerful to know that while he was fucking his Wife, the Mother of his children, he was thinking of you the entire time. It definitely stroked your ego precisely what he wanted.

He still wears his ring in bed, but you don't mind its presence. It's a constant reminder that she's almost with the two of you in bed together. That thought turns you on even more, especially when it is drenched in your own cum, a little parting gift. You whimper as he digs another digit inside you, this time rougher than the first. Now you can feel the metal of his golden wedding band hitting against your clit, which creates an entirely new sensation adding even more pressure. Before you knew it, you were a quivering mess below him. Walker inched closer, pulling your legs apart with his cold hands.

"Don't hide from me, beautiful" He says as your legs shake.

Finally, he gives you what you want, even with the teasing.

He traced delicate patterns against your clit. You vibrated with each flick of his tongue as he moved faster and faster, like he was craving and dying to have you. Your eyes roll at the back of your head as he hits the spot. You get lost in your pleasure as his tongue rotates around your swollen bud, bringing you the ecstasy you've so badly craved.

"I think you've waited long enough," Walker growls as he presses his hands on the bed inches away from your head, lining his cock into your throbbing wet cunt.

It's easy for him to get his hands going straight to your waist, nails digging into your skin as he begins thrusting and pounding into you. You bounce against the bed, the headboard creaking, and you can feel the metal of the mattress below you jittering, making your heart thump as he quickened his pace. He's so deep inside you that you can feel Walker's cock in the pit of your stomach, and as you look down, you swear you can see it thrusting inside of you. Your whimper is embarrassing even so that Walker reaches his hand out and places it over your mouth.

"God, you're so fucking desperate and pathetic", He taunts, which only makes you cum more.

You wonder how long you can last, probably not long. You had missed Walker so much, but you knew this wouldn't be the last time you would succumb to him.

"Don't give in yet", Walker growls, his lips pressed against your neck. You see him eyeing your skin like he's desperate to leave a huge mark, a hickey so that everyone would see and so that Brendan would know that you were back with him again.

You sigh, but it comes out more like a moan as Walker arches his back into you, distracting you from your thoughts about your brother. He must have known as he pressed his mouth around your neck, biting down hard. It's painful, but you're used to his violent hickeys at this point.

The thrusting of his cock was more unbearable than his bite; it was like you were out of practice as your walls clenched around him.

"So tight" Walker panted as sweat trickled down his forehead, his panting increasing. You had always forgotten how intense his stamina was. He could go for hours and hours even.

He's about to warn you that he's going to cum, but something stops him. A knock.

"What the fuc-" He sneers

You bite his hand, and he lets go, yelping in pain.

"It's Brendan," you tell him urgently.

"Shit, shit," he pants as he tries to come down from his release without spilling all over the bed, but his cum leaks onto the velvet green bed sheets everywhere.

"Hide," you instruct him quickly as you pull down your clothes and conceal your hickey with your long hair.

"Where?" Walker questions.

You run out of options; his cock is leaking too much cum to hide under the bed or in the closet; instead, you decide to shove him under the covers. It's the best you can do for now as Brendan enters, completely oblivious.

"Hey, Sis," he greets.

You whimper, knowing that Walker is below you under the covers. He had complete power to control you like a marionette, to embarrass you and degrade yourself right in front of your older brother.

"What did you want to see me about?" you ask curiously. You could feel Walker's laughter muffled against your thigh. He was clearly taking advantage of this as his teeth grazed against your vibrating skin.

"What? Can I not see My Sister?" He complains.

You shake your head. "Of course not. It's just that… it's been a lot since Lynsey," you say. You don't know why those words came out of your mouth, but they were.

"I know…" He sighs.

And now you feel bad for bringing her up. Lynsey was like an Aunt or a Sister. You were all so close that you considered her family at this point. Now that she was gone, there was a huge gaping hole left that couldn't be replaced.

"How have you been doing? Since everything?" You ask Brendan, fearing Walker had been too quiet under the covers.

"I haven't been doing well…" He admits, "I've been drinking."

And it's at that moment that Walker decides to get up to mischief. He decides to circle his tongue around your wet, throbbing clit. The wetness seemed never-ending as he sucked and sucked against your skin, making you groan.

"Is everything okay?" Brendan asks.

You almost whimper out his name: Walker. With Brendan's eyes lingering on you, it took everything in your power to hold your tongue.

"I'm fine," You tell him, but Brendan doesn't seem to believe it.

"Really? I don't think you've been the same since she's…died. You've been acting differently; you've been studying so much you never come out of your room," he remarks.

You give him a shrug. "I don't know… I just want to do better and have another chance."

"At what?" He asks.

Just as you are about to tell him, Walker decides to continue playing his game. This time, he adds a finger, the one with his wedding ring. You feel an intense shock of cold against the sensitive spot of your skin. You can feel yourself turning red right in front of Brendan, who gives you a puzzled look in return as your breathing grows and hitches.

"I don't buy it," Brendan tells you plainly. "You're trying to use all that to cope, right? I guess I'm glad it's not drugs or… Walker."

You give him a frown, and at that, Walker picks up the pace as he pumps his finger. You brace yourself for an orgasm as your hand reaches for the nightstand beside your bed, clutching it while also aware of your brother's gaze.

"Darling, are you sure you're alright?" Brendan asks. He must know by now that something is going on.

"I'm fine," you stutter.

You can feel Walker groaning and chuckling against your skin as he bites down, clearly enjoying every second while Brendan is entirely oblivious, at least for the most part he is.

"If you need anything, I'm here," Brendan says as he removes your hand from the nightstand and holds it tightly before kissing your knuckles.

You nod as you squirm, but all you can focus on is the dampness spreading beneath you as Walker wriggles under the bed sheets, his tongue exploring every crevice of your clit. The sensation is almost overwhelming, heightened by Brendan's silent presence as he attempts to collect his thoughts.

You know Lynsey was always a soft spot for him, and Walker's boldness only adds to the tension. If Brendan knew that Walker was right under the covers at this very moment, he would be livid.

Still, deep down, you suspect he'd also find a strange satisfaction in it. With a sigh of relief, Brendan finally gets up and exits the room. You wait a while after he leaves before you dare to remove the covers, revealing Walker's messy and unkempt hair as he stares up at you with an irresistible grin.

“I hate you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Walker licks your essence from his hand. “Are you sure about that?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Very,” you tell him firmly.

#simon walker #simon walker x reader #simon walker fanfiction #simon walker hollyoaks #hollyoaks #hollyoaks fanficton #holyoaks smut #simon walker smut #neil newbon #neil newbon x reader #neil newbon fanfiction #neil newbon smut #simon walker x female reader #walker

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delopsia · 2 years

Text

Just And Just As | Nick Furcillo X Reader

Word Count: 10,000 t.t Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: Implied NSFW, brief mentions of food. Really just a lot of fluff and borderline smut. Idk man, I blacked out when I wrote this. Gender-neutral reader and mentions of a height difference because I couldn't resist.

No, no no no, this is not how your plan ends.

The voices behind you are growing louder. Closer. They'll be here any moment. Trembling hands turn the doorknob once more. It turns. Pull again. Nothing. The damned thing is jammed and won't budge.

"Y/N!"

Shit.

They're almost here. They know this is where you've gone. Any moment now and they'll be rounding that bend into camp. One more time. One more time.

Again, you turn the knob and pull.

No dice. You're accepting defeat - the ziplines would have been a better place to run. Fuck, why did you choose the fucking pool of all places?

The doorknob tears out of your hands as it flies open. Familiar hands grasp your wrists and tug you inside. There's no time to grasp what just happened, no time to avoid stumbling face-first into a broad chest.

"Whoa!" The door audibly slams shut behind you. "What's got you in such a rush, sweetheart?"

Temptation to step back is ebbed away by the arms that circle around you, gently securing you against his chest, fingertips tracing circles into your spine.

"The campers were getting close," you grumble, peering up to meet his eye, "and I couldn't get the damn door to open."

He's silent — just for a moment, brown eyes flickering to the door, then back down to you. "You do remember..." he pauses to fight the big, goofy grin that's sprawling across his face — his efforts are futile, "that the door is a push to open, right?"

Your cheeks burn.

"Oh my god," you bury your face back into his chest, concealing your shame, "what am I supposed to even say after you've just stood here and witnessed me act a fool for a full two minutes?"

"You could say, 'Nick, you're such a good boyfriend, thank you so much for saving me from those rabid counselors and their equally vicious kids'," you're vaguely aware of a nose bumping against the side of your head. It's the best he can do to bend down and rest his head next to yours without outright bending down.

Nick's fingertips ghost up your naked spine, featherlight, settling at the base of your neck. They're firmer, a singular finger tapping the skin there until you draw your face from his chest to meet his gaze. "You look beautiful in this swimsuit," it's barely a whisper, so quiet that you briefly consider whether or not you'd actually heard it. The flame in Nick's cheeks state otherwise, visible even in the darkness of the pool room.

"I wish you could have come to the island with us," your hand wanders up to brush the hair from his eyes, he leans into it, "you would have loved the view from the treehouse."

"Unfortunately, someone around here has to keep all the campers fed," Nick tilts his head to press a kiss into your palm. He misses by a bit, getting the side of it more than anything, but still, it lands. "I've got a lot better of a view right here, anyway."

Both of your cheeks go up in flames, and you have to look away for a moment to regain your composure. You're not quite sure who the comment affected more, you or him. Words are hard to come by, your fingertips idly fidgeting with a lock of his hair. All this effort and planning for some alone time together, and now you can't even find the words to respond to a witty compliment. Nick takes hold of your hand, guiding it further up until you've fully tangled your digits in his long hair. It drives you impossibly closer to him, noses bumping together in your efforts to compensate for your height difference without standing on your tiptoes.

"I hope Jacob didn't trouble you too much while you were out," he says, with a dimpled frown. Jacob's constant pestering has only ramped up now that he became witness to a poorly timed peck on the lips — so much for keeping your relationship a secret, for your sanity's sake.

You shake your head, nose rubbing against his in an unintentional nose kiss, "he's calmed down since your stint in the woods last week." The image of Nick losing his temper and slamming Jacob up against an oak tree is one that will forever be burned into your memory.

Nick's stepping away, and for a fleeting moment, you're afraid that he's suddenly decided that you're far too awkward for his tastes. There's the slightest of tugs upon your wrist and it hits you that he's just leading you behind the lockers. As soon as you've rounded the corner, Nick's crowding your space, backing you into the corner until you have no space left to give him.

His lips bump against yours, touching but not quite there, "you seem to enjoy bringing that up," he observes, and before you can defend yourself, he cuts you off, "you couldn't possibly have a thing for me being mad, hm?"

Again, words fail to find you. You're saved by the familiar pressure of lips against your own, just a peck, one, two, three, four times. He goes in for a fifth, and this time you're standing on your tiptoes and catching him off guard, kissing him properly. Nick whines oh so softly, big, clumsy hands finding their way to your waist as he leans into it. The sound travels its way straight to your core, lighting a fire that burns impossibly brighter as a palm travels down your hip, fingers seizing a plush thigh. He does this every time, yet you still squeak against his lips as your leg is guided up to his hip.

You have to break it, lungs burning as you take a deep breath in, and with Nick's shoulders as leverage, hoist yourself up. It's a far cry from your first attempt, where you had jumped too low and Nick reacted too slowly, finding yourselves in a red-cheeked heap on the kitchen floor and fumbling for an excuse when Mr. H rushed in, fearing the worst.

Nick's giggle shatters the memory, and only now do you become aware of the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips. He makes no effort to break it, squeezing your thighs as he meets your lips once more. Here, with Nick comfortably settled between your legs, it's so much easier to kiss him, no ache from craning your neck up and standing on your tiptoes, just the comfortable flutter in your chest as your lips melt against his.

Cheeky, you nip at his plush bottom lip, tugging it in the slightest of nips. He gasps, lips parting oh so beautifully. He knows your tricks, meets your tongue halfway, chuckling at your surprised retreat. He chases you, hot tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with your own in the softest of touches. He tastes like peanut butter. Your lungs burn as you chase him back, spit-slicked lips sliding against his in the messiest of kisses.

You don't have much time, you both are aware of that, and you take the chance to break away from him in exchange for further ventures, catching your breath in between pecks and licks down his neck.

"Baby," he warns, and you're becoming increasingly aware of a blooming pressure between your legs.

The warning is futile, though, because your lips land on a sensitive spot just below his jaw, sucking at it gently. Nick twitches under your touch, pressing you further into the lockers with his hips, a newly freed palm gripping the back of your head as your tongue salves across the spot. The pressure of Nick between your legs is a new one, you can't quite recall a moment where he was ever this close.

"Baby wait, oh," he's powerless at the way that you nip at his skin, it's one of your favorite things to exploit.

Light explodes above you, white LEDs burning into your poor retinas.

Nick's letting you down almost immediately, backing away as if burned. The room feels impossibly cold without him crowding your senses, drowning you in all he has to offer.

"I knew I'd find you two stooges in here somewhere," Mr. H's voice is jarring, compared to how softly you and Nick had been speaking. It's only now that you realize that you've shut your eyes. "The hell are you two doing in here?"

"Intense game of rock paper scissors," Nick supplies, "we're going to Nationals, haven't you heard?"

When Mr. H doesn't immediately buy it, you fill in with your preplanned lie. "I got a migraine from the sun and this was the only quiet, dark place we could find," you've told this lie so many times that everyone is beginning to think it's true.

"Where are the sunglasses I bought you?" Mr. H makes a motion for you and Nick to head towards the door. You follow without question.

"Emma borrowed them for a theater class and never gave them back," at least you're honest, this time, "it's all an exploit to keep me from telling you how she's sneaking out at night."

"Are you sure you don't want us to tell you how they're doing it?" Nick chuckles, bumping his shoulder against yours with a not-so-discreet wink.

Mr. H shakes his head, fumbling with his keys. Hell, he's locking the door this time. "I want to catch them organically, in the act," he says, rather jovial for a man who just walked in on two of his counselors making out in the locker room, "what use am I if I can't even catch two horny twenty-year-olds sneaking out?"

His loss, you suppose. Ever since Emma figured out that Mr. H religiously goes to bed at 10:45 PM sharp, gets up once to pee at 2 AM, and then sleeps until 6:30, they haven't been caught once.

Nick bumps you again, harder this time, forcing you to glare up at him and acknowledge his presence. There's a red spot under his jaw and a funny little glint in his eye — like he's gotten away with murder.

"Back to why I'm looking for you, Y/N, you have a patient, and Nick, you have mouths to feed." Just like that, your excitement has exited from your body and flown off to the high heavens.

Back to work.

Blaire Whitson is one of those children that is almost always in your office, nursing a new injury. Yesterday she fell off the swing and cut her hand wide open, the day before that, she burned her tongue on a freshly roasted marshmallow.

"Why did Lucas push you off the canoe?" Talking is hard when you're focusing on this stubborn splinter, but it's all you can do to keep the poor girl from crying.

She huffs, loud and dramatic, "same reason he pushed me out of the tree last week. He doesn't like that I have a crush on Antonio."

You've almost got this splinter, but she keeps moving and you keep losing the damn thing, no matter how hard you try to keep her knee still.

"I still think he's just jealous," there's only one person at this camp who bares that accent.

"Hi, Counselor Nick," Blaire giggles. In her moment of distraction, her knee finally holds still long enough for you to get that damned splinter. She doesn't even notice it.

"What are you doing all the way up here?" You sneak a glance up to Nick whilst you reach for the Neosporin.

He's settled himself in the doorway frame, idly massaging his wrist as he watches you do your thing. "Burned myself in the kitchen," he lifts his hand, showing off the angry red burn along the side of his right palm, "my hired help turned on the wrong burner."

You don't need to ask who his hired help is. It is common knowledge that Dylan is a menace in the cafeteria and should not be allowed within fifty feet of a microwave, regardless of whether he's being chaperoned or not. You suppose that's why you've been smelling something burning for the past half hour.

"Why would Lucas be jealous?" You haven't quite figured that one out, just seems like childish bullying, but you're not usually spending time with the kids.

Nick settles in an open chair next to you, still has a faint red mark along his neck. You practically have to drag your eyes away from it, and only because Nick is leaning over to whisper in your ear. "Ryan confiscated a love letter from him this morning."

Ah.

It takes less than a minute for you to finish cleaning up Blaire's injuries, and then she's rushing off to get dinner before it's too late. She's eaten late meals in your office far too many times for it to be a fun experience for her anymore, and you're thankful that she doesn't linger like a lot of kids do.

"Sit." You point a finger at the newly empty bed, getting up to fetch a cold compress and anything else you suspect you may need to treat his burn. You assume it can't be too bad — Nick has never been great at hiding his pain, and he doesn't seem all that bothered right now.

The burn isn't too bad, much to your relief. Nick whines every time you touch it, but that's the most you gather out of him.

"Love note, huh?"

"Said something about being upset that every girl likes his brother and not him," Nick grumbles as you massage aloe into the angry flesh of his hand, "couldn't imagine why the ladies aren't all over him."

"It's almost as if people avoid bullies, out of fear of being bullied themselves," you're struggling to focus on the task at hand. Nick's uninjured hand working its way up your shoulder is proving to be quite distracting.

"What? You don't consider being shoved out of a canoe a quality trait in a man?" He teases, giggling at his own dumb comment.

"Not exactly, no," you raise your head at the same time he does, brushing your noses together.

You can't quite bring yourself to pull away. You really should, considering the door is wide open, but you can't resist just one kiss. It seems Nick had the same idea, because he meets you halfway, chases you down for another as soon as the first one ends.

"I wish we got to have more alone time," he pouts, the moment your lips have left his. "There's literally nowhere to escape, and our wonderful coworkers take over the boathouse every damn night."

An idea strikes you as you reach for the gauze. "Why don't we sneak down to the ziplines? There's a dock down there, too."

"Oh thank the Lord, are you two finally gonna fuck?"

You're not sure when Dylan arrived, but there he is, smug as ever in the doorway. Before you can ask what he's doing here, he points to your medicine cabinet. "I need hard drugs and a nap."

Ah, right.

Dylan has a habit of getting migraines while in the cafeteria. Something about the various noises and smells just sets him off. He's brought his honorary bottle of water, saving you the trouble of fetching one yourself.

"Cabinets unlocked," you supply, beginning to wrap Nick's hand, "don't overdose."

You know the drill by now. Feed Dylan some painkillers and allow him a 30-minute nap on one of the beds, and he's good as new. You're thankful that he doesn't follow up on his first statement. If there's anyone at this camp who knows how to tease without being a genuine pest, it's Dylan.

Jacob should start taking lessons.

"Is this where you go every night after dinner?" Nick is so wrapped up in his new revelation that he doesn't notice when you finish wrapping his injury, leaving his hand stuck out even as you step away to put your things back.

"Congrats, you've found me out," Dylan says around two ibuprofen, "took you long enough."

You don't have to ask about what's coming next, ushering Nick out of the room to avoid any more fussy remarks from your most frequent patient. You just so happened to have picked the one room with a decent mattress, and Dylan religiously picks that room to sleep in.

"What's going on?" Nick wonders aloud, once the door has fallen shut behind the both of you.

"That room has the only decent mattress," you elaborate, yawning, "Dylan refuses to sleep anywhere else."

With Dylan curled up in your office, Nick walks you down to the cafeteria under the promise of reheating a meal for you. Dinner is already over, much to your dismay, but there seem to be some perks to dating the lead chef. The kitchen is a damn mess, but it's one that Nick seems to know like the back of his hand. He breezes through it, alternating between a variety of pots and pans seamlessly. There's only one empty space, in the corner next to the fridge. You swear Nick keeps it cleared just because you always sit there. You're just beginning to sit down on the wooden stool when he comes bounding over like a puppy.

"Chili mac 'n cheese," he announces in his best southern accent, placing a bowl in front of you, "and cornbread." The cornbread is on a napkin, he's been improvising ever since Dylan knocked over a whole rack of plates last week.

"Is this how you got rid of all those different noodles?" There are at least five different noodles in this, even alphabet pasta, strangely enough. Nick nods, long hair bouncing with the motion. He's always like this, eagerly awaiting your reaction to his cooking.

Nick can be quite the chef when he wants to be, and that proves to ring true even with this unusual-looking chili. He starts grinning when you go in for a second bite and cheers when you give him a thumbs up.

"Do you have tomorrow figured out or is that still a work in progress?" You ask, reaching up to push his hair from his eyes.

"Chili spaghetti," he chirps, around a mouth of cornbread. He's been obsessed with it ever since Mr. H lent him the Hackett family recipe, makes it two or three times a week anymore.

You're not sure if you heard him right. "Chili what now?"

"Chili spaghetti," he says, slower this time, "my dad and I tried it after we went camping midwest last year. I've been thinking about it ever since." His stomach growls as he speaks, as if to put emphasis on his statement.

If you had your phone, you would look this up, because you have no idea what the hell this entails. Alas, Mr. H is hellbent on keeping the camp as "original as possible", whatever that means. It makes sense for the counselors, but you'd really appreciate it if he would lighten up on the rules. Especially considering how often you overhear him playing Candy Crush.

Boomers.

You finish your food quickly — Nick's waiting on you before he starts cleaning, and you'd like to lend him a hand so that he doesn't get stuck in here until 11 PM again. It's happened before and you'd feel guilty if you let it happen again. You take off to hunt down stray utensils in the cafeteria, while Nick begins the long, strenuous process of washing every single dish by hand.

"I have eleven runaway spoons and a singular plate," you announce, upon your re-entry. Nick makes a noise, you can't tell if it's him acknowledging you or if he's just pissed off with the pot he's scrubbing. He's got a glove on his burnt hand, which only seems to be getting in the way more than anything.

With a clean towel, you dry the dishes and put them away, working as quickly as you can to catch up to Nick's queue. It's not hard — most of the dishes are the same and as such, go in the same places. Between that and the pots, you catch up to Nick rather quickly. You're leaning against the counter, waiting for the next dish when Dylan comes bounding in.

"We're back in business boys," he yawns, making a beeline for the spare sink, "Y/N I hope you can keep up."

Going into this, you weren't aware it was a challenge. Regardless, you're up for it. With two pairs of hands washing, your job gets a lot more hectic. Back and forth, you alternate between the two stations, drying the dishes as you walk them to their destinations.

"So are you two actually going down to the ziplines tonight?" Dylan asks as he hands you a particularly large knife, still dripping with water when you take it.

Nick's handing you a handful of spoons as you breeze past him. "Depends on whether we finish these dishes in time and if Mr. H catches us."

The knife block is just out of your reach, to your dismay. You have to clamber onto a stool to get to it, have to ignore the amused grins of your much taller peers. Sometimes you catch yourself wishing witchcraft was real, just so you could pay a witch to make them short for a day. Humble them a little. There's laughter outside, and you're pretty sure that's Kaitlyn who's raising her voice to garner everyone's attention.

Dylan huffs dramatically, sets down a bowl a tad too hard, "another campfire without us." It's an ongoing issue — the kitchen crew gets left behind to do all of the cleanups while the rest of the counselors go to the campfire to listen to Ryan's campfire tales. You used to go with them, but ever since you stumbled across Nick and Dylan washing dishes after midnight, you've felt too guilty to not help them out.

"We're almost done," Nick, ever the optimist.

You're working up a bit of a sweat, jumping between the two stations, drying dishes as fast as your hands will allow. Nick's moving as fast as he can. He really wants to make it to one of these fires — you can see it in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, tongue poked out of his mouth as he scrubs away, determined to get these dishes done.

"Is there a reason why the nurse is in the kitchen?" Mr. H's voice is so jarring that you nearly drop the plates you're cradling.

"I want to sleep at a decent time," Dylan's tongue is sharp as he speaks, "forgive us for accepting some much-needed help."

You choose not to speak, smiling as you breeze past to take another freshly washed dish. It would be far nicer if Mr. H would go ahead and just scold or kick you out, but he just stands there in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring. His presence makes it harder to focus on the task at hand. Your hands tremble as you take the next set of dishes, nearly drop a spoon when you're separating it from the forks. 'It's okay', Nick mouths, out of view of Mr. H's careful watch.

"Y/N, get to the campfire and help with the kids," your heart sinks, "I'll take over and help them finish up."

"We literally have ten plates left," Dylan deadpans.

Mr. H is quiet, stares until it begins to feel uncomfortable again. Frowning, you hand off your dish to Mr. H and head for the door. You feel like a stray cat being tossed out into the rain, slinking out into the rapidly darkening outdoors. The campers have already been herded down to the fire pit, leaving the main section of the camp empty and deserted. Walking alone in the woods is not your favorite cup of tea. It's not even that far, but the dark forest is ominous, trees towering overhead, bushes concealing God knows what behind them. The constant reports of kids seeing something lurking in the woods at night are certainly not helping the matter.

Alone and out of Mr. H's watchful eye, you drag your feet, walking as slowly as you can manage without outright stopping. Either time must be passing slower, or Mr. H is talking the boys' ears off because you find yourself approaching a roaring campfire and the boys are nowhere to be seen. Kaitlyn's waving you over, perched up on the 'Counselors Log' as she calls it. You're still not sure how she's managed to ward off all the kids, but she's successfully staked her claim and so far it seems to be well respected.

"How did flirting with Nick go?" She asks once you're within earshot.

"Great until Mr. H ran me off," pause for dramatic effect, "twice."

"Keep on trying my little Storm Trooper," you can smell the faintest twinge of alcohol on her breath, must've been a hard day for her to dig out the vodka she smuggled in, "once you get out of here, you'll be set for life with that man's fortune."

Here we go again. "I still don't know what makes you think he's rich," there's not much space on the log, you're surprised you have room to fit. Of course, all of the counselors could hypothetically fit, if Jacob wasn't taking up an entire quarter of it.

"Dude, he was wearing a designer jacket at orientation!" Emma chirps, kicking her feet. "He has to at least come from a little money."

Right on queue, Dylan and Nick walk around the bend. Mr. H follows closely behind, like some sort of creepy shadow. Something cold hits your legs, and you realize it's Kaitlyn handing you her canteen. "Hold this and pretend it's yours," she whispers, "I'm afraid Mr. H may be on to me and my drinking habits."

There's a big shuffle to fit the two extra counselors — Jacob doesn't want to move to the edge and close his damn legs, Ryan nearly knocks Abigail's notebook into the fire and she just about smacks him upside the head with it once it's returned. You find yourself teetering on the edge of the log, thrilled that Nick has chosen to sit next to you, but it's getting hard to stay on this damn log.

"This log could be just a little bit bigger," Nick chuckles, watching you struggle. "Would you rather sit in my lap?"

You're not sure if it's his words or if it's the raging fire that puts the red in your cheeks. "Are you sure?"

"Long as you're comfortable with it," he says it so easily like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Despite your better judgment —the kids are definitely not going to let this one go— you agree. Nick shuffles a bit, adjusting to the extra space, and reaches out for you with open arms. He curls around you, long arms securing around your waist as you settle into his lap. Vaguely, you become concerned that you may be a bit too heavy for him. You attempt to alleviate that worry by putting more of your weight onto your feet than you are in his lap, it's an awkward sensation.

Nick's arms tighten, pulling you the rest of the way down. Plan? Foiled. "You're not too heavy for me, darling, don't even worry about that," lips ghost against the shell of your ear, presses a kiss behind it. There's a loud gasp from the kids that has you freezing, fearing the worst. Did you do something?

Then you hear Ryan's voice, and it hits you that he's just telling a story. Nick's chin hooks over your shoulder, a welcome weight that draws the stress from your tired body. He's so warm, all wrapped up around you like an oversized blanket, it's like you were made to fit right into his arms.

You've forgotten about the canteen in your hand. At least, forgotten it until Kaitlyn reaches over and plucks it from your hand. "Don't you two just look cozy," she teases, and you feel Nick hide his face in your shoulder.

Ryan's tale of the night comes to a close, and the kids are not happy about it. A handful of them beg for another story in their shrill little voices, someone offers their fruit snacks as bribery. You really need to pay attention to his stories more often, they're the highlight of the night, and half the time, you don't even hear them.

"I think I've told a story for just about everything," Ryan's mostly just talking to himself, albeit loudly.

"Have you told a story about werewolves yet?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can do anything about it.

Ryan's eyebrows furrow, and he's quiet for a moment. "Can't say that I have, actually."

"Hey guys," Mr. H is lowering his voice, stepping between you and the fire, "let's just skip the werewolf topic and get everyone to bed."

It's not like you're being scolded, you've done nothing wrong, but his tone makes you feel like you've committed the most heinous crime imaginable. Your coworkers share the same expression, confused beyond words.

"Mr. H, we still have thirty minutes before bed," Nick's protest goes nowhere. Mr. H's words are law, and if he wants everyone in bed now, what more choice do you have?

With a bucket of water, Mr. H puts out the fire, and you're once again tasked to do a job that you don't get paid enough for. Getting out of Nick's lap is the worst part—you feel so safe there; it's like nobody could lay a single finger on you.

Getting the kids back to their cabins is like herding cats. Someone is always doing their own thing and not listening to instructions, and it makes your job impossibly tricky. You lose sight of Nick rather quickly, too wrapped up in stopping a group of boys from marching off to 'hunt down the wendigos themselves'. In a way, their attitude reminds you of Jacob. Invincible until they're not. It's all you can do to keep the ringleader from tearing off into the night, and he's only talked out of it once you're out of the forest altogether.

"Campers, head to your cabins!" Kaitlyn shouts, "don't make me tell you twice!"

She's gonna have to tell them twice. About half the kids, including your Wendigo Fighters, trudge to their cabins, but the remaining half cant give a damn what she just said. Who's truly in charge here? Because it seems like the campers could overrun this place if they so chose. Speaking of running camps, you can see Mr. H tying some sort of rope to the side of the pool building. He's dragging the rope across the lawn, looks like he's taking it all the way across the main exit of camp. The hell is he doing?

There's a small voice behind you that barely stands out among the chatter of campers. Blaire stands behind you, Antonio close behind, holding her tiny little hand.

"Did you say something?" You ask, kneeling to get on her level.

"Counselor Nick asked me to ask you to come and save him," she repeats, pointing off to your right.

Ah. There's Nick.

He's amassed himself a small crowd, and he really doesn't look like he knows how to get out of it. This happens every time he opens his mouth; the kids love asking him to say things in his accent.

"Thanks, Blaire," you reach up to fix a stray hair, "head on to your cabin now, 'kay?"

With Blaire and her friend running off to their cabins, you're faced with the familiar task of saving your boyfriend from certain doom. You can hear the words he's saying, "butter," "squirrel," and "juice box," being the first three you hear.

"Okay, kids, let's not harass Counselor Nick anymore than we have to," you hate raising your voice, but it's the only thing that's ever worked in the past. The kids are disappointed, but they scamper off just as Kaitlyn whips out the megaphone.

You get the feeling that you're no longer their favorite Counselor.

With the megaphone out, you only have a few moments before you need to disappear into your respective cabins, but Nick's wandering hands are finding your waist, bringing you in for the quickest of kisses. "You never told me your plan for tonight, love."

You'd almost forgotten about that. Had you even planned anything?

"The two stooges sneak out at eleven fifteen; we might be able to get out after they do," you offer. Quite frankly, you have no other ideas.

"Works for me," another kiss, and then you're separating, jogging to your cabins before Kaitlyn can come after you. It's happened before—you still think your left ear is ringing a bit.

Your bunk isn't much, just some tiny thing tucked into the corner. The frame is cracking, so nobody sleeps above you, and you've tucked a spare sheet around it to create some makeshift curtains. It's nice; privacy is a rarity around here. As a bonus, your bed is pushed right up against the window, granting you full, unlimited access to it. You're really glad that you left the blinds open this morning because opening those would make a lot of racket.

The kids settle in rather quickly; your cabin has learned the hard way that Kaitlyn does not mess around when it comes to bedtime. She is a woman of routine, and she has no problem reminding them who is in charge. The problem is that now, the cabin is impossibly quiet, and you have nothing to help pass the time.

Pushing open the window helps a little bit—at least now you have some fresh air. The camp is eerily quiet, forest looming behind, a monster in plain sight. You will never understand how people go camping alone. What do you do if something gets ahold of you? If something goes horribly wrong?

It feels like an hour has passed before Jacob's cabin door opens up; your watch says it's only been twenty minutes. Emma comes out next. It's clear that she does this pretty often because she makes no effort to be quiet. How Mr. H constantly fails to catch them, you'll never know.

Nick's door is the last to open. He's more cautious about it, minding the squeaky, loose stairs far better than Jacob and Emma did. He crouches next to his cabin, only scurries across camp when the two have their backs turned on their way out of camp. Unfortunately for him, he isn't graceful enough to avoid stepping on and snapping a rather loud twig.

"Did you hear that?" Good lord, why is Jacob observant now, of all times? He wasn't very observant last week when he drove the golf cart into a ditch.

Emma is dismissive, you don't hear what she says, but she's tugging on his arm and urging him on his way. From behind the central tree, Nick pokes his head out, wide-eyed and pale. You feel like you're in a spy movie when you clamber out of the window as quietly as you can manage. The way that Nick scurries over reminds you of a puppy, clumsily tripping over his own feet, just barely able to catch himself.

The loudest cowbells you've ever heard ring in the distance.

So that's what Mr. H was doing earlier. You can hear his voice in the distance, a bright white flashlight landing on the two escapees. There's no time for Nick to run back, not without getting caught himself. Nick seems to have gathered that himself because he picks up his speed and jumps, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting himself over in one fluid motion. He doesn't need to say anything, you're already climbing back through the window, and Nick is tumbling in after you.

Limbs are everywhere, you don't know where Nick starts, and you end. This bed is barely big enough for you, never mind you and Nick. He might as well be a second blanket, with the way he's sprawled out on top of you, panting in your ear.

"This isn't how I imagined this escapade turning out," he whispers, voice unintentionally sending a ripple down your spine. He must feel it because he finally squirms himself away from your ear.

Mr. H is beginning his lecture outside; you can hear it in his tone. Preaching about responsibility and putting the kids first. You'd heard enough of this at orientation.

"After all, what will the parents think?" Nick mocks with a roll of his eyes.

"If something happens to the kids, their parents won't send them back next year," you finish, much to his delight.

Nick shuffles around, rearranging your positions to put you closest to the window. Your pillow barely accommodates the two of you, but you hardly even notice it. It's hard to think of anything when Nick's all wrapped around you, legs tangled with your own, barely an inch of space between you.

His hand slips under your shirt, settling flat on the small of your back. "Isn't it silly that a lecture is what brought us together?"

It was only a month and a half ago, but it feels like it's been a millennium since that day. Framed for a mistake made by Emma, you and Nick had been subjected to an hour-long lecture and a three-day sentence to cleaning. You've been bound at the hip ever since.

"Remember the fight in the showers?" It's growing hard to think; Nick is so warm that he's putting you to sleep.

He hums, "I was convinced that you hated me."

You'd coincidentally thought the same thing. Strange how all this worked out. Nick presses a kiss into your forehead, then another one, right between your eyes—you can't help but giggle at the sensation.

"Shh," a kiss to your nose, "your giggles are going to get us caught."

"Well, nobody was bothered by the cow—," you're cut off by a pair of familiar lips, effectively shutting you up. The kiss is too short for your liking, Nick may have only intended it to be a small peck, but you didn't sneak him into your bed just for a peck.

He gasps against your mouth, effectively surprised at how you chase him down, and for an agonizing moment, he goes still. Your hand finds its way up his chest, fingers splaying out over his heart, and that's what draws him from his stupor. It's a sensation that you never want to get used to, the way you fit together, the pressure of his soft lips against yours, the strength of his arms around you.

Teeth clack together with a soft noise; your mouth opens to him, a hot tongue delving into your mouth. His tongue is rather short, can't quite reach yours unless you meet him halfway, and the muffled whine you receive makes it all the more worth it. You don't know who's melting more, can't tell who is breaking kisses to gasp for air and who is starting them again. What you do know is that it's you who moves your leg up; it's Nick who whimpers when your thigh presses into your groin.

Oh, what you wouldn't give to be in a place where you could adequately act upon your inner thoughts.

"Fuck," Nick pants, breathless, although you're not much better yourself. He shifts a bit, only making your thigh press harder into him, and you suddenly become very aware of what you're doing to him.

Drawing your lips away from his feels like the most monumental task you've ever completed; it's all you can do to stop yourself from kissing him until your lips bruise and your heads spin. You don't want to go to sleep, but you know that if you continue on, neither of you may be able to stop.

Neither of you recalls exactly who fell asleep first or when. It just happened somewhere between Nick's thumb rubbing the side of your cheek and the novelty of sharing a bed for the first time. One moment you're gazing into sleepy brown eyes; the next, Nick's watch is vibrating and stirring you both from your slumber.

"What...?" Words are difficult. Your bones are heavy; it feels like you've slept for a century and a half.

"Just my alarm," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

Despite the growing need to get up and be ready before the kids, neither of you can bring yourselves to move. Nick is so warm against you, a stark contrast to the cool breeze coming in through the open window. The moment is fleeting, though, as Nick's watch reminds you of the time.

"Find me in the kitchen later," kiss, "I have something to show you." Before you know it, he's slipping out the door and scurrying back to his own cabin before Dylan can wake everyone with his announcements.

You don't get a chance to visit Nick until after lunch.

Usually, you have time in the morning, not for long but enough for a kiss on the cheek and a chat about the day's plans, but your day is going wrong in every possible way. First, two of the showers broke, and your morning shower rapidly turned into a midday one, and so, so many kids fell when on their trail hike with Ryan and Jacob. You've never seen so many scraped knees and elbows in your life.

When you do finally get to visit, Nick is... "What are you doing?"

Nick all but jumps, startled by your sudden appearance. It's short-lived because very quickly, he's grinning and waving you over to look at what he's concocting now.

"I don't get it," really, you don't. He's got what appears to be raspberries or strawberries in a strainer and a tin can underneath.

"Do you remember how Mr. H bought all that lemonade, and now we don't know what to do with it?" Whatever this is, he's excited, practically vibrating with it.

Cautious, you nod your head. You were one of the poor souls who had to carry all of it in and put it into the freezer. It's hard to forget that much lemonade.

Nick moves the strainer, revealing a bright red liquid underneath. "I made syrups," he can barely speak with how much he's smiling, "now we can have a little variety."

Where he's found the time to figure this out, you're not sure. He's handing you a glass from the fridge, already mixed with syrup and ready to go. Nick has never given you something that didn't taste amazing, and as you take your first sip, it continues to ring true. Strawberry lemonade.

"God, you look at Y/N like they hand-crafted the universe," Dylan must be coming up with these in advance—he's too quick with it.

"Hey," Nick scoffs, "you're not much better than I am."

"At least I don't give off the vibes of a golden retriever."

Speechless. That's what Nick is. Jaw slack, eyes wide as he glances at his reflection on the fridge. Now that it's been pointed out, you can't unsee it.

It falls quiet. Nick is still looking at himself in what you can only assume is horror; Dylan is getting into the granola stash, and you're so busy watching them that you don't even think to speak. Distantly, you think you can hear Emma and Jacob bickering, a familiar sound around these parts.

"Romeo and Juliet got sentenced to three days of hard labor," Dylan supplies around a mouthful of granola. Nick grimaces, and you can't tell if it's in response to the punishment or the granola.

"I can't believe Mr. H caught them with cow bells on a rope," there's a glint in Nick's eye as he speaks. "What's he got them doing?"

"Do you want to find out?" Mr. H's voice is loud, booming through the quiet little kitchen, effectively shaking you to your core. You don't realize that you've jumped and grabbed onto Nick until his arm is wrapped around you, anchoring you against him.

Emma stumbles in through the door, her cheeks red from the sun, "Y/N, can I borrow you? For...something?" Being borrowed means, you'll be busy until sundown. But you'll take anything over Mr. H staring through your very soul as if he knows all of your wrongdoings. Slipping from Nick's protective embrace, you follow her out of the building. She's got a mini play going on, but she needs extra hands, and Jacob is being particularly...Jacob, today.

"I just need someone to keep an eye on the extras and make sure they don't wander off," she tells you.

At first, you don't understand it, but then it becomes very clear that her group tends to wander. You feel like a herding dog, weaving back and forth and turning the little heathens back to the task at hand. One of the kids spills your lemonade all over the ground, and nobody owns up to it. You hadn't even gotten to drink much of it, and now your glass is completely empty.

Mr. H really doesn't pay you guys enough.

"Has Mr. H been rude to you lately, or is he just doing it to me and Jacob?" Emma asks you shortly after Ryan has come to escort the kids to dinner.

"He definitely has been sort of..." you have to stop cleaning up just to have a coherent thought. Yeah, now that she mentions it, he definitely has been teetering between pleasant and snappy lately. "Snappy? Menacing?"

"An ass?" She drops some gnome hats into her costume box, "he got mad at me and Jacob earlier just for being in the same room."

With all of the gnome gear packed away, the two of you are finally able to leave. The sun is already falling, bathing the forest in deep hues of red and orange—a true golden hour. It's comforting, a stark contrast to how menacing it can be once the sun goes down. A shiver ripples down your spine.

As you grow near the main building, Mr. H's truck tears out of the driveway, sending dirt and gravel flying up into a plume of smoke. Idle, Ryan stands stiff as a board where the truck was once parked. Even from a ways away, you can see the whites of his eyes, like a deer in headlights. When he finally does come to face you, he remains the epitome of shocked, jaw-slack, eyes distant.

"What's going on?" Emma's the first to speak.

Ryan's quiet for a moment, and then, "he's...leaving for the night?" He says it as if he doesn't quite believe what he's saying.

There's a cheer to your left. It sounds like Jacob and...

"Nick?" You're surprised to hear your own voice. He just grins, stepping out from beside Jacob to come to you.

"We're finally unsupervised!" Jacob looks like a little kid as he all but stumbles over to you, taking the box of props from your hands, "I'll take this."

With Mr. H gone, Jacob and Emma are bound at the hip again, and you get the feeling you won't be seeing them until morning. In the back of your mind, a tiny voice suggests you do the same, but your grumbling stomach has its own ideas. Nick doesn't need to say a word, taking your hand in his and walking you to the cafeteria.

Sometimes you think he'd go hungry if that meant keeping you fed.

Chili on top of spaghetti is not what you expect him to put in front of you. To be fair, he did tell you that this is what he'd be making, but it still gets you. For once, you get to sit at the Counselor's table, a luxury you don't often have these days. Nick settles next to you, absolutely enthralled with what he's made.

"Didn't you eat once already, Nick?" Kaitlyn remarks, biting into a slice of garlic bread. Nick's cheeks turn pink, all he can do is nod and stare at his empty plate.

Is he...pouting?

You choose not to bring it up with the others around, Nick's never been good at explaining what he's feeling, and teasing will only ensue if you ask. He does, however, scoot closer to you. Enough so that your thighs are pressed together, and your shoulders brush with every movement. You stay like that, listening to the conversations happening around you as you finish your food. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Dylan heading for the stairs, bleary-eyed and half awake.

Abigail leans her elbows against the table, lowering her voice as if Dylan can somehow hear her over all the chatter. "Where does Dylan always go this time of the day?"

"Not a clue," lying straight through your teeth. He's probably curling up in your office as you speak, but that's none of your concern.

With Mr. H gone, you and the counselors have free reign over what to do for the night, and together you all decide that the best thing to do would be letting them play at the cabins until bedtime. A far easier task than herding them to the fire and back.

The routine begins. Nick takes your dishes, disappearing into the kitchen just before Kaitlyn and Abigail begin directing the kids. In the blink of an eye, you're carrying leftover dishes into the kitchen, and you're once again taking up a towel to begin the drying process.

"I'm here, I'm queer," Dylan all but bursts into the kitchen, "and I don't want to be here."

"This would be so much easier if Mr. H would actually invest in this place," Nick's critique is not without reason. It feels like half of the camp is falling apart around you. From the unfinished construction and deteriorating structures to its barely functioning equipment. Hell, the golf carts are so old that parts for them are becoming rarer by the day.

"At least he's left us for the night," you try to be positive about the situation, but there's nothing positive about a whole bunch of dirty dishes.

It's dizzying, spinning back and forth between stations so mindlessly. With no Mr. H to worry about, it goes smoothly. Nothing gets dropped, and it's looking like none of Nick's plates have gone missing, for once. The same cannot be said for the forks, which seem to have dropped in numbers since yesterday, likely at the bottom of the trashcan. None of you get paid enough to go in after them.

It's quiet outside. Far too quiet, actually. Usually, you can at least hear the kids playing or a counselor talking a touch too loud, but all you hear tonight are crickets. Nick must be picking up on it, too because he's squeezing your hand a bit tighter than usual, and he's not torn his eyes away from the path.

Darkness has already fallen, casting a blanket of black and blues upon the forest. A full moon hangs in the sky, acting as the only light to guide you through the poorly-lit trail. The cabins are deserted, with not a child in sight.

"Can you believe it?" Kaitlyn's sudden appearance startles you. "We got everyone in bed without a singular thing going wrong."

"Gee, did you threaten them, or did they do that naturally?" Dylan barely dodges the swift kick that comes for his shins. You don't think he'd even have shins anymore if Kaitlyn's legs were any longer.

"It just required a werewolf story," you hadn't even seen Ryan sitting on the cabin steps. Had he been there the whole time? "Kaitlyn called for bedtime, and they scattered like roaches."

Abigail giggles next to him. "You should have seen them, scurrying to their cabins like a werewolf was after them."

As conversation blossoms, Nick lightly tugs at your hand, eyes darting from you to the beaten path leading to the ziplines. Well, here's your chance to finally go through with that plan. You move slowly, at first, feet treading lightly as you depart from your group. If anybody notices, they don't mention it.

Then, Nick's picking up the pace, and you're all out running, wrapped in a fit of giggles as you sprint hand in hand to the ziplines. Finally, finally, you have each other all to yourselves, with absolutely no one around to impose. The forest is dark and Lord only knows what's lurking in the shadows, but the path feels like it's lit up like a Christmas tree. Absolutely nothing can come between you, Nick, and the open trail ahead of you.

"Do you think they know we're gone?" Nick pants, just as the ziplines appear in your line of sight.

You're already stumbling to a slow walk, lungs burning, out of breath for all the wrong reasons. Nick's long strides are hard to keep up with. "Let's just hope they don't come looking for us."

The ziplines aren't as nice as the boathouse is. It used to be illuminated by a singular fluorescent lamp post, but the bulb has since gone out, and Mr. H refuses to buy "unnecessary lights." The stairs are a different monster in of itself. Old wooden boards creak menacingly beneath your feet, seemingly growing louder with every step you take.

"Y/N."

"Did you say something?" You turn to look up at Nick, who just cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"Nope," he blinks, "at least...I don't think I did?"

It happens again, at the bottom of the stairs. A faint whisper of your name, fleeting, dancing around your ear just long enough for you to become convinced that you didn't make it up.

"Did you say my name?"

"Baby, I haven't said a word since the last time you thought I said something."

You're not sure if you buy it or not, but Nick is tugging you into his chest, wrapping you into the sweetest of hugs—tight, just enough to remind you that you're safe. He's got you. You're safe here. He sways you back and forth, the motion shaking all of the worries from your head and filling the space with nothing but Nick. Nick and his heart that you can feel pitter-pattering against your ear. The way his fingertips trace invisible shapes into your spine, the way his cologne meets your nose, a faint mixture of vanilla and coconut that's just barely there.

"It's just the forest playing tricks on you," he murmurs into your ear, chin heavy on your shoulder, "I've got you."

You only unwrap from each other to go and sit at the end of the dock, feet dangling off the edge. Nick's feet just barely avoid touching the water; any wrong move and you're afraid he may end up with wet feet.

"I think this is the first time we've ever truly been by ourselves," yawning, he leans over to rest his head against yours, "as strange as that is to say."

"Do you think we'll get more moments like this before summer ends?" You hadn't intended to ask that yet, but it tumbles out of your mouth anyway.

Nick hums, the noise sending a quiver down your spine. "I like to think that we will," soft lips press a kiss to the skin just before your ear, "maybe after we leave, we can have a night to ourselves at that one hotel in town."

"Harvester?"

"Harabinger?"

It starts with an H; that's all you can recall. It's hard to think with Nick's nose pressed against your cheek, hot breath fanning out against your sensitive skin. An unknown voice calls your name from across the shore; you know you heard it this time. Yet you pay it no mind—distracted by the kisses trailing across your cheek and the sparkling brown eyes that could drown you if you gazed into them for too long.

His lips meet yours, a gentle, unmistakable pressure that you've come to know so well over these past weeks. He breaks it, then comes back, once, twice, thrice. You don't have time to consider pulling him into something that isn't just a few teasing pecks; he does it all for you. It's soft at first, just a simple caress, and then he deepens it in a way that has your head spinning.

His arm is circling you, drawing you closer until there's no space between you, and that's still not enough. Even as his tongue licks into your mouth, testing the waters, he's still not close enough, won't be until there isn't an ounce of space left between your tired bodies. It's that feeling that guides you to breaking the kiss—you can barely manage it, especially not when Nick whines and attempts to chase you down— to swing yourself over and straddle his lap.

His surprise is heard only through a small gasp. It's short-lived, his arms circling your waist, gathering you against him. Your arms are draping around his neck, and then you're kissing him again. He's all you can think of, senses clouded with Nick, Nick, Nick. You can feel him now, pressed against you between your legs, and it's all you can do not to take advantage of that face.

"You do such crazy things to me," his accent is thick as he mumbles against your lips, breathing heavily.

He falls backward, taking you with him as his back hits the rotting wood of the dock with a soft thump. Then he's kissing you again, insistent mouth parting your lips, hot tongue meeting yours for a fleeting second. An unfamiliar heat blossoms in your core, a dancing flame that threatens to grow into a wildfire at the drop of a hat. Nicks's hands are everywhere, tracing up your spine, cupping your cheeks. All the while, he's humming against your lips, a small noise that you've rarely heard him make.

Your head is spinning too much for you to focus, leaves you no option but to break away and gasp for the sweet, sweet oxygen that fills your stinging lungs. Nick looks so pretty underneath of you, hair splayed out on the wood beneath him, swollen lips, and glistening eyes illuminated by the light of the moon. It's hard to stop. Even with how dizzy you've become, you can't resist leaning back in to kiss down his neck, tongue soothing over every spot you come across.

"Shit," Nick gasps, "wait."

Just like that, you've frozen in place. "Is something wrong?"

He shakes his head, fingers catching your chin to guide you back up to him for a sweet peck. "Not here," his voice is trembling, unable to get above a whisper, "I want to make it perfect for you."

You're rolling your eyes before you can stop yourself. "It's perfect right now."

"Baby, if I have you now, I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep myself off of you for another month."

He says it so seriously that you can't help but giggle. "You have a point."

Breathless, you settle down on top of him, your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his arms intertwined around you like a vice. Time has stopped; the only thing in this world moving are your two heaving chests. For just a moment, you close your eyes and just breathe.

You awake to a strange sensation. Nick's there; you can feel him against you, but your legs are swaying in such an unnatural way, and his heartbeat is no longer as loud.

"Are you carrying me?" It's a dumb question. As soon as you open your eyes, you're met with a sleepy-eyed Nick and the dark cabins looming directly ahead of you.

"I was trying not to wake you," he frowns, kissing your forehead. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't at least try to carry you to bed."

You grumble, burying your nose into his shirt. There's a weight in your chest that grows heavier the closer you get to the cabins. You really should get to bed, but even as Nick stands at your door, you can't bring yourself to get down. Nick's too warm to let go of.

"Baby?"

"Hm?"

"We're at your door."

"I know." You still make no effort to get down, only clinging tighter.

Nick chuckles, low and heavy in his chest. "Is this your way of saying you don't want me to go?"

Nod.

If Kaitlyn is awake, she doesn't say anything when Nick opens the door and steps inside. Only when he sits you on the bed, do you let go of him, just long enough to kick your shoes off and crawl under the covers. Nick is quick to follow after you, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

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3tabbiesandalab · 2 years

Text

Branded (Part 2)

It’s finally here! Thank you for the lovely comments and reblogs on this fic!

The conclusion of Branded. A Rhett Abott x Reader. Featuring soft Rhett who is an idiot who thinks mostly with his second brain, best friends to lovers. Perry is a good bro. Maria is an awful step-sister to reader.

This was a real work of love so I really, really hope you like it!

Part 1 if you missed it.

18+ for SMUT and swearing galore.

Thank you to @mayhem24-7forever for picking up my error calling her half-sister in the first part. They are step sisters, reader's dad remarried Maria's mother. I've gone back and fixed it! I owe you one! And when I was re-reading part 1 I found that I’d called Perry’s wife the wrong name the whole way through! God I had a shocker! All fixed now!

Enjoy xox

From the ages of sixteen to eighteen, if Maria asked Rhett for anything, he did it, and probably without even thinking about it. All it took was a soft touch of her hand, a flirty remark, a peck on his cheek, or hell even a flip of her long hair, and he was weak at the knees. That’s how strong the promise of her pussy, the proverbial carrot she dangled out of his reach, was to a horny, teenage Rhett.

As a 26-year-old, he thought he’d be able to handle himself a bit better around Maria, but he was pretty drunk and probably the stupidest fucking man in Wabang.

“Maria.” Rhett acknowledged her presence. “Umm… what do you want?”

“There’s plenty I want from you,” she said suggestively. Maria took the shot glass from in front of him and poured herself a tequila. She stared at him teasingly as she downed the booze and licked the rim of the glass.

Jesus.

Teenage Rhett would have probably bust a nut at the display and even now his drunk dick involuntarily twitched at the sight.

“Been a while huh Rhett. Saw you looking at me before. Sorry I kept you waiting,” she purred, and he tensed up as she moved closer to him.

The tequila had kicked in and he felt hazy. “I… ah… I.” Rhett stuttered out.

“I know you wanted me bad back in school. I think I’m about ready to give you what you want.” Maria’s voice dripped with sex, and she took his trucker hat off his head and put it on hers.

“Pity this isn’t a Stetson huh. Doesn’t a woman take a cowboy’s hat when she wants to screw him?” And she suddenly brushed her hand up his thigh towards his semi-hard cock and Rhett grit his teeth.

Fuck.

It was downright pathetic that his body reacted this way, he knew it could be the booze, but it’s like he had a ‘Pavlov’s Response’ to this woman.

Rhett was so used to letting his dick lead him, but thankfully his actual brain kicked in. It’s like someone threw a bucket of ice water over him and snapped him out of it.

What the fuck was wrong with him.

Rhett quickly ripped her hand off his leg and he shifted as far away from her as he could. “I’m waitin’ on someone,” Rhett said roughly.

He was angry at himself that he’d let Maria get under his skin, even if it was just for a split second. And ashamed that he had done this to YFN… again.

“You mean YFN? Please.” Maria scoffed. “I saw you approach me first honey. Did she see? Wonder how she feels knowing she’s your second choice.”

“It ain’t like that.” Rhett forced out.

Maria battered her heavily made-up eyes at him and moved closer to him again, caging him uncomfortably in the booth. Her long fingernails dragged across his chest and her sickly-sweet floral perfume surrounded him. It all felt wrong. He definitely didn’t want her.

“It’s exactly like that. You chose me once; you’ll do it again.”

“Aaahh!” she cried as she was suddenly yanked out of his space.

Rhett watched with wide eyes as YFN, with a rough hold on the back collar of Maria’s shirt, pulled her out of the booth.

Holy shit.

Maria stumbled as she gained her footing. “What the hell you bitch,” she spat.

YFN glared at both of them, and her eyes blazed with fury and something else Rhett couldn’t quite place. She ripped his cap off Maria’s head and threw it on the table.

“You’re an asshole,” she said sharply, and her eyes momentarily flashed with pain.

Fuck.

Rhett flinched. He didn’t know if it was aimed at Maria or him or both. Even though he didn’t want Maria, it didn’t matter; he knew seeing them together was bound to hurt YFN. He hadn’t even got a chance to tell her how he felt, and he’d already fucked up.

“YFN I…” She put up her hand to silence him and Maria barked out a laugh.

YFN’s hands balled up into white knuckled fists, but she remained composed. “He doesn’t want you.”

Maria faced off with YFN and smirked at her. “And you think he wants you? God you’re stupid. He didn’t want you when we were younger, and he doesn’t now either. All I had to do was look at him and he got hard,” she teased.

Rhett cringed at Maria’s comment, but he could not tear his eyes off YFN. She wasn’t invisible to anyone now. Anger and what he hoped was jealousy radiated off her, but she remained eerily calm. The sweet, soft girl he’d known his whole life wasn’t there. YFN was fierce, and damned if it didn’t make him love her more.

And of course, it turned him the fuck on.

YFN whispered, but loud enough so Maria and Rhett could hear. “Honey he’s been rock hard all night but trust me; it wasn’t for you.”

Holy fuck.

Maria laughed bitterly. “You go ahead and tell yourself that. I’ll always be first choice for anyone.”

YFN made a slight, pained noise and anger flashed through Rhett’s body. He got up out of the booth quickly and opened his mouth to deny her statement, but the sudden movement made his head spin.

“Even your daddy loves me better,” Maria said viciously with a smirk.

“Fuck off back to the Tillerson’s you dumb cunt.”

Perry.

Maria paled a little at the threatening words. She had never had any effect on Perry, like she had on Rhett. And, since his wife’s disappearance, his brother’s moods were unpredictable, and the number of drinks he’d had and his protective instinct of YFN had him steaming at Maria. She took the hint and quickly spun on her heel and retreated.

YFN’s previous resolve had crumbled, and she was quiet, her shoulders slumped. She glanced at Rhett and his heart broke at the sadness he saw in her eyes.

Shit.

This was all his fault; he didn’t deserve her. He just stood there silently, filled with guilt as he watched his brother take control of the situation.

Perry shot him an unreadable look, and his menacing demeanour quickly softened at YFN’s state, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Don’t listen to that bitch sweetheart. I reckon we should get out of ‘ere.”

“She’s right ‘bout my family. They do… I- I don’t wanna… I can’t go home,” she whispered meekly.

“Fuck your whole family then. You’re comin’ home with us.” Perry grunted.

“Are you… You’re sure your folks won’t mind?” she questioned quietly.

Perry rolled his eyes at her. “You’re kiddin’ right? You’re family YFN. We all adore you.” Rhett watched as her eyes quickly darted to his. “And its still pretty early, so Amy will be thrilled to see you outside of school.” Perry finished.

At the mention of Amy, a small, smile grew on her lips. “Sure you don’t mind her seein’ her teacher tipsy.”

Perry chuckled and gestured between him and Rhett. “Your fine sweetheart. We’re no better.”

“Why don’t you go freshen up or somethin’ and meet us outside when you’re done. I’ll call dad. Reckon he’ll still be in town and don’t think any of us are right to drive,” he said softly.

YFN nodded and her eyes flitted back to Rhett. His head was swimming with emotion, and he had no idea what she was thinking. Rhett gave her what he hoped was an apologetic look. “Please,” he managed to croak out.

She held his eyes with hers for a moment longer and she gave him a small tight smile before walking towards the bathroom.

As soon as she left, Perry immediately narrowed his eyes at him. Rhett sighed and dropped his head knowing he was probably going to kick his ass, but he knew he deserved it.

“I know. This is all my fault. I’ve already fucked this up.” Rhett said sadly.

Perry laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a fuckin’ idiot that’s for sure. But it ain’t your fault. This is on that bitch of a sister. I saw YFN’s reaction to Maria all over you, so I don’t think you’ve screwed this up.”

Rhett looked at his brother and he let out a long slow breath and nodded. Part of him believed him, but the other part was terrified that she didn’t feel the same way about him.

Perry smirked. “Didn’t realise our sweet little teacher had such a jealous streak in ‘er.”

Rhett gave his brother a wry smile. “Reckon it was the hottest thin’ I’ve ever seen.”

Perry laughed and smacked him across the back of head. “Stop thinkin’ with your dick for once. Just apologise for bein’ such a fuckin’ moron. And tell that girl how you feel.”

Rhett nodded again. He couldn’t promise he wasn’t going to think with his cock. After witnessing that display, part of him wanted to pin YFN to the closest surface and fuck her hard. But he needed to talk to her and make sure she knew how wrong Maria was.

And tell her how much he loved her.

Perry snorted. “You’re gonna be the one to call dad and explain. Even if it’s not your fault, I hope you’re ready to get chewed out, ‘cause god knows he thinks the world of that girl.”

Fuck.

Rhett winced; he was right. Royal was probably going to whoop his ass.

But he was actually more concerned about the moment Cecelia found out that he’d finally figured out that he loved YFN and then possibly fucked it up.

She might actually kill him.

………

The drive back to Abbott ranch was mostly quiet, save the country music on the radio and Perry’s snores from the front passenger seat as Royal drove. There was an air of thick tension between YFN and Rhett, who sat in the back bench of Royal’s dual cab truck.

Rhett tried to avoid the many menacing and disappointed glares his father was shooting him in the review mirror. When he called and honestly told him everything that had happened, Royal had threatened to cut his balls off if he didn’t fix it with YFN.

YFN cleared her throat. “Thanks again for comin’ to get us, Mr Abbott.”

“I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Royal, sweetheart. And you’re welcome. These drunk assholes were lucky you needed a lift, or they would’ve been sleepin’ in Perry’s truck,” he said gruffly.

His father turned into the driveway of their ranch, and she laughed at the statement, still sounding a bit tipsy.

Rhett’s head was still fuzzy from the tequila too, so he knew he’d probably end up saying something stupid. But he had no idea what YFN was thinking, she hadn’t spoken to him since the incident at the bar and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“YFN I…”

“Listen Rhett…”

They spoke at the same time, and in the darkness of the truck, he saw YFN look at him with a small smile.

He didn’t care that Royal could hear, he had to fix this. “She’s wrong you know. What she said to you. It’s bullshit.” Rhett said softly.

YFN sighed. “She’s right ‘bout my family. My dad likes her better. I- I don’t know why. It just hurt when she said it out loud. And it makes me miss my mamma.”

Rhett searched her face, she looked so vulnerable, and it made his chest ache. “He’s a piece of shit then. Your mamma loved you so much. And you are so loved YFN, by everyone else in this town.”

He took a deep steadying breath. “Darlin’ I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

“What are you apologisin’ for?” she asked softly as the truck pulled up to the house.

Rhett peered at her anxiously. “’Cause I’ve hurt you. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. That shit with Maria tonight. And I screwed up our friendship ‘fore,” he said slowly.

“You can be an idiot Rhett at times, that’s for sure,” she chuckled lightly. “But I don’t blame you ‘bout Maria. It’s just what she does, we are all just pieces in her game. And we were just stupid kids back then, Rhett. You can let that go,” she said honestly in a quiet voice.

She wasn’t angry at him. That can’t be right.

He stared at her in disbelief as Royal smacked Perry across the chest to rouse him and they both got out of the truck, leaving Rhett and YFN in the back seat.

“Why ain’t you upset with me?” Rhett asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know… I guess maybe I am a little…” YFN gave him a shy, smile. And she unexpectedly giggled, and the sound went straight to his groin.

Jesus. Not now.

He knew now was not the time to be thinking about this, but he couldn’t help it, he found the smallest things about her so fucking sexy.

She scrunched her nose up. “Sorry. I’m still a bit buzzed.”

YFN let out a slow breath and her eyes met his. “Look. I know you went to talk to Maria first and that’s honestly okay. But then you looked at me like… and the way you were acting… I just thought tonight felt different. Anyway don’t worry ‘bout it. It was probably just me. And tequila makes people do stupid things.”

She dropped her head and focused on the fingers that picked at her jeans.

Rhett suppressed a grin; she still wanted him. He moved across to the middle seat and softly cupped YFN’s cheek with his hand, “Darlin’. Look at me.”

And she lifted her head to look at him with wide eyes.

“It wasn’t the booze makin’ me hard all night.”

Shit.

Fucking tequila.

YFN sucked in a sharp breath and Rhett winced at his choice of words. “Sorry. God I’m fuckin’ terrible at this.” He went to pull his hand off her cheek, but YFN grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

Even in the dull light of the truck, he could see the blush on her neck and the sparkle in her eyes and it encouraged him to try again.

“Look darlin’, I know I’m a mess and I’ve been so fuckin’ slow to catch on…” he chuckled before he looked lovingly into her eyes. “It was different between us tonight. I promise it wasn’t just you. It’s you that I want. YFN I’m in l…”

“Miss YLN!” Amy yelled out loudly through the truck window and they both jumped at the sound and it halted Rhett’s attempted confession.

Fuck.

This was probably the first time Rhett had ever been annoyed with his niece. He dropped his hand, and YFN blushed darker and broke their eye contact as Amy opened her door, and practically pulled her out of the truck and towards the house.

Rhett was pissed Amy had interrupted the moment, but from YFN’s behaviour he was certain he hadn’t screwed it up with her. He got out of the truck to follow the girls, a small grin on his face, only to be met with a ‘spanish inquisition’ from his family.

“Amy interrupt somethin’ little brother?” Perry laughed drunkenly and Rhett gave him the finger.

Royal started “That cow of a sister always had your nuts in a vice when you were younger. And sounds like she hasn’t changed. That ain’t on you. But if you’re just after YFN for the sake of a drunk lay…”

“No. Listen…” Rhett put up his hands in defence, “That’s not what this is. Yeah, I drank a bit…” and Cecelia him an intense look. “Fine. I drank a lot. But this is real. I’m in love with her.”

“Did you tell her? Before that business with Maria?” Cecelia asked, and Rhett shook his head. “For goodness sakes. Been waitin’ forever for you to realise that you love her. I should slap you stupid,” she chided.

Perry chuckled. “Ma it ain’t his fault that her sister’s a fuckin’…”

“Watch your mouth, Perry. Rhett you better be all in with her, ‘cause she’s loved you for a long time.” Cecelia said seriously.

“I am. I swear. I know I don’t deserve her.” Rhett said honestly.

“Well make sure you do.” Royal grunted.

Rhett nodded at his father. “Can she stay? She didn’t say a whole lot, but it doesn’t sound like she wants to be at home.”

“Fast mover hey Rhett. Just figured out you love her and already want to move her in.” Perry laughed and Royal smacked him across the back of the head.

Cecelia nodded and smiled. “See if we can’t get you sobered up ‘fore you get too far ahead of yourself and ask her to marry you,” she teased.

“YFN’s welcome as long as she wants. That girl’s been family for a long time. If she actually still wants to be with your stupid ass, she can bunk with you Rhett. Don’t you disrespect her and make me fuckin’ regret it. Remember she’s Amy’s teacher for christ sakes.” Royal said in warning.

Rhett smirked. “I’ll do my best.” And he was smacked on the back of the head by Cecelia as Perry burst out laughing.

………

After they all sat around the kitchen table and ate the late supper Cecelia had made for them, Rhett and YFN sobered up pretty quickly. Rhett’s family was a little fucked-up, but even with all their issues, they loved one another, and always supported each other when it mattered. YFN had been part of their family since they were kids and obviously cared about them, but tonight it was clear to Rhett, just how much they loved her too.

After supper, Royal and Cecelia had let YFN know that she was welcome to stay with them as long as she wanted to, because she had always been as good as their own daughter in their eyes. The beautiful, bewildered look on her face at their confession, made Rhett’s heart swell. And the pained grimace on Perry’s face when she kicked him in the balls under the table, for his smug, whispered comment about how that makes Rhett and YFN brother and sister who fuck, made his cheeks hurt from grinning.

Amy was excited to have her teacher hanging out with her and was glued to YFN’s side for the rest of the night, until her bedtime rolled around. Rhett was pretty miffed because his niece had already ruined his botched declaration of love and he wanted nothing more to tell and show YFN how he felt.

He had to make do with what he could get with Amy around, so took the chance and reached for her hand under the table and threaded his fingers with hers and was rewarded with a bright smile. Rhett couldn’t complain, because even the simple touch made his skin tingle and heart flutter. He’d never felt anything like it before and Cecelia smiled knowingly at him when she caught him trying to hide the stupid grin on his face.

After everyone else was in bed and the alcohol had worn off, Perry’s mood started to slide, so he too, retired upstairs. But, to Rhett and YFN’s shock, he came back down with a set of Rebecca’s clothes, so YFN had something to wear in the morning. Perry had watery eyes as she hugged him tightly and thanked him for looking after her.

Rhett was so grateful for his gesture, but he did worry how changes like this would affect his brother. But that only lasted for a split second because when he pulled him into a quick hug to thank him, Perry teasingly whispered, “Enjoy your night… sister fucker,” and took off before Rhett could tackle him to the ground.

He loved his family, he really did, but he was ecstatic once they’d all finally gone to bed. Rhett desperately needed to tell YFN how he felt. And he was going to fucking explode if he didn’t get his hands on her. It had taken all of his concentration to not get hard around his family, from her gentle touches and sweet smiles. He’d never wanted anyone this badly before.

Rhett had already quickly showered when they first got home so he sat on his bed in his room while he waited for YFN to finish in the bathroom. Now that they were going to be alone, he was actually really nervous. He’d never been in love or had a girlfriend before, so he had no fucking clue what he was doing. There was a high chance he could still fuck this up.

YFN hadn’t rejected him, and his family had all said that YFN loved him, but she hadn’t actually told him that. Rhett’s mind was going into overdrive. What if all she wanted was something casual or what if he misread everything and she didn’t want him at all.

Fuck.

Wouldn’t that be fucking ironic.

He pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes at the thought. It had only been a few hours since he figured his feelings out, but Rhett knew he would do whatever she wanted to make her happy, even if it killed him. He’d just play it cool, feel out the situation before he said something that would screw it all up.

“You look deep in thought there baby. You okay?” YFN’s soft, melodic voice filled his bedroom, and he uncovered his eyes to watch her gently shut the door.

She was barefoot, hair damp from the shower and she wore one of his old t-shirts and a pair of Rebecca’s sleep shorts.

Fuck she was beautiful.

“I’m in love with you.” Rhett blurted out.

Well shit.

She padded over to where he was sitting on the edge of the bed and stood just between the front of his open legs as he sat on the bed. He searched her face for her reaction.

“That’s what you were tryin’ to tell me before Amy cockblocked us?” she said, one corner of her mouth quirked in a tiny smile as she looked down at him.

He nodded and tentatively reached out and rested his hands on her shapely hips, and she took a half step closer to him.

YFN ghosted her hands over his bare shoulders until they rested at the back of his neck and Rhett shivered. “And you’re sure? In love with me? Like you want to be together?” she questioned softly, but from the growing smile and delight in her eyes, he knew she knew the answer.

“Fuck yes, I’m in love with you.” Rhett dipped his hands under the hem of his t-shirt she wore. His palms burned as they splayed on the soft skin of her waist and he pulled her even closer. “It just hit me like a ton of bricks tonight.”

Her fingers played with his hair. “Me and no one else?” YFN asked, this time with slight nervousness in her voice.

Rhett sighed. “I know I’ve got ‘round. Not real proud of that now to be honest.”

He gazed up at her lovingly. “But darlin’ I’ve never loved anyone else. Only you. I reckon I’ve always belonged to you. YFN, you branded my heart and soul a long time ago.”

YFN’s eyes shone brightly at him, and she bit her lip to hide the wide smile that graced her lips. “That was pretty fuckin’ romantic for a man who’s never been in love. Are you sure its not the tequila talkin’?”

Rhett tipped his head back and chuckled quietly. “Woman you better put me out of my misery…”

And he was cut off by her soft lips touching his.

Warmth spread through him and as he started to respond to the kiss, she pulled away and he pouted. YFN laughed lightly and moved to straddle his legs and eased herself into his lap. “Sorry for teasin’. But I’ve been waitin’ a long-time to hear you say that. I’m in love with you, Rhett. Always have been.”

He grinned at her words. “I’m so fuckin’ glad you didn’t stop.”

“Me too. Done talkin’ now. Let’s see if you can last longer than when you were sixteen,” she teased as she ground her hips on him.

Fuck.

He groaned, and captured her mouth in a passionate kiss.

………

Low sunlight poured through his bedroom window as Rhett stretched out his long limbs. He had managed to sleep in later than normal, and even though it was Saturday, there was work to do. Royal was going to have his head. YFN was no longer beside him and he frowned that he woke up without getting to kiss her good morning.

Rhett had never paid a lot of attention to kissing in the past, it was just something to set sex in motion. He’d never kissed anyone for as long as he did last night, and he’d happily keep kissing YFN’s plump, pink lips for the rest of his life.

To be honest, he’d be more than happy to have his mouth on any part of her.

And that had been Rhett’s undoing.

The reason why he barely lasted longer than when they were sixteen.

A huge grin overtook Rhett’s face as he recalled the events of last night. Even though, they stayed pretty quiet, thank fuck his bedroom was at the end of the hall away from everyone else’s.

“I wanna hear you tell me again that you love me babygirl.” Rhett begged, voice muffled by the nipple in his mouth as he fingers teased YFN’s pussy.

“Kiss me and I’ll tell you,” she mewled as she arched her back slightly, pushing her full tits deeper into his face.

YFN whined as he let go of her nipple with a pop and withdrew his fingers from her wetness. Rhett settled his face between her legs and inhaled her deeply.

Jesus.

She propped herself up onto her elbows and peered down at him. “W-what are you d-doing?”

Rhett smirked at her as he pushed her legs apart. “Kissin’ you so you tell me.” And he groaned as he licked the length of her pussy.

Fuck.

He hadn’t done this too often in the past, most of his experience was quick fucks in his truck or blow jobs at a bar. But the intoxicating smell and sweet taste of YFN’s pussy, made him want to go down on her for hours.

Rhett licked her pussy, circled her clit and fucked her with his tongue like a man fucking starved. His rock hard cock ached as he intently watched YFN breathe heavily through her nose and bite her lip hard to suppress her pretty noises.

He slapped her ass to remind her of what he wanted. “Fuck Rhett I-I ah… I fuckin’ love you,” she moaned quietly, and he groaned into her pussy, the vibrations causing YFN to buck into his face.

Rhett teased her entrance with a finger before slipping it inside her tight, wet heat.

“Yes baby. Another.” YFN demanded.

Fuck.

He did exactly what she asked for and added one then two more fingers into her tightness as he sucked on her clit. He rutted his throbbing dick into the bed sloppily as he fucked her pussy slowly and purposely with his fingers.

YFN whined breathlessly and threaded her hands into his hair. “Oh god. Right there baby. Don’t change. Such a good boy for me. Gonna make me cum.”

Jesus christ.

Rhett’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he moaned at the praise.

That’s new.

Even lost in her pleasure, YFN noticed his reaction. “You like me tellin’ you that huh baby.”

He met her eyes, they were full of desire and love, and with his mouth still on her, he nodded.

YFN bit her lip and tipped her head back and softly moaned. “Mmmm… You’re so good at this. My sweet boy. Makin’ me feel so fuckin’ good. Fuck me faster baby… I’m so close…”

He did just that and pumped her pussy faster with his fingers and grazed his teeth on her clit. YFN’s taste, her heat, her hands in his hair, her fucking praise; it all went straight to his dick and Rhett ground his hips into the mattress.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna…” YFN muffled her voice into his pillow as she yanked on his hair and arched her back off the bed and came. Rhett followed her body with his mouth and sucked on her clit, and fucked her through it with his fingers as lapped up her sweetness.

Holy shit.

Watching her orgasm was just as good, actually even better than it had been when they were teenagers, and he almost just came embarrassingly quickly like he was still sixteen.

After she’d ridden out her high, she stilled his movements with her hand and pulled him up her body by his hair. She met his lips with a sloppy kiss and moaned when she tasted herself on him.

“So fuckin’ good Rhett,” she whispered. “Are you clean baby? I am and I’m on birth control.”

Rhett nodded eagerly. “You sure?”

YFN reached down and wrapped her small hand around his hard cock, and he hissed. She guided him between her thighs, and he pushed himself into her tight, wet pussy.

Fuck.

YFN moaned and Rhett made a pained, whining sound as he was enveloped by her heat. His balls had already started to feel heavy, and he hadn’t even moved.

“Babygirl… Reckon I’m gonna fuckin’ blow my load as soon as I start movin’,” he said in a strangled voice and breathed in and out heavily through his nose.

YFN ran her fingers through his hair and her hazy eyes looked deeply into his. “Don’t care baby. Just fuck me. Cum inside me. Fill me up.”

Jesus fucking christ.

His sweet girl had a fuckin’ dirty mouth on her. “You’re gonna kill me.” Rhett grunted.

He laid over the top of her and kissed YFN as he thrust in and out of her lazily for a moment. She whined when he pulled out as he lifted his body off her and pushed her knees to her chest. Rhett kneeled in front of her, and they groaned as he entered her again in one quick motion. He snapped his hips into her hard and fast, she was so tight and wet, and he quickly felt the tell-tale tingle in his spine.

“My good boy. Fuckin’ me so well. Take what you need baby.” YFN purred.

Her words pushed Rhett over the edge and with the next stroke of his cock he suddenly came hard. “Fuuuck,” he cried out and he buried his face into his forearm to mask his groan.

Holy shit.

YFN lowered and opened her shaking legs as Rhett pulled out. He grabbed the closest item of clothing he could find and messily cleaned her pussy before tucking it under her to catch the leaking cum. And then he collapsed on the bed next to her.

Rhett turned to face YFN. She was flushed pink and had a relaxed, fucked-out smile on her face and he cupped her cheek and kissed her deeply.

YFN giggled. “You lasted a little bit longer this time. Good to see the last ten years helped.”

He grinned at her cheekiness. “You fuckin’ brat. You know I can go longer, and I promise I can make you cum while I fuck you. It’s just that mouth on you was a real surprise. I nearly blew my load on the fuckin’ mattress. You didn’t talk like that last time.”

“Mmm-hmm. I noticed you liked a little praise huh baby. My mouth can do a lot of things by the way. Like I said. The ten years helped,” she teased.

“Jesus christ. How are you real? How did I not really see you for all these years darlin’.” Rhett looked at YFN in wonder and he pushed strands of her hair off her face.

YFN yawned. “Doesn’t matter anymore baby. You see me now.”

Rhett beamed at her. “Yeah, I do beautiful. The selfless girl who adores my crazy family. The funny, passionate woman who loves me for the idiot I am. My best friend. You’re the girl. I love you so much.”

“Bloody hell Rhett. You’re so fuckin’ romantic. Where the hell did this come from.” YFN said, eyes full of love and awe.

Rhett shrugged. “A shared bottle of tequila and a decade of repressed feelin’s,” he teased, and she smacked him across the chest.

YFN laughed sleepily. “C’mon I gotta go clean up. It’s bad enough I’ve gotta face your family tomorrow knowing what we did. I better not be full of your cum when I do”

Yep. She was definitely the girl.

………

Rhett groaned at the erection he sported from thinking about last night with YFN. He knew he was running late, so he ignored it and quickly pulled on jeans, t-shirt, boots and grabbed his Stetson and headed to the bathroom before going downstairs.

As he reached the kitchen, the sound of YFN and Amy’s laughter filled his ears. Royal and Perry sat at the table and drank coffee, Amy was in the middle of the room chattering away, and Cecelia and YFN stood at the sink.

“Finally decided to join us.” Royal grunted as Rhett rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Sorry,” he replied simply, and Cecelia faced him and gave him a small smile.

Amy smiled widely at him. “Uncle Rhett. Daddy told me Miss YLN’s your girlfriend now, so she’s allowed to sleep over.” Perry laughed at his daughter’s honesty.

“And he gave her somethin’ of mammas to wear. Doesn’t she look pretty?” she said as she pointed at YFN.

YFN turned slightly, her hands still in the soapy dish water, and gave him a shy smile.

Rhett halted and it felt like his breath left his body.

Jesus.

She wore her boots and a navy-blue sundress covered in flowers and it hugged those curves he now knew intimately. She looked fucking gorgeous.

“Ah… yeah Amy. She sure does,” he croaked out.

Rhett wasn’t sure exactly what to do next. He’d never been in a situation quite like this before. The woman he loved, stood in his kitchen doing something domestic while looking so sinful. He tried not to think too much about it otherwise he might have an embarrassing situation to control in front of his family.

He crossed the kitchen towards her, ruffling Amy’s hair as he walked past. Rhett hesitated when he reached YFN, he didn’t really know how boyfriends greeted their girlfriends in front of their family.

“Hi.” YFN said softly from her place in front of the sink. Her warm smile and the soft blush on her cheeks, encouraged him to just do what felt natural to him.

Rhett moved behind her and loosely placed his arms around her waist, his hat against her hip. “Mornin’ darlin’.” And he rested his chin on her shoulder when she turned back to the task of washing the dishes.

Royal cleared his throat. “So YFN’s gonna come stay with us. Get some breakfast into you Rhett. You and Perry gotta go with her to collect Cherry and her things. And you still got chores.”

Rhett and YFN hadn’t actually talked about that. They spent their night doing other things. YFN’s body stiffened ever so slightly, but enough for Rhett to know she was probably worried about his reaction.

“That sounds good to me,” he murmured lovingly, and he felt her body relax. Without giving it much thought, Rhett lifted the hand that held his Stetson, and he gently placed his hat on her head. YFN gasped softly and he placed a tender kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Here you go Rhett.” Cecelia said, with watery eyes and a wide smile on her face as she offered him a plate of breakfast.

He released YFN and took the offered plate from his mother and she patted his cheek affectionately. “Thank you, ma.”

Rhett sat down on the opposite side of the table to where YFN stood at the sink, now drying dishes and he watched as she returned to chatting with Amy and Cecelia.

“Who the fuck are you? And what have you done with my brother?” Perry chuckled, no doubt talking about the soft, romantic display he’d just witnessed, and Rhett gave him the finger.

He looked over when YFN laughed hard at something that Amy had said. Her head was tipped back, and she held his hat on her head with one hand. Her eyes were closed, and her pink lips had parted as she laughed. The fabric of the dress strained tight against YFN’s full tits, and they jiggled with every sound she made.

Rhett’s cock stirred, his mind pictured her looking just like this, dressed hiked up around her waist as she rode him.

Holy fuck.

He shook the thought from his head and YFN turned to him and beamed at him, and a dumb, blissful smile overtook Rhett’s face.

Perry snorted. “That’s it. There’s that stupid smile from when you were sixteen.”

He laughed. His brother was probably right, and it confirmed what Rhett believed. That YFN had branded him as hers a long time ago.

Rhett’s eyes flitted to him as Perry got up out of his chair. He wore a taunting smile and mouthed ‘Sister fucker’. Rhett jumped out of his chair and launched himself at Perry and they laughed as they wrestled to the ground. Royal grunted and Cecelia threw a dish towel at them. Amy jumped on top of them, and Perry tickled her. And YFN squealed in surprise when Rhett grabbed her ankle.

His life still wasn’t perfect, but just like that, it had become much more.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott smut #outer range fic #outer range #outer range imagine #perry abbott #lewis pullman

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da-proti-toku-grem · 3 months

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7 with bojere?

I'm going to be honest here, this one was a bit harder for me to write because I've never written them (or Jere) and I haven't read a single bojere fic since September (or October maybe?) so… yeah. But I hope it didn't turned out too bad 😅

Oh btw! Since I already posted all the previous ones on ao3 (you can find the links in my pinned post), from now on I'll post them both here and on ao3 directly. So, if you prefer to read there or whatever you can find the link at the end of each post (and of course, kudos and comments are always appreciated ☺🩷)

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

7. … to shut them up.

Jere was curled up in bed, mindlessly scrolling on his phone while some random reality show played on the back, but he wasn't paying attention to any of that.

Having a break from the tour and having time to be alone and relax was really nice, but having more time alone also meant having more time to think, and more time to think meant that his thoughts drifted to a certain brown-haired Slovenian guy more often than usual.

That soft brown hair with those few white strands that gave it a really nice touch, those chocolate brown eyes that sparkled when they looked at something – or someone – he loved and wrinkled a little when he smiled, that radiant smile that never failed to make you smile even on the worst days, those soft lips that he couldn't wait to feel again on his, the feeling of his arms around his body, pulling him close... All of him.

Usually, at times like this, Jere would call him. Just hearing his voice or seeing his face, even through a screen, always made the Finn feel a little better. But unfortunately, Bojan had let him know in the morning that he had a busy day ahead of him – something about them having to spend all day in the studio discussing options for their next song – so he probably wouldn't be able to talk to him until the evening.

Just a couple more hours, he thought, sighing heavily and putting the phone back on the bedside table. Maybe a little nap would help the time pass faster.

Just as his eyelids began to grow heavy and he began to feel his body relaxing, drifting closer and closer to sleep, soft hair and brown eyes the only things occupying his mind, the unpleasant sound of the doorbell echoed through the house.

Groaning, he threw off the blanket and got out of bed, walking towards the apartment door. He wasn't expecting any visits, so it had better be something important enough to interrupt his nap.

Out of all the possible people who could have been behind the door, he definitely wasn't expecting this one.

Bojan, his Bojan, was there, standing in front of his door with a big smile on his face, a suitcase beside him, and a box of chocolates in his left hand.

A million questions flashed through Jere's still half-asleep mind at that moment. How was he here? Shouldn't he be in the studio in Slovenia? How did he get here? Was he dreaming? Yes, he was definitely dreaming. This was not real. His mind was playing tricks on him.

He realized he had gone too long without saying anything when he saw Bojan's smile fade, being replaced by an expression of concern – perhaps a hint of insecurity.

“Hey, Jere, are you okay?” The younger broke the silence before quickly starting to explain himself. “Shit, I'm sorry; I should’ve let you know I was coming. I know I told you we were going to be in the studio all day, but I- I lied. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I called Mikke to find out when you'd be home. It's just... We haven't seen each other for such a long time and... and I missed you so fucking much, and I couldn't wait to see you and…”

God, he's so cute, Jere thought before he grabbed his face in his hands and pulled him close, pressing their lips together in a kiss that he hoped would be able to show how excited and happy he was that his boyfriend was there.

He could feel the Slovene slowly relax and begin to reciprocate the kiss. Jere's hands moved down from Bojan's face, caressing his arms until they reached his hands, which were still holding his stuff. The older could feel a shiver run through Bojan's body as his tongue licked his bottom lip teasingly.

Before the kiss could get any heated and they ended up making out in the middle of the hallway, where anyone could walk in on them at any minute, the Finn reluctantly pulled away from Bojan, earning a little whine from the other.

“Come inside, yes?” Jere said, tugging on his arm until he pulled him inside the apartment, closing the door behind them.

Bojan set the suitcase aside and dropped the box of chocolates on the small table at the entrance, turning to look at Jere, who immediately threw himself into his arms. The action almost made them both fall to the floor, causing them to burst out laughing.

Amidst laughter, Jere wrapped his arms around Bojan. “I've missed you so so much,” he said, accenting each word with a kiss somewhere on his face, making him giggle.

“I've missed you too, Jerč, so so much,” Bojan replied, giving him a warm smile and bending down a little until their lips met again in a tender kiss.

And there it was – that laughter he so longed to hear next to that ear, those brown eyes that sparkled brighter than ever when they looked at him, those arms that wrapped around him and clung to him almost as if afraid that it was all a dream and he might wake up at any moment, and those soft lips he so loved to feel on his.

If he had to describe the feeling in one word, he wouldn't hesitate for a second before saying "home".

masterlist | ao3

#finally had a bit of time to write again :D #i'm back with some soft bojere to heal your souls <3 #joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #käärijä #bojere #ask #mine #maca writes #kiss prompts #this is probably a bad time to post bc of the concert but oh well

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 8 days

Text

The Wanderer: Homesick

This one's a side-story for something I submitted for a magazine... Enjoy! (Also warning for angy teen girl swearing)

I sat on the train, cheek pressed to the icy glass. Trees sped by me, a swathe of verdant greens and deep browns. The leather of the couch gave way under my knees, and I dug into it with my fingers.

I'd been scratching dates into that seat, one for each day. The entire couch was covered in etches now, cross hatching as far as the eye could see. Having counted them, I could safely say they totalled up to 730 marks. That would be two years.

Two years since I'd seen my parents. Two years since I'd seen my home. Two bloody fucking stupid years! Even thinking about it, I wanted to scream.

The goddamn train's incessant noise grated on my ears. If I had to see its gaudy golden facade again, I would gouge my eyes out. Every single destination along the damn train's mercurial routes was a godforsaken shithole!

Oh my gods, I hated it. I hated it in ways no human could truly express. I'd tried, of course. I wrote emo poetry, sang off-tune songs, and when all failed, screamed incoherently into the endless void. To truly understand the depths to which my sanity had fallen, one must first endure this abomination:

Roses are blue

Violets are red

Fuck this shit

I want it dead.

It's likely the closest I've come to conveying my frustrations. It's also likely the closest I've come to convince my fellow wanderers that I've gone mad.

Did I mention the wanderers? They're the worst. The absolute worst. Psychos, the lot of them. We had Mr ‘Maya-be-a-lady’, Ms Magic-is-real-and-birds-are-a-conspiracy, Dr I-drown-babies-for-fun, and worst of all, Mx Doppelganger. Creepy ass bitch.

If I could meet whatever bitch put me in here, I'd tell them one thing: Fuck you. Fuck everything. Fuck the stupid train, the stupid people on it, and the stupid fucking places I kept getting dumped into.

I hate it all so much. I just want to go home. You know what I've missed in the past two years? My friends will have graduated. My cousin's probably turning two soon. I'm supposed to be in the University of Kristiania by now!

Everything I've ever worked for has been washed away. What was the point of learning trigonometry when the only triangles I'm ever going to see belong to interdimensional horrors trying to eat me?! I was set to win last year's Informatic Olympiad. I was so close.

But that's not the worst. (Oh gods, how bad is my life, that losing my future isn't the worst?) The worst is homesickness. I want to hear Qi's whining over her crappy grades. I wanna listen to Pam bitch about her latest boyfriend. I want to come home and eat my mom's porridge and study maths while metal blasts in my headphones.

I want the good and the bad. I don't care if I get yelled at by Mr Lim for failing physics again. I'd probably hug old Aunt Beatrice if she showed up and called me fat. Hell, I would give anything, anything to have my glasses broken by a stray football again, even if the glass goes into my eye.

I miss home. I… I hope I can go home soon. (Oh gods, I'm pathetic.)

Fun fact: She did not get to go home soon.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

#writeblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing community #fantasy #spilled ink #short story

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madsnowstorm · 1 year

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take me home for christmas | j. seresin | part five

that christmasy feeling - johnny cash

summary : jake wants to take you home to texas for christmas to meet his family.

warnings — series, 18+, fem!reader, established relationship, some angst, family dynamics (both healthy and not), mentions of therapy, no religious aspect to the holiday, dogs named after famous texans, anxiety, no use of y/n, little angsty, but mostly internal

notes — uh, its been a while. work has been crazy, so i haven't been able to work on this like i've wanted. truthfully, i'm not sure what i think about this chapter. what i am sure of is that i love writing uncle jake.

series masterlist

“Wake up!” An unfamiliar voice startled you. “Wake uuup!” The voice was squeaky and accompanied by a bell-like giggle. “Uncle Jake, why isn’t she waking up! Maybe you should wake her up like Snow White!” You could hear your boyfriend’s laugh through the sleepy haze you were beginning to surface from.

“Nah, Sophie. Let’s just wake her up gently. The both of us.” You felt your shoulder warm with the touch of Jake’s large hand and much smaller one underneath it. Your eyes fluttered open and you stretched. “Hey there princess.” The small girl next to Jake giggled again.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Your voice was scratchy with sleep. The last thing you remember was sitting on the couch. Your legs had been tangled with his, your head on his firm chest. A Christmas Story was on the TV and the last thing you remembered was Ralphie Parker getting a boot to the forehead.

“You just looked so cute.” Sophie laughed at her uncle’s words and you couldn’t help but join in. She was an adorable girl with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes similar to those of her uncle. “Anytime you aren’t snoring is pretty cute.” His comment, which was so typical, made you roll your eyes. You knew he probably had a point. You did snore sometimes.

“You must be Sophie!” Your attention was now on Jake’s niece. Her head was moving up and down in an enthusiastic nod. Her smile was wide enough for you to see that two teeth were missing. You scooted into a sitting position.

“Yeah!” Without warning the girl threw herself in your lap.

“Woah!” Jake placed his hand on your back to keep you from toppling over. You let him know you were good and positioned the girl to make both of you more comfortable. “A little warning next time, Soph!”

“She’s okay. You’re just excited, aren’t you Sophie?” She was nodding once again. “Who wouldn’t be with Santa coming tomorrow?!” The mention of Santa and Christmas Eve had Sophie wiggling with joy. You were still trying to fully wake up, but her childlike wonderment was infectious as she talked about Christmas Eve. Both you and Jake let her ramble for a few moments. After she talked about all the different cookies she wanted to leave Santa, Jake plucked the girl from your lap and told her to go find one of her brothers. Once she was gone, you looked at him. His eyes were roaming over your face. “Do I have sleep lines?” You started feeling around your temple. “Oh my God, did I drool?” Jake laughed.

“You’re good darlin’.” He stood up and held a hand out for you. You took it, looking down at your clothes, running a hand over some wrinkles. “I said you were good.” His tone was light, but had an edge of bossiness that was typical of him. “Come on, there are people I want you to meet.”

You let him tug you towards the kitchen, nerves gripping you. You weren’t quite sure why you were nervous considering how well things went with his parents. They really made you feel as though you’d always been one of them. That morning you and Vicki drove down to the feed store to pick up an order that had come in. As you loaded large bags into the bed of the truck you’d been in, the two of you joked around like people who knew each other for years would. It left you feeling like you were in a dream and you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.

“There they are!” Thomas yelled out loudly. You smiled shyly, fighting the urge to raise your hand in an awkward wave. There were multiple pizza boxes sitting on the kitchen island, which several people were standing around. Vicki and Thomas you knew, as well as Julie, who was standing next to a man that held baby Lily. There was another man to his left and as you took him in you noticed several features that Vicki also had. That must have been Jackson. A short woman, with red hair, stood in front of him. The only people that were missing were Jennifer and her family, and June. Both of them would be in from out of town the next day.

“Yeah, here we are.” Jake’s hands were on your shoulders, he was standing at your back. The heat coming off of his body was comforting. “I don’t know about y’all, but I’m ready to eat!”

Jake filled you in earlier in the day. On the twenty-third there were always carolers in the small downtown you’d been driven through the day before. Hot chocolate was typically sold by the high school band as a fundraiser. There was also a local couple that dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus and walked around entertaining little children. He explained it as a low-key affair that had a lot of heart. It had been going on as long as Jake could remember and had become a family tradition. They’d always eat pizza, drive around to look at lights, and then end up downtown to enjoy the festive atmosphere.

“Yeah, Nana! We’re hungry!” A young teenage boy echoed, walking in. Sophie was at one elbow and another young boy was at the other.

“Come here, squirt!” Jake growled, throwing his arm around his oldest nephew, Will, drawing him into a headlock.

“I’m not a squirt!” The boy replied, his voice cracking in that familiar pubescent way. He squirmed away from his uncle.

“No, you aren’t, but he is!” Jake bent down to pick up Cole. You remember in the weeks leading up to this time with his family, you made Jake quiz you on who was who. Names were not hard for you, so you were able to pick up on all the members quickly. Cole was laughing as his uncle attacked him with tickles. Sophie was jumping up and down, adding to the chaos. You could only imagine the energy that would be in the air once the rest of the Seresin family arrived.

“Come on, knuckleheads,” Jackson spoke up, opening some of the pizza boxes. “Let’s eat.” And, as if his words were magic, the kids (and Jake) straightened up and got in line.

“They are always such a rowdy bunch.” The redheaded woman spoke as you walked over to grab a plate. “Hi, I’m Claire.” You introduced yourself to her in return. “Whenever Jake comes to town, the kids are extra crazy.”

“Yeah, I’m picking up on that.” You laughed.

The kitchen was filled with noise as everyone moved around and began eating. Outside the window the sun was setting, which meant that soon you would all be perusing toward town, taking in the magic of different lights.

After grabbing a couple of slices of pizza, you found yourself squished in between Jake and Sophie. Claire tried to pull her daughter away, reminding her of her manners, but you let her know it was okay. Throughout dinner you listened, with one ear, to Jake entertain Sophie, Cole, and Will with stories about his most recent mission. Details were exaggerated and sound effects were incorporated. While he did that, you engaged in conversation with Claire about a show you heard her mention while you were each up grabbing your food.

Once dinner and conversation were done (and cowboy hats grabbed) you all divided up amongst two different vehicles. Jake, you, Julie, her fiance Luke, and Lily piled in their mid-sized SUV, while Vicki and Thomas squeezed into Claire and Jackson’s Suburban. That forced the three kids in the back seat. Jake and Jackson both had walkie-talkies clipped to their jackets. Jake explained that it was so both vehicles could talk while looking at lights, without interrupting any music. The Seresin’s were all about feeling the spirit of Christmas.

Lily sat between you and Jake, buckled tightly into her carseat. Julie said they could pull up the back seats to make things more comfortable, but you told her it was fine. It gave you an up close look at just how soft Jake could be. You were enjoying this new side to him. He sang to her when a particularly good song would come on. While he didn’t have the best voice, the slightly accented twang he added made you melt. The man would also tell jokes to the other kids over the walkie-talkie.

“Soph’, what does Santa call a reindeer with no eyes?” He asked as your caravan pulled in front of a house that had a yard littered with glowing reindeer.

“I don’t know, Uncle J!” Came Sophie’s sassy reply. You snickered. Her attitude reminded you so much of the one her uncle usually displayed. You locked eyes with Julie who nodded, having picked up on your line of thought.

“I have no eye deer!” As he delivered the punchline he looked over at you, his smile so wide it practically took over his face. Luke snorted which made Julie laugh. Lily cooed from her carseat. You turned your attention to her, brushing her forehead with the pad of your thumb.

“Your uncle is so silly, isn’t he? Isn’t he?” She cooed again and you laughed, looking at Jake pointedly.

“Uncle J, that was so bad!” Will’s voice came over the walkie-talkie. It was impossible to miss Sophie laughing in the background.

“Some would say it’s so bad, I’m on the naughty list right?” You, Julie, and Luke all groaned at the same time. Before you really knew what you were doing, you reached over the carseat and grabbed the walkie-talkie from Jake’s hand. He looked at you, bewildered.

“Someone come get this man!” You said into the receiver after pressing the orange button on the side. There was silence for a minute before Jackson’s voice filled the car.

“Sorry darlin’,” If Jake wasn’t sitting right in front of you, you would have sworn he was the one speaking. “We’ve been dealing with him for over three-decades. It’s your turn now.”

More taunts, bad jokes, and laughs were exchanged as you all continued to look at lights that decorated homes that were a part of Jake’s past. Jake would tell you some random fact from his childhood as you passed by the different houses. Julie would chime in occasionally, adding to the stories he told. You learned about his friends and the shenanigans they got up to, especially while in high school. There were pranks and hijinks of all kinds thought up in the houses that were being driven by.

Eventually the car turned down a street where vehicles were parked on both sides. It took a minute to find a spot, but eventually two were found not that far from each other. Together, as a family, you all walked up the sidewalk, towards the warm light radiating from the busy part of town. Sophie, Claire, and Julie were singing about Frosty the Snowman. As you kept walking the crowd seemed to be growing.

While the downtown area looked charming during the day, there was something magical about it at night. The lights mixed with the music from the carol singers mixed with the fake snow floating through the air created an energy and excitement that you had not experienced since you were a young child. You were so enchanted by everything around you, you didn’t realize you’d stopped walking.

“Darlin’?” Jake called out. He was looking over his shoulder, his family still walking ahead. You were trying to find the words to explain how you felt. “You okay?” You nodded as he walked to you.

“It just…” The words weren’t coming to you, but he waited patiently. “Thank you for bringing me.” His smile was dazzling and dangerous. You tucked one arm around under his denim jacket, and wrapped it around his waist. You lifted the other, using your hand to tip his sand colored Stetson up. It would get in the way of your goal. Without mentioning this goal, Jake understood and pressed his lips against yours. As you pulled apart you could hear Cole behind the man in your arms.

“Come one guys!” There were strangers moving around you, smiling as Cole brought attention to the obvious fact that you were not with the family who was stopped at the hot chocolate booth.

Jake moved your arm out from underneath his jacket, but didn’t let go of your hand. His palm was warm against yours and it grounded you. He pulled you towards the booth and somehow managed to take a few dollar bills from his wallet with one hand. He handed it to the high schooler behind the table and you both grabbed a cup. You never thought that being in Texas with Jake and his family would feel as right as it did. It was nothing like you expected, but in the best way possible…And there were still three days left and more family to meet.

#jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman series #hangman fic #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #jake seresin x f!reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fic #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #take me home for christmas

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kamiversee · 1 month

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KAMI I'M LOSIGN MY MIND HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP HELP

oh my god. this is already better than i imagined. i'm quakin in my boots rn. i had to take SO MANY BREAKS while reading this to just calm myself down omfg KAMIIIIII

ALSO THE PHONE CALL???? I WAS SHITTING MYSELFFFFFF PLS THIS WAS SUCH A PERFECT SET UP! but wait, did Choso just assume that since Satoru called us out of the blue, that we slept with him before? or is this hinting towards Choso possibly knowing about the list and who's on it? omfg my brain is everywhere lmao i'm prob overthinking it

also the interactions they've been having since Gojo got in the house had me melting omfg. the constant back-and-forth? the piggybacking off of each other's comments? THE TAG TEAMING. THEY BETTER TAG TEAM US FOR THE NEXT TWO PARTS AAAAAA KAMI PLEEEEEEAAAAAAASE

my nosey ass wants to know wtf they were talking about when Choso locked the door on us 😭😭😭 like i know that it was most probably Choso giving Gojo his address and really confirming that he wants this BUT STILL. lowkey i feel like the sexual tension between Choso and Gojo is THICK here. i need more of it 😭

“Is it any more wrong than the things I’ve had you do before?” He whispers lowly to you, low enough for Choso to miss what he uttered.

I'M LOSING ITTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! idc if this is noncanon, i'm using this What If as my closure for TFL IDC IDC OMG

🐶nonnie was right we need that poly ending expeditiously 😭😭😭😭😭😭 i've gone full delulu omfg Kami you fucking broke me

the way Choso's so sassy and chatty omfg HELPPPPPPPPP THE WAY I FEEL LIKE HE'D BE SUCH A BRAT AND "TEACH" GOJO HOW TO MAKE US SQUIRT JUST TO MESS WITH US AAAAAA I NEED THESE MEN SO FUCKING BAD

i have no idea how you have so much self control spacing out the parts like this. my instant gratification ass would have posted EVERYTHIIIIIING. what's the total word count of all 3 parts?

-☃️

Ugh ur messages always make me giggle & smile

In chapter 52 of TFL (or whichever is titled; The Resolve) the reader asks Choso abt Gojo & planned on getting info out of Cho abt the list (kinda like how she questioned Nanami previously) but she doesn’t get to ask him about that bc Choso quickly puts two and two together and asks her if Gojo is the guy who he’s been competing with all this time.

Their convo goes unanswered tho bc Choso says what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him but deep down, he knew— hence why in this whatif he asked if Gojo used to fuck her ^.^

ALSO, I’m thinkin of doing a lil side blurb for their phone call just cause. Plus, I don’t see Choso & Gojo interacting in the manga/anime or even in people’s fanfics tht often so this is very fun for me to do honestly (:

Annnywho, gladd you’re enjoying it so far! The word count for all three parts is… long. (I haven’t written the second or third part yet but my minimum is usually 3k so expect all three parts to be at least 9k words in total or so… maybe longer tho bc I have a writing problem😭)

#kamiversee!answers #k!ans: ☃️

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risette-blast · 10 months

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PERSONA 2 INNOCENT SIN SPOILERS AHEAD! DON'T READ THIS IF YOU'RE REMOTELY INTERESTED IN PLAYING THE GAME AND HAVEN'T BEEN SPOILED ON IT!!

(oh there are also traitor spoilers for P5 in here, but I feel like anyone who has played P2 has also played P5 already lol)

so last night, I finished P2IS. the ending still hurts by the way lol. but i've had a bit of time since then to think about the game in retrospect. so i wrote up a thought dump with sort of my "initial" thoughts on the game on twitter. afterwards, i decided to repost it here but with more detail since i'm not constrained with a character limit the same way I am with twitter (it's still gonna be in bullet points bc I don't really want to structure this like an essay haha)

this game's ending really was brutal. this is the main thing I've commented on ever since finishing the game, but it truly is awful. Maya is stabbed and killed, Lisa can't even heal her with Dia no matter how much she tries. the Earth is destroyed by suddenly stopping its rotation, causing the resultant inertia to instantly kill everything. in the end, it just turns out to be a rigged game between Philemon and Nyarlathotep (god that name is hard to spell lol). and then the entire cast is forced to go back in time and forget their memories with each other and everything to prevent the world from ending again. it's truly a cruel fate for them, I really did want them to have a happy ending so it just really hurts. 😭

a lot of this game's moments hit hard due to how good the OST is. this has honestly gone up to being one of my favorite Persona OSTs, and given how strong its competition has been, that's a noteworthy feat.

the gameplay was ass lol. I can't pretend it was good, it's worse than P1 in some areas which is wild (still liked IS more overall though, 1 has some very questionable mechanics)

now apparently this is specific to the PSP version, but man the menus were so slow. thankfully I was playing on an emulator so I even had this option but I genuinely just sped up the game somewhat frequently just to get through the menus more quickly

it was also probably the easiest Persona game I've ever played. P5R is genuinely harder. i'm not even kidding. I've gone on and on about how easy P5R is (on twitter), but P2IS makes P5R look challenging in comparison.

the characters were great. i didn't think I'd care about them as much as I did. they all had wonderful bonds with each other. personally I felt like yukino was the "weak" link, and like she doesn't have the bonds the other do so it only makes sense. and even then? she has some great moments and is genuinely well written too. I had played P1 before this but yukino wasn't in my party so she essentially disappeared; it's nice to actually get to know her.

that said, I don't rly like how P1 and P2 both kinda hide extra character details behind very optional dialogue that's easy to miss. it's not nearly as bad in IS though bc they get more characterization in the main story, so a lot of the characters in IS resonated with me more on a first playthrough than 1's characters did.

I've heard some people say P2's shadow encounters are better than P4's. I'm not sure I agree with that at least just from IS, but I thought they were pretty competent. I did like that they built up to the shadow encounters throughout the game, it's an interesting approach.

...personally I still like the P4 shadow encounters more overall. I just also really like the way the IS shadow encounters were handled too especially in the context of the story.

the dialogue about personas and masks was really cool. I wish the new Persona games did acknowledge that everyone has multiple masks they put on. the only characters from P3-P5 who really explore this imo (as far as I can remember) are Rise and Akechi, and even then, it's not nearly as substantial as 1/2. Rise's arc is more about her accepting that she can have multiple selves that are all her, and with Akechi, while he has two different masks that represent both the facade he presents to society vs his true nature, it's just a case of facade vs true nature, whereas IS acknowledges that everyone has multiple masks they present to society that form a full self.

I personally wasn't too invested in the romance options, and the game clearly didn't consider them super important either seeing as they barely affect the story or interactions, but I really did like that Jun was presented as a genuine, serious option. also it's not like P3-5 where it's kinda subjective, I feel like Jun just fits the best especially in retrospect.

I now truly understand why newsona's mechanics (calendar, s.links, etc) wouldn't work at all. there's no room in the story for that.

I didn't think the pacing was the best tbh. it feels like not a lot happens at first, then they throw a ton of story at you halfway through the game, then a lot more near the end. it could've been distributed a little better. I hear EP is better with this though.

I do have a few issues with the way the plot was presented. tbh it was just a little absurd lol, and also revealing that the whole story was Philemon vs Nyarlathotep (again, tough name to spell lol) at the very end was kinda mid. maybe I'll like it more with the context of EP. but what really made the story for me was ultimately the characters and their development, not so much the actual events in the plot itself, if that makes sense.

I love the ending theme, kimi no tonari. when you realize that the sumaru city (and a lot of songs in the game) share the same general leitmotif it just makes you sad to hear them in retrospect 😔

#persona #atlus #persona 2 innocent sin #persona 2 #p2 #p2is #thoughts #tatsuya suou #maya amano #lisa silverman #eikichi mishina #jun kurosu

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collidescopeeyes · 2 months

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Time is a Roulette Wheel

Viego: Pt 3

League of Legends | Viego x F!Reader

Chapters: Prologue | Viego: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

Crossposted on AO3 here

SFW

Summary: Turns out that Runeterra isn't the only place that has a Void. Plucked from your world into one of a video game with nothing but stolen time powers, an inability to die and a middling recollection of lore, you're prepared to do just about anything to get back home again. You just have to find the right Champion to help.

Viego doesn't follow you while you're in public. That's probably a good call, considering his past, and especially considering you've found yourself in Bilgewater. You finally tracked down Ryze, and he had approximately fuck all useful to say. You spend the week trying to decide whether you should just steal the World Stones and hope they magically give you some insight on how the fuck to get out of here, but you're also pretty sure taking those things out of this world would end it, and you're not that far gone. That doesn't mean you’re not so miserable about the decision you spend the next few days drowning your sorrows in the most moderately priced swill Bilgewater can offer. If there's anywhere a girl can get bed, board and booze for a reasonable fee, it's here.

After Viego showing up almost daily for the last two months, you kind of miss him. Maybe that's why you get shit faced drunk on overpriced wine alone in your tavern room that night, instead of going to a bar like you have been. You have no idea if Viego has some way of knowing what you're up to before he shows up, but you're halfway through the bottle by the time his boots appear in your periphery.

“What are you doing?” He asks dryly. You blink up at him.

“Is it not obvious?” You drawl, taking a sip from the bottle before offering it to him. He stares at it, brow furrowed. “Oh, don't tell me you've never tried getting drunk, either.”

He rolls his eyes and takes the bottle. “I have. It didn't work.” He drinks, then grimaces. “What is this swill?”

“Maybe you just didn't have enough?” you suggest, ignoring his other comment. Of course he'd have opinions on wine, the elitist. He drinks again, so it can't be that bad.

“What I meant was, what are you doing drowning yourself in cheap wine?” Viego reiterates. You make grabby hands at the bottle, and he passes it back to you empty. Bastard.

“It was not cheap,” you insist, and then have the bright idea to rewind the bottle to full. “Aha!” You crow when it succeeds.

“Iso,” he says, in a tone that is attempting to be patient.

“I'm just–” you stop, take an excessively long swig, and then slump back against the wall. Your cramped room doesn't have anywhere to sit save for the bed. Maybe you should've gone to a bar. “I'm stuck. I'm stuck in this shitty world and I'm never going to get back home because no one fucking knows anything and I have tried everyone. I've tried the mages, the Voidspawn, the chosen of the fucking gods, I've tried you–” you gesture agitatedly at him. “--and no one knows a single goddamn thing that can help me! And even if I could figure out how to get back into the Void and survive a second trip, I'd probably just end up in some other shitty fucking world!” You fail your arms out emphatically, and Viego takes this opportunity to snag the bottle from you before you spill it.

“How did you come to be here?” He asks. “In this world?”

Your lips thin with discomfort. “I can't tell you,” you say reluctantly.

He looks almost offended. “You have been inexplicably aware of my most painful and humiliating moments, even ones I myself do not remember, and you refuse to share your own story?”

“That's not–” you cut yourself off with a frustrated noise. “I mean I literally can't tell you, it doesn't…” he looks like he doesn't believe you. You sigh deeply. Maybe it'd work this time. It's not like he's alive, after all. “Alright, have it your way, but I'm only trying this once. I was–” and there it is, the burning, stabbing pain rending your throat into ribbons. You gag on your own blood, and Viego lurches towards you as you begin to cough up the shard. His hands are on your arms as he drops to his knees before you, looking so fearful you almost feel bad for him, even though you're the one eating glass right now.

It passes quickly enough. You grimace as you wind your timeline back to before your little demonstration, the blood and pain vanishing in a heartbeat. Only the mirror shard remains, which you cast aside with disgust.

He looks stricken. “I–are you injured? What was that?”

“I'm fine now,” you assure him, a little sheepishly. “It's just…my powers have rules. That's one.”

He lets out a breath, hands lowering from your biceps to rest on your forearms. “Do not do that again,” he orders harshly. “I do not care what the circumstances are.”

“You don't have to tell me twice,” you say with a shrug.

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Don't I? Why in the name of good sense would you possibly do that, simply because I asked?”

You shift uncomfortably. “I thought it might work this time,” you say, and your voice sounds small. “And if anyone could understand what I went through, it'd be you.”

He just looks at you for a moment, but you can't quite bring yourself to meet his eyes. Then, he stands, only to throw himself onto the bed next to you. The wine is in his hand again, though you have no idea where it went before. “Have you tried writing it?” He suggests.

“Doesn't work,” you say morosely, only to squint incredulously at his big armored boots. “Boy, get your fucking boots off my bed.”

He blinks at them like he's only just remembered he's wearing them. “Apologies,” he says, passing you the wine. The whole armored shin debacle is apparently held in place by a few buckles, and somehow seeing Viego's socks is more surreal than the fact that he's here at all.

“Have you considered wearing something that isn't what you died in?” You suggest, poking at a frayed lapel.

He blinks at said lapel, picking at the tattered clothing with a frown. “Is that what happened?”

Right. He didn't remember. “I mean, I assume you weren't rocking the half shirtless look for fun,” you say, poking him in the exposed midriff. He's not cold like you were expecting–save for being as pallid as a ghost, he feels perfectly human. You do it again, because huh, he's actually built, which you knew because of the shirtless thing and the abs and all but it's a little different when his abdomen feels like a fucking rock–He catches your hand, and you realize that oh yeah, you're drunk and should probably be thinking better of harassing the guy with the giant sword.

“Iso,” he says warningly. That's a new look on his face–Viego is no stranger to inner turmoil, but this time he also sort of looks like he can't believe this is a situation he actually has to deal with. Which, same.

You pull your hand back with a shrug, sipping your wine instead. “Just saying.”

He gives you an unreadable look, then demands the wine with an imperious beckoning gesture. “I must be able to summon the Mist unimpeded in battle,” he says before taking a sip, gesturing to the pitch cavity in his chest.

“So we bring you to a tailor who can make you a titty window,” you say easily. Viego chokes on the wine and then on his laughter. He's handsome when he's happy, you note.

He's looking at you oddly, his expression somewhere between strained and flustered. “I said that aloud, huh?” You note.

“How much of this have you had?” He asks, holding up the bottle and swishing its contests. You're grateful for the change of subject.

“Uh. Most of it?” You shrug. “I don't hold my alcohol well, historically.”

“Can't you just…” he makes a spinning gesture you realize is meant to evoke a clocks hand.

“If I wanted to be sober I wouldn't have gotten drunk,” you point out. To prove your point, you snatch the bottle back.

He does a little mouth shrug. “A fair point.” For a moment, he just looks at you, and hell if you've ever known what goes on in Viego's head but he looks almost discouraged. “Is it so bad, staying here?”

You slump. “I…” you don't know how to answer that. You scrub a hand over your face, trying to find an answer you're allowed to give. “The only thing that's kept me going is getting back to them. To my family. Everything, the pain and the endless fighting and all the times I thought I couldn't get back up again and then I did, it was for them. And now I…” your breath catches.

“You don't know how to live without a purpose,” Viego says like he understands, and you guess he would. “Without someone to live for.”

You rub your face. “I just…what was the point of it all? Why am I still here at all, if I can't go home?”

“There is no point,” he says calmly. “Life is cruel and senseless, and there is no reward for enduring the pain it so keenly inflicts on us. But we are not yet dead, so we must go on.”

You slide a sideways glance at him, at the hole in his heart. “I don't think I can die,” you say morosely.

He gives you a crooked half smile. “Then I suppose you and I will just have to find something to live for, hm?” He reaches for the bottle, and then grimaces. “Starting with some better wine.”

—

You smuggle him into a wine shop, using an oversized cloak (turns out he can turn the magic crown thing off, but he does not like it and will not specify why beyond making a face) and a pair of sunglasses you picked up on a whim in Piltover (“What are these things? Iso, I cannot see.”). Once you get to the shop, he spends the next forty minutes trying to explain the difference between a dry and sweet wine to you. He then spends another twenty arguing with the sommelier about trying to pass off a Malbec for Merlot. You're pretty sure his shitty disguise does not hold up for the time he spends leaning over the counter emphatically gesturing at the man, but this is Bilgewater, and if the sommelier knows who he is, he doesn't give a shit beyond the fact that he's trying to haggle.

You walk back with Viego at your side, still grumbling about the sub-par availability. You point out that they are under constant siege not only by huge murderous fish, but also by undead armies, which probably affects trade routes. You ask whether that's something he can, y'know, stop, and he sighs.

“The mist is as alive and hungry as the rats in that gutter,” he says, nodding at said gutter. “It is outside my control, unless you want me to usher in another Harrowing and make things worse. I'm very talented at making things worse, you see.” He spreads his arms with a self depreciating grin. The bag of bottles he's carrying clinks concerningly.

“Can't you, iunno, command the wraiths to chill out or something?” You try.

You can't see his eyes past the ridiculous sunglasses you have him in, but you're sure he's rolling them. “Can you command the gutter rats?”

You shoot him a reproachful look as you open the door to your inn room. Luckily, it faces out to the street, so you don't have to go through the attached tavern. “Hey, have some respect. They're trapped in eternal undead torment because of your fuckup, remember?”

He seems abashed for a moment as he follows you in. “I did not mean…” he sighs, taking off his sunglasses and tossing them on the table. “If you took the rats and put them in, say, someone's house, they would panic and start biting, yes? Because they are scared and hungry and all they know how to do is to hurt or to run. It is the same with the wraiths. I can bring the mist to a place, and the mist brings them, but I can only directly control a scant few from a horde.” He gestures up at his crown, which he apparently rematerialized when you were distracted. You suppose that's how the possession thing worked in the game, too. He hesitates a moment, then continues in a reserved tone, “I know their plight is because of me, but I have no way to undo what I have done, for them or myself–” and then he pauses, fingers on the clasp of his cloak, staring at you.

“Can I help you…?” You say slowly as the silence drags on.

“Yes,” he says. “I think you can. When we met, you made me human.”

Your eyes widen. “Is that…something you want?”

He pauses as if he's not sure how to answer that, then shakes his head. “Not for me, for the wraiths. If I bring their souls to you, can you restore them?”

“I…” you pause, considering. “I guess? I mean, it'll be harder the longer they've been like that, but if it worked on you I don’t see any reason it wouldn't on them.”

He nods sharply, and all of a sudden Viego is on one knee in front of you with a beseeching look on his face. “Come back to the isles with me.” You stare, and the look he’s giving you is almost pleading. “You were looking for a purpose, and I am looking for redemption. We could find it together. Please.”

“Why?” You say, blunt as anything.

His brow furrows. “What do you mean, why?”

You lean forward, looking him dead in the eye. “Viego, the Shadow Isles are ancient and the dead are countless. What you're asking of me will take years, and making them human again doesn't undo all of the suffering they've already been through.”

“Do you think I don't know that there is no fixing this wretched mist?” He shoots back, clearly affronted. “You restored my humanity, once, and my heart ached no less fiercely for it.”

“So why? For Isolde? Do you think she'll somehow forgive you, if you ‘undo’ what you did?” you persist. You know you're pushing too hard, but somehow the thought of him asking this of you for her irritates you.

“Isolde is gone!” He snaps, and you realize he's trembling. “She is gone, and every day my traitorous heart forgets a little more of the pain of losing her. I know there is no forgiveness for what I have done, in the dead or the living, but is it so wrong to do as she would have wanted in her memory?”

“I–” you realize, looking at his shaking hands, that you're being an asshole. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. You…you know you can't be mad at yourself for moving on, right?” You ask gently. “You’ve grieved for long enough. Not hurting when you think of her doesn't mean that you didn't love her, that you don't love her still.”

He looks up at you for a moment, gaze oddly vulnerable, and then rests his forehead on your knees. “I know this in my heart. It is my mind that thinks it is a betrayal.”

“Well, stop it,” you say, and he gives a laugh that is almost a hiccup. “If you're betraying your wife by being happy then I'm betraying my family by not suicidally flinging myself into the Void on the vanishingly slim chance that I'll end up back home.”

He rolls his head to the side so he can give you a narrow look. Incidentally, this also means his head is now fully resting on your lap. “That's ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” you say. “But if you're going to hold yourself to an insane standard of authenticity in pain then you're going to have to hold it against me too, so checkmate.” He smiles ruefully, and before you can think better of it you card your fingers through his hair. It is insanely soft, and you can't help but be jealous because there's no way there's hair care products in the Shadow Isles. Does that mean you'd have to import some? Wait, why are you assuming you're agreeing? You had some great ethical standpoint about this a minute ago–oh, right, not letting him use you for free moral absolution. “Tell me again. Why do you want me to come with you?”

His eyes, which at some point closed while you were playing with his hair, slide open. “Because it is within our power to help. Because they were my people and my responsibility, and I failed them. And, to be very honest, because having you with me eases my heart, and I am at my core a selfish bastard.”

You laugh disbelievingly, and he smiles hopefully up at you. Maybe it's the look in his eye. Maybe it's the lingering wine in your system, or the fact that he's right and you have nowhere else to go. Maybe it's just that you inexplicably have a soft spot for him. Whatever it is, you say yes, and he smiles so brightly you instantly understand why Isolde married him on the spot.

Then he insists on trying to educate you on wine, and you get through 3 out of 4 bottles before he is forced to admit you simply have no taste.

(You also get so shitfaced drunk that you fall asleep on his chest, trying to see if he still has a heartbeat. He must also be, because he lets you.)

—

You give Viego a week to find a dozen of the most recently reaped souls, while you make other preparations. It's difficult to convince any ferry to come to the Shadow Isles, but you need a way for the freshly risen to make it back to civilization. You agree that he'll wait offshore for a day, and when you light a lantern he'll come to shore for the passengers. He makes you pay half upfront because he thinks you'll die.

When you appear at Viego's castle, he is instantly by your side. “Iso,” he greets, as if he's relieved you came after all. You think he's made some sort of effort to clean up, because he shows you to a room that is downright nice. He's clearly gone to some effort to find furnishings mostly unravaged by time and the Ruination, including the bed you restored; if the lost kingdom of Camavor had one thing going for it, it was apparently talented carpenters supplied with good quality wood. He assures you that he'll provide everything you need to assist with your work–he still has access to the coffers, after all, and Bilgewater merchants don't ask questions if there's gold on the table. He doesn't know what kind of food you like, but if you let him know he'll do his best to acquire it. His posture is ramrod straight and his accent is out in full force, and you are inexplicably reminded of coming over to a friend's messy apartment while they scour through their pantry looking for something edible to serve because they're too embarrassed to admit they've been getting takeout for a week.

“Viego,” you interrupt his stream of courtly assurances as you walk back to the main hall. “What are you so nervous about?”

His nose wrinkles, affronted. “Nervous? Me?” He repeats skeptically.

“Iunno, whatever you want to call the fussing,” you say, waving a hand at him.

“Fussing–” he repeats, offended. You give him an unimpressed look, and he relents. “I…suppose I might be a little on edge. If I had hosted such an important guest with such poor hospitality when I was a prince, I would be a laughing stock.”

You mutely point at yourself, baffled. He rolls his eyes, and there's the Viego you know–haughty, single-minded, and a little bit of a bitch. “Yes, of course you. You are healing the wound I made in the world for no reward but the deed itself. If the kingdom of Camavor still lived, you would be lauded as a saint and courted as an asset to the kingdom.” He pauses, looking into the middle distance. “If I am remembering correctly, I believe father would probably have tried to marry us.”

You blink, utterly unsure of what to make of that information. “He would've?”

Viego shrugs. “I was quite charming then, and seducing you would be a convenient way to secure your allegiance to the kingdom.”

“What, implying you're not charming now?” You tease.

He stops and turns to look at you, and you almost run into his shoulder. You brake in time to avoid a collision, but it leaves you much closer than anticipated. When Viego looks down at you there's an oddly searching look in his eyes, but it quickly vanishes from view as he leans down to murmur in your ear. “Should I be, to keep you by my side?”

You shiver without meaning to and hope he doesn't notice. “Alright, point taken, heartbreaker,” you say, quickly stepping past him and praying to any god who will listen that he doesn't see the flush on your face.

---

The first lot of souls Viego summons for you aren't hard. You lay your hands on the filmy substance of their being and spin their time back, back, to the sharp rending tear where they became something else. There is a strange ripping sensation you can't describe as their physical bodies snap back into place around their souls, summoned from whatever flotsam graveyard they were in at Bilgewater, and then there is a trembling woman in front of you. She immediately begins to weep, thanking you profusely and begging incoherently to be allowed to go home, and you cast Viego a deeply uncomfortable look.

He looks no more at ease with the situation than you are, but he steels himself and says in a far gentler voice than you expected, “You are safe now. No harm will come to you here. I cannot give back the time and pain that was taken from you and for that I am sorry, but you will return to your home and your family unharmed.”

She looks up at him, voice choked and shaky. “Y-you're him, ain't you? The Ruined King? Y-you’re letting us go?” Her eyes flick to you, and a realization flashes in them. “T-then you must be the Queen he was looking for! C-congratulations, your majesties, I'm happy, I'm truly happy for youse–” and she dissolves into hiccuping sobs that you don't feel comfortable interrupting just to say ‘no, actually, we're just friends’. At the same time, you're stricken with the completely inappropriate realization that that wouldn't even be entirely true if you did say it, because if he wasn't grieving his double-dead wife you probably would've tried some horrendous pickup line on him by now.

None of those are thoughts you're ready to deal with however, so you turn and restore the next soul.

—

After the shaken crowd is delivered to a shellshocked ferryman, it occurs to you that he didn't correct her, either. You ask, over a dinner of roast meat and veg (he's very remorseful about you cooking your own food, but you flat out refuse to leave it in the hands of a wraith he's pretty sure used to be a chef).

His eyes slide away from yours uncomfortably. “I thought it might be easier for them to believe in my intentions that way.” He looks down, idly pushing a wedge of potato with his fork, which is very unlike him because Viego usually has impeccable table manners. “And it is true, in a way. I am a changed man, because of what Isolde said to me, and because of what you have done for me.”

“What, are you gonna propose to me?” You joke, your mouth running ahead of your mind in a desperate attempt to break whatever this strange tension is.

He blinks at you. “Would you like me to?”

You try for a smile. “I’m joking, Viego.”

“I am not,” he says evenly.

You squint at him, trying to figure out which of Viego's insane personality traits you're up against now. Maybe he just didn't know how to have close relationships that weren't, in one way or another, legally family? Then you recall your conversation in the hallway earlier. “You don't have to marry me to get me to stay, calm down. Plus, can you imagine trying to get a priest out here?” You try for humor, and then belatedly remember that you should probably track down Yorick while you're at this ‘freeing the damned’ thing. Though he's been dead for a long, long time, and he could probably wait until you've found everyone who still has living relatives. “Wait, is that even how weddings work here?”

“Yes. At least, it was in Camavor. A priest and a ceremony and a grand party,” he says, looking almost wistful. “What does courtship look like, where you are from?”

“I mean, the same as here, I guess?” You hazard. “You meet someone, you spend time with them, go on dates, y'know, get dinner and walks in the parks and stuff like that?” He seems oddly unsatisfied by that answer, and you shrug. “I wasn't exactly royalty, so my relationships were probably a little more casual than whatever you were imagining.”

He raises a brow. “I have had my share of casual relationships in the past, you are aware?”

You almost choke on your food. The smile on his face is almost rogueish, and when you look at it like that, you can perfectly picture him flirting his way through the castle staff. “So you were perfectly capable of being normal about it, but you just decided to immediately propose to Isolde on the spot?”

He shrugs. “I know my heart, and I knew I wanted to give it to her. For now it, and all the weight it carries, is mine alone once more.” You're about to ask about the for now part, but he looks up at you seriously. “You know that they will not all be so receptive, the wraiths. There will be those who are angry and vengeful, and those who have been so broken by the mist for so long that they will not know how to be any other way.”

“I know,” you say. “I did think this through before I agreed to it.”

“You were also very drunk, and reportedly part of your reasoning was that I am ‘cute when I'm begging’,” he makes air quotation marks to ensure you know that he is directly quoting you, and his wolfish grin lets you know exactly how much he's enjoying your obvious dismay.

You blanch. “I said that part aloud too, huh?” He responds by laughing at you. You groan. “Look, be that as it may, I had a whole week to change my mind, and here I am.”

“Here you are,” he agrees, and there's something so terribly affectionate in his voice you think you must be imagining it, but it's there in his face when you glance at him too. Gods, he really is handsome.

You hurriedly return to your food, before you can say anything stupid like, say, suggesting he show you the other other blade of the Ruined King. Viego is your friend. Viego’s defining personality trait is being a widower. Viego is not someone you can casually proposition, even he's decided that teasing you is a form of high entertainment, the fucker. God, maybe you just need to get laid–spending all your time around the near-shirtless ghost king was doing numbers to your psyche.

—

You do not find the opportunity to seek a no strings attached hookup, because your time is taken up either sleeping or restoring the souls of the damned. Viego was right when he warned you–in the next lot, a burly man waits long enough to get used to having limbs again before throwing himself at you with a howl. You barely have time to blink before Viego intercepts him, blade at the ready. He swings, and you cringe, expecting a spray of blood, but at the last second Viego glances at you and twists his blade so that he strikes the man with the flat of it instead. It's still an incredible amount of force behind solid (ghost?) steel, so the man goes sprawling, wind knocked out of him.

“You will show her respect,” Viego hisses, standing over him. “I understand your rage and your hate towards me, and I cannot blame you for that, but she has saved you from damnation and you will not raise a hand against her.”

The man spits at his feet. Viego lets out a hissing breath, but otherwise doesn't react as the man picks himself up–only to once again throw himself at Viego, who easily bats aside his wild swing before grabbing him by the throat. “I do not want to do this, but if you cannot behave yourself–” Viego says in the approximation of calm, mist curling up and around the man's head into a glowing crown. All at once, the man stops struggling, and as Viego releases him he complacently goes back to his place in the crowd. The others look at him nervously, an uneasy whisper circling through them.

A woman in a heavy woven shawl steps forward. “Um, your majesties,” she begins nervously, because apparently something about you and Viego just screams ‘married couple’ to the newly risen, “Is he…okay?” Her eyes flit between the crown on the man's head and Viego’s sword, as if she's not sure which is more worrying.

“He will return to himself after you leave the Isles,” Viego explains placidly. You nudge his side and give the sword a significant look, and he glances at it like he forgot it was there before vanishing it into mist. “I will ask the ferryman to keep an eye on him, do not worry.”

She looks at the man for a moment, then ducks her head gratefully. “Well, I thank you for your graciousness. I'm sure he will too, after he comes to his senses.”

After that, he stands a little closer to you while you raise the shades.

—

“How does it work?” You ask, after Viego has seen the risen off to the ferry and you've had a chance to stop swaying on your feet. You like to sit in the gardens, and Viego thins the mist enough to let a soft glow of sunlight through. Viego sits next to you on the stone bench, so close you're almost touching. He’s by your side pretty much constantly these days, save for when you're sleeping or bathing–though, you also wouldn't be surprised if he watched you sleep just to have company. “The whole…possession thing?”

Viego looks up at you from the book he was reading. “It simply does.”

You turn to him, incredulous. “What, that's it?”

He shrugs noncommittally. “I cannot explain how I summon my sword or compel the mist to move, and the crown is the same. I wish it to be so, and so it is.” You squint at him, and he shuts his book with a soft sound. It always boggled your mind that he perfectly remembered what page he was on without any bookmarks. “How does your manipulation of time work?”

You open your mouth, and then realize he's got you cornered, because you're not sure how to explain that either. “You could find out,” you challenge instead.

His brows knit. “You don't mean…?”

“I do,” you confirm.

He frowns. “No.”

“What, you'll marry me but you won't put a crown on my head?” You joke. “C'mon, I'm giving you my explicit permission.”

“That is not–” he begins, then shakes his head. “Everyone I have used my crown on seemed quite distressed by the experience. I would not do the same to you.”

“Was that because of the crown, or because of the sudden and unexpected loss of bodily autonomy paired with you using them to try and kill people?” You say dryly. He frowns, but doesn't answer. “Look. I'll admit, I'm curious, but more importantly…if I'm unconscious or otherwise incapacitated, and we need my powers, I want you to be able to use them. So, please.”

He goes very still, and you belatedly realize exactly what he's picturing–you, unconscious and hurt, unable to rewind your own wounds. “If I were able to deny you anything, it would be this,” he says, sighing deeply. You eagerly turn to face him, crossing your legs on the bench like a kid. For a moment he just looks at you like he's regretting all the choices that brought him to this point, and then begins to strip his gauntlets off. You're sure he could avoid stabbing you with their pointed ends, but Viego also treats you like you're made of glass sometimes.

He cups your face between his palms, and his hands are so much warmer than you expected. You're suddenly stricken with the intimacy of this pose, with you two so close. His eyes flick down to your lips, and for a moment you think he's going to kiss you–

And then a cold sensation snakes it's way into your blood, like drinking ice water. It spreads throughout your limbs until you feel numb from it, and Viego’s eyes glaze as the crown forms on your head.

“How strange,” he says distantly. “It's as if the entire world is singing a song only you can hear.”

You try to move your hand, but nothing happens. Still, you can still distantly feel his hands on your face, as if your skin was so chilled it barely recognizes the touch. You try to project the thought that you're fine, that it's a bit weird but honestly not that bad, but you have no idea if it gets through. “I can feel it, when you struggle against me,” he says softly, and, hm, maybe it's for the best that he can't hear your thoughts, because you've gone somewhere absolutely filthy with that. “I have never held a soul that trusted in me so, that did not rail to reclaim itself.” There's a strange look in his eyes, somewhere between awed and something much darker and deeper, and it occurs to you that you have willingly placed an insane amount of power in his hands. Then again, you already offered him everything you could think to give, and he said no.

Viego sits back, and unbidden your hand raises to one of the shattered pots in the garden. You feel second hand as he fumbles along its time, his brow furrowed in concentration, before slowly winding it back. When it sits whole again, the chill fades, and your body is your own once again. You flex your hands and wiggle your toes, feeling sort of like your limbs had just fallen asleep but without the pins and needles. You then realize Viego is looking at you anxiously.

“If we ever go to Shurima, you're doing that to me,” you say casually.

“Excuse me?” He says, bewildered.

“It was like going into a nice cool swimming pool,” you describe, tapping your chin as you try to find the words. “Or opening a fridge. Wait, you don't know what that is.” You frown. “Also, I hope you recognize how good I am at this time stuff now, it is not easy.”

He laughs, instantly relaxing. “Of course, my heart, I am forever in awe of your talent and grace,” he gives you an exaggerated little head-bow, and you're so busy preening that the pet name doesn't even register until a moment later. Then, you promptly find it very important to start rambling about how, you know, you should try replanting something in this garden, since it's getting sunlight anyway. The indulgent look on his face as he agrees yes, whatever you want, does nothing to still your heart.

—

“Are you sure–” Viego begins.

“Where do you intend to find a chef who's gonna come to the Shadow Isles?” You ask pointedly.

He blinks. “I'm sure that for enough coin…” he catches the look on your face, then sighs. “Very well, I see your point.”

“If you want to help, I'm not going to say no,” you suggest instead. He looks down at the carrots as if he's never seen one before. “You've never cooked before,” you realize, and he has the grace to look a little abashed. His discomfort with you cooking your own meals makes a little more sense–he must feel like he's making you do servants work, from his lofty frame of reference as literal fucking royalty. “Okay, here. Wash your hands.”

He blinks. “You want me to…?”

“To wash your hands and then help me cook,” you confirm. “I'm not a guest, Viego, I live here. I know you've got your own ideas about what hospitality looks like, but where I'm from, if you're cooking for someone they damn well better help you chop the veggies.”

He looks bemused, but complies. You gesture for him to take your place in front of the cutting board. “Hold the knife like this, cut off the ends, slice them like so.” You demonstrate, hip bumping into his as you lean across to the board, and then hand him the knife.

The concentration on his face as he tries to match your cuts is rather endearing. He glances at you for approval, and your nod and smile seems to bolster him, so you start on cleaning the mushrooms. The ingredients aren't exactly the same as what you're used to, but you've managed to put together a respectable assortment for a stir-fry. Your ferryman, Captain Brigg, was very skeptical about the crates of fresh produce you procured him to haul back, but him and his crew also treat you with an odd sort of reverence now that stops them from asking questions. Still, you've got enough of a stockpile of ingredients frozen in time to last you for a few months.

You talk Viego through what you're doing, why you should cut the carrot thin and the bell peppers thick, how you're hoping this soy-sauce like substance from Ionia works the same way as what you're used to, but it's also made from a nut so you're not sure. He asks you about food from your home, and you spend fifteen minutes complaining about having to cook rice manually. He doesn't seem to mind when you automatically slip into bossing him around–your mother always said that idle hands in the kitchen were volunteers who didn't know it yet. He does stiffen slightly whenever you pass behind him, and it takes you a bit to realize it's because you're automatically putting your hand on his lower back so you can squeeze behind him–not that the kitchen is particularly small, but rather that he is not a small man. It also takes you a bit to realize that that part of his back is bare, because he's still wearing nothing on his torso but that ripped open doublet. You've long since figured out that Viego likes being touched, but maybe that was a bit much even for him.

He hovers around even after you don't need his help with prep anymore, watching you stir and experiment with the ranges of sauce you have on hand. “Okay, try,” you announce when you're satisfied, taking a spoon of your hard work and blowing it cool before holding it up to him. Viego doesn't hesitate, and you're momentarily struck with the sensation that this, spoon feeding the Ruined King stir fry you press-ganged him into helping with, is a ridiculous situation to be in.

“It's nice,” he says, touching his lips. You try not to be distracted by the motion.

“Does it need anything? Salt, pepper?” You prompt, scooping some up for you to try yourself. Needs pepper. You look at him expectantly, and his face creases like it does when he's thinking hard.

“Pepper?” He says hesitantly, and you beam at him. He was teachable, and that was better than a majority of your exes.

—

You struggle with the corset for about three minutes before you give up. “Viego?” You call, because he's never far these days. The air goes cold on the back of your neck, but there's a suspicious silence. When you crane your neck around, he's there staring at you.

“Can you help me lace this?” you prompt, gesturing at the partially done back of your corset. The dress is a deep navy color with silver embroidery on the long flowing sleeves and skirts, and the silvery ribbons that make up the back have been making themselves a true pain in the ass.

He blinks, as if just realizing you're there. “I suppose,” he says tersely, sounding almost puzzled as he examines your work. “What have you done?”

You shrug, turning back to the mirror. “Corsets weren't common in my world, and all the ones I've worn came pre-laced. I didn't think it would be this complicated.”

He hums, and you repress a shiver as his fingers brush the space between your shoulders. He's taken to wearing his gauntlets off, when you're just around the castle. “How strange. Why the change from your travelling attire, then?”

You shrug. “This might sound strange to you, but I get tired of wearing the same things all the time, even if I can keep them clean and fresh forever.” You smooth down the front of the dress, admiring the fabric. “And this is such a nice dress.”

“It was made with skill,” Viego says. You glance back at him, and he makes a tutting noise as your hair falls across your back. You do not succeed at suppressing the shiver as he brushes it back over your shoulder. “And you look lovely in it,” he continues, and you're sure you're imagining the husk in his voice. You meet his eyes in the mirror, and they're hooded with a feeling you don't want to name, so you cast around for something to say while staring fixedly at your reflection.

“I look like I'm going to a ball,” you blurt.

“This is a dinner dress, not a dancing one,” Viego says, blessedly accepting your sudden change in subject. “At least, not in Camavor. The skirt is too long and the bodice too stiff.”

You shrug. “I've never been to a ball. Can't even dance.”

He spins you around so you can see his offended expression. “Excuse me?”

You blink at him. “We didn't really have them, where I'm from? Unless you were really rich, which, I most certainly was not.”

He waves a hand. “No, no, not that. You don't know how to dance?”

You blink, taken aback. “No?”

“Outrageous. Give me one moment,” he says, and then disappears into mist.

“What–” you have enough time to say to the empty room before he reappears, this time with a dented hunk of metal in his hand.

“If you would be so kind?” He asks, holding it out. You touch it, and the tarnished metal flickers back into the shape of a music box. “My thanks. Now…” he winds it, places the box on your dresser, and lifts the lid. In it is a beautiful figurine of a bird in flight, and out twinkles a lilting melody. You stare, flabbergasted, as he dips into a very princely bow and offers you his hand. “Lady Iso, may I have this dance?”

You laugh disbelievingly, but take his hand. “Viego, I don't know what I'm doing.”

“That is why I'm showing you,” he says easily, placing one of your hands on his shoulder and keeping the other held aloft. His other hand goes around your waist. “This one is simple, just follow my steps.” It's similar to what you vaguely remember a waltz to be, except you seem to be stepping in a pentagon rather than a square and there's a lot of spinning. Still, you feel like he's overestimating your abilities, because you struggle to match his steps.

“Eyes up,” he chides when your gaze drifts to your feet. You blink up at him, offended.

“How am I supposed to see where I'm stepping?” You ask, offended.

“Do you need to look at your feet to walk?” He retorts. You stick your tongue out at him, and you're so close you can feel it when he laughs. “Don't think so hard about it. Just listen to the music and stay with me.”

He's talking about the dance, you remind yourself. Suddenly, keeping your eyes on his is difficult, so you stare somewhere off his left shoulder instead. “How do you remember all of this?” You ask, brow furrowed as you try to match his steps without looking.

“I’ve always loved dancing, ever since I was young,” he says, sounding pleased he remembers the fact. “I remember my brothers would tease me, because I preferred my dancing lessons to my swordsmanship ones.”

You look up at him curiously. He doesn't talk about his family often, though you're not sure if that's because he doesn't want to or because he doesn't remember much about them. “I suppose you've had a lot of practice, then?”

He spins you, and you think that returns you to the first part of the steps. “Yes. I attended whatever balls I could, even the ones hosted by those on poor terms with the Crown.” He reels you back in with a little flourish. “My brothers teased me for that, too.”

You're about to ask more, but you trip over your skirt. Viego catches you easily, though you smack your face against his aggravatingly solid chest. “That is why this is not a dancing dress,” Viego says, and his tone is light but his expression when you look up at him is tinged with want. You realize you're very, very close, his arm still around your waist and your hands on the bare skin of his torso. Your chest is pressed to his, and you're abruptly aware of how much this corset emphasizes your cleavage. His eyes are half-lidded, his lips parted and looking oh so soft–

Whatever this moment between you is, it's interrupted by the dissonant click of the music box playing it's last note. Viego steps back and bows. You clumsily mimic a curtsey, and he looks up at you with a crooked smile that makes your heart ache. You staunchly refuse to examine why.

#x reader #reader fic #f!reader #my fics: tiarw #league of legends x reader #leauge of legends #league x reader #viego x reader #crossposted on ao3

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