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netherfeildren · 9 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter I : Apollo

Series Masterlist

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else.

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored.

Enter: The creation of myth.

Content Warnings: Dominant Din Djarin; Unprotected sex; Creampie;Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Overstimulation; Spanking; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Hello, friends, and welcome to the new story!

A few notes: We are starting prior to season one’s canon, and I am doing what I want and making it so that Din already knows about the Force and the Jedi. I make free use of canon and the timeline in whatever way I see fit to suit my own horny purposes, sorry. If things aren’t canon or don’t make sense pls don’t tell me. I am naught but a fragile flower who wilts under harsh criticism.

Please note as well, that I do describe the FMC as having two different colored eyes although I do not specify what color they are.

Also, I will be updating the tags as we go along so as to avoid spoiling too much too early on.

Thank you and enjoy!

Word count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

PART I

CHAPTER I : APOLLO

Is it a god inside you, girl?

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides

The first time you meet, he’s sitting in the corner of the shithole cantina on the shithole backwater planet you currently find yourself on: Nevarro. Sometimes you were wont to flight – in search of a nowhere place in the middle of a nowhere part of the galaxy to lose yourself. And the barren landscape of the volcanic planet, a broken star of red, the only interruption in the black field of ash, no wind, no life, no sound; it provides the perfect environment for getting lost when necessary.

And then one day, unexpectedly: him. He is a shining, metallic, mountain of a man.

Mandalorian.

Whenever you’d felt too suffocated, strangulated, in need of a moment, a breather, a reprieve from the reality of what you were… what you are becoming – this place is enough of nothing to be just the perfect something. When you’re not busy flitting from planet to planet, sector to sector, looking for something to fill the gnawing void within you. Before landing here, you’d been on Sorgan for a time. It’d been… nice… peaceful, or whatever approximation of peace you could partially recognize after an existence such as that which you were currently trying to run from. A temperate climate, kind people, but after a while, you’d happened upon a community one day, and they’d been so… so together, so familiar. Happy, they’d be so openly, unabashedly, uncomplicatedly happy. It was simple, and it had made a terrible lance of poisonous jealousy roil through you. Jealousy and anger and bitterness and a loneliness so painful that you’d had to flee, as far and as fast as you could from the reflection of all your envy and shame. And so you’d come here instead, to Nevarro. A more barren, emptier sort of place – better suited to your ilk.

“I’ve never met a Mandalorian before,” you croon up at him, smoothly sliding into the booth he’s currently occupying in the furthest dark corner of the cantina, only the gleaming silver crescent of the curve of his helmet visible from the other side of the room.

This is the first of many lies you will tell him.

No response. Only the dark, yawning pit of his visor faced slightly away from you.

The stark curve of his helmet gleams brightly. Beautiful. He looks strong, thickly built. His shoulders, so broad. The armor adorning his torso is beaten and worn, and yet, there’s something so… what’s the word? Lived, perhaps, about the facade of him. This is a creature who has lived – who has seen things, who has battled and survived and most assuredly killed.

Maybe a little like you, but good. For this you know with certainty about Mandalorians – a flash of a pained scream, beskar crumbling beneath the force of you, for not even what could be considered the most endurable alloy in the galaxy could withstand something of your nature, blood, so much blood, and the sound of such defeat as you do the unforgivable– they are good and honorable and worthy – great warriors. But perhaps, on the surface, with a face of shared, painful history, of survival, maybe there are some things between the two of you which could be called similar.

“I’ve always been curious, though… Always wanted to meet one.” You sidle closer to him. There’s something about him, the weapons, the breadth of his shoulders, the silence, which starts a chilled little shiver of fear that flashes and coalesces into something hotter and wetter deep in your belly, the closer you get to him. And the feeling of it – of apprehension, of standing in the presence of something other, something that could perhaps best, even you, it is exciting and arousing and different to everything else you’ve ever encountered.

Still no response.

“You’re hard to come by now. Not many of you left, right?” A curdle of shame and regret hidden beneath your wry tone, “A girl’s got to get extra lucky to find something as interesting as you nowadays… something as pretty too.”

He does react to this, finally, and a little shock of victory fizzes in your belly at the fact that he’s at last deigned to give you even a semblance of his attention, for you are desperately in want of it, as he turns his helmet the fraction of an inch in your direction at the sound of you calling him pretty. So, it seems even a Mandalorian is victim to vanity.

“Oh, so you can hear under there,” you quip, “I was beginning to worry…”

And then his voice, deep, and of potentially the lowest and smoothest baritone you’ve ever heard, comes through the modulator, “I can hear.” Clipped, and even maybe, a little cold.

“And he speaks too!” He flexes open the fingers of the gloved hand that lays on the table. You’re annoying him. “How exciting.” You cross one knee over the other, elbow propped up on the edge of the table and chin cupped in your palm, looking up at him. He’s tall, even sitting. Your joint presses into the hard muscle of his thigh, and you feel him scoot just the tiniest bit away from you. You have the uncontrollable urge to snap your teeth at him. You must surely be at least half his size, especially with all that beskar covering him. Don’t act so scared, big, bad Mandalorian. I’m just a little girl. You don’t know what I actually am.

Helmet now turned entirely in your direction to keep an eye on you, he says, “What are you?” Or… whoops, maybe he does know.

You ignore his question. “You know, I met a whore once – who claimed she’d fucked a Mandalorian. Is it true you just pull out the important bits and get on with it? Seems a bit cold, no? Even for a paid fuck?” He jolts a little at your vulgarity, and you flash him a wide grin, wriggle one delicate eyebrow provocatively. “No game?”

He turns his body to face you more fully now too, his thigh pressing into yours once again as he takes you on directly. Perhaps a warrior's instinct that can sense he is not in the presence of something to be trifled with. The helmet cocks slowly to the side. Silent, silent. Not one for many words this Mandalorian, although, it seems you’ve provoked him now.

“What are you?” he says again, voice measured.

“How do you mean?” You let your voice end on an upward lilt, and he shifts minutely, as if agitated at your uncooperativeness.

“You’re not– I don’t–” The helmet tilts the other way as if inspecting you, and you cut him off before he can finish.

“Oh, so many things.” You roll your hand on your wrist in a fluttering wave, tapping your fingers quickly against your thumb one by one, flexing a muscle you’ve not allowed yourself to use in a while and repressing it, all at once. You’re watching him so closely you see the small pivot of his neck to glance at your hand, and then back to your face. “Who can keep track anymore? So many strange creatures roaming the galaxy after the fall of everything. The Empire. We’re all just madly careening around as whatever the moment requires of us, aren’t we?” He’s quiet, still inspecting you, and you feel his gaze like a brand on the skin of your face. Like fire, like something that you remember from a nightmare, and that you think should be painful, but now only feels exciting. “So, what are you, Mandalorian? What does the present moment require of you?”

He goes silent again, and you watch the subtle downward tilt of his helmet as he inspects the length of you. You wish you could see if he was ogling the tight swell of your breasts beneath your dark clothes. You tilt your head side to side, smile big at him again, and you’re pretty sure you hear an agitated little huff of annoyance slip through the modulator.

And then: “I’m not interested.” He turns back to face away from you, both fists now firmly planted on the table’s surface, clenched into tight balls of clear annoyance. “Go away.”

Oh, he’s funny too. You throw your head back in a quick laugh, “Did I offer something?”

Silence.

“Dirty mind, Mandalorian.” You drag the vowels out to irk him just that extra bit more. “What? Just because I made one little mention of a whore means that, I too, must be peddling my wares?” And you knock your knee into his beskar clad thigh again. He scoots a smidge away from you, and you follow him, laughing again. Oh, you really should stop provoking him, but it’s just turning out to be too much fun. And you’d been watching him for weeks now, every time he came in here for a new bounty puck. You’d so wanted to talk to him, had snooped around to find out he’s in the Guild, and now you finally are. It was just too much for a girl who had too much time on her hands, and too many ugly thoughts she’d rather forget, roaming around in her mind, to look away from a moment of distraction such as this.

“Stop,” and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth.

You snicker. “Stop what?” in a sing-songed lilt that you know must be grinding his gears. Poor, shiny Mandalorian.

“Whatever it is you’re doing – speaking to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want something from me.”

“What could I possibly want from you?” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Who’s the one peddling their wares now, Mandalorian, hmm?” He says nothing now, and you know you’re pushing him, you can see the vibration of his restrained agitation in the lines of his thick arms, but there is something needling and annoying and obnoxious inside of you that wants his attention, that wants to incite him. And so you make a mistake that perhaps, is not a mistake at all, but a call for something more, for a reaction from him because as you slowly start to lift a single finger up towards the curve of his helmet, you say, “Tell me, what do you have to offer?” At the same time, he pivots and snaps up to grasp the thin of your wrist in a bone crushing grip as you’re about to make contact with the smooth surface of the gleaming beskar helmet. And you know you were asking for it, that you should never have even insinuated that you were going to touch a Mandalorian’s helmet, and that this is only your own doing, but as his harsh strength makes contact with you, so unexpectedly, he’s so fast, that you’re caught almost entirely unaware, you react on pure instinct. A reflex so embedded into the deepest and most poisoned recesses of your mind, that despite the fact that you know this is the last sort of reaction you should exhibit, that above all else you needed to keep this part of yourself hidden and secreted away from the rest of the galaxy, you can’t help yourself when, at the moment that his crushing strength slams your hand back down onto the table, twisting painfully so that you’re crying out in shock and hurt, you weren’t going to do anything to him, you just wanted to touch a little, you can’t help it when you let go of the reins on your power, and you feel the Force snap out of you like a band of rubber, to crack out and wrap around his arm and rip his painful grip away from you. Another inviolable tendril shoves against his chest plate to push him back. His movements, too abrupt, too unexpectedly aggressive to give you a moment to temper your reaction, to give you a chance to remind yourself that this is not one of your painful, dark memories, that you’re free, you’re free, you’re free, and suppress your reaction to not reveal yourself.

The two of you pause for one long moment, him by force, and you in shock and fear and slight nausea as you pant breathlessly. It’s been a long time since you’ve lashed out like this, since you’ve used the Force in front of another person, and the sensation of being perceived, of being seen for what you truly are is disequilibrating and terrifying and sickeningly liberating all at the same time.

One thick arm of his is held up and pinned against the back of the booth the two of you are ensconced in, hidden from prying eyes, at least. His legs start to shift restlessly, seeking purchase or trying to kick out, and you pin him there too, lest he try and hurt you again.

“I do not like to be handled so,” you admonish him, clicking your tongue. You can feel the seething fury rolling off him. “I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I am not going to do anything to you.” He’s got a blaster strapped into a holster at his thigh, and you’re sure his vambrace is hiding several other nasty tricks up his sleeve. You eye them both. “If I let you go, are you going to try and hurt me again?”

“No,” he growls out.

“No,” you mock back, but release him anyway, letting an impenetrable wall settle between the two of you. He immediately goes for his blaster, and you block his reach which has him furiously growling and lurching towards you, only to be met by the invisible Force impeding his attack. He spits a frustrated volley of curses in a language you can’t understand, but that you’re fairly certain is Mando’a.

“Ah, ah, no blaster,” you tut, and he settles, going suddenly, shockingly still, watching you watch him. “You really are quite poorly mannered and surly.” There’s a part of you that is still slightly unbalanced, heart beating painfully against the cage of your ribs, but you’re trying to hide it behind a wry smile and light tone. Echoes of pain and hurt and cruel and unyielding hands molding you into a thing that was just as cruel and unyielding. You cannot tolerate being handled like that anymore, and you feel contrite that you’d provoked him into doing so. Sometimes it is still difficult for you to remember how it is you’re supposed to behave around other people.

And then something you weren’t expecting, for he says, “You’re a Force weilder. You’re a Jedi.”

You let out a barking laugh. “What do you know of the Force?”

“Are you?” He presses.

“Yes, but no, definitely not that, no.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing. Or… whatever the opposite of a Jedi is, I suppose.”

“The opposite?” He shakes his head, “I don’t–”

“Hmm…” you cut him off, turning to make sure the two of you still haven’t been noticed. “Not anymore. I don’t use it anymore.”

“Oh, no?”

“Well… you’ve gone and ruined that now, haven’t you?”

“You started–”

“All I was trying to do,” you interrupt, “Was make nice. I’d always wanted to meet a Mandalorian,” Lie, “Haven’t you ever heard of a little flirting? And I fear, now, you’ve painted them all in a very poor light,” Lie, “Look at how rude you’ve gone and been, when all I wanted was to be friends,” Another lie, “A shame…” you heave a big sigh, “You really are very beautiful.” Truth. That fist clenches again, and you cock your head to the side, getting one last good look at him. You feel suddenly sad, you don't want to go. You’ve enjoyed this brief moment you’ve gotten to talk to him. Even if you’d gone and pissed him off and ruined it all now.

“It was nice meeting you, shiny. Even if you were an abominable beast about it.” You give him a nod of your head, and a quick two fingered salute before you’re sliding out of the enshroudment of the booth and slipping out the back of the cantina, into the dark alleyway, leaving him behind.

The last glimpse you catch of him out of the corner of your eye before the door shuts behind you, is the sight of him scrambling out of the booth and starting towards the door to follow after you.

A glutton for punishment, then, so it seems.

You flit through the dark, dirty alleys, scampering from shadow to shadow. The city streets around you, gone quiet now as the sun over Nevarro sets quickly, and you can feel him hunting after you. He’s strong, and you can almost feel the heavy weight of his life force even at a distance, almost as if the goodness and honesty of his character is a presence of its own, sentient in a way. And he’s angry, and you can feel that too, charging after you, provoked, even if he does it on entirely silent and measured feet. You can sense that ravenous curiosity and frustration at being bested and evaded pressing up against you, chasing after you. As if there were some dark red thread connecting the two of you from spine to rib bone, leading him to you, pulling him along your trail. You tiptoe the lines of the shadows silently, making your way through the winding city streets, feeling him getting closer and closer, trying to confuse him, even as he gains on you anyway.

And then he’s there.

You feel a massive hand, strong and sure, clamp around the back of your neck, but his touch is measured this time – he’d heeded your warning. His other hand wraps around the bend of your elbow, twisting your arm back behind you, and then he’s kicking open the nearest door, what seems to be some sort of storage alcove, the space dark and humid and mildewed, and pushing you inside. He shoves you away from him once you pass together into the darkness, and you catch yourself on the edge of what feels like some sort of table or workbench.

You laugh breathlessly. Overwhelmed by the thrill of the chase, of the feel of his hands on you, the surrounding darkness, the sound of his own panting breath through the modulator of his helmet. You hope he’s just as overwhelmed, disequilibrated, as you are now.

“Oh, you again?” you laugh, turning to face him, bracing yourself back against the table. All you can see of him is the silver crescent of the curve of his helmet, the outline of his wide shoulders in the dim light of the moon seeping in through the cracks of space around the door. He is a steel giant.“Did you forget something? Need me to hand your ass to you again, Mandalorian?”

“You’re a fucking brat. Anyone ever tell you that before?”

You gasp mockingly, “Me? Never.”

“Why is it that everything you say sounds vaguely like a taunt? Like you’re trying to provoke me.”

And, oh, he sounds just so unbearably serious and put out by you, that you pout, forced to match his serious tone with one of your own. You force the smile to leave your voice, “Maybe because I am,” and your voice goes quieter, softer, because again, truth. There is something about him that incites provocation, you want him rattled, come undone. “Maybe I want to see what happens when a man made of metal loses control.”

“I can’t – I don’t–” His voice, even through the modulator, is its own flavor of foreplay. “I don’t know…” he says again, whispers it, his tone seeping through the helmet, entirely uncertain, or at war with himself.

He takes one menacing step forward, made even all the more intimidating by the vast difference in your heights, the sheer breadth of him, the darkness wrapping around him so that all he’s made into are slivers of gleaming silver flame here and there. You feel the whisper of one leather covered finger skim lightly over the outside of your right forearm, another soft touch to the left side of your waist, and you shiver all over.

“Not a virgin? Your Creed lets you fuck?”

“No.”

“No, what? Use your words.”

Silence. Stubborn, silent, tin can.

“Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Whores?”

A grunt.

“Aha! Gotcha.” You start to toe your foot forward, bending your knee to make contact with him when you find his leg, tilting slightly away from the table so that you can slide your thigh between his legs. “Is that what you want me to be for you?”

“No.” Fucking monosyllabic–

“Then what do you want from me? Why did you follow me?”

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t lie.”

“I want to fuck you.” Your cunt goes soaked and tight at his words, because yes, yes yes, this is what you were leading him to. Finally, he’s caught on, and then he’s planting a strong, broad hand to the center of your chest and pushing you back into the table, and pressing the hard, unyielding length of himself against you. He’s hard and swollen beneath his pants, you can feel the thick heft of him against your belly as he presses into you, and you bring your palms up to slide against the unprotected sides of his strong waist, sending him into a full body shudder as you touch him, helmet falling forward on his neck as he hunches over you, hands planted on the table behind. You can hear his labored, panting breath huffing through the modulator as you run your hands along the planes of him. He’s huge, pure muscle beneath unrelenting beskar, and if you weren’t the creature that you are, you’d feel slightly frightened at the unbelievable strength he’s made up of. He is a thrumming effigy of restrained power beneath your hands, different to that which makes you up, and you feel the strength of him once again, humming through the Force. His light burns so bright, almost blindingly. He’s strong.

You slide one of your hands up his chest plate, tucking your fingers into the top-most edge to bring yourself up and closer to him as he curves over you, bending you back into an arch over the table’s edge. Your other hand reaches for his wrist braced against the table, wrapping around it, so thick your fingers don’t meet, to tuck your fingertips into the space where his sleeve meets his glove, and at the feel of your bare skin on his, just there, just there, he growls, deep and savage in his chest at the same time that you let out a breathy, warbled moan. His other hand shoots up to grasp at the small of your back and press you into him, his fingers digging painfully into your skin. He’s burning hot, sweltering, and he slides his palm lower, tilting your pelvis into his as you hitch one of your knees up the outside of his thigh to his hip, and then your cunt is rocking against the thick length of his cock, and another breathless, pained groan from the both of you as you make contact there, pushing and pulling against each other. You want to taste his skin, his tongue, you want to kiss him, to feel him licking into your mouth. You pull yourself in closer by the hand tucked into his chestplate to press your face into the warm space between his helmet’s edge and the folds of his cowl. He smells so good, like leather and sweat and metal. Something earthy and musky, something that proves to you that despite the beskar, there is only a man of flesh and blood and want beneath.

His palm slides to grip the lush of your ass, rolling you onto his length harder, pressing deeper as if he could fuck you through your clothes.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, little brat?” he pants, ending on a stuttered groan as you hook your calf around his waist and press your foot into the small of his back to grind particularly sharply onto him, pressing your clit into the edge of his utility belt, “Please, just– just–” you gasp, head falling back on your neck. And then he’s spinning you abruptly and pressing between your shoulder blades so that you're bent entirely over the table, cheek smushed against the hard surface. That wide palm slides down the slope of your spine, squeezes your asscheek harshly so that you’re moaning out in lust or pain, you can’t tell.

“Was that a yes? Who can’t use their words now?”

“I liked it better when you weren’t talking,” you grouch, but then his fingers have somehow snuck their way up beneath your tunic and under the edge of your trousers, and he’s ripping everything down to leave you bare and unprotected from the sudden onslaught of that huge expanse of leather clad palm cracking down painfully on the soft skin of your ass so that you’re scrambling to find the opposite end of the table to pull yourself away from him. A pathetic little screech claws its way out of you, and he wraps the length of your hair around his fist to pull your head back and up, turning you into his own little bow string, head resting back on the hard pauldron over his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going? I caught you, you’re mine now.”

“Fuck off–” You try, but he clamps his fingers around your jaw, squeezing the fine bones of your face to cut you off, his other hand in your hair gives a sharp tug that makes the tips of your breasts go hot and tight and your cunt clench around nothing. You can feel yourself dripping down the insides of your naked thighs.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, shoving the thick of his fingers inside to press down on your tongue. You try and moan around him, protest or something, but you can’t help but run your tongue around the digits, tasting the smokiness of blaster residue, the tang of whatever he must use to oil his gloves. “Finally, some silence. I like you better like this,” he taunts you with an imitation of your previous words. He bends his head forward, “Get them wet,” he murmurs, voice soft and sultry through the modulator, and the moan you give him now is all desperation as you let saliva pool heavy on your tongue to coat the leather.

When he pulls them from your mouth, tugging your head back further so that you can look up into the dark tee of his visor as he slides his spit slick gloves between your thighs to press against your throbbing clit, your whimpered little mewl has a chastising tut filtering through the helmet, “Slippery, little thing.” He starts to press slow circles to the aching bundle of nerves, sliding down on every other swirl to press gentle, teasing pressure to your clenching opening. “Did my chasing do all this? Do you like being hunted, brat?”

“Not–” you moan as he presses down hard on your clit, then back to the mouth of your cunt, giving you just the tip of his finger, “Not a brat,” you struggle to get out.

“No?” He starts to press two fingers inside at once, both of you groaning in tandem. “Maker – fucking tight–” He scissors his fingers inside of you, twisting his wrist to fuck you open, making room for himself inside of you. “Don’t know if I’ll even fit in here.”

“No,” you groan, low and drawn out, and then, yes, whispered breathlessly, one of your arms reaching back to hold onto the wrist of his hand still twisted in your hair, trying to find purchase on anything to anchor yourself with. Because the stretch of just his two fingers inside of you – you can hear the slick squelch of your wetness as he starts to fuck them in and out of you slowly – is so unexpectedly obscene. You had not expected to find yourself in this position with any man, especially not one like this – had not thought you were yet ready to be touched by another person. Not so soon after– “Please – m– more. I want–”

“You think you’re ready for my cock, little one? Have I stretched this tiny cunt out enough?”

“Yes– yes. Just do it.”

“Fuck–” You listen to the wet little pop as he pulls his fingers from you, and the clink and shuffle of his belt and armor as he pulls himself out of his clothes, and then he’s shifting behind you as you brace against the edge of the table. The burning hot blunt tip of his cock skimming against the round of your ass, and you feel him spread his feet wide, bend his knees, and then his cock is there at the slick mouth of your cunt, and he’s thrusting up and into you on the downward roll of your hips, and Maker, he’s deep like this. Suddenly, twin strangled groans of pain or relief ripping from your throats in tandem as he grinds deep, deeper, for a moment. You feel the heavy kick and throb of his cock inside of you, and he is too big, too thick – he forces you to take it anyway. Stretching you in a way you’ve never been before, your eyes smart, forcing your body to make room for his inside of you, it leaves your breath to stutter out in a weak little puff of shock.

And you moan, using the palms of your hands against the edge of the table to grind yourself back onto him while his hands clamp tightly around your hips, his fingers so long they almost meet at the center of your belly beneath your navel.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. That’s so good.

You can’t tell which one of you is speaking. You can't even tell if you’re still breathing. And then he starts to move.

You knew he’d fuck hard, from the first moment you’d seen him, you knew.

He pulls his hips back, the slick wet, the grasping walls of your cunt trying to suck him back in, and then the scorching slide of him pressing back in, in, in, grinding again, those long fingers pressing down on your belly so that you feel him from the outside too.

“Harder,” you beg, because of course you want more. You are a creature made of greed and hunger. You always have been.

“Quit. You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given,” but his hips slam back in, a savage growl punctuating the movement.

He gives it to you almost brutally, without pause or thought, fucking punched out breaths and whines from you.

“Shut up,” he spits on the end of one particularly deep, harsh thrust that’s followed by a high pitched mewl from you. “You want every piece of shit on Nevarro to find you split open on my cock like this?” Your head lolls back limply on his shoulder, the wet slap of his heavy balls against your clit overwhelming the sound of your thoughts. You can’t speak, your brain is currently being jostled within the confines of your skull by the force of his cock splitting you open. “No? Then be a good girl, and be quiet,” his voice, rough, even through the modulator is almost drowned out by the wet, obscene sound of him pounding into you.

He brings one of his hands back up to your jaw, turning your head slightly so that your nose is almost smushed up against the chrome of his visor. He wants to look at you. The hard beskar of his chest plate rubs harshly against your back on every push upwards of his hips, and you’re sure that’ll hurt later, but right now you just can’t seem to care. You can feel the humid, warm air of your panting breath, foggy against the gleam of his helmet, and you bring one of your hands up to the wrist holding your face, holding on for dear life, sanity, you’re not sure what. Your other hand twists back into the hanging fabric of his cloak so that you can pull yourself more tightly back into him as he slows his thrusts, making them longer and more drawn out. “Yeah– like that. Settle… good girl.” Your eyes flutter shut. Too much, too much. It should hurt. You wanted it to hurt. Not gentle, you don’t want it gentle.

“Harder,” you whine, plead.

“No. How I say.” He rolls his cock into you over and over, your slick sliding down your thighs, the backs abraded by the plates of beskar over his own legs. He’s so deep, so big it hurts so good. Even if you want it harder, it still hurts so good. The hand at your face slides down to rip open the fastening of your high necked tunic, reaching inside and under your breast band to pull out the heavy aching weight of your tit and pinch your nipple, rolling it between his strong leather clad fingers – more high, desperate mewls that have him groaning deep in his chest. You’re sure if your face wasn't so close to his you’d never be able to hear them through the helmet, low and rumbly and so delicious.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs low, cupping your breast to plump it up, massaging it in his palm.

“What? You can see?”

“Yeah– fuck yes, I can see.”

“Not fair,” you whine. It’s so dark in the little room he’d pushed you into, you’re not even going to get to take a good look at his cock before this is all over.

“You don’t need to see. You just need to be good and take it.”

“Do you ever kiss?” you ask him suddenly. Irritated by the fact that you’ve not gotten to ogle him – or kiss him. If he even does that.

Another deep roll of his hips, a tight squeeze to the swinging globe of your breast, “No.”

“That’s a shame.”

And he responds immediately, voice subdued and even, underneath the helmet, despite the fact that you feel like he’s cleaving you in two. “Maybe next time,” he says. His palm slides down to your belly then, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades to fold you over the table, hands moving to wrap around your hips and lift you up and back onto his impaling cock so that the tips of your toes are left skimming the ground beneath, your fingers scramble and claw for purchase against the wood of the table. You can feel the wide tip of his cock punching against your womb on every thrust in and stars flash behind your eyes, mouth hanging open pathetically.

There is nothing gentle about the way he fucks you. Like he wants to split you in two, like he wants to make sure the shape of him is branded into the center of your body so that you’d never forget this. The sticky sweet coil of your orgasm starts up low in your belly, and you feel molded in his image for one second, pushed out of yourself to stand on the sidelines and look upon the sight of your much smaller form draped over the table and being fucked into so savagely by this silver blade of a man.

And then: they’re fucking bare, they’re fucking raw, and it has been so, so long since he has felt the touch of another person, someone else’s skin on his that was not bestowed upon him in violence or with the barrier of a sheath between. It is an almost overwhelming feeling, that of your hot, soaking wet cunt pulsing around him, you’re about to come for him, he can feel it. The fluttering of your inner muscles, delicate thing that you are, your thighs shaking as you struggle to push yourself back on to him to get it harder, deeper. He is, almost, made faint with the feeling. And those eyes… you’ve got the strangest multicolored eyes. One enshrouded entirely in darkness compared to its bright counterpart – as if one had forgotten to take that last step into the light. You’re fucking beautiful and–

You snap back into yourself. No, no, no, stay out of his head. Stay out of his head. Focus. You push yourself up again so that your back is against his chest, and he bands one tremendously strong arm around you, gripping your breast tightly. You feel him bend his knees framing your thighs to change and deepen the angle, and then he’s pounding right into that tender, devastating place inside of you, and your cunt twists and floods with your orgasm, electric shocks of pleasure numbing your fingers and toes. You can do nothing more than let him do with you what he will. Your toes aren’t even touching the floor.

He presses as deep as he can, grinds for a moment, and then he folds you over the table once again and presses down harshly on the small of your back with one heavy palm as he pulls his cock from you and finishes himself off. You listen to the wet thwack, thwack, thwack of him pulling on his cock, and then the searing hot spurt of his come is hitting your ass and the exposed seam of your fluttering cunt, a savage growl ripping through the modulator as he squeezes all of the air out of you with that unyielding hand. You’re like a pressed flower between the pages of a book – wilted and frayed, but still held in the image of that which you once were. At the last spurt from his cock he brings his hand to your ass, spreads you apart to rub his spend into the tight furl of your ass, and then further down into your throbbing, overly sensitive clit. All you can do is cry and whimper weakly, still trembling from your own orgasm. “T– too much, nooo,” you whine pathetically.

“Easy – easy, settle.”

You feel him fall to a crouch behind you, pulling you apart with both hands by the meat of your ass to look upon the sight of your blushed, fluttering hole. Messy, little cunt, you hear him whisper. He rubs his come into your trembling thighs, over your swollen clit again, inspecting every vulnerable inch and crevice of your sex, and then he’s pushing two of those thick fingers back inside of you, the passage made slick and fucked open by your mingled come. “Just one more, little one. Want to see it up close,” he murmurs. You try and wiggle away, tears of oversensitivity brimming beneath your lashes, I can’t, I can’t, you think you whisper, but he’s inescapable. He clamps one hand painfully over your asscheek, keeping you spread apart for his inspection, the other one buried deep inside of you so that his fingers are hooked against your g-spot where he presses over and over, quick and relentless, his fingers almost vibrating inside of you until your vision is going white hot and a buzzing sound rings in your ears, and you’re crying for what you think might sound like mercy or something equally despeerate. “Yes, fuck, yes. Just like that.” Your answering sob does not prompt him to abate, for he keeps his fingers pressed against that spot inside of you until you’re leaking an embarrassing amount of wetness down your thighs, until the rippling throbs of your orgasm have finally settled. You feel his head fall forward, the beskar of his helmet pressing against the space where your asscheek meets your thigh, and he holds there for a second against your burning hot skin, the scorching soothed by the cool metal.

You can’t stop shaking, you feel, suddenly, like you might cry. You were not prepared for something of this intensity, to be touched like this, and now that it’s happened you’re left reeling. You don’t even know his name. And now you’re sure he’ll go away to wherever it is that Mandalorian bounty hunters run off to, and you’ll never see him again, and you’ll have to live with the memory of this forever. And something like this… amidst all the other horror that lives within you, you’re sure that the intimacy, the fervor of this, will make it hurt all the more, even compared to all the rest.

He uncoils behind you, rising up to his towering height. You listen to the rustling of his clothes, and then he’s smoothing a large palm over the slope of your trembling back and reaching down to pull up your trousers, tucking your breast back beneath your tunic, righting your clothes for you without commentary. When you think you’ve finally caught your breath, or can at least pretend you’ve done so, enough to push yourself up from your position over the table. Your eyes feel pinched and hot, your heart beating so hard, almost painfully, within the confines of your ribcage that it feels as though your bones are rattling beneath your skin, knocking together in the imitation of a death rattle so that he’ll surely know that you feel two paces away from falling apart entirely.

“You’re… Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you?” Voice stilted.

“No more than I wanted you to.”

He’s silent for a moment, uncomfortable. You can feel the sensation of him pulling away, getting ready to make a run for it. “That’s not–” he cuts himself off. “Do you– do you spend much time on planet?” He’s awkward, uncomfortable now with this unnecessary notion of seemingly required small talk.

“No.” Lie. You like Nevarro, you spend more time here than anywhere else.

“What’s your name?” It shocks you that he asks, for you know he’d not give you his if you asked it of him in return, but for one infinitely painful, insanely uncharacteristic moment, you want to tell him. You want to give him your real name desperately, tell him who you are. But if you were to do that, then you might tell him what you are. And then he’d hate you, and the memory would be ruined, and you have so few good ones, that this one must be protected at all costs.

So instead you say that which you have no real desire to say, do what you have no real desire to do, and make sure that he thinks you’re not interested, that you have no desire to ever see him again. Maybe next time. Your heart gives a surprisingly painful pinch, your eyes growing hotter by the second. “This was just a fuck, don’t get all sentimental on me now.” Your voice is so cold, so uncaring. You hate the way you can make yourself sound sometimes. You sense him snap with tense shock, and he nods once, succinctly. “Very well. Thank you… for this. I suppose.”

You lean back against the table, trying your hardest to appear as unaffected as you can. You turn your face to the side, roll your cheek over the hill of your shoulder. “It was my pleasure.”

He turns to go, his cape snapping with the sharp abruptness of his movements, and he pulls open the door of the little storage room letting a flood of moonlight sweep in to shed light on the construction of this memory you’re assembling brick by brick to preserve in your mind for as long as you possibly can. Your eyes sweep over the length of him ravenously, trying to catalog every single detail of him, the incredible breadth of his shoulders, the silver gleam of his beskar helmet, the sweep of his cape, the arsenal of weapons strapped to his body, lethal. He turns back to look at you for one moment, the yawning darkness of his chrome visor, “Don’t get killed, Mandalorian. There are so few of you left now.” And truth, truth, truth, for it would be a shame beyond imagining for a creature such as this, something so strong and beautiful and other, to perish when so few like him remain. He pauses to take you in, as well. You wish you had the courage to ask him what he sees when he looks at a thing like you. The tears are right there, and you hate them and feel weak and disgusted, but also relieved, and you could fall to your knees, in this moment, to thank the Maker that you still possess the ability, the heart, to cry, to succumb to something as trife as tears. You hope he cannot see them. The helmet cocks to the side for one second, perhaps he too is cataloging you to his memory. He nods once, and then he’s turning and gone away into the night. The door snicks shut behind him, and you’re alone once again.

You pause for a moment, hoping that relief will come. He’s gone, you got what you wanted from him. You should be glad. But there is only the screaming thought of wait, there was still more, there was still more that I wanted from you.

You let yourself sink slowly to the ground, hand braced against the edge of the table he just fucked you over, lest your shaking legs give out and have you planting face first into the dirt. You fold your legs beneath you, tuck your wild hair gently behind your ears, your movements measured, trying to breathe deep and slow, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Don’t cry, there’s no reason to cry. But shouldn’t we be glad we can still cry? Isn’t it a sign that not all is lost? That there is still a part of us that feels enough to shed tears? This should be a good thing. And so you let the tears fall. You fold yourself over as small as you can, one hand pressed over your hot, leaking eyes, another over your mouth to keep your sounds contained, and you sob as quietly as you possibly can. It was so good and you’re crying and you’re alive and you’re free. You are free, and you should be glad of this. Cry, cry, but cry for your own victory, for your own freedom, for the chance to cry. This is what victory feels like. This is what it is to be alive.

And so, here is your truth: It is a difficult thing, to shed the facets of the dark side after you’ve lived with it for so long. To be a Sith is to forsake all connection, all peace. There is only passion to strength to power to victory to the Force, but it is always alone. Always against someone or something else. So, yes, it is difficult to shed the facets of the dark side that have made you the thing you’ve been for more than half your life, since the time you were stolen from your cradle, your parents slaughtered, and spirited away into the shadow of a cruel and unforgiving master. What is it to know exactly how your life will play out, to see everything, to be so aware of what you will be – and to still be lost? Part agony, part madness. The pieces of you that are secretive, that like to hide, to run, these are especially difficult to let go of, and you are so, so interminably sad, you live in it. It’s all you feel you are now, after the dark, after the fall of the Empire and the Sith, after escape, after freedom, after you’d so forcibly ripped its claws, that were so deeply sunk within you, out by sheer force of will, by sheer force of desperation, you worry that it’s taken a piece of you with it, your soul. That it had eaten a piece of you. That you don’t have one anymore.

You don’t even know his name. And even if you’re certain he would not have given it to you, for one moment, you feel an incredible lance of regret that you did not give him yours.

But then: a person without a soul could not cry.

And so this must only be proof of the fact that you must still possess yours, as shriveled or weak as it’s been made, you must still have one. You must. You must.

And you think: I am not unfamiliar with this half life – there is a wound inside of me – dark and putrid and festering. But perhaps my tears will heal me. Seal the wound closed.

You feel lonely – worse, you feel strange. Once, you were terrible – now you are only yourself. So you cry for the passion of the moment, for the way he made you feel, for the loss of a name, for the truth of freedom.

Chapter II

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lowgothree · 2 months

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003. ༺RED HANDED༻∘

a/n: i hate this chapter tbh but i'm excited for the next one 👀

summary: after getting unexpectedly left by your roommate, you find yourself in need of a replacement.

contents: reader is down bad. paige in a situationship. kinda angsty. this chapter is from paige is pov but it's not in first person if that makes sense 😭😭

previous. next. masterlist.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

it’s not weird being this attracted to someone in such close proximity to you. is what paige thinks every time she sees you. after your little late night interrogation a week ago, paige has started to see you differently. it’s an almost out of body experience for her considering she’s never allowed herself to stray too far away from olivia. normally, when she starts to develop these minor feelings for another person she’d just distance herself from them…but that’s kind of hard to do when you live with them.

“i swear you’re never paying attention to anything ever…” azzi chuckles in paige’s direction, shaking her head at the confused look paige gives her. paige is sitting on her gaming chair but it’s faced away from her entertainment system, towards the bed where azzi is laying.

“my fault.” paige clears her throat and shakes her head as if she’s trying to shake away her thoughts. thoughts of you. “what were you saying?”

azzi just stares at paige for a few moments before saying. “is it olivia…again?”

she rolls her eyes and grumbles. “the world does not revolve around olivia.” she says it slowly. like if the words left her mouth with enough conviction, even she could believe them. it doesn’t work.

azzi laughs again. “okay, sure, but your world kinda does…i mean, if she asks you to jump you’ll say how high.”

okay, maybe that’s true… it's definitely true. but even then, it wasn’t like paige relies on olivia.

“sometimes it kinda feels like you rely on her.” azzi continues making paige sigh to herself.

about a year ago, paige met olivia at the library. she was the first and only girl she had been with after she realized she also liked girls. at the beginning, all they really did was talk. about anything. everything. paige told her all the things she’d never told anyone before: her insecurities, dreams, feelings about the little things…and olivia always listened. with rapt attention. paige appreciated how it never felt like she judged her for any of the shit she told her, she just listened and understood and that felt like magic. she had been chasing that feeling for months now but to no avail. maybe that’s why she stays. a foolish part of her feeling like eventually she could get that feeling back.

“you’re annoying…” she mumbles and azzi chucks a pillow at her.

“i’m not wrong though…”

paige opens her mouth to reply but pauses when she gets a call. olivia.

azzi snickers again, shrugging as if to say ‘point proven’ when paige immediately picks up the phone. she gives her friend a pointed look as if to say ‘shhh’. putting the phone to her ear, she mumbles hello softly but guarded –– preparing for either apologies aplenty or immediate hostility considering that they haven’t spoken since their argument last week which caused olivia to stomp out of the apartment.

“why haven’t you called me?” olivia mutters dryly on the other line, paige shuts her eyes and sighs. immediate hostility it is.

“i just thought you wanted space…”

“what? so you can spend extra time with your little ‘roommate’? no way.”

paige practically flinches at the mention of you. unsure of why the very thought of you gives her goosebumps. it felt like time stopped. as if paige had a moment to process not only olivia’s words but her reaction to them. she clears her throat before continuing.

“oh my god, how many times do i have to tell you it’s not like that, liv!” paige begins to get frustrated at the girl on the other line. feeling herself get defensive as soon as she hears how upset olivia is. azzi puts her airpods in as she tries to ignore the impending argument.

“then what is it like?!”

“she’s my roommate.” paige stresses over the phone, groaning as she speaks. ever since olivia found out you liked women, she’s been overly jealous at the amount of time paige spends in your presence. “that’s all.”

“liar.” olivia scoffs, the simple word is spoken gently but it’s duplicitous. the tenderness of it only meant to mask the true emotion behind it in hopes of getting a genuine answer. only meant to hide the anger.

“what — “

“you’re attracted to her.”

that brings paige pause. she didn’t expect olivia to notice. that got her wondering if it was obvious. was olivia just being jealous per usual or did she actually know. could everyone tell? could you?

“oh? nothing to say now?” olivia spits out, venom laced words mumbled bitterly through the phone and bleeding out of the speaker into paige's ear. it’s whiplash. she gives paige fucking whiplash. going from yelling to gentleness to calm to anger.

“liv…” she sighs. “you’re being crazy again.”

wrong thing to say…

“crazy?!” she shouts again making paige roll her eyes.

then it stops. all the shouting and the malice. it melts down until all that remains is a monotone voice which scared paige far more than any of the yelling or mood swings ever did. “so you’re denying that you’re attracted to her?”

paige swallows, not wanting to hesitate but not sure of exactly how to respond. the obvious answer was to lie and say no ––– claim that olivia, who didn’t even want to date paige, was the only one she wanted. but then she let her thoughts slip to images of her telling the truth. saying yes. ending things with olivia. it almost felt too freeing. like discovering uncovered territory, new and open and terrifying. would it make her happier? that question brought paige pause too and that’s what scared her the most. the what if. so no matter how good it might feel to admit the truth…she goes with the safe choice.

“of course i’m not.” it’s a blatant lie. purely for survival.

then came the scariest sound paige hears. far worse than the screaming or the monotone: silence. olivia’s silence means…

“you know what? i’m done.”

“baby, what?” paige rushes out, eyes widening as her heart starts to beat frantically.

“we’re done.”

#rock the boat!#paige bueckers x reader

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dollsburner · 11 months

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Abience - prologue

Miguel O’Hara x Venom!Reader

Words: 1.4 words

Content warning: mild violence.

After taking on the venom symbiote, you decided to leave your home city so make sure your family doesn’t yet hurt. You were intent of living your life alone until you met Miguel and his adorable daughter.

— you’re here :)

Chapter one

Chapter two

—

The air was cold on top of the building, you were standing on the edge feeling the wind brushing past your body. You stared down at the lights of the city. They almost looked like stars across the sky but you could hear the city so busy below you. Cars. People. Sirens. What a shithole.

“Your heart is beating fast.”

Venom said, their voice rich in your skull like it was your thoughts. You sigh at the creature's words, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of the cold night air. “Obviously.”

You’ve only been living in New York for a few months, you moved after Venom started using your body as their own. It was easier this way, they weren’t a risk to your friends and family anymore. Safer for you too and this city was a good playground. For Venom anyway even with Spider-Man crawling around. Maybe that’s a plus for Venom.

You sighed, taking a step forward, your foot dangling in the air free for a second before you shifted your weight to the heel of your other foot. You spent a few seconds in that state, almost floating before your weight finally dropped.

There were a few seconds where you just free-fell, feeling that cold air rushing past you in those quick seconds. You could feel your heart pounding as adrenaline was rich in your blood and muscles until it all stopped as Venom consumed you. Wrapping themselves around you, the symbiote crashed into the concrete under you.

You drove through the city streets like a creature on a hunt. Venom carrying you along the streets. It was a pattern for you two, a routine that kept you and the alien hiding under your skin happy- no that's not the right word. Content. Yeah, that’s the right word.

You try not to be seen much. You aren’t trying to be known, you don’t want that presence. You don’t care for it, it just keeps Venom in line and happy. God, they’re like a toddler or a pet bird…

And you weren’t trying to catch the attention of Spider-Man. You won’t be the villain of the week.

Of course, you don’t let Venom have the whole night running around, and it’s easier to find trouble when you look human. You were walking down the street, face hidden in whatever hoodie you were wearing that night.

The convenience store was deathly bright when you walked in, wincing at the painfully bright lights. You kept your eyes on the floor as you walked through the store, looking at the chocolates and sweets.

**Tater tots** Venom demanded in your head, you scowled at its voice. Demanding little pest. You pick up a bag of candy when suddenly hearing the little tune that plays when walking into the store. You looked up watching the man, similar to yourself, he had a hood up hiding his face but he was fidgeting and looked nervous.

“Heads up.” You whispered to yourself, “Bet you he’s going to rob the place.” You started creeping closer to the counter, watching the man shift and inch towards the counter. As you got closer you could see his hand holding something in his pocket. Gun or knife?

He walked to the counter, and the older woman working looked up at him, smiling sweetly at him. Completely unaware of the danger which you understand painfully in your gut.

He pulled a knife out of his pocket, his hands were shaking as he pointed the knife at the older woman. Rambling in disjointed words. “Give it- hand it over money. Now. Now.”

The woman’s hands shook as she opened the register, and you stepped closer. Moving closer with silent steps, you could sense Venom under your skin grinning in anticipation.

He slammed the hilt of the blade against the counter, making the woman jolt and whimper. He went to yell again, spit flying from his lips when you made your move.

You didn’t think that this small crook needed Venom to go all out, Women's flesh crept across your lower face to sure hide your face. You stepped up behind him, Venom’s hand took over your hand, forming a large clawed hand.

“Hey.” You spoke, your venom's voices mixe. The robber turned around, expressing a mix of confusion and fear before he could even speak you lunged forward. Her clawed hand grabbed him by his face, claws wrapping around his skull as you casually tossed him away. His body slammed into the wall, cracking the wall.

You hear the older woman squeak with fear as she backed away, you watch the men fall to the floor. The knife flew out of his hand and across the floor.

There's a part of you who wants him to try a fight back, but he doesn’t. Naturally; he makes some frightened whimpers before he stands up and runs away. You can’t help the feeling of disappointment. “Get up! Fight us!”

You glance over to the old woman, she’s staring at you with fear which you can’t blame her for. You look down at the candy on display just in front of the counter, you grab some candies and toss some money onto the counter.

You walk out of the store without a second word, Venom's mask not falling until you were a block away from the store. Sighing as you opened the candy bar and take a bite.

You eventually found yourself home, it was sunrise when you eventually returned to the apartment building. You had taken off your hoodie a while ago, draping it over your arm as you walked.

Walking down the hallway to your apartment when you spotted him, he was standing in the hallway by the door across of your own. He was a bigger man, with tanned skin and brown slick back hair which was ever so slightly messy. You stared for a moment before turning your eyes away ignoring Venom's words. “Oh, who’s he? He’s new!”

The apartment was empty until now but you pull your eyes away. It wasn’t any of your business. He glances at you for a second before going back to- he looked like he was struggling to unlock the door. The key seemingly jammed. It was common with the doors in the building.

You intended on walking away, walking to the door of your apartment, sliding the key into the lock, and going to turn it when you heard a little girl's voice speaking, you didn't hear exactly what she said but her sleepy tone caused your heart to ache.

“It’s ok, princesa.” You heard the man say. Jesus that voice was rich and smooth. It almost caused a shiver to run up your spine, “I’ll- get this door open soon.”

You could hear the irritation in his voice, you turned around to glance over at him. In one arm, there’s a sleepy little girl and his other hand trying to unlock the jammed door. He was struggling to get the door open, it’s a god awful early hour so the girl must be really tired.

You sigh, turning around fully to walk over to the man, “The doors jam pretty often.” You start, catching his attention. You gesture to the door, “There’s a little trick with the door, May I?”

He looks between you and the door, before stepping back from the doors. “Well, I was half tempted just to break the door down, but I’d appreciate it if you could save me the trouble.” He let out an exhausted weak laugh.

You nod in acknowledgement, grabbing the door handle. You press your shoulder into the door, pressing the door in as you unlock the door. The heavy metal lock clinking as you open it, swinging the door open with a proud little smile. “Ta da.”

The strange looked at you for a second, before letting out a little smile. The little girl in his arms looked over to you with a little smile. “Huh, how long did it take for you to learn that?” He asked and you chuckled tiredly. “Longer than I’ll admit.

“Thank you anyways.” He said, and you waved off his gratitude but looked up to the little girl when she waved at you, “Thank you.” She said sleepily and you couldn’t help but smile wide at the adorable girl.

“It’s no problem, have a good night you two.” You wave as you walk back to your own apartment. Sighing when finally in the comfort of your own home, you walked across the living room and to the couch, letting yourself just fall on to the cushions.

“Not even going to go to your bed?” Venom laughed at your act of laziness, you mumbled something into the pillow under your face before giving into the exhaustion your felt so deep and fell asleep right there.

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #beyond the spiderverse #miguel o’hara x peter b parker #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x venom!reader

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stellar-constellations · 2 months

Text

Star Patient: Chapter 3 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; possible inaccurate medical procedures and medical setting, gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, suicide mentions, implications of misandry (male misogyny), and possibly more.

Inaccurate canon-timeline (this is before Ashley and Andrew murdered their parents).

Reader has a small fear of adult men/rape and has a history of suicide attempts.

Incest is not Wincest.

Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader:

Wordcount: 8,650 words (a big chapter since the next chapter will take some time to complete).

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 + 6 (in the works)

Andrew’s brain surgery to drain the excessive blood was a success! Andrew felt loopy from all the twilight anesthesia they injected into him so he was asleep during the surgery, but he’s no longer suffering from double-vision, maybe soon he can start remembering things again.

Andrew locked his wheelchair in place and refused to move from the hallway. He was dead set on waiting for (Y/N). Any nurse or doctor that tried to come near him to bring him back to his room (or get him out of the way) would be slapped away and assaulted with the most vile curse words that would make a nun have a heart attack. Whenever Andrew heard footsteps coming, he’d look over, eyes sparkling in excitement, before dropping once noticing it wasn’t in fact (Y/N).

Another set of footsteps could be heard walking down the hallway. Andrew looked over and resisted the urge to smile or seem excited that she came.

“Hi, Andrew! Sorry I’m late. I was watching the infants until the NNP came back.” (Y/N) explained.

God, he loved how she said his name. Did it have to do with how damn cute she was, or was her voice really just that enchanting?

“How do you feel? Tired? Dizzy? Loopy? Hungry? Thirsty?” she questioned, bombarding him with questions.

“Mm.” Andrew shrugged his shoulders, resisting the urge to wince, but failing.

“Oh, does your head hurt?" (Y/N) questioned. "Oh, well obviously it must! You had surgery!” she commented, realizing how stupid her question was.

“It just hurts a bit…” Andrew muttered.

“Let’s get you back to your room, then I’ll give you some painkillers.” She spoke.

Andrew unlocked his wheelchair and started rolling away without (Y/N)’s help, stopping in front of her with a pointed stare glare as if to say “are we leaving yet?”

“Oh! You got the hang of it. Good job, Andrew!” (Y/N) praised, causing him to advert his eyes and huff.

“It’s not a big deal… It's a pretty easy thing to learn.” Andrew explained, ignoring how his heartbeat increased.

“Aw, don’t be like that. You did it all on your own in only a few minutes, and you learned how to turn the wheel! That’s impressive!” (Y/N) smiled, only causing Andrew’s face to get more red.

“Are you done?” Andrew huffed.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get going.” She chuckled. “Follow me.”

Andrew didn’t exactly trust her sense of direction, especially considering earlier’s wild goose chase, but Andrew didn’t mind getting lost with her—it meant he got to spend a little extra time with her.

“Before we go to your room, do you mind if I make a quick stop to a friend?” she questioned as they entered the elevator together.

A friend? Andrew thought, a sore and red hot bubble starting to simmer in his chest. Who the hell is it?

“Her name is Hailey. She has cancer so please be nice to her. She doesn’t have many visitors anymore so maybe you two could be friends!” (Y/N) cheered, excited at the possibility of the two of them getting along as she pressed the second floor button.

At least it’s a girl. Andrew thought, the bubble of jealousy losing its fire-like temperature, but still having a bit of flame to it.

They exited the elevator when the doors opened and strolled down the hallway, (Y/N) stopping at a door and knocking on it.

“Come in.” A girl, Hailey, spoke.

She opened the door, keeping it open for Andrew to wheel his way in before she shut the door behind them.

“Hey, Hails. I have a friend of mine I’d like you to meet. He might have a grumpy face, but he’s nice when you get to know him.” (Y/N) teased.

Andrew shot her an unimpressed glare as he looked at her, before redirecting his attention to Hailey.

“Hi…” he muttered, not quite interested in the conversation.

“Hello…” she whispered shyly.

With how long it’s been since she’s socialized with anyone except the nurses, she’s most likely insecure of her appearance. This is a good opportunity for her to re-learn how to make friends and have confidence, and now Andrew has someone he can visit and talk to when I’m off of work. She thought to herself.

“Andrew, this is Hailey. Hailey, this is Andrew. I hope you both can be good friends.” (Y/N) introduced, a smile on her face.

Fat chance. Andrew thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

They both stared at each other awkwardly before (Y/N) spoke up.

“So, Hailey. How is the book so far?” she questioned.

“I’m interested in it. I don’t understand why Nora wants to die though.” Hailey spoke.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “This is one of my favorite books to recommend. After reading it, it really makes you look at life in a different perspective. Nora wants to die because she lacks happiness, or fulfillment, in her life. She hasn’t found a motive in her life to carry on because she’s so caught up in her own burdens and feelings.”

“But why is she sad? She gets to go outside and live.” Hailey questioned, genuinely confused.

Nora has what Hailey doesn’t, and Nora’s taking it for granted. (Y/N) thought to herself, understanding what Hailey means.

“Do you want a simple definition or the long one? Like, science or no science.” (Y/N) questioned, taking a seat on Hailey's bedside Andrew silently huffing and glaring as she did so.

“No science.” Hailey smiled.

Hailey prefers subjects that are sugarcoated, they’re much easier to understand. She is ten, so (Y/N) supposes that's understandable.

“Well, Nora is missing something in her life, but she doesn’t know what it is yet. Everyone is made differently. She is sad because she doesn't have anymore passions in her life because she never stuck to pursuing them, and she felt like she couldn’t confide in anyone.” (Y/N) explained. "Humans are social creatures, we need communication and care from others in order to functional normally. Nora doesn't have that, or at least, she has very little of it."

“So Nora wants to die because she doesn’t know what she’s missing and she's alone?” Hailey questioned.

“In a way, yeah.” (Y/N) nodded. “Because she’s so sad, she’s not even trying to live the life she was given. When people are as sad as Nora, they don’t eat or shower or take care of themselves because it all feels meaningless.”

Why does that sound familiar? Andrew thought to himself.

“I understand now.” Hailey nodded.

“Andrew, do you like books?” (Y/N)questioned, the two girls directing their attention towards him.

�� “I’m not too sure. I don’t read much.” Andrew answered.

“Maybe you just haven't found a good book yet. What genre movies do you like?" (Y/N0 questioned.

Movies? He just watched whatever was on the TV when he was locked in that apartment, but he was so hungry that he didn't have the willpower to actually focus on what was on the screen half the time.

"I don't know... anything really..." Andrew mumbled.

"Let's find a book genre you like! We'll start with Hailey." (Y/N) smiled. "Hailey, do you have any suggestions for him to read?"

"Maybe... The Outsiders?" Hailey suggested at a moment of thought, a bit hesitant but starting to warm up just slightly with the new presence in the room.

But what about your special pick for me you said you'd give? Andrew complained inside his head.

"The S.E. Hinton one?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Yes." Hailey smiled.

"Oh, that's a good one. My favorite character was Sodapop." (Y/N) commented.

"I liked Darry. He was smart and cool." Hailey chimed in.

"What about the book you wanted to show me earlier? The one specifically picked out for me for when I get out of surgery?" Andrew questioned, not exactly caring if it sounded rude to reject Hailey's suggestion.

"Oh! Yeah. The book is called Eye of the Minds by James Dasher. He made the Maze Runner series if you had seen the movies." (Y/N) explained. "It's a sci-fi. I figured we could give that a try and see if you enjoyed it."

"I remembered when you showed me that book! The main protagonist was funny." Hailey commented.

Andrew briefly wondered how long these two spent together everyday. The more he thought about it, the more he started to get jealous again. By now his headache was subsiding while his anger just grew.

I never thought I'd be jealous at a little kid... he thought to himself. ...Why even am I jealous?

"(Y/N)..." Andrew sighed, succeeding in gaining the nurse's attention. "My head still hurts and I'm tired." He spoke.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Andrew. I was excited to hear Hailey's input to the book. I didn't mean to neglect you." (Y/N) spoke, immediate guilt forming in her chest as a frown drew on her face.

I didn't mean to make her feel bad... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to sigh.

"I'll see you later, hails. I'm going to take Andrew back to his room. I'll make sure to visit before leaving today." (Y/N) spoke, waving to Hailey as she opened the door for her and Andrew.

"Okay." Hailey nodded, returning the nurse's wave as she watched them leave and shut the door behind them.

"I didn't mean to ignore your pain, Andrew. I'm a bit of a scatterbrain, but that's no excuse." (Y/N) sighed, walking with Andrew to the elevators.

"It's okay. You didn't mean it..." Andrew murmured.

"I won't do it again." She promised, a smile on her face as she and Andrew made it to the elevators and got an open one, walking into it.

She pressed the fourth floor button and waited for the elevator to go. Even if she was growing to enjoy Andrew's company, she did feel a little uneasy being in the same elevator as him all alone.

"So, Andrew. Do you have any favorite shows?" she questioned, trying to make small talk.

"..Huh?" Andrew voiced, confused on where that came from.

"I'll be seeing you pretty often now. I want us to build a connection." She explained. "A good way to do that is finding out each other's likes and dislikes."

Andrew huffed, ignoring the warmth in his chest that her confession made him feel. They walked out of the elevator and down the hallway, stopping at the staff's room.

"I don't really like anything." Andrew admitted.

"I refuse to believe that. We'll find something!" she smiled, determined. "Wait here a second." She instructed, pulling her lanyard from out of her shirt and grabbing her keys, unlocking the staff door.

"Hi, Penelope." (Y/N) greeted once seeing the female present.

"Ah. Hello, (Y/N)!" Penelope cheered, her strawberry blonde hair swaying as she stood up from her seat. "How was patient 402? Did he-" she looked behind (Y/N) and made an "eek!" sound, backing up.

"Don't worry about him, just taking him back to his room. I had to grab painkillers first though." (Y/N) spoke, unlocking the medicine cabinet grabbing a pill bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

She grabbed a napkin and opened the pill bottle, putting two small tablets on the cloth. She walked over to Andrew with the napkin and water.

"Here, Andrew." She spoke, gently grabbing Andrew's hand and placing the pills in his palm.

He accepted it and put them in his mouth without any hesitation. (Y/N) opened the water and tilted his head up, bringing the water bottle to his mouth, just in case he couldn't hold it on his own because of the weakening limbs from the surgery's sedation. He took greedy sips before tapping her hand, allowing her to move the bottle and screw on the lid.

"There you go." She cooed. "Good job."

Why is she so much better at this job than me? She's a student! Why is my patient so trusting of her? Penelope thought. Aw, they look like such a couple! They're both so attractive too! This is too embarrassing!

Instead of doing what Penelope was thinking, she just spoke her mind.

"W-wow..." Penelope muttered, utterly confused, shocked, and a bit flustered.

"What?" (Y/N) questioned, turning to look at the young nurse.

"Ack! Nothing!" she exclaimed, her face red as she covered her eyes with her hands.

"Pen, are you feeling okay?" (Y/N) questioned, taking some steps towards Penelope. "Did you get enough sleep? Do you need food? Water?-"

"N-no thanks!" she shouted, her face growing even redder at the thought of (Y/N) tilting her head and nursing her with a water bottle instead.

Andrew understood immediately what was happening as he watched the two interact.

Damn that nurse... Andrew thought to himself, glaring daggers at Penelope from behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

(Y/N) jumped, moving back a little, completely dazed and confused as she looked at the nurse.

THAT'S SO EMBARRASSING! Penelope screamed instead her head, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball and scream her heart out.

Penelope has a problem with loving people too much. It's one of the reasons she became a doctor, to find someone in need and nurse them with her medicine and love. Unfortunately, she's a very shy person and stresses too easily, so her bursts of lovesickness can sometimes be too much for her heart and mind (it's one of the reasons Ruby from day shift can't stand her).

"Okay...?" (Y/N) spoke, hesitantly. "If you need any help, call me. Okay?"

Penelope nodded quickly and spoke, quick to have the pair leave. "I understand! Bye now!"

Penelope shoved (Y/N) out of the room (Andrew just about ready to stand up and fight her, if it could walk, that is). Penelope locked the door behind them both as (Y/N) looked back, confused.

"Huh, that's a little more of a panic attack than usual..." (Y/N) muttered to herself. "Okay, Andrew! Let's get you to your room." She smiled, acting as if nothing happened.

(Y/N) walked down the hallway and grabbed a security guard that was stationed nearby, having them pick up Andrew and place him in his bed since she wasn't strong enough (she worked with picking up kids, not adults).

"Alright, Andrew. You're probably really tired after your surgery. I'll leave you be." (Y/N) explained, watching as the security guard left.

Just before she leaves, Andrew spoke up.

"Will you be back later?" Andrew questioned, hesitant as he hid his flustered face by turning his head to the side, away from her view.

"Of course! You can't get rid of me that easy, ya know?" she smiled.

"Great..." Andrew sighed, not-so-sarcastically as he wished.

"Oh, before I leave. Make sure you're behaving with the other nurses, they're only trying to help you." (Y/N) lightly scolded.

I don't want their help. I want yours... Andrew thought to himself, resisting the urge to grimace at her words.

“Ah, and before I forget too!” she gasped, reaching into her medical back and grabbing a book. “This is a sci-fi dystopian. You might like it! If not, no worries. We’ll find a genre for you.” She spoke, placing the book on his nightstand. “Don’t worry about reading it right now. Just sleep.”

Andrew looked at the book, then her, before nodding.

(Y/N) left the room and shut the door behind her, letting out a sigh.

What do I do now? she thought to herself. Today feels so slow... I guess I can go back to the clinic and see what Doctor Ryan's doing. Or maybe I should go check on Penelope? She was panicky today.

(Y/N) decided to check out Penelope and see what's up with her. (Y/N) is aware of Penelope's random bursts of lovesick confessions (Penelope has gotten into too much trouble with HR because of it, so everyone in the hospital knows about it), but (Y/N) had never really seen it take ahold of her that bad. Usually Penelope resorts to compliments (and light stalking), not full on shutting her brain down and panic.

Did she find a new crush? (Y/N) wondered.

Ever since (Y/N) became a student studying general pediatrics here at the hospital, she’s had her fair share of taking care of a patient every once in a blue moon for the psychiatric brand in case a nurse had a emergency and needed to leave. She met Penelope when Ruby had to leave because her daughter was in labor, and the usual nurse that took over Ruby's patients for the night shift had come up with the flu. (Y/N) had taken over Ruby’s patients that night and met Penelope, Penelope explaining what (Y/N) would have to do as a psychiatric nurse for the day.

That was four months ago. They can technically be considered friends but they have the habit of being a little distant, though it’s slowly fading away ever since they agreed on hanging out every Saturday. Their Saturdays consisted of shopping and running errands together since it’s a day they��re both off.

(Y/N) walked back down to the staff room and unlocked the door, finding Penelope on the table face-down.

“Are you okay?” (Y/N) questioned, standing a good distance from Penelope in case she needed some space.

“How do you do it?” Penelope questioned, lifting her face off the table.

“Do what?” (Y/N) questioned.

“How can you be so calm with such cute guys?!” Penelope shouted, balling up her fists as her face went red.

Does Penelope have a crush on Andrew? (Y/N) thought to herself.

Her stomach twisted in either disgust or anger, probably both. She felt like throwing up as she thought about Penelope and Andrew together.

Andrew was supposed to be Penelope’s patient, but (Y/N) swept him away from her after caring for him one day. Penelope had worked day shift that day since she was taking over one of the day nurses shifts because they were taking the day off for her son's graduation, so Penelope switched shifts with them for the day and worked their day shift, resulting in working with Andrew. However, apparently Andrew didn't like her care enough, or perhaps (Y/N) just has a more calm aura around her compared to Penelope. How she won Andrew over, she’s not sure, but he chose her. He chose her, not Penelope.

“Ah, well… I guess I’m just really good at hiding what I feel?” (Y/N) smiled, feeling her polite smile twitch.

“I’m hopeless. How can I ever find someone to love if I just freak out like this...?” Penelope sighed.

“There, there, pen. I’m sure you’ll find someone one day.” (Y/N) comforted her, patting Penelope’s shoulder.

Yes, not today or tomorrow. Not Andrew. (Y/N) thought to herself.

“What will I do without you?!” Penelope cried, throwing herself on (Y/N) and hugging her tightly as she wept into her chest.

(Y/N) resisted the urge to push Penelope off her. This was seriously unprofessional and she's certain if one of her coworkers (or worse, her superior and trainer Doctor Ryan) walked in, they'd possibly be sent to HR for how this may look. As much as they’re decent-ish friends, she’s not on the hugging level yet, but she doesn’t want to push Penelope off in case Penelope starts crying about that instead.

“Aw, pen. You’re too pretty to be crying about boys! Your eyeshadow is getting ruined.” (Y/N) spoke, diverting the subject.

“Aw jeez! Look what I did! I’m such a klutz…” Penelope sniffled, grabbing her phone and opening the camera to selfie-mode. “Aw! It was my good eye too! That took forever to even out.”

“How about I help you fix it?” (Y/N) offered.

“You’re the best.” Penelope smiled, wiping the tears out of her eyes, only smudging her eyeshadow worse on both sides now.

“Don’t mention it. Do you have the makeup on you?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yep.” Penelope spoke, cheering up as she grabbed her makeup purse from her staff locker.

She sat down on the staff room table and handed the bag to (Y/N), allowing the girl to look through her most prized possessions that kept her feeling cute and confident.

(Y/N) found an eyeshadow box and opened it, browsing the colors and looking for the right one Penelope had smudged all over her.

“Cute colors.” (Y/N) commented, adoring the light shades of pinks and nudes.

“Thank you.” Penelope blushed, watching as (Y/N) grabbed a small bag of makeup wipes and opening them.

(Y/N) grabbed a wipe and scooted closer to Penelope, grabbing her chin and angling it down so (Y/N) could see better. Penelope ignored the blush rising in her face and her heartbeat increasing, instead opting to close her eyes to ignore the closeness the two shared as (Y/N) wiped the makeup off Penelope’s face.

(Y/N) noticed the blush on Penelope’s face and decided it’d be best not to acknowledge it or tease her. The first time (Y/N) noticed Penelope’s blush when they first met, she made a joke about it that left Penelope speechless around her for a few days. (Y/N) would rather not experience that awkwardness again.

If anybody walked in right now, (Y/N) prays that it’s anybody but a manager or Andrew. With how close they are right now, anyone would get the wrong idea.

She wiped off the remaining makeup before grabbing a small brush and dabbed it in the light pink shade Penelope applied earlier, fixing her eye makeup. It took a few minutes before (Y/N) finished it.

“Ta-dah!” (Y/N) cheered, resisting the powerful urge to say “you were my star patient today, have a sticker.” (It’s grown in her vocabulary now).

“Thanks.” Penelope smiled, grabbing her phone and admiring herself in the camera.

“No problem. I’m going to get back to the pediatric branch. If there’s any problems make sure to come find me.” (Y/N) explained. “Oh, we're still meeting up tomorrow, right? Think about what doughnuts you want! See you later!” (Y/N) waved, quickly shutting the staff door without waiting for Penelope’s farewell.

Now that that’s all out of the way… I should get back to Doctor Ryan. (Y/N) thought to herself.

There was a lingering feeling dwelling inside of her. She still felt sick, like kneeling down and spilling her guts out on the floor. Her chest still bubbled with anger, feeling as though steam is escaping through her ears.

It’ll probably take all night for me to calm down. (Y/N) figured, letting out a sigh. What was I angry about again? she thought.

She walked away from the staff room and down the hallway, heading to the elevators. She boarded on and pressed the second floor button, leaning onto the handrail. The elevator’s movement only worsen the discomfort in her stomach.

(Y/N) exited the elevator when the doors opened, walking down the hallway to the staff room. She would’ve made it there if she didn’t hear obnoxiously loud whispering in the room next to her, sounding similar to a toddler bickering. She peeked in the room and saw two little boys huddled together in front of a hanging white sheet, speaking to what appears as themselves. She noticed the hospital wrist bands on their arms, confirming their admission here.

“What are you two doing?” (Y/N) questioned, crossing her arms.

They both jumped, letting out their own squeals as they turned around and looked at her.

“N-nothing! Just… playing!” one smiled.

They both looked like twins, (Y/N) noted.

“You both should be in your rooms. What are your names?” she questioned.

“I’m Tom, that’s Jerry.” The other toddler introduced themselves as.

“Like the cartoon?” she questioned, a smile on her face.

“Um… yes?” he spoke, hesitantly.

Wow. Am I that old? They obviously haven’t seen it… she thought to herself.

“Well, it sure matches you both, since you sneaked out of your rooms. Who are you talking to?” (Y/N) questioned, resisting the urge to peek behind the curtain.

Yeah. Like I’m that dumb… I’m not going to die like Psycho from a killer hiding behind a damn curtain. She thought to herself. And there’s no way I’m investigating either. I don’t mess with ghosts.

“Come along, now.” (Y/N) spoke.

(Y/N) watched as they walked away, shooting each other glares. She looked at the curtain once last time before shutting the door and walking away. If she looked behind the curtain, she would’ve saw Ashley hiding from the security guard, a scalpel in her hand and ready to attack (Y/N) and the kids if the curtain was opened. Ashley was still mad at Andrew, and now she was mad at all the nurses in the hospital, but especially Andrew’s new nurse he grew to favor.

(Y/N) led the two kids to the staff room and unlocked the door, peeking in and looking for any nurse that recognizes these two. She saw one of the pediatric nurses, Wally, and smiled.

“Ah, Wally. Do you know these two?” (Y/N) questioned, bringing the two kids into the room.

“I thought I locked their doors. They kept trying to escape…” Wally sighed, standing up from his seat.

“I used a pen to escape.” Jerry smiled. “Then broke Tom out.”

“Well, thank you for telling me how you got out, because now there’s a no pen policy in your rooms.” Wally spoke, giving them a stern glare.

“Aw! You just had to run your mouth!” Tom huffed.

“You didn’t stop me!” Jerry poorly excused as Wally dragged them back to their hospital rooms.

“How was I supposed to know what you were gonna say?” Tom questioned.

I wonder what they’re in here for. (Y/N) thought to herself. They sure seem energetic for being sick or injured, but I supposed it could be something internal.

She decided to ignore it and refill her medical bag. She grabbed a new bottle of water and pretzels since she gave her old pair to Hailey earlier.

She walked out of the room and locked the door, heading back to the clinic. She found Doctor Ryan’s office and stood outside, waiting a few minutes in case there was a patient, that way in case a patient was getting a shot they wouldn't get startled and jump, accidentally breaking the needle or causing harm. She heard nothing from inside the door and assumed there was no patients, so she knocked gently.

“Come in.” Doctor Ryan spoke.

“Hello, sir.” (Y/N) greeted, entering the room and shutting the door behind them. “Is there any new patients today?”

“Only walk-ins, remember?” Doctor Ryan reminded.

“Yeah, but I’m so bored…” she sighed.

“I’ve never met a student that’s actually excited to work.” Doctor Ryan admitted, chuckling.

“Not all that excited, but I woke up today to go to work, and I get paid to work, so I wanna work. Time is so slow when there’s nothing to do.” (Y/N) rambled.

“I agree. Hey, I heard you got Andrew admitted for surgery. Internal bleeding in the brain?” Doctor reminded.

(Y/N) felt a flash of worry and she grimaced.

“Was that… the wrong call?” she questioned, not even bothering to hide the discomfort and worry on her face.

“It was the right call. Good job. I just wanted to see you squirm.” The doctor laughed.

“Sheesh, you worried me! I thought I got fired before evening getting the real job.” (Y/N) sighed.

“Sorry, sorry. How is he doing? Social-wise? Is he still stingy towards the other nurses?” he questioned.

“I introduced him to Hailey today. They both were quiet, but they interacted for a bit, which is good considering Hailey hasn’t seen a new visitor in a while.” She explained. "He saw Penelope too and didn't throw anything at her. So that's... good?"

“How’s Hailey’s condition?” Doctor Ryan asked.

“She’s only getting worse. I really don’t think she’ll live for long.” (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her face.

“That’s unfortunate. Sadly, it’s part of our job to see them go sometimes.” Doctor Ryan spoke, patting her shoulder. “But hey, we’re here to help prevent that.”

“That does remind me, when is Hailey’s next chemotherapy session?” she questioned.

“It’ll be Sunday, but you and me won’t be here. With our day off and all.” Doctor Ryan explained. “Any plans?”

“I’m hanging out with Penelope from the psychiatric branch tomorrow. Sunday I’ll catch up on sleep.” (Y/N) informed.

She noticed his smug expression and glared at him, but that didn’t stop him from making his joke.

“Well, I bet Andr-“

“Don’t finish it.” (Y/N) warned.

“Okay. Okay.” He chuckled.

“What do you plan on doing?” she questioned, redirecting the conversation.

“Hanging out with my wife and kids. Probably get no sleep.” He shrugged.

“Poor you, family man.” (Y/N) teased.

“You don’t understand what it’s like trying to sleep in a house with two toddlers during the day. It’s not very easy.” He explained.

“How’s the wife and kids anyway?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Jax just celebrated his third birthday. Piper’s learning to read. And Jane wants me to work day shift.” Doctor Ryan sighed.

“Well, why don’t you?” (Y/N) questioned. “You sleep in the day and can’t spend time with your family at night since they're sleeping. I think it’d be best.”

“Exactly. Everyone does that. We don’t have enough nurses for night shift, especially skilled ones.” Doctor Ryan huffed, then remembered that (Y/N) technically qualifies as unskilled, at the moment at least. “Which is why I teach you! So I can skedaddle!”

“I’ll be the best pediatrician here.” (Y/N) smiled, then noticed the stare Doctor Ryan gave her. “Night shift wise, I will be. You’ll be on the day shift.”

Doctor Ryan’s walkie-talkie went off, catching both of their attention.

“Doctor Ryan, a nurse is bringing a patient to you. Possible UTI.” The walkie-talkie spoke.

“Aw, poor kid.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Yeah, poor kid alright.” Doctor Ryan grimaced, just imagining the pain and discomfort.

“Well, let’s get it checked out then prescribe antibiotics if they’re right.” She sighed, stretching her arms out and cracking her knuckles. . . Thirty minutes before (Y/N)’s shift and she felt exhausted. The work day went by pretty fast and now she was walking down the hallway to see Hailey.

She slowly opened the door, not wanting to knock and accidentally wake up Hailey, but she wanted to make sure Hailey was still breathing.

She expected to see a sleeping girl but instead she saw that she was wide awake, using her nightstands lamp as a light so she could read.

“Hailey!” (Y/N) lightly hissed through her teeth, quiet so she doesn’t accidentally wake up any nearby patients sleeping in their rooms.

“Hello, Ms. Gwin.” Hailey smiled, unphased that she got caught.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning and you’re still up. You should’ve been long in bed sleeping.” She scolded, walking up to Hailey and sitting down on her guest chair. “But, since you’re up. How’s the book?”

“I think it’s really interesting, the way her decisions could have such consequences. I never thought decisions would mean so much.” Hailey explained.

“Of course. You know, I had to decide if I wanted to be a nurse or a writer.” (Y/N) admitted.

“Well, you’re a nurse now.” Hailey smiled, before it dropped. “Do… you think if you weren’t a nurse, would we have never met?”

“Probably not.” (Y/N) admitted, not bothering to sugarcoat it to her. "But that's just a consequence from my decision. Not all consequences mean bad things. I don't regret not being a writer either. I'm here with you, aren't I?" she smiled, patting Hailey's hand reassuringly.

"Uh, that boy from earlier..." Hailey started.

(Y/N)'s smile disappeared as she felt a bolt of lightning strike her. She felt sick again, and her chest started to pop and boil, and her hands started to tremble. She dug her nails into her palms once more and tilted her head, leaning in close to listen to the girl.

"He was scary..." Hailey muttered, causing (Y/N) to let out a forced giggle.

"Ah, yes. I supposed Andrew was. But he's real sweet when he opens up." (Y/N) smiled, giving her a small white lie since she really didn't know herself if Andrew was sweet, but she at least wanted to ease the girl's nerves.

"I think he likes you." Hailey teased, letting out a girlish giggle.

"Everyone apparently thinks that." (Y/N) laughed, recalling Doctor Ryan's words.

"Well, do you like him back?" Hailey questioned.

"Oh, hails. I just met him yesterday!" (Y/N) pointed out, shaking her head as she smiled.

"It's true love at first sight!" Hailey declared.

"Where'd you learn that saying?" (Y/N) questioned.

"I'm serious! I think you two would be really cute, you're like polar opposites!" Hailey claimed, ignoring (Y/N)'s previous question.

Really, personality-wise, I don't think we're too different. Hailey doesn't understand my outside-work persona. (Y/N) thought to herself as she just smiled and went along with what Hailey said.

"You should confess!" Hailey encouraged.

"What's with you and this?" (Y/N) questioned.

"I know I won't live long enough to experience love like in the books... so I figured the second best thing would be having you live it." Hailey smiled, her smile fake and twitching.

"Oh, hails..." (Y/N) sighed, getting up from her chair and walking to Hailey's bedside.

Hailey scooted over so that (Y/N) could sit on the bed with her. Hailey immediately wrapped her arms around (Y/N)'s torso and dug her face into (Y/N)'s chest, her shoulders heaving up and down, giving away that she was crying. (Y/N) sighed and wrapped one of her arms around Hailey, the other she used to gently caress Hailey's bald scalp, a permanent reminder of her condition.

(Y/N) wanted to tell her that Hailey would be alright, that she would make it through, but she knew she couldn't promise that, especially to a little kid. She wasn't going to accidentally give the girl false hope and have her miserable on her potential death bed.

"You're such a sweet girl, any boy would fall for you instantly. Your cute little button nose and brown eyes would have any boy smitten. Your laugh and sweet personality would have any boy confess their love for you. If you made some friends with the boys here in this branch, you'll have so many guys surrounding you, you wouldn't know what to do!" (Y/N) reassured, poking Hailey's nose and causing her to giggle.

"Do you think they'd still like me even without hair?" Hailey questioned.

"Course they would. If a boy only likes you for your looks, punch him for me." (Y/N) joked, smiling.

"I will." Hailey giggled.

"Hey, I'll tell you what. When I come back on Monday, I'll take you out to the garden. The flowers are in bloom this year!" (Y/N) spoke.

"Promise?" Hailey gasped.

"I swear on my life." (Y/N) smiled. "Now, I'm going to go pay Andrew a little visit. You better sleep when I leave this room, understand?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Yes.” Hailey nodded.

“Thank you. And good job today, Hailey. I’m so proud of you for talking with Andrew and staying strong as always. What color star would you like today?” (Y/N) asked, reaching into her medical bag.

“Purple.” Hailey smiled.

“You got it.” (Y/N) smiled, placing the sticker down onto Hailey’s nightstand. “Goodnight, hails. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Goodnight.” Hailey smiled, getting comfortable in her bed.

(Y/N) walked out of the room and closed the door, making her way to the elevators. She got on and pressed the fourth floor button, waiting for the elevator to stop moving. The doors opened and she walked out and to Andrew’s room. She made it in front of the door then knocked.

There was no answer.

Ah, Andrew must’ve went to bed like I asked. It’s good that he actually listens to me. (Y/N) thought, a smile appearing on her face at the thought of having possibly tamed the cannibalistic murderer (however she did, she does not know).

(Y/N) opened the door quietly, just to check. It’s also a possibility that he could’ve died in his sleep due to the anesthesia or a error in the surgery. It could also be a possibility that he jumped out of the window since he’s on suicide-watch (not like any other nurse had the nerves to come in and actually leave with no bruises).

She opened the door and noted that he was still in bed, sleeping peacefully. His heart monitor was still on and showed his vitals, all sounding normal and looked it too. Her heart sped up a bit as she watched him sleep peacefully.

He looks so peaceful. (Y/N) noted, admiring his vulnerable and slumbering figure.

He was handsome when he wasn't frowning. Well, even when he did have a scowl on his face, he was certainly able to make such an ugly face a pretty one. His pale skin in comparison to his dark hair was breathtaking, and his green eyes were simply divine, like Granny Smith apples; sour and tart, but a hint of sweet when you bite down just right.

She eventually snapped out of her trance after remembering that she was still in the hallway and what she was doing was no doubt creepy, and shut the door. It probably would’ve been a good idea to have told him that she would be gone for a few days, but she’s sure he’ll manage decently.

She walked away and to the branch’s staff room, unlocking the door. Lucky, there was no one in for her to have to converse with—nobody except Penelope. Penelope patients were always the most tamest and laidback since HR knew her.. questionable... personality.

“Hey!” Penelope smiled, just finishing clocking out.

“Hello!” (Y/N) greeted back, walking towards her and grabbing the clipboard and pen from her hands as Penelope handed it to her.

“How was patient 402 today?” Penelope questioned.

“Ah, he had surgery so I didn’t see much of him. He saw Hailey for a few minutes before he went to his room and slept.” (Y/N) explained.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so glad he’s doing okay and I’m glad he’s getting along with Hailey.” Penelope squealed.

“Mmhm.” (Y/N) hummed, finishing her clock-out.

She used the computer and typed up today's report for all her patients. When she got to Andrew's she typed: get casting on leg done immediately while he’s still asleep so he or his sister doesn’t get hostile.

Penelope read the screen from over (Y/N)’s shoulder, then spoke.

“Oh. His sister? I haven’t seen her since yesterday!” Penelope explained.

“Huh. Well, maybe she had something to do today?” (Y/N) reasoned.

“Maybe! But I heard from Ruby that she was kicked out of the hospital after she got aggressive with Andrew. She probably got banned from returning.” Penelope explained.

(Y/N) physically grimaced, a scowl forming on her face at Penelope saying Andrew’s name. She really didn’t like it when Penelope said his name and she’s not sure why.

“Is there something wrong? Did you forget to do something?” Penelope questioned.

“Oh, no. I just made the face because I can’t believe his sister could be so mean to him while he’s injured.” (Y/N) smiled forcefully.

“Right? Poor Andrew… I really hope he doesn’t have to see her anytime soon! It makes me wonder how she usually treats him uninjured.” Penelope frowned, pitying the poor patient who wasn’t in the room.

(Y/N) grimaced again, hating her saying “Andrew” just as much as she hated it the first time, if not, even stronger.

“I agree.” She spoke through her smiling teeth, another forceful grin. "Welp!" she smiled, clapping her hands together. "See you tomorrow, Penelope!" she spoke, quick to clock out and leave.

(Y/N) quickly walked down the hall to the elevators, hopping in and pressing the lobby button. She took a moment to compose herself, leaning against the railing.

I feel so weird today. My chest feels like it's being squeezed and I feel almost angry... She thought, confused of her emotions.

Maybe she didn't eat a big enough lunch. When she gets home, she'll eat dinner and drink lots of water before heading to bed. Yeah, she could use the meal and the sleep. It can be really difficult being the caretaker when you have no one to care for you, but in her own words, "in order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself."

She got in her car and drove back to her apartment, shutting the door and locking it before she collapsed on her living room's couch. She laid on her back for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling blankly, no thoughts crossing her mind.

She needed the few minutes to gain some energy. It’s always so exhausting smiling and being positive, especially in such a depressing and brooding setting such as a hospital where many meet their end, even worse that its children.

She doesn’t regret her decision in going through with becoming a pediatrician, but it does get heartbreaking seeing young kids die. She tries her best to help them, but sometimes there’s just some things out of your control.

She knows that when Hailey dies, she’ll be absolutely devastated. Out of all the patients she sees and talks to, she always makes sure to give Hailey the most of her attention and time.

Hailey was first admitted into the hospital when she was seven. After weeks of in and out tests at the hospital, MRI’s and blood withdraws, she was diagnosed with cancer. From then on, she spent her days at the hospital. Hailey’s parents were always busy, one was a lawyer and the other was a traveling diplomat. The nurses were basically babysitters for her while her parents were working.

Her parents loved her, they loved her so much that they couldn’t bare to see her slowly deteriorate in front of their eyes, so they forced themselves away from her side and indulged in work to rid the thought of their only daughter dying. They didn’t realize how lonely or terrifying it was for Hailey, to suddenly be surrounded by white walls and white floors and white sheets. Surrounded by the stench of heavy bleach and aroma of lemons. By radiation machines and clumps of lost hair on her pillows.

She watched out of her window as other patients walk in and out of the hospital, their families walking by their side, supporting them during their times of need. Her visitors weren't family, but nurses and doctors entering and exiting her room, no longer bothering to smile or give her white lies of how she'll heal soon.

(Y/N) couldn't try to understand or emphasize, she wasn't sick in a hospital bed balding. She wasn't bedridden, and she had the fortunate ability to move her legs unlike Hailey's legs, the clumping of leukemia cells in Hailey's knees making it hard to walk on some days. (Y/N)'s been Hailey's nurse for five months now, she had started nursing Hailey before she decided to change her career.

(Y/N) was originally going to be a pediatric nurse, make sure children are sticking to their proper recovery path and taking medications that they're doctors are prescribing them, provide utmost comfortability and nurturing to them as they could, and constantly run tests on their weights, diets, and symptoms, but she changed her studies to become a pediatric hematologist-oncologist after meeting Hailey.

(Y/N) graduated high school a year early by taking Advanced Placement (college-level) courses and getting a head start by going to classes during school breaks and on the weekends. It was exhausting and downright infuriating at times, but she managed and graduated with her high school diploma along with a certificate in child care after completing a three-year course in high school for early childhood education; allowing her to get a part-time job after high school by working in a daycare. Then she moved out from her parents, heading to college and completing one year of adolescent medicine (originally, it was supposed to be four, but her AP classes counted for college-credit and high school credits). She finished college five months ago, and now she's learning from Doctor Ryan JTED general pediatrics while taking online hematology-oncology classes to graduate med school early.

She had always been an over-achiever, aiming for success to please her parents and earn what little praise she could. It had been a goal ever since she was a child, to hear such little words from them with actual meaning, not just false words spoken on auto-pilot to shoo their child away.

Her father wanted her to be successful and rich in life, so she wouldn't have to deal with poverty in her future anymore, and her mother... well, her mother really didn't care what she did. In fact, her mother never cared at all. Her parents were always working all the time. Her father worked as an overworked and underpaid mechanic who worked 6-8, never having any time for his daughter as he worked in the day and slept at night. Her mother was also a nurse, specializing in cardiology; she slept in the day and worked at night. Even on her days off, she slept and ignored (Y/N)'s needs.

From two years old to five, (Y/N) was locked alone in a room with a bed, TV, and a bathroom. She was locked in a dark room for 16 hours a day, with no food and the only water source was from the sink's faucet. All she did in that room was sleep, watch cartoons on the TV, and cry; begging to be let out of the room, begging for food, begging for any sort of affection or tenderness from her mother who slept in the room next door so that (Y/N) wouldn't interrupt her sleeping. Instead, the only affection she received in her life was the embrace of her bed's sheets.

All her time in her hands caused her to sleep so much she developed a sleeping disorder, hypersomnia; the inability to remain alert, woke, or refreshed in the daytime despite having an excessive amount of rest. That condition became chronic, even now she struggled with it, which made her excessive daytime sleepiness so much worse due to working eight hours at the hospital for her JTED classes of general pediatrics (at least she got paid for her apprenticeship, working from 8 A.M. to 5 P.M.), and studying online for hematology-oncology for at least 3 to 4 hours after work. She's eternally grateful for her med school being paid, earning a scholarship due to all her high grades in her AP classes and completing college with her adolescent medicine degree. Medicine was a part of her mother's side of the family, and (Y/N) naturally became a caretaker after learning to care for herself her whole life; touch starved from the hands of her mother and father.

If (Y/N) had been the patient in the hospital bed, would her mother have cared then? Would she have shown a bit of sympathy? Even just touch her arm for a few seconds to feel for a vein and inject a IV needle in? The answer was no. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, fainting after days of neglecting her needs of food and water in order to complete her piling school work. Her mother didn't care when (Y/N) pleaded for help at ten years old, saying she believed she had depression and needed help.

Instead of helping her, her mother shook it off as hormones from puberty, and even told her to stop overreacting that: "You can't be depressed. People have such worse lives than you, dying alone in hospital beds, and here you are, crying about a few hormonal mood swings."

Her mother didn't even care when (Y/N) had tried to kill herself when she was just eleven years old. For a nurse, whose job is supposed to protect and care, she was cruel.

Her father cared, he really did, but he just didn't have the time for her. While her mother slept and ignored her, he was at work busting his ass off to earn money and support their family. He had grown up poor, living in immense poverty, sharing a bedroom with his sister, unsure of when their next meal was. He never graduated high school, he went to the military but after a few years was rejected due to heart conditions, which led him to coming home and getting his GED so that he could go to college and become a mechanic. Money was always a problem for her family, even in a two-income household it was hard to meet living standards. A big reason she piled all that work on her and neglected her health was so she could get her schooling paid for.

Remember her saying from earlier? "In order to care for another, you must first learn to care for yourself." Well, she had to teach herself that the hard way. She realized she couldn't be a nurse and preach others to care for themselves if she couldn't even care for herself. So, she took on hobbies to help her mental health, forced herself to make friends and gain confidence, made an oath to stop her self-harm when she was young. This was a challenge, but it presented opportunity for growth, for success, for happiness.

Opportunity is everywhere, so long as you choose to believe it. You don't need to see things to know it's there, so long as you have faith. Opportunity is everywhere, lurking and waiting to jump out from the corner and get you! Even the corner of your bedroom, while you lay thinking of nothing and everything depressingly on your couch. Opportunity is stalking, waiting patiently for you to walk through your bedroom door so they could give you a big hug! Or a stab! Or multiple stabs!

Opportunity comes in many forms. Education, money, experience, decisions, and even people; such as Ashley Graves! Opportunities to pursue your goal of nursing, or if we use Ashley's motivation, a wonderful opportunity to stab a little nurse out of jealousy all because she just happened to get too close to her brother after he made a minor slip-up. A Grave consequence, really.

A cliff-hanger! This is where the next chapter will take some time to come out since all the previous chapters were drafts I wrote for fun before I started writing for Tumblr.

Also, Penelope is one of my first yanderes I created myself, an OC! While she won't play a major role in this series, she'll have her own headcannons and such one day once I get around to it, maybe you'll find an interest in her yourself!

Want more Andrew Graves content? Check out the Andrew Graves masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for requests!

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, current chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 + 6 (in the works)

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livingemkayde · 8 months

Text

ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday.

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house.

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night.

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night.

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation.

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you.

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in.

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his.

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother.

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer.

But you didn’t really do — anything.

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs.

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear.

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe.

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams.

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers.

But never fear — well, not until right now.

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy.

Some hours earlier.

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard.

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables.

Yesterday:

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party.

But his words echo in your mind.

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.”

You let out a cursed sigh.

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy.

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more.

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets.

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought.

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket.

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you.

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart.

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips.

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone.

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh.

“Perfection takes time.”

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight.

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder.

He’s looking back at you too.

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around.

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you.

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd.

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with.

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now.

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle.

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier.

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup.

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station.

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink.

“So,” she says, giving you a wink.

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way.

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance.

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue.

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue.

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.”

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah.

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters.

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.”

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow.

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind.

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies.

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion.

“W-what? I—”

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it.

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back.

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning.

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.”

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel.

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you.

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.”

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit.

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now.

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge.

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question.

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough.

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck.

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear.

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces.

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone.

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear.

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts.

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party?

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else.

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan.

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy.

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.”

Tommy—harmless.

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried.

It’s Tommy. It’s fine.

Right?

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled.

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess.

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—”

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday.

He looks down.

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile.

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand.

“Thanks.”

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence.

“Joel helped you?”

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front.

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended.

“I wanted to go on my own.”

Tommy doesn't look convinced.

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen.

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction.

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet.

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.”

Shit.

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse.

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside.

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?”

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil.

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last.

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it.

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind.

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.”

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—”

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know.

“‘S okay,” He says.

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope.

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—”

“What is that?”

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless.

“What? I don’t—”

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline.

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?”

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead.

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too.

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip.

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises.

“What the hell is that?”

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down.

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture.

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you.

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond.

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable.

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud.

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here.

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything.

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance.

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help.

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better.

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head.

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it.

“He didn’t,” you reply.

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction.

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—”

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you.

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do.

Joel moves to speak but you do it first.

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.”

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel.

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him.

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking.

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?”

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when.

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you.

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again.

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual.

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?”

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?”

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air.

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face.

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think.

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has.

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite.

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist.

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him.

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again.

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car.

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her.

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window.

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all.

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl.

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat.

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges.

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping.

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle.

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart.

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises.

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there.

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.”

You shake your head.

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle.

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape.

“That I liked it.”

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes.

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—”

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs.

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head.

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you.

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on.

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off.

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath.

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly.

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips.

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you.

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling.

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp.

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move.

It’s kind of like a game.

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses.

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder.

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred.

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better.

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands.

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do.

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you.

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding.

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.”

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster.

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right.

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again.

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does.

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere.

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you.

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away.

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him.

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh.

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. kisses!

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iamsherlocked1479 · 1 year

Text

Admit it

Word count: 1.9k words

Description: Sherlock believes that lingerie is pointless so y/n decides to prove him wrong, no matter the costs.

Warnings: 18+, very angsty, BJ, P in V sex, choking, slut shame

A/N: this is my apology for not posting as much hope you like it! But chapter 11 is about halfway done atm.

“I don’t get it!” Sherlock shouted at the television screen, jolting you awake with his movement, you had fallen asleep on him again, which of course he didn’t have a problem with.

“W-what now?” You ask dazed from your sleep

“These adverts look at those women.” He pointed to the ad you had seen thousands of times for a designer company showing off their new lingerie.

“Its just an ad?” You say confused, this is your punishment for letting him get to intrigued in the reality tv shows you watch, his attempt of proving he could be a normal boyfriend.

“Yes but I don’t get why lingerie is so amazing.” He turned to you

“Because its a way to feel pretty, seductive almost.” You laugh

“But you don’t need lingerie to look beautiful.” He added

“You know you should use that line more often.” You laugh

“I really don’t understand society.” He sighed and turned his head back to the screen.

“So you wouldn’t care if i wore something like that?” You ask

“I prefer you in nothing, we both know that.” He squeezed your thigh

“No but its meant to make their partners want them more. A treat i would say.” You thought how you ended up explaining the use of lingerie to your boyfriend who was very much experienced by now in the arts of physical relationships with you.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” You laugh “its like when you wear that purple shirt that’s slightly too tight for you” you smirk as his brow raises

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Never mind the show is back on.” You point to the screen

“You’re just going to fall asleep again.” He smiled

“Would that be a problem?” You ask

“Never.” He added, and as usual he was right. You woke up the next morning in you shared bed trying to work out how you’d gotten there but then remembered your conversation from last night, maybe he would like it if you wore lingerie. You hadn’t exactly tried that before, you knew he was probably out on a case so you got dressed with your mission clear. Finding the perfect lingerie to seduce the great Sherlock Holmes, who also happened to be the man who never had physical relationships with anyone, in a physical relationship with you.

You started out with a few common clothing shops with nothing really taking your fancy so you decided it would be better to look in the expensive shops, like the one from the advert. You browse the isles being amazed by the different styles and colours in all shapes and sizes before finally seeing the perfect set.

On a mannequin in front of you was a purple laced bra and panties set. It was almost the same colour as his shirt so you knew it would be perfect, the bra was lace and obviously see through and the panties would fit your figure just right.

It was early evening by the time you got home, and Sherlock’s violin could be heard throughout the apartment. He smiled when he saw you, but didn’t stop playing. It was obvious whatever case he was on was really toying with his mind mind.

“I’m just gonna take a shower.” You yelled not expecting a reply, it was time to put your plan into action. You showered and washed your hair, whilst also performing for the various bottles of shampoo that probably wished they didn’t need to hear the same verse from careless whisper three times over. You towel dry your hair enough so it wouldn’t be dripping wet, without getting too frizzy the next day and slipped on the lingerie. And god it was perfect, there was no way in hell even Sherlock holmes could deny you didn’t look good, you weren't one for loving yourself too much but this made it difficult.

You left the bathroom wearing only the lingerie and Sherlock was still playing, but upon hearing you enter the room he began playing a careless whisper mocking your singing.

“Was I really being that loud?” You laugh

“I’ve heard worse.” He still hadn’t turned around, dam his stupid mind palace.

“So what case are you stuck on?” You ask moving to the kitchen and ignoring the severed human limbs to make tea.

“A soldier was murdered, found dead in the shower, no way in, no way out and no signs of a struggle. Just dead, it appears as if a ghost killed him.” He still hadn’t turned around, god he was arrogant sometimes.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask

“Yes and is there any biscu-.” He stopped and finally laid his eyes on you. Your back was to him, your ass clearly showing.

“Everything okay back there?” You smirk

“W-what are you wearing?” He asked, you could have swore you heard a gulp.

“Oh this little thing? I picked it up today. What do you think?” You tapped the tea spoon on the cup and turned around, he watched your every move as you entered the living room. You place the tea on the table and walk over to him, now he was intrigued. It was time to play your game. “Sit please” you push him back into his chair and he falls back with a huff his eyes scanning every part of your body.

“I- I think its n-nice.” He watched as you teased him moving your hips as you turned around allowing him to look at everything.

“But you see I’m not sure about it, could you have a closer look?” You step towards him, and place yourself in his lap straddling his legs, with your chest in his face, his hands slid up your legs towards your hips, but you pushed them away. “Ah ah, remember I thought you didn’t see the point in clothes like this. In my opinion i’d say they’re pretty effective.” You could feel him twitching beneath you,

“Maybe they are helping a tad bit.” He shuffled in his seat trying his best to do as you said but he wasn’t going to admit you were right.

“Pitty, I thought they were working.” You began circulating your hips, grinding yourself against his growing length, letting out small moans of pleasure. You watched as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly at the sensation of you rubbing against him. You moved your hands to his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers moved closer to you tracing along your leg, but you stopped your movements and tutted. “Admit I was right and maybe I’ll let you touch.”

He grunted frustratedly he wasn’t one for admitting he was wrong, but here you sat in his lap grinding against him and he couldn’t even kiss you. “Shit” he sighed “fine you were right” you smiled at your win and pushed your lips against his and began moving faster.

“I can’t help myself around you, fuck baby.” He trailed his lips along your neck going in between the crevice of your breast with his tongue, he pulled down the straps of your bra and pulled your tits free. He took one into his mouth, nibbling the nipple slightly while gripping the other with his hand.

You gripped his hair pushing him further into your chest letting out more moans edging him on. You pushed your soaked cunt harder on him, making his cock rub against your clit beginning to causing the knot in your stomach to grow tighter, growing closer to your release. He purred into your chest as your wetness soaked through his trousers, which grew ever tighter with your work. You couldn’t hold it back any longer your hips jolted as you came,

“Oh fuck Sherlock yes, fuck you’re so hard its s-so good.”

“Mmm fuck i can’t wait any longer.” He stood up and carried you through the hall towards your bedroom, his lips still locked to yours as he kicked the door open and carried you to the bed. He dropped you there watching as you knelt below him, wiping the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Want your cock, baby, I need it.” You whimpered as you unbuckled his belt. You pulled down his boxers and watched as he moaned as you licked a stripe down his length before gently sucking on his balls as your hand pumped him slowly. His head knocked back with a sigh of relief as you reached his tip again, and slowly began bobbing your head down over it, working your tongue around him before sinking down a little farther. You tried your best to swallow around him he helped by pushing himself in gently letting out deep moans the further you got. His hip’s jolted again as you pulled back and worked on the tip again, he was becoming too sensitive and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He pushed your mouth away and brought you to his gently gripping your throat.

“Don't think I forgot you wouldn’t let me touch you, I won’t let that go unnoticed. I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for a week.” He pushed you onto the bed and positioned his frame over you, he practically ripped off the panties and entered with a hard thrust causing you to yelp and grip to the bed sheets. He pushed hard into you the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room accompanied by your moans, you clawed at his back as he fucked you

“Look at you so cock drunk, you think you can parade yourself around like a little slut in my apartment and get away with it. Do you?” He asked

“N-no.” You whimpered, leaning your head back as your back arched

“No what?” He grabbed your chin making your eyes level with his dark blues

“N-no sir.”

“Good.” He flipped you over and knelt over you, slowing his pace, taking more time to push harder into you. “Now say you’re sorry.” He slapped your ass, hard smiling as a pink gleam appeared

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered

“Good girl, now we can enjoy this.” He sped up his pace and placed one hand under you, his thumb rubbing your already swollen clit. The pulse of you clit sent waves through you as you squirmed, he fucked you hard through your orgasm

“Oh fuck, sherlock just there, thats right!” Your voice was muffled as you buried yourself in the sheets pulling them from the corners.

Sherlock groaned, he loved the sight of you being this way around him, so cock drunk you couldn’t even hold yourself up. He too was reaching his end the way your pussy clenched around his cock was enough to set him off, spewing thick white ropes deep inside of you and collapsing onto you.

He took a moment to cat his breath, his cock still inside you before pulling himself off the bed,

“Looks like you need another shower.” He held out his hand as you turned and sprawled onto the bed

“I can’t, too tired.” You say breathlessly

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He smiled while wiping the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Hmm” you groaned as your eyes fell closed. Sherlock fixed the sheets around you before wrapping your body in a cover and allowing you to sleep. He showered before going back to his violin, this time thinking only of you. Though he would never tell you, maybe just this once you were right.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock holmes x reader #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #smutty #sherlock bbc #y/n x sherlock #i am sherlocked #sherlockedit #spotify

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endless-summer-soldier · 11 months

Text

dr. feelgood - chapter three

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

a/n: this one is pure steam and maybe the best smut I've ever written ;) I hope you all enjoy ittttt

warnings: must be 18+, smut, praise kink, unprotected sex, rough sex, biting, spanking, dirty talk

word count: 2k

series playlist: here

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @fallenlilangel99 (message me to be added!)

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The surgery was excruciating, yet also exhilarating. It lasted nine hours, but watching Bucky work was amazing. He was so calm and in control of everything, maneuvering each unknown with a sense of ease. Even the nurses seemed smitten with him. And his eyes. Every now and then he would peer at me with those eyes and I thought I might melt. Even though we were in the operating room, he was giving me flirty bedroom eyes and I was very into it. He would ask me questions, testing my instincts and my surgical knowledge and with every correct answer he praised me.

And then he let me cut, and I knew I was a goner. He was teaching me by letting me actually do surgical procedures instead of just watching. It wasn’t anything major, but I was doing it when all the other interns hadn’t even seen the OR yet. I loved that he was challenging me to make me a better doctor.

Once the surgery was complete and the patient was stable, Bucky instructed me to close up. It mostly consisted of sutures and tidying up the wound which wasn’t terribly difficult, but it was something I got to take the lead on. Bucky walked out of the OR and I could’ve sworn he gave me a wink as he passed me by.

When I walked out of the operating room, I felt on top of the world. I couldn’t stop smiling. And then I saw Bucky, in his scrubs, leaning on the counter by the nurses station, biting into an apple. I knew I was toast. The only explanation for my actions is that my brain was not working rationally, still feeling the natural high from surgery.

I joined him at the nurses station, pretending like I was looking at paperwork.

“Nice work in there, Dr. Barnes,” I complimented.

“Why thank you Dr. Y/L/N.”

“Would you mind coming with me? I have a patient issue that I think you should see.”

“Is it urgent?” he asked, taking the last bite of his apple.

“Very urgent,” I said. Before I could wait for a response, I walked down the hall, away from the patient rooms.

It wasn’t a long walk to our destination. I could sense Bucky walking behind me and heard him say, “Where exactly are we go-”

Before he could finish his question, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the on-call room. I deftly locked the door and pushed him against the wall, immediately connecting my lips to his. I kissed him with desire and it only took him a few seconds to react and kiss me back. He tasted sweet as I sucked the lingering nectar from his honeycrisp apple off his bottom lip. The next minute, his hands were all over me and I was trying to get his scrub top off.

“You were amazing in there,” I breathed as he kissed my neck.

“Prepare to be amazed again,” he replied.

“My god, you’re so cocky,” I stated, in between kisses.

“You got that right,” he smiled as he redirected my hand to the bulge in his pants. His arrogance was oddly a turn on, and I knew it was completely warranted. He was good at his craft: in the OR and in the bedroom.

I slid my hand into his pants and grabbed his throbbing erection, moving my hand up and down the shaft with varying levels of pressure.

“You are such a tease,” he whispered, effortlessly pulling off my scrub top.

“You like it,” I countered, tugging on his earlobe with my teeth. That set him off and I was no longer in control.

He now had me pinned against the wall with my pants around my ankles. I worked to get my shoes off and kick my pants away as Bucky’s fingers started exploring my folds and circling my clit.

“How’s that, baby?” he murmured.

I barely had a response, “So, so good.” I clawed his bare back as a means of portraying my arousal.

“I’m gonna need more than that.” He unclasped my bra with his free hand and his mouth was on my nipple like cobalt being pulled toward a magnet. I let out an involuntary moan and my head lolled back onto the wall with a gentle thud. He pulled his lips from my breast to work his way up my chest, pausing to bite my collarbone, before invading my mouth yet again. He increased the intensity of his fingering and a deep moan escaped my mouth right into his. He pulled back slightly and smiled into the inch of air between our lips.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked. It was then I noticed he had shed his pants and his hard-on was eagerly poking my abdomen.

I nodded my head as I tried to still my breathing in preparation for what was to come.

“Use your words, sweetie.”

“Yes, please. I need you inside of me, Bucky.” Hearing his name across my lips sent him into a frenzy. He grabbed my backside and hoisted me up, pushing me into the wall even further. I wrapped my legs around his torso and he effortlessly slid into my sopping wet pussy.

“Fuck,” I breathed as his phallus filled me up. He continued thrusting in and out, changing up the tempo when I least expected it.

“That’s it, baby. You’re taking my cock so well.” His praise turned me on more, if that was even possible. “You’re so tight, you feel amazing.” I clutched onto him tighter, running my fingers up his neck and through his cropped hair. I clutched his short hair in my hands and pulled his head back, away from my face. He looked surprised initially, until he realized I wasn’t signaling for him to stop, I was redirecting him. I offered my exposed neck to him and he grinned before running his tongue from my ear down to my shoulder. I sighed when he opened his jaw wide and sunk his teeth gently into my shoulder. I shuddered as he sucked in, surely leaving a mark on my fair skin.

“Oh you like it a little rough huh?” he asked, working his tongue around my ear. I couldn’t form words, so I just nodded my head and let out another heavy breath. He smacked my ass and I let out a little yelp, taken by surprise but enjoying the tingling sensation.

“I’ll give you rough,” he growled. He carried me over to the squeaky mattress and tossed me down. I grinned up at him and saw him smiling down at me, “Flip over, pretty girl.” I moved so that I was in tabletop position, propped up on my elbows and Bucky grabbed my hips with his steady hands and yanked me toward him. He entered me from behind with a quick thrust and I was back in a euphoric state. He worked quicker this time, his thrusts moving at an increased pace and his hand continued to find my ass without causing too much pain.

My mind was cloudy as I neared my orgasm, but I remember him continuing to praise me with words like, “You’re such a good girl, taking my big cock.” There was a final deep thrust and shockwaves ran through my body. I had no control over the sounds coming out of my mouth as I finished and Bucky was right behind me, pulling out and spreading his seed over my bare back. As I drifted back down to earth I purred, “You are a god,” before realizing just how pathetic those words were. Bucky didn’t acknowledge my compliment and instead found his scrub top and cleaned me off.

I turned over and slid under the covers of the bed, seeking a moment to catch my breath and reflect post-coital. I was surprised when Bucky slid in next to me and planted a kiss on my forehead.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stunned by his actions.

“I’m cuddling you,” he replied, turning me to the side so he could spoon me.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because we just had sex and that’s what you do after sex.”

“Maybe if you’re in a relationship, which we are not.”

“Oh come on, just enjoy this.” He said, grabbing me around the waist and pulling me tight toward him. I had to admit, it did feel nice.

We caught our breaths in silence for a moment, but my head was reeling. I couldn’t believe that I initiated this. What was I thinking? This was such a bad idea. And the over-analytical side of me couldn’t put it to rest.

“So, this can’t happen again,” I finally stated.

“Oh really? As I seem to recall, you initiated this.”

“In a moment of weakness,” I argued.

“You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

“I did,” I admitted, “But it was a bad idea.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because it’s inappropriate! You’re my superior. You’re supposed to be mentoring me and teaching me things.”

“Oh I can teach you plenty of things,” he purred.

“Not sex things. Surgery things.”

“Who says those things have to be mutually exclusive?” he turned me over so that I was facing him.

“I cannot be the intern who is screwing her attending.”

“Who cares?” he asked.

“I care! I want to be known as a good surgeon for my skills, not because my boyfriend is letting me scrub in on all his surgeries.”

“Did you just call me your boyfriend?” he preened.

I rolled my eyes, “It was hypothetical.”

“Regardless, I’m going to play favorites whether or not we’re together because I think you have a talent for trauma and you’re better than all the other interns. The fact that I like looking at you and I enjoy being around you is just an added bonus.”

“Okay but you are an esteemed surgeon. I am barely out of med school. If things go south, I’m the one that’s getting fired. And I care too much about my career to jeopardize that.”

“Well I certainly don’t plan to mess this up.”

I sighed. How could he be this stubborn and so charming at the same time.

“I’m serious Bucky, this can’t happen again.”

“Whatever you say doll.” I didn’t know what else to say. It seemed like the more I declared this to be a bad idea, the more I wanted it. And Bucky clearly had no concerns about the situation whatsoever.

He interrupted my thoughts with the words, “Praise kink, huh…” I blushed and turned to him, not willing to admit he was right. “It makes sense. You’re a doctor and you crave positive feedback. You like knowing you’re the best.”

“How could you tell?”

“I see it in the OR. Every time you do something right, you hold yourself a little higher, happy to have impressed. I figured you might be that way in bed. But you’re quiet too.”

I nodded my head, trying not to give away any more info. “Why is that?” he added.

“...I don’t like being in charge.”

“Now that is interesting. Because funny enough, I love being in charge.” His voice was lower, almost seductive.

“I know what you’re doing, and it is not going to work.” At this point, I climbed out of bed, redressing and preparing to get back on the floor.

“We’ll see about that,” she said smugly. I rolled my eyes as I searched the ground for my thong. Once I was fully dressed, I ran a hand through my hair to try and tame it.

“I’m going back to work now,” I said, about to exit the room.

“Thank you Dr. Y/L/N. When you find yourself in need of a sex god, you know where to find me,” he said, shooting me a toothy grin. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist using my words against me.

I shot him a death glare and said, “Bye Bucky.”

next chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes doctor au

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

Text

old faces, part three

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret.

Warnings: violence, descriptions of violence, death, minor injury, drinking

Word Count: ~5.3k

A/N: more rowaelin in the next chapter! coming late tonight/tomorrow if everything goes according to plan

series masterlist

True to their word, you didn’t see Aelin or Rowan before their departure yesterday. Fenrys came by once, letting you know they’d spoken to the future Emperor and Empress, and that they’d be keeping an eye out for you. You never saw them, but you sensed their presence. It brought a small bit of comfort. Not enough to let your guard down.

Overwhelmed. That’s how you felt. Ceri and Ani seemed thrilled at the ‘new adventure,’ even more excited it was a secret, that they couldn’t tell anyone exactly when they were leaving and where they were going. Reya had been a mixture of contemplation and excitement but you - you were an anxious mess.

New challenges, and more exposure you couldn't avoid. You were nervous for Ceri, above all. Nervous about how she’d be treated, about what this meant for her. At least she’d have her best friend with her. The vague plan was to visit a few different parts of Terrasen, starting with Orynth, and if the trial went well, it would be a group decision on where to settle.

“You’re nervous.” Reya commented, you shot her a look and she held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Have you decided what to do with your home?”

Home. A pleasant surprise in your mother’s will. A home you fully intended to keep in the family. But, Reya’s asking if you’ll rent it out or not. It would be easy to let magic seal it up, but if you rented it, you could deposit the money into a bank account and leave you with a fund if you ended up back here.

The last week had been a gods-damned whirlwind, giving you barely a moment to rest. Liquidating your assets, downsizing, late nights finishing up projects, informing vendors you’d no longer have goods available, pulling the girls from school, and more.

“Renting would be a good option,” you finally replied. Reya nodded, she was doing the same thing - and you trusted her sister to take care of both properties - for a fee of course. At least there was someone you could trust.

“They’re going stir-crazy,” Reya commented. You could see it too, the frustration on their faces at being cooped up. “The park is right around the corner.”

“It’s risky,” you hesitated.

“We all need it.”

You couldn’t argue with that, or with the excitement on their faces as you told them. Still, you slipped a trusted knife into a sheath under your dress. On the way, Reya reminded them to keep their ‘adventure’ secret. To answer ‘I don’t know,’ if anyone asks questions, and to inform the two of you. No chances.

There were a few other women there you vaguely recognized, and children both Ani and Ceri sprinted towards. They climbed over the various obstacles, running around and making up different games. Ceri, of course, took the lead in organizing everyone, directing them like a general. What would Rowan think if he was here? Probably pride. And maybe alarm at just how wild his daughter ran. Her Fae heritage let run and climb faster, and it took away a certain sense of self-preservation.

“Will she be immortal as well?” Reya murmured quietly.

“Most likely,” you admitted. Maybe in a selfish way, you really hoped she would. If you had to watch her grow old … you shoved the thought to the back of your mind. There was enough to worry about for now.

Three hours later, the two of them exhausted enough energy to start asking for dinner, and agreed to leave. The break was good for you, the fresh air and walk in your city calming your nerves. Another chance to see it - your shelter and safe haven.

Ceri held your hand on the twenty minute walk, chattering about the games she’d played, her enthusiasm and joy confectious. Ani was doing the same to Reya in front of you.

Just around the corner, the hair on the back of your neck pricked. Something was wrong.

“Reya,” you called, voice just drifting over the wind, laced with warning. Her head swirled, the whites around her eyes showing and you mouthed; act natural. Letting your senses take over, you listened in for movements, for heartbeats, for whatever the hell was out there.

A magic you didn’t recognize was present, and probing at the wards on your home. A male, mortal, magic wielder. Across the street, but still too gods-damned close. You needed to get inside, to get into safety.

Throwing up what you hoped was a discreet shield, you kept your pace and body language natural as you approached. First thing you learned; don’t let them know. But, Ceri had picked up on it, her hand tightening around yours, head on a swivel. Quickly, you spared a glance at her; trust me, you tried to say, and she gave you a small nod. You prayed you’d show yourself worthy of that trust in the next few minutes. Maybe some of the emperor and empresses ‘eyes’ were nearby. But, no sense in hoping or relying for something that might not be true.

Thirty paces away, male disappeared, cloaked from your sight- but you could sense his location. Reya fell back with Ani to walk next to you. It was Ceri they were after, and that brought lethal focus to your mind. Let those instincts rise, the instinct to protect your family and friends.

Ten paces, Reya’s nerves were showing but she kept herself loose, putting her trust in you.

Everything happened within a minute, but each second dragged on. You had the seconds to shove them back behind the gate, throwing the wards up. Reya knew to drag the girl’s inside - Ceri’s yells and shouts echoing in your ears. If you went in as well, there wasn’t anyone to stop him from trying to shatter the magic, and you couldn’t do shit from behind them.

The bits of training you picked up over the years came into play, the glint of a knife in front of you, and you thanked the immortal reactions and senses you’d been born with - gifting you an advantage. A knife flew to your shoulder, you dodged, shifting again as he threw another - shallowly slicing across your cheek. You palmed your one fighting knife, the pain fading into the background, and slashed across his forearm, severing his tendons. The dagger clattered, metal echoing off the cobblestones, copper scent filling the air.

He spat a curse, and you danced around each other, before landing another slice. Blood spurted from his arm in rivets - eerily like a fountain, and you heard the whistle.

An archer on the opposite roof, gesturing to the side. They needed a shot that wouldn’t risk hitting you. You hoped they’d leave him alive - you had several questions for him. They got their shot a second later, and you watched as an arrow lodged through the man’s skull, his body flopping to the pavement in front of you. So much for your questions.

You prayed Reya had shielded their view.

A plain-clothed guard was there in seconds, and you let your back hit the wall behind you, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, and used your dress to clean the blood from your knife. It was ruined anyway, a little more blood wouldn’t make a difference. The strange sense and scent of death filled the air as slid it back into your sheath, focusing on one movement at a time, keeping yourself grounded.

You tried, you really tried, not to hate Rowan in that moment. It’s not his fault, not his fault he’s the father. He’d mentioned the target, the risk and dangers, but it hadn’t quite set in until that moment. Stupid, you were stupid for leaving the house. If anything, it was your fault. By some miracle, none of your neighbors were peeking their nosy heads out.

Reya’s muffled voice came from the garden. Gods, she must be screaming at the top of her lungs for you to hear her. You turned, giving her a ‘thumbs up.’ It felt childish, considering someone had just threatened your lives, but she returned with a tense smile, one arm barely holding back a furious Ceri. Ani tucked behind her, head just poking out.

“I’m fine,” you mouthed to your daughter. She signed back - you were a bit surprised she remembered that language, it had been a while since you used it.

You’re bleeding.

Not my blood. I need you to keep Ani calm.

Give her something to do, a task, and she’d focus on it. Sure enough, it worked and she tugged her friend back inside.

The guards had multiplied, at least seven of them on the surrounding street now. And - a certain blonde haired male sprinting down the street. Fenrys stood by your side as you answered all of their questions. The magic shielding the house behind you didn’t waver, not for one second.

“You should get that looked at,” Fenrys murmured, as the body was carted off, a small crowd dispersing, and one official-looking woman promising updates.

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him. He gestured to your cheek, to the cut already healing.

“It scarred.”

The small sting had faded to the back of your mind. Frowning, you ran two fingers over your face, an angry raised red line. That shouldn’t be there, not unless … you crouched to the ground, snatching the same knife that cut you.

“Iron,” you murmured.

“Still shouldn’t leave a scar,” Fenrys took a step closer, eyeing the weapon.

You twisted the blade in your hand, surprised the guards hadn’t already picked it up. Marks etched into the handle, marks you recognized.

“He was a magic wielder,” you had his full attention now, “it’s not … cursed, but enchanted to leave a scar.”

Your fist white-knuckled around the handle. He meant to mar your daughter.

“Can you let us inside?” Fenrys requested, distracting you from the pure wrath filling every inch of your body. The guards had finished their questioning, some now obviously stationed down the street - another archer joining the previous one.

You willed the magic to bend slightest bit, enough for the two of you to slip inside, before slamming it shut again.

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Fenrys’s voice was insistent. You had a feeling he’d drag you to the ship soon if he had to.

“Aren’t we traveling with you?”

Fenrys nodded, and paused for a moment. “Can you be ready tomorrow by dusk?”

You’d wrapped up the last of the ‘official’ business this morning, intending to give you a week to sort things out at a leisurely pace. But, words were too much right now, everything was too gods-damned much, so you answered with a nod. By tomorrow would be stressful, but doable.

“We’ll leave then. I’ll announce we’re leaving at dawn the day after.” Smart, giving a false departure. “Only us, the captain and the crew will know, and they won’t know who it is until we board,” Fenrys continued - maybe more to reassure himself than you. Part of you wondered why he was going through the effort but … Rowan was his bloodsworn brother, maybe he felt some kind of duty to the two of you.

“How’d you get here so quickly?” You asked the question lingering in the back of your mind.

“I didn’t. I was already on my way.” Fenrys’s mouth opened, and you could read the next word,

“Say sorry and I’ll kick you in the balls.”

He winced, and feigned sealing his mouth shut.

The door slammed open, knocking into the wall, and Ceri sprinted out, silver hair flowing behind her. You braced yourself as she slammed into you, arms wrapping around your stomach.

“I kept Ani calm,” she whispered, squeezing you tighter.

“I’m proud of you,” you ran your non-bloody hand through her hair.

After a few minutes, she released you. Her small hand reached up, and you stayed still as she ran a finger on the scar. “Why would he do that?”

When you hesitated, Ceri turned to Fenrys, as if he might have the answer. Her green eyes nearly bore a hole through his head.

“Sometimes people do bad things and we don’t know why,” he answered slowly, “but everyone’s safe now.”

“What happened to him?” She turned back to you.

“He died,” a small tension left your chest - she hadn’t seen it.

“You killed him?” Her head tilted, no judgment - just curiosity and a desire to gather all of the facts.

“No, I didn’t,” you anticipated the next question, “and neither did he. One of the royal guards did.”

Ceri mumbled something suspiciously like; I wish I killed him, and grabbed your hand - dragging you back inside. You shot an alarmed glance at Fenrys, whose mouth curved up at the corners. Seven years old, and already bloodthirsty. Maybe you should’ve questioned what kind of bed-time story Rowan told.

“Just like her father,” he murmured, quiet enough only you heard.

An inelegant snort left you, “I was thinking the same thing.”

Reya’s eyes scanned you from top to bottom, and you were aware of the blood staining your skin and clothes.

“Ceri,” she called, gaining her attention, “can you help me run a bath for your mother?” She looked at you for permission, you forced a soft smile, watching her take off after your friend, Ani’s dark hair flashing as well, never one to be left out.

“Are you going to insist on spending the night?” You didn’t look at him.

An edged chuckle, “I'm afraid I will.”

“Males,” you muttered under your breath, but shot him a grateful smile. Another set of eyes, another person to watch out for Ceri. Not that you’d get any sleep tonight. Reya returned a minute later, shoving a bundle of clothes in your hands, ushering you off towards the bathing room.

Ceri was proud of the rose scents she’d chosen. Once, you’d loved Lilac - but you shedded that when you left Wendlyn. It hadn’t felt right anymore, it felt like an old version of you. The female left behind. Plus, it made you nauseous during your pregnancy.

Fenrys didn’t leave for the rest of the night, entertaining the girls as you and Reya cooked, helping with the dishes, a perfect guest. Even with a spare room available, he insisted he’d crash on the couch closest to the door. He didn’t comment as you exited your room each hour, traveling past the sitting room to peek into where Ani and Ceri slept, both sound asleep.

You caught maybe two or three hours of sleep total, but pure adrenaline kept you going the next morning. It spurred you and Reya into near-frantic packing, listening to Fenrys’s request to stay put when he left for a few hours. One small trunk each, plus one extra for books - your personal ones and school books. Everything else ended up in the attic, sealed off by magic. The tears stayed at bay as you deactivated the wards, dropping off the keys to Reya’s sister - who was informed less than an hour before, and vowed herself to secrecy. Everything about this felt so … cloak and dagger. Ceri and Ani viewed it as some grand adventure, but you and Reya were tense, entire bodies taut with nerves.

With twenty minutes to go, you closed the door to the bathroom, hands bracing on the counter. An angry red scar ran diagonally across your cheek, still slightly lifted from your skin. If you adjusted your hair, just a bit, it mostly cloaked it from sight. Another permanent reminder.

A nondescript carriage, made less discreet by armed guards, picked up the five of you just after sunset and took the long way through the city. It gave you a chance to see everything gaze through the window, making out a few details by moonlight. There’s no telling how long it would be before you see it again. Maybe a year, maybe a decade, but one day you’d at least come back to visit.

Not a permanent goodbye.

Fenrys ushered you onto the ship, joined by a few others you didn’t recognize. Soldiers, disguised as courtiers. Or maybe soldiers turned courtiers.

“Did you send word ahead?” You murmured, the captain directing you to a spot still on deck, but out of the way. The girls bounced with excitement, barely managing to keep themselves still.

“No sense in it,” Fenrys countered, “we’re on the fastest ship available. It would probably get there after us.”

You learned quickly what fastest meant. Magic wielders were on board, the ‘soldier-courtiers.’

Most of the first day was spent holding back Reya and Ani’s hair, convincing them to take some of the nausea tonic you’d brought with you.

The second day, Fenrys showed Ani and Ceri some more advanced self-defense.

The third day, the girls had convinced the sailors to tell them stories.

The fourth, you rolled dice and made bets - Fenrys sharing his liquor with you.

The fifth, you thought you might lose your mind of boredom - until Fenrys dragged you out to see how much self defense you knew. According to him - better than expected. He quickly added a ‘not surprising,’ considering who your father was. That particular detail, you usually forgot about - or tried to.

The next several days passed in similar fashion, interrupted on day eight by Ceri trying desperately to convince you to shift to your animal form - then to teach her to shift to her animal form. It’s too dangerous at sea, you told her. When it didn’t work with you - she moved to Fenrys, who repeated your words, adding that she needed to be a bit older. After that, she gave up, thank the Gods. The last thing you need is to rescue an adolescent bird from the water.

On day twenty, you spotted land. The first look at Terrasen. Mountains, still snow-capped in the summer, green forest, a small city. Illium, according to the maps you’d acquired. Then, you’d cut into the Florine river, taking you right to Orynth. Where you’d reconnect with Rowan and Aelin, and figure out what comes next.

According to Fenrys, it’s normally a two week journey, but they dragged it out enough that the five of you would arrive closer to the expected time, after the rest of their court did. He declined to inform you of that until a few days before.

“Will they know we’re coming?” You asked, propped up against crates, Fenrys stretched out next to you, tan face tilted up towards the sun, Reya on your other side, Ceri and Ani a few paces away, playing a card game they learned the night before.

A genuine friendship had formed between the three of you over the last few weeks. Fenrys could’ve easily ignored you, but instead he sought out both of your company. The girls attached to him as well, eagerly taking in all of his lessons, pestering him with questions about Terrasen, all of which he answered patiently and thoroughly.

“Depends,” he turned to shoot a lazy grin at the two of you, “on how much chaos Aelin decides to cause. It’s been a while since she surprised anyone, I wouldn’t be shocked if she convinced Rowan to keep it a secret.”

Gods, you tilted your head back this time, letting it rest against the top of the crate. There’s a chance you’d arrive to Orynth, the entire court with no fucking idea who you were, who Ceri was. It had the potential to be incredibly awkward, or hilarious. You refused to stress over it, it was out of your hands for now.

Their court gathered to discuss the results of their visit to the southern continent, as planned, arriving earlier that afternoon. The scouts reported the ship carrying Fenrys and company would arrive tomorrow after dusk - perfect timing for a discreet entry. But … two days early. That unsettled both her and Rowan. There wasn’t a good reason for them to arrive early, especially without any kind of notice. Although, with the crew they had - any notice sent would likely arrive after them. Instincts told her something went wrong, and she saw it echoed in Rowan’s face. They tabled it for later. There wasn’t anything they could do until they saw them. Until they had a chance to launch questions at Fenrys.

Aelin wouldn’t call it a fight, but she’d argued with Rowan over whether or not to tell their court about their surprise.

“At least before they arrive, Fireheart,” Rowan sounded exasperated.

“At breakfast, then,” she wound her arms around his neck, tilting her head up to grin at him. Tomorrow, they’d be here, and she was looking forward to your company. Aelin thought she might feel jealous of the connection you shared with Rowan through Ceri, but she didn’t. Instead, she wanted to be your friend - there was something soothing about your company, and she saw why Rowan grew … close to you. Even before she met the two of you, he’d been upfront about how you traced the line between friends and lovers, how you both knew it was a temporary arrangement.

Her mind tried to tell her it was wrong that she felt this comfortable with Rowan being near an ex-lover, that her Fae instincts should be rearing with territorial jealousy. Thankfully they weren’t - otherwise it could make their current situation very difficult.

“Should I be the one to make the announcement?” Rowan pressed a kiss to her hair.

“I’m much better at them,” Aelin gave a smile, honeyed with false innocence.

“You’ve given us enough surprises for a lifetime,” he muttered - but she knew he’d follow her lead. As much as he denied it, Rowan didn’t mind shaking everything up once in a while.

“Evangeline will be excited,” she pressed up on her toes, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“She’s much older,” he murmured.

“I imagine she’ll take them under her wing.” Aelin pulled back to watch Rowan’s face. Nervous, her mate was nervous, one of the few times she’d seen him like that. It was oddly endearing. She was nervous too, of course, but it was … refreshing to be nervous over something not quite life and death.

She decided now was the wrong time to remind him they’d be able to explore different parts of Terrasen - to decide where they’d want to live after Ceri’s ‘trial.’ If they stayed in Terrasen.

Rowan sensed her shift in mood, and tilted her chin up to look at her. “It’ll be fine.” Aelin forced air in and out of her lungs, and nodded.

“Bed,” he muttered, and tugged her off towards their room.

“What is it?” Aedion sat down his glass, looking between Rowan and Aelin. Rowan kept his mouth shut, sending a pointed look at Aelin. She wanted to make the announcement, she could do it. “Please tell me you’re not planning something,” Aedion groaned.

“It wasn’t planned,” Rowan muttered before he could stop himself.

Aelin’s foot stomped on his insole, and he pinched her thigh under the table.

Aelin propped her forearms on the oak wood, and everyone’s attention turned to her. Their entire court was here - minus Fenrys. Ren, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, Elide, and Lorcan - who wouldn’t let Elide go anywhere alone.

“We have some guests arriving with Fenrys.”

“Who?” Lysandra asked, lifting a glass of water to her lips.

Fuck it, Rowan could say this for himself..

“While we were in Antica, I ran into an old … friend,” Lorcan’s eyes dug a hole into his skull, and he avoided his former commander’s gaze. “I have a seven year old daughter.”

Lysandra yelped and shot back as Aedion spewed water across the table, Elide’s eyes were wide, Lorcan looked contemplative, Ren and Elide blinked several times, Evangeline - as Aelin expected, looked thrilled.

“Ceri, Rowan’s daughter, her mother - y/n, her friend Reya, and her daughter Ani will arrive this evening,” Aelin cut in. Rowan caught Lorcan’s gaze as soon as Aelin said your name. Dark eyes flashed in recognition. Interesting.

Aelin continued to explain the deal they’d come to. His wife even asked if they’d be willing to let the group explore living in their respective lands, conveniently mentioning some of your skill sets and how you’d been open to working here.

“Gods, Aelin.” Aedion sighed at the end. “And Rowan,” he added, ignoring his glare. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

Still, he had a contemplative look on his face. You’d done the same thing his mother had - to protect his daughter from Maeve. A silent understanding passed through them, that Rowan was getting the chance Gavriel didn’t, that he’d honor it.

“How did she go … undiscovered, in Antica this long?” Ren asked cautiously.

“Well, Sartaq suspected there was a Whitethorn relative living in the city, but as Fenrys said,” Aelin ignored the elbow he discreetly jabbed into her side, “Rowan has an army of cousins - there were plenty of possible sire’s.” That drew a few chuckles and eye rolls.

“She wasn’t going to tell you?” Elide pushed.

“We don’t know.” Aelin said honestly. It was luck … or fate, that he ran into you during that trip. He had a feeling your paths would’ve crossed eventually, but the timeline was pushed up.

“I’m surprised she agreed that quickly,” Lorcan said.

“It wasn’t safe in Antica, anymore. There were already people gathering outside their home.”

“It won’t be completely safe anywhere.” Lysandra replied, “but it’s safer here.”

“Considering who her father was, I imagine she can handle herself,” Lorcan drawled. Aelin’s brow furrowed, and Rowan frowned. He hadn’t shared that, it hadn’t really struck him as particularly important.

“Are you going to explain?” Elide pinned him with a look, and Lorcan - firmly on her leash, kept talking.

“Her father was a skilled warrior. He mated to a demi-Fae from Antica, met while visiting Varese, and finished out his military service not long after,” Lorcan said, adding “he declined the blood oath for centuries, eventually Maeve gave up on him,” as an afterthought.

“Was?” Elide asked quietly.

Lorcan looked at Rowan, almost asking for permission to share this part of your story - or giving him the chance to. He wondered how Lorcan knew, when it took him a lot of convincing to find out.

“Her parents died when she was young,” he made a point to meet each of their eyes. “Don’t push her about it.” His warning tone was enough that nobody, even Aelin, pushed the question further.

Rowan remembered enough to know how you locked up at any mention of their lives and deaths, how it took a decent amount of liquor to pull any personal details out of you. One night - after you’d had a good amount of particularly strong brew, you spilled.

For some reason, Rowan had a fixation on knowing your story. He wanted to know everything he could about you. A terrifying feeling, but he didn’t see the harm in learning, gathering information was a habit built over centuries. Even if this particular story wasn’t pleasant. If it involved you, he wanted to know. Learning your fathers name surprised him, and as soon as you said it - he didn’t know the story, but knew how it ended.

“They bought me time. There must’ve been nearly three hundred of them - mortal soldiers,” one Fae warrior was as good as a hundred mortal soldiers, but against those odds, against three hundred …

“They hit them both with Iron first, and my mother made me promise to run for the hills - told me if I came back I would be dead, and then they would win.” Rowan kept his face neutral, but inside he winced. That was a harsh way to put it, but effective. “I made it to the hills, and hid in a tree. But … I could see everything. Eventually, they were overrun. I watched the whole thing. They spiked their heads on our fence posts, but left the house intact. For seven days, they waited to see if someone would come back. I still don’t know why.”

He did, her father had built a reputation, and wiping out his entire family line would’ve been a prize to them. He didn’t tell you that.

“After I was certain they were gone, I buried them, took what I could carry, and left. I’m still not certain what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Maybe twenty were left by the end.”

Rowan knew. Lorcan hunted them down. Made a brutal example out of them. By the time he opened his mouth to tell you, you were already asleep.

“We could use more women - and females, around here,” Lysandra switched the subject with a grin.

“What’s she like?” Evangeline asked.

“We didn’t get to spend much time with her, but we’ll find out.” Aelin answered.

Time. Rowan would take full advantage of every second he could spend with Ceri. He’d missed too much already.

The ship steadily made its way up the river, your eyes glued on the surroundings. Terrasen was … absolutely beautiful and different than anywhere you’d seen before. Snow, that would be new to you. The sun was setting as you approached the city, steady but slow.

“We’re going to arrive after dark,” Fenrys said, arms propped on the railing next to you. “More discreet.”

You hummed in appreciation before your mood sobered. “Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?”

“No need to be so dramatic,” he tutted, nudging you with his shoulder. “But yes, it is.”

With three hours left, you all disappeared below decks to try and make yourself as … not stinky as possible. As you were making the final approach, Fenrys offered you a small flask. Alcohol - but the scent was barely detectable. Could easily be explained as time spent on a ship. You shot him an incredulous look.

“Liquid courage, they won’t scent it on you.” You stared at him for a few moments, where had he gotten that? “If you don’t want it,” he reached a hand towards it, but you snatched it back - tipping a small bit down your throat. Just enough to take the edge off. You wiped the droplets off with the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you handed it back, and watched as he took a drink himself.

“For solidarity,” and something else he wasn’t telling you. You decided it’s not your place to push.

It certainly took the edge off as you pulled up to the docks - a carriage waiting to take you right to the castle. It was a comfortable fit with all of you. The two girls pressed their faces against each window, although with the sun already set - they couldn’t see too much.

You knew they got closer, because Fenrys’s shoulders rolled back, his body tilting forward to look out the window. “A few more minutes,” he said. It felt like an hour, but it likely was less than a twenty minute ride. As you approached, each clop of the horse's feet, each turn of the wheel, each small murmur from a driver, all seemed to thunder in your ears.

“Breathe,” Reya whispered next to you, and you forced air in and out of your lungs. You could do this, it would be fine. Ceri’s excited. For her, you reminded yourself. So she can have a father, so Rowan can be a father. For safety. Everything would work out, and you for her, it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Since you felt her little life growing, you knew there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for her. This is no exception, a bit of discomfort you could survive. You’d adjusted before, and you would again now.

Reya grabbed your hand in her own, for her comfort as much as yours, and the two girls squealed as the gates groaned, the carriage passing through. “A better world for us,” she whispered - so low you barely heard it, but squeezed her hand in reply. A safer place for Fae, a place for Reya to find some peace, new things for your daughters to experience.

A hand thumped on the carriage, and Fenrys swung the door open. You breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You could do this.

#throne of glass fic #rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #throne of glass x reader

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littlebugs · 3 months

Text

saved - chapter one

azriel x reader series

warnings: she/her reader, a little language, short!reader, reader is the archeon's half sister (no race mentioned), fluffy ish, azriel ooc, sfw, not edited oops, azriel has a big wingspan, elain slander i'm sorry i have to rafs bloo notes: this was supposed to be a blurb but i just...spiraled. first time posting a series here BE NICE. also i kind of imagine this charcater with a evie vibe hence the gif (: description: you're half fae, living life on the borders of various courts after your half siblings got dunked in the cauldron. set after acowar, feyre has invited her half-sibling to Velaris to reunite the family. but what happens after a certain shadowsinger takes interest in you?

The night air in Velaris holds a mystic chill as you ascend the multitude of steps leading to Rhysand's townhouse. More like a deathly chill, as you’re not dressed for a trek up the small mountain stationed at what seems to be the highest point of Velaris. Finally making it to the top, you keel over, cursing whatever god decided this what your life.

Despite the weariness, a sense of anticipation lingers, excitement almost. Or maybe you’re catching frostbite and becoming delusional. After a few minutes, you finally reach the top, swearing and actually panting. Before you can gather the energy to knock on the door, it swings open, leaving you surprised.

A tall figure stands in the doorway, the glow of lights inside outlining his broad shoulders. His features, sharp and captivating, come into focus. The eyes, a shade of violet that sparkled with mischief, locked onto yours. Is he tryna rizz me up or-

The tall figure extends a hand, his handsome face framed by windswept hair. "You look like you've just climbed a mountain. Welcome. I'm Rhysand." The sarcasm in his voice is undeniable, but you refrain from sneering. Ripping your eyes away from the High Lord, you notice two more figures emerging from behind him. One, with an easygoing grin and tousled hair, winks at you. The other, with piercing hazel eyes that observe with a quiet intensity, makes no move. They’re all very hot.

Rhysand vaguely gestures toward them, "This is Cassian, and Azriel."

Cassian, the one with the easy grin, greets you warmly, and you smile back. Azriel's gaze lingeres, still not making any moves, but stepping aside to allow you to enter. Finally out of this cold ass bit- You hear Rhysand snicker behind you, laughing at an unheard joke. Or maybe you’re the joke. It’s hard to tell.

Only seconds after crossing the threshold, a joyous commotion erupts from deep within the townhouse. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain, a hurricane of brown hair and laughter, rush towards you. Feyre, her vibrant blue-gray eyes lit with happiness, embraces you first. "You made it!" Her hug crushes you, and you swear you hear a rib snap.

Nesta, looking bored, adds, "It's been too long." But you swear you can see a hint of a smile on her lips as she hugs you alongside Feyre. And finally, Elain, looking sort of sickly but better than when she was human, joins the embrace. "I’ve missed you" she says softly, her arms wrapping around you.

The reunion unfolds with laughter and hugs, your sisters laughing and examining you, everything from your hair, to your shoes, and kind of scandalous outfit which Elain pales at.

After they finally get tired of you (you swear a singular tear escaped Nesta’s eye.) Feyre guides you into a sitting room, which is charming and cozy at the same time. Taking a seat on a couch, you find yourself flanked by Feyre and a blonde headed fae, smiling almost too widely at you.

As soon as you turn to look at her, she starts talking. Very fast. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Feyre has told us so much about you!"

You stammer, shocked by her swiftness “Oh, uhm I-”

Rescuing you from introduction, Elain chimes in, from the couch. "This is Mor, Rhys's cousin, and that's Amren, who's…yeah," her face strains at the mention of Amren, as she gestures to a woman sulking in a corner, who looks at you with nothing but disdain in those oddly shiny eyes. Almost.. silver? You quickly look away, trying to avoid her gaze.

As you settle into the space, the blonde, Mor, starts yammering on about some sort of dress. You listen intnetly, until your sister's mate enters the room.

Rhysand, (The most delightful, cunning, handsome High Lord, as Feyre has told you,) takes the seat across from you, his two friends joining him. Almost out of earshot, he quietly leans toward Azriel. "What's going on, Az? You're acting strange."

Azriel, the one who has not said a word to you since you’ve arrived, remains silent, his focus elsewhere. He’s actually very….attractive. Like a greek god, like you would just let him throw you across the room and-

Rhys snorts, distracting you from your train of thought. Almost like he heard what you were thinking. Oh. The blonde on your left quickly distracts you, laughing loudly, as the Cassian lad rants about the quickest way to behead someone, which is just..swell. And all the meanwhile Rhys and Feyre stare at each other giggling. Feyre opens her mouth in shock and Rhys nods, gesturing to you, engaged in silent conversation

Raising your arms up in silent defeat, you get up and walk to what seems to be a kitchen. With no food. Which is just- You nearly jump as Azriel basically appears out of nowhere. He shoots you a seemingly uncharacteristic smile as he observes your bemused expression.

"Curious about the kitchen, aren't you?" Azriel's voice, deep and resonant, carries warmth. Very at odds at how he looked at you like you were some sort of demon five minutes ago.

You nod, very confused with the switch up, and lack of any food, while drinking in his appearance. His hair, dark and tousled, frames a face chiseled with handsome features. Hazel eyes, deep and mysterious, hold intensity that make you never want to look away. Why he kinda… Feyre and Rhysand start laughing again, and you feel yourself getting flustered.

"Is there something I'm missing?" You ask, gesturing to the seemingly empty kitchen.

Azriel leans against the counter, looking oddly casual. He crosses his muscular arms across his chest in a way that makes you shiver, and continues "In this house, you don't find the food. You just..think of it."

Confusion lifts from your face as Azriel just…thinks. In an instant, the kitchen responds. A tall glass of water appearing in front of him automatically, as if the room itself is eager to please.

You can't help but marvel, "That's incredible." You look at him, but to meet his eyes you have to physically tilt your head, and as he loos down at you, the height difference is obvious.

With a stretches flex of his arms, his impressive wings unfold gracefully, each membrane extending with a mesmerizing precision. As the Illyrian basically flexes, the intricate webbing catches the light, with wings that are far bigger than the ones you saw on Rhysand at the door.

From the living room, a conversation commences "What is Azriel doing?" Cassian whispers, smirking slightly. Rhysand, clueless himself, raises an eyebrow.

As you borderline gape, you catch Elain's gaze intensifying, frustration apparent in her expression. You can only wonder, why as Cassian blurts out from the other room "Well, someone's feeling extra dramatic today."

You look over to Rhysand, leaning back with a sly smile adding, "I didn't know our shadowsinger had a flair for the theatrical."

Azriel, with a casual shrug, replies, "Just felt like stretching my wings a bit."

Breaking the heavy silence that fell over the group, Mor finally breaks into laughter. "Well, well, Az. I never thought I'd see the day. What's next, a dance number?"

The group laughs, but seeing Elain’s pointed stare, you make your way back to the sitting room, leaving the Illyrian in the kitchen, unbeknownst to you, disappointed.

______________________

As the night deepens, members of the once noisy dinner party leave one by one, leaving the town home quieter than it was. With only the three Illyrians and the blonde (whose name you keep forgetting) you head towards the stairs, bidding them good night.

Your ascent to the second floor brings you to an opened door at the end of the hallway adorned with what you expect are Night Court aesthetics – moonlit tapestries, celestial motifs, and the faint scent of jasmine lingering in the air. You breathe in, and slowly sit down on your bed, trying to get the hazel eyes and mysterious shadows out of your head.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Azriel stands abruptly, and not so discreetly follows you upstairs. Cassian and Rhysand, left in the living room, exchange bemused glances

Rhysand, eyebrows raised in silent query, looks to Cassian for an explanation. Cassian, shrugging with an amused grin, whispers, "Beats me. Maybe our shadowsinger has a sudden interest in beauty rest."

Intrigued and sensing unspoken mystery, Rhysand and Cassian exchange conspiratorial glances. With shared nods, they decide to venture upstairs, their footsteps quiet as shadows against the Night Court's nocturnal melody.

Back in your room, you find comfort in the surroundings of your room. Moonlight filters through the window, casting a soft glow on the elegant furnishings. Deciding to settle in for the night, you slip into a set of…you could barely call them pajamas, more like scraps of silk, and stretch your arms, sighing faintly.

A soft knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. You secretly hope for a certain shadowsinger as you trudge towards the door. Opening it, you silently rejoice to the cauldron as Azriel stands there, his typical shadowed demeanor now softened by an unusual glint in his eyes.

"Mind if I come in?" he asks, breaking the silence.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #inner circle x reader #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel spymaster x you #azriel fluff

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fleurriee · 8 months

Text

— love and life ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; yourself and neteyam had managed to keep your relationship a secret for a short while by your request. but there was always going to be a time when the truth had to come out.

word count ; 7.1k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings ; kissing, overprotective father, use of y/n...

author’s note ; god i have no idea how i feel about this chapter. it’s kinda choppy & a little all over the place, but i did enjoy writing it & i love my little loves so much <33 tysmmm for reading this series,, kinda sad that it’s over, but, i will but posting little tid bits of them every now and again, so make sure to look out for them!!

previous part

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That particular moment had been playing in the back of your head like a home movie for weeks now, on a continuous loop until you were sure you could memorise every small detail about it. Because, from that moment on, you and Neteyam had… something going on.

When he’d asked you about trying something out together, going at a slow and comfortable pace for your benefit, but allowing the two of you to experience some sort of relationship together - it was all so surreal.

Sometimes, you catch yourself thinking back to the time when they’d first arrived in your home, and your eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards him. He was like a magnet, one you were drawn towards, his ethereal energy catching on to each of your senses and never letting go. Maybe you should’ve realised from that day that you had felt something for the outsider, even if it was just a little crush.

Even now, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that you felt for him - all you knew was that it was completely loving, nerve-wracking and all-encompassing… and, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Not when it came to Neteyam Sully.

Of course, with such a big change to your routine of life, came the obvious consequences. When you both feared such a loving feeling, and sought it out at the same time, there was truly no way to hide how you were feeling. Maybe it was because you wear your emotions more on your sleeve than you’d realised, or maybe certain people just know you a little too well.

Suffice to say, Tsireya was the first one to notice.

Sure, you’d been acting a little funnier or weirder than normal, but you didn’t think anyone would take too much notice in that. After all, no one really considered you to act in the ‘normal’ sense for a typical Na’vi anyway.

Alas, when Tsireya had cornered you one evening, coming to her senses after watching over you and picking out subtle things over the past few days, she’d questioned you - she’d asked you if anything was wrong, what was going on with the way you were acting.

At first, you were ready to deny everything, but she hadn’t exactly accused you of anything, had she? And, when you attempted to respond some form of normality to her, the only thing that left your mouth was stumbled words and incoherent mumbles. Even if you weren’t going to attempt to lie to her just for your own piece of mind, you didn't know what the truth was, still slightly unsure yourself.

But, Tsireya being Tsireya, someone who had grown up with you practically since day one, side to side and hip to hip, through every up and down that you experienced together, noticed the blush coating your cheeks and the way you couldn’t get a proper word out, and she knew instantly.

“Is it him?” Her question had come out with a slight tease to it, a subtle smirk upon her lips, but still, her words were gentle and soothing, not wanting to scare you off for thinking anything else.

Your rambling had stopped instantaneously, head shooting up to her in shock, mouth hung slightly agape as you were at a lost for words. Maybe you had an idea how you were easy to read… but, you didn’t think you were that easy!

“You two disappeared the other night…” she started, and the blush on your cheeks only went darker, looking down at your lap. “Was he good to you - was he nice?”

Slight confusion grew within you at her seemingly random questions, unsure as to why she was asking you these specific ones. Nevertheless, with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, trying to will the blush to disappear from your cheeks, you nodded in response.

She sighed. “Then let yourself fall in love with him, y/n…”

In an instant, everything blows wide - your eyes, your mouth, your mind. You could feel your ears perking up astonishingly at her words, repeating them within your brain in order to properly have a grasp on them and understand them. But, despite your shocked and intimidated expression, the one thing that truly gave you away was something you couldn’t control - your tail. It flickers back and forth in excitement the moment you comprehend Tsireya’s words, and you couldn’t get it to stop.

Still, you’re adamant. “No,” you deny, shaking your head, “no, ‘reya, it’s not-”

“It is,” she cut you off, a gentle hand placing itself down upon one of your crossed legs and gently rubbing her thumb along the skin there. She’d always been good at calming you down and bringing you back to the ground. “I can see it from here, and Neteyam’s not even near us right now…” Despite the loving gestures and gentle words, she sighs when she notices the unfortunate forlorn expression upon your features, nerves on show and not leaving anytime soon. At the sight, she shuffles herself closer to your figure, embracing you warmly like she knows always works, her arm snug around you. “You said it yourself - he’s nice. From what I’ve seen, he’s a gentleman - he won’t hurt you. And, I know it can be scary, but it can also be exciting and beautiful and magical.” With one last soft squeeze against her, she speaks with the upmost seriousness you’ve seen within her. “Let yourself fall in love with him, y/n.”

And, you did.

For the rest of that day, and practically the entire night, you’d thought of nothing but the words your best friend had spoken to you. They replayed themselves over and over for you, continuously causing yourself to question everything you’d ever known. But, in the end, you knew she was right, and you knew you were practically already there anyway. Thankfully, you hadn’t seen Neteyam, which allowed you to attempt to sort your thoughts and feelings out, preparing what you were going to say to him whenever you saw him next without any distractions.

Eventually, when you’d gone back home to your marui that night, you’re parents had picked up on the clouded expression you were holding, too; the way your eyes were slightly glazed over and your mind was clearly too far away to be present with the rest of you. But, they knew better than to question you on it.

There were times when your parents knew it was better to leave you alone and let you deal with it yourself rather than coddle you to open up about whatever was bothering you. They knew you liked to keep your feelings to yourself every now and again - that way, they don’t feel as real as they actually are - and, even though they know it’s not exactly the healthiest for you, sometimes it can end up with bigger consequences if they try and push you.

So, neither of them say anything, rather just sharing a slightly worried look between the two of them as they let you bask in your lingering and overbearing thoughts. Not much else is said that night, the three of you having dinner together, but it’s clear you’re still not entirely there. Maybe you just needed to sleep it off…

Except, the next day, you truly believed you were going to be sick any moment.

Even though you’d spend the entire night thinking this whole thing over, you somehow still felt unprepared, like your next moves were going to cause the end of the world and that would be it for you… even though you’d technically had this conversation with him beforehand. Still, you just wanted to be clear on some things. You couldn’t blame yourself.

When you found him a short distance away, looking out at the water as he watched over his youngest sister, Tuk, splashing about and making tiny waves, your nerves completed skyrocketed. But, these nerves felt both bad and good, and you weren’t entirely sure what to do with that information, because, for the longest time, your nerves had only ever felt like the worst. And, now, here comes Neteyam, strolling into your life, gently grasping a hold on your heart and not wanting to give it back.

You still couldn’t entirely wrap your head around how much had truly changed since the Sully family arrived, and you were sure it was only going to continue to change.

With a deep breath, trying to collect your nerves as the waves tumbled clumsily across the sand, you tried desperately to ignore the nagging thoughts that told you this whole thing was stupid, that he was going to think you were weird and wanted nothing to do with you afterwards, even after all he things beautiful things he’d said that night.

The only thing allowing your mind to drift away from those pessimistic thoughts was the sight of him alone - the way the sun rays shined down upon him, basking him in an ethereal glow; his back carved out like some sort of god as he clapped his hands; his arms flexing with such an exuberant smile upon his lips-

You’d been staring a little too long, and he must’ve felt something upon his back, because the next thing you knew, he was looking straight back at you. Somehow, his smile got even wider, gesturing you over with his head and calling out your name in pure happiness.

Collecting yourself, you gave in to the invisible pull that was attaching itself to the two of you, making your way over. When you got to his side, watching as he cheered for Tuk before turning his attention to you, the flutters in your stomach increased massively, smiling down at you as he continued to tower over you. “You okay?” he questioned, eyes flickering between each of your own as he took in your nervous expression, and the way you wrung your hands out together.

Your brows furrowed, sealing deeply to somehow attempt to compose yourself, your eyes flickered continuously this way and that, trying to find a way out - a reprieve - but nothing happened, one didn’t expose itself to you. You were stuck in this situation - and part of you was glad that you were, because this was something you needed to do, that you wanted to do.

But, before you can even get some sort of word out, you feel the softest, most gentlest finger tap against your clasped hands in front of you. Looking down at the sensation, you spot Neteyam’s outstretched before you, so close to encircling your own.

When your eyes shift back up to his face, you find him already looking deep within your eyes, smiling sweetly at you. “May I?”

You nod, already knowing what he’s asking you - but, even if you didn’t, you were sure you’d still have said yes - and feel as he unclasps your hands to take them smoothly within his own. His hands feel slightly rough and calloused again, like last time, but still, they somehow emit such warmth and beauty.

You want him to hold you forever.

“Take your time,” he assures you, which turns out to be the conformation you needed that allows you to continue with a little more confidence in your systems, allowing you to say what you came here for.

“I know we already spoke about… it,” you start, nodding to yourself slowly, “but, I want to tell you that I am comfortable with… this… trying it out…?” You don’t bother looking at him once, fear beginning to overtake you gradually.

Somehow, you words managed to end in a question, despite it not being one to begin with. You were just unsure yourself, waiting for the moment the beautiful man before you told you what you were saying to him was stupid, because you’d already spoken about this and there was no need to seek him out just to say the same thing again. You couldn’t help it - this was something that was eating away at you, and you needed Neteyam to know that despite your shyness and introverted tendencies, you wanted this as much as he did. It was so important to you for him to truly know this.

But, none of those things you expected to happen did. Because when you looked back up to him, eyes locking into his pooling ones that spoke more than words ever could, he held the same expression as when you’d first seen him that day - sweet, comforting, welcoming.

“I just…” you continued after another deep breath, finding comfort in the way he looked down upon you and mustering up whatever little confidence you held within yourself, “I felt like last time, I hadn’t really said much back to you… it was just nods and nervous smiles and…” you finish by evenly cutting yourself off, cringing at the words that were tumbling out of your mouth before you had a proper chance to fully know what you were saying, and chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as it hung low. The only warmth you felt in that moment was the beautiful feeling of basking in the sensation of Neteyam’s fingers rubbing gently against your hands.

You hear him chuckling above you, too, head shooting up and catching his beautiful smile being targeted solely upon you. It has you feeling weak at the knees, wanting nothing more than to see such a sight for the rest of your life, especially when you were somehow the cause of such an ethereal view.

Neteyam’s quick to reassure you. “That’s okay. I can somehow already tell what you’re feeling without you needing to say anything.” He shrugs at his admittance, the thought of such an idea coating your cheeks a darker shade. Smiling bashfully, he continues. “Maybe it’s because I spend too much of my time admiring you…”

Without even realising such a thing was possible, you blush more harshly once the words tumble from his lips. Instinctively, your head shoots to the ground in an attempt to hide yourself away from him, but it’s obvious he’d already noticed when he laughs softly down at you. Nothing malicious in that sound - just pure love.

“I’m glad you came to tell me again, though,” he begins, his words somehow even softer than they were before, except this time, there isn’t as much teasing involved. “It reassures me that I’m not the only one feeling this way.”

Making sure to keep your gaze focused upon the ground, you nod to him, fangs biting your bottom lip as a smile crawls its way onto your features. You can feel your eyes beginning to crinkle, too, too happy and elevated at the situation you had managed to find yourself in to want to ignore your emotions.

For just a few seconds, there’s nothing around the two of you but soft silence, the crashing of the waves as they cascaded against one another, and faint chattering of those in your clan in the near distance. Maybe you’re the only one out of the two of you that thinks it’s just a tiny bit uncomfortable (because, it’s you, and when is anything not uncomfortable for you?), but you know the both of you are also feeling the comfort provided within it. You know yours is from Neteyam’s presence alone, and you find yourself hoping that he’s feeling the same for you.

After that, you finally decide to hold your head up high again, standing with your back a little straighter as you wish to not come across so sheepish to someone you’ve just bared your heart to. Your lips quirk up subconsciously, one that’s unfortunately a little shaky and small, but it’s full of meaning, all the same.

Ewya, does Neteyam Sully love that smile.

“I’ll, um,” you start, “get going then…” Before you can unclasp your hands from his own, moving further away from him and hiding away to calm your racing heart, he pats them gently like he had beforehand. It’s something you’ve learnt is his subtle way of showing you his feelings for you - he knows you don’t exactly find it comfortable in certain situations where you're put on the spot and feeling vulnerable in front of too many people, and he’d hate himself if he ever made you feel such a way - and, this was exactly his best way to make you feel… like home… appreciated.

“I’ll see you tonight, tahni (star).” His words are so unbelievably soft and gentle, you were sure you heard them wrong. But, when you looked back over at him, noticing the warm and loving expression he held towards you, you knew you couldn’t have been wrong.

The blush comes back to your cheeks full force - although you’re sure it never really left to begin with - and you struggle to fight the huge smile plastered against your lips. Ewya, this boy was doing wonders to your once-shielded heart.

Carefully walking backwards, secretly not wanting to depart from him, your giddy smile helps his focus linger on you, too, and the butterfly sensation you feel ringing within your system every time he’s near doesn’t dissipate - no, it only intensifies.

Whilst the last few days had passed since that particular conversation that had your whole routinely life changing for the better, to say that your heart had never sped so fast in its entirety would be the biggest understatement of the century.

You found yourself spending more time than ever with him, Neteyam always being gentle and just a smidge hesitant with you. He was constantly nervous that he would subconsciously force you to overstep the boundaries you’d set up for yourself, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. You meant the world to him, and he’d protect you at all costs, even from himself.

And, like the true gentleman was, and just like Tsireya had promised you from the very beginning she started to notice something different with you, Neteyam took his time with you, giving you all the space you might’ve needed whenever necessary and allowing you to fall gracefully into step beside him.

He’d decided early on that he’d wait however long you needed for you. He didn’t care if it was weeks, months or years, so long as you were comfortable and his plans were still in place, he’d wait forever.

But, you also found out early on that even the barest things he did towards you still managed to cause your heart to race at a speed that should be worrying, and your cheeks to darken to a shade so unlike your natural colour.

It had originally just started off with looks - whenever the two of you were in a bigger group of friends (something you were slowly getting used to, also, much to your glee and pride), Neteyam’s eyes were seeking you out until they found your own. He’d give you a subtle nod and a reassuring smile, like he was checking in on you and making sure you were okay. It always managed to speak more than words simply ever could.

He’d take cautious steps to move closer to your figure until he standing right beside you, your arms barely brushing against one another with only the faintest of touches, and yet, it still caused your skin to warm up all the same. Neteyam would love the way you reacted to just being near him each and every time, a small chuckle flowing from his lips, looking down at your innocent expression and basking in it entirely, loving the way he could so easily make you blush.

It constantly gave him an incentive to do it more.

After a few doses of those types of interactions, there came the firmer touches - at first, it started off with his usual routine of tapping gently against your hands or your arms to garner your full attention without truly crossing any of your boundaries, before he would hold out his own in front of you.

You adored when he did this, and he knew it, too. Something about it made you feel so much more at ease, considering words were more difficult for you, and if he asked anything with his voice rather than his actions, you truly believed you’d struggle a little more at accepting such a new part of you.

So, whenever he gestured for the two of you to hold hands, to join together as one in a way that was so intimate for you, it made it all the more easier to step forward like this. Comfortably slipping your own into his hold, enveloping together and embracing the warmth that radiated within him - it was awe-inducing for you.

Neteyam would keep his hold loose against your hand, ready to let go just in case you got scared and wanted to retrieve back inside your shell… but, you never did. No, you stuck your ground, wanting to be bold and embrace something that was so beautiful and somehow only for you, enjoying these feelings for once rather than running from them, terrified.

Then, the night before now, the two of you took your relationship one step further, hand in hand as you experienced this beauty together.

Previously, Neteyam had invited you to hang out with him to watch the sun set, when no one else was around, everyone back in their marui’s to sleep off the day’s work. Rather, it was just the two of you, sitting side by side right at the edge of the sand, tips of the waves cascading cooly against your feet, no voices shared between the two of you. It was only the ethereal sounds of nature around you, and your breathing, shared and somehow calmer than you’d anticipated, especially when sitting next to someone new.

But, he wasn’t someone new anymore, was he? No, he was Neteyam Sully - your Neteyam Sully.

For a second, you hadn’t realised just how quiet it had become, though - Neteyam’s breathing had slowed down so completely, you couldn’t even hear it anymore. Beforehand, you were listening out for it, finding solace in the sound that reassures his presence was so close to you - you’d clearly gotten distracted when it’d slipped from your mind.

Turning your head over in his direction, you looked at him with furrowed brows, already being able to tell that something was off with him. But, when you came to face to face with him already gazing solely at you, paired with one of the softest expressions you’d ever witnessed, your heart leaped within its place and up to your throat, careful not to show how much it really affected you.

Still, your features slacken just slightly, partly from nerves and partly from the way he gazes at you. “What is it?”

A smile makes its way automatically upon his face when your soft voice graces his ears, shaking his head and clearly lost within his own thoughts. “Nothing…” he speaks, voice hazy and eyes glazed over, somewhere else completely. “It’s just - you’re so beautiful…”

Heart picking up speed once more - as per usual - you swallow your nerves that had suddenly built up down and smile back him, all giddy and sheepish. You hang your head low subconsciously, basking in his compliment.

Giving you away, your tail started to tap against the sand in excitement, something you knew he picked up on. In your embarrassment, you tried your absolute best to will it to stop and not so obviously give your feelings away, but if anything, in your haste, it only seemed to increase in speed.

Stupid tail.

“Can I-” neteyam cut himself off suddenly, and when you automatically looked back over to him, you noticed nerves were clear in his expression now. Before, you could’ve strongly said that Neteyam didn’t get nervous - simply because he was Neteyam - but he was good at hiding certain emotions like this. You didn’t like that look, either, because if he was nervous, you surely needed to be absolutely terrified.

His eyes gazed over you once again, and they somehow managed to notice every little thing about you - your doe-eyed expression, innocence radiating off of you in blissful waves, expectant of whatever he was going to say next. Even with so much life emanating around him from a new setting by the ocean, the sun setting and the waves crashing - and, still, you were the most beautiful sight there.

Neteyam found his confidence in your beauty, soaking in it and imprinting it to memory. “Would you be okay if I… if I kissed you?”

The question took you aback completely, feeling stumped for words, but that wasn’t exactly anything new. You knew then that the nerves he’d been feeling hadn’t been from wanting to kiss you, but from asking you such a thing - you knew he cared about your boundaries, and asking you had been a big deal to the both of you. If you’d said no, that could’ve changed things between you - shrinking back into your shell and not coming back out for a very long time. He didn’t want to do that to you.

But, he didn’t have anything to worry about. Sure, your breath stuttered for a second, feeling your palms beginning to sweat… but, a much stronger part of you wanted nothing more - you wanted to kiss him, too.

This was so completely new and different to you, you weren’t entirely sure what to do next. How had you gone from someone who had no desire to meet anyone new and interact more than you believed to be necessary… to falling for someone completely different from you and wanting to kiss him?

So much had changed since that day… and, you found yourself loving it.

With a deep breath and a shaky smile, trying to will what you were truly feeling onto your features for once in your life, not wanting to leave him hanging in negative thoughts for much too long, you nodded at him, so slowly he was almost unaware of it. And, he would’ve been, had he not been watching you so intently for any small sign.

Oh, did Neteyam love to admire you.

And, when you agreed to him, your feelings shown to be the same as he felt, it seemed like the whole world glowed brighter around him. Like, Ewya herself was painting you in an ethereal glow and showing Neteyam that you were made completely for him.

He slowly scooted himself closer to you, legs now touching as he faced you direct. The heat of him was scorching you in the best possible way, so close to you now that his breathing was mingling with your own as it stuttered nervously, but neither of you backed away.

You both wanted this as much as the other, and instead, you stayed exactly where you were, allowing Neteyam to take control. You’d never felt safer in someone else’s hands.

Eyes boring into your own, there was another question lingering behind them, waiting for your answer. You could tell what he was asking you - are you definitely sure? - and you knew you’d never been more sure of anything in your life, giving him another a nod, needing him to know everything going on in your mind. And, that was all the confirmation he needed.

Closer and closer, Neteyam brought his face nearer to your own, lips barely an inch apart as you felt them tingle against your own. You closed your eyes as anticipation filtered through you, and the next thing you knew, he was pressing his lips upon yours. It was one of the softest sensations you had ever experienced in any way, shape or form, and you loved it more than anything else.

It wasn’t a quick kiss - it was one he prolonged, wishing to stay in that position until the moment he was taken from this world, the feel of your lips against his so ethereal-feeling. This was your first kiss for each of you, and the both of you were so undeniably glad that nothing else had come in the way of denying you this feeling for the first time.

Eventually, you did have to part, but you automatically kept your eyes closed for another couple of seconds, forgetting about anything else that was solely Neteyam. He was all that was playing on in your mind, the way he felt against you and how you wished to do it more and more and more.

There was a gentle touch against your cheek that brought you out of your reverie, opening your eyes to find Neteyam caressing you lovingly. His eyes were imploring into your own, gazing upon you like he’d never loved anything more… and, he hadn’t.

“I know I said it before…” he began, mind still reeling from the feeling of you against him, “but, you really are so incredibly beautiful, yawne (beloved)…”

Somehow, that kiss had seemingly brought you a little more confidence than you’d ever felt, because the giddy smile upon your lips was also accompanied by a small laugh, one that was albeit slightly louder than your usual soft one.

Both the sight and the sound of you altogether filled Neteyam’s heart whole until it was full to burst, moments away from wearing it on his sleeve and letting you do whatever you wanted to it - because it was yours.

When your laugh trailed off, you looked back over to him, one side of your mouth curled up into a sheepish smile. “I think you are very beautiful, too, ma’teyam.”

Ewya, the way you said his name… It’d be the death of him, he was sure of it.

All of that had occurred a few days ago now, and you had never felt more complete, more safe than when you were with him. So much so, you had even briefly discussed the idea that Neteyam wished to court you, and asked your parents for their permission.

When he’d told first told you such a thing was bouncing around in every corner of his mind, everything else within you had shut down. You were sure you had to have been dreaming, because, whilst you had slowly come to terms with the idea of Neteyam liking someone like yourself, this was a whole other level. This was spending the rest of your lives together, starting a family together, becoming one until there was nothing else but each other. How could he want something so special with you?

But, Neteyam insisted that he was in it for the long run, which was obvious even from where you were standing. When it came to how much he wanted you all for himself and no one else, he knew he had to do this right, in a way you found loving, sentimental and comfortable. And, that meant starting with your parents.

Such an idea started your heart on fire, terrified of coming clean to what had been occupying your mind for a short while now, along with their reactions to you having changed perspectives seemingly so quickly. But, this was you being one step closer to feeling truly happy, to getting what you’d secretly always been looking for - Neteyam. Surely, they’d come to terms with it the way you had.

So, albeit a little begrudgingly, you agreed, Neteyam reassuring you that everything was going to be okay. He told you to leave most of the talking to him, seeing as he’s better with words than you are, and that he’ll handle anything that comes your guys’ way. It seemed as though Neteyam had been secretly preparing for the worst of it all, too.

Even though you reminded yourself of all the assurances Neteyam spoke to you the night before and that very morning, repeating them in your head on a loop and telling yourself to not think so pessimistic when it comes to such a beautiful situation… everything felt as though it’d dissipated completely. The two of you had gathered both of your parents in a marui, and you could only feel as though this was the beginning of the end of the world, bile rising up to the top of your throat and threatening to escape. The only way that worked to calm your heart was by consistently looking back at Neteyam’s somewhat composed figure, standing right beside you and just a step in front, almost like he was shielding you of anything bad coming your way.

How he knew such a thing was on its way, you didn’t know. Neteyam clearly had a better read on people than you did.

“You want to what?” Your father asked, piercing through the now-tense atmosphere after silence lingered between the group of you.

It truly felt like the two of you against the world as each pair of eyes implored into you, digging into your systems until they knew every little secret you held dear to your heart. You subconsciously started to fidget from one foot to the other, fingers thrashing and heart beating relentlessly. This, by far, felt like the worst situation you’d ever been in.

Maybe you should’ve expected something a little like this, but, for once, you wanted your pessimistic thoughts to turn even just slightly optimistic. You knew your parents had no idea about that had been occupying your mind all this time, as you’d been too scared to actually admit anything to them, but you hoped they’d somehow managed to garner some sort of idea. Clearly, they hadn’t.

You wondered if Neteyam’s parents were able to guess this, or whether they’d been told previously. Before you could look over at the two of them, Neteyam’s strong voice spoke up once more. “I wish to court your daughter, sir… to become my mate…” he repeated what’d he said originally, this time a little firmer to ensure each of them understood the seriousness of the request. Still, the words he spoke were a little uncoordinated, but he made sure to stand his ground.

Once the words left his mouth for a second time now, you finally looked over at his own parents, and felt yourself feel all the more reassured at their demeanour. Both of them were relaxed as they watched the two of you ask for something so special, eyes full of love, watching their son fight for everything he wanted.

Subtle smiles graced their features, eyes locked on their eldest son as he showed who he truly was, that he was a man and he was ready for the next chapter in his life. They allowed him to take control of the situation like he clearly wanted to, like he was supposed to do, but, they were ready for the moment when he might’ve needed their help.

As far as you were aware, just from the way they looked down at their son, eyes flickering over to you with a similar look every now and again, they were okay with such a match - happy.

It brought you a little bit more ease… and, then your father spoke up again.

“But, you are…” he started, somewhat hesitantly, like he didn’t want to say what he was about to because it wasn’t in his nature. Yet, when it came to his only daughter, your father would do anything for what was best for you. He sighed in defeat, shaking his head before his eyes moved over to your figure, speaking solely to you, now. “Y/n, he is not Metkayina. When I said I wanted you to meet new people - a mate - I was hoping you would choose one of us.”

Brows furrowed, heart dropping in your stomach at his words, you couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing from him. This wasn’t like your father at all. Yes, all he’d ever wanted was for you to get out there a little more, talk to more people in the clan and make more friends than mainly just Tsireya, and eventually even a mate. And, for the longest time, you’d always pictured that person being Metkayina, and he had, too, clearly… but, everything changed the moment outsiders turned up on your shores seeking help.

What you didn’t understand was that, despite whatever hypocrisy he was thinking at that moment, your father had been the one to urge you into talking to the newcomers, to the Sully’s. He’d reassured you that this was an opportunity you simply couldn’t pass up, to help them learn your ways and become one of you. Now, he was suddenly going back on every he’d said? Now, they could never be considered one of us all because one had taken a liking to his daughter?

It didn’t make sense to you, and you supposed it never would, not until you had your own children. Even then, maybe it still wouldn’t, because you’d be a mother, not a father.

And, your thoughts were clear when your mother spoke up in your defence. “Munxta (mate),” she soothes, voice calming as she places a hand against your father’s chest, “this is her decision - if she wishes to-”

“She doesn’t know what she wishes,” your father cut her off, voice just a little harsher than he’d probably intended, “if he was Metkayina-”

“He’s learning,” Jake interrupted, Neytiri biting back a hiss at the insult of her son, “he will become one of the people-”

“When? When will he become one of the people? I cannot allow my daughter to-”

You’d had enough of this. This was supposed to be a moment remembered as one of purity and happiness shared between two families becoming one through their children. And, yet, here you all were, arguing with one another because their children had managed to fall in love and whilst some were happy with it, others weren’t, simply because they were different than what they’d been expecting.

You’d had enough.

“Father, I’m of age,” you speak up for the first time in that moment. Your voice was firmer and louder than your parents had ever heard it, needing to get your point across - this seemed like the only way. It wasn’t like you wanted to snap at them, but, if they couldn’t see what you felt for Neteyam and how much he meant to you, they left you with no other choice. “I want this…” your eyes subconsciously trail over to Neteyam, noticing how his once dejected expression from your father’s words brightened at your own. “I want him…”

Silence was palpable around the six of you, each and every one of them watching the way your features softened so gracefully whenever your eyes landed on Neteyam, and how he felt much more at ease with you around when defending what he loved the most. None of them could deny that this match was something Ewya had crafted herself, not even your father…

He sighed loudly, everyone else listening in and waiting for what he was going to say next. After all, he was the only one who didn’t immediately seem to approve. But, he was your father, and no one would ever be good enough for his little girl. “Do you truly want this?” He questioned, holding up his hand when you went to respond and reaffirming his words. “I don’t want you saying this just because I told you to make friends with them, and you feel as though you need to-”

“I do, sempu (father),” you implore, smiling at him with all the love you’ve ever held for him, for everything he’s ever done for you, helping you out and shaping you into the woman you are today. “I’ve… I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

Clearly, he could see everything you weren’t saying out loud in your very gaze, the way this meant the world to you, and would mean so much more with his approval.

He had to remind himself that you’d always be his little girl, that no matter how old you got, how big your family became, how much you fell in love with Neteyam, he was always the first man in your life, and he’d always be the one you went back to should you need someone to rest against.

Even if that meant your mate wouldn’t be Metkayina.

“Fine,” he sighed, nodding with purse lips, before settling on Neteyam. “You have my permission.”

A collective breath of relief fell from everyone’s shoulders at his decision, knowing that his last word was clearly the most authoritative one here. Your smile grew brighter, elevated by what had just transpired around you, that you were now officially being courted by someone you could’ve only imagined meeting in your dreams. And, when your father watched you looked blissfully over to Neteyam, hearts in both of your eyes, he was seeing someone who he’d been dying to meet for so long now; a woman who’d grown up so beautifully in such a short space of time - and, he knew he had Neteyam to thank for that.

From your other side, steps were heard next to you, turning away from Neteyam and meeting his mother directly in front of you. She briefly placed her hand against your shoulder, before placing her other one against your cheek. Neytiri gazed lovingly at you like your mother always did, the sight making your heart full. Bringing the hand that was once on your shoulder away, she brought it up to her head and signed an I see you greeting. “I see you, ma’eveng (my daughter),” she spoke, every action and word full of motherly love. It made you feel so utterly accepted.

Her words (more so, what she’d called you) caused a blush to rise against your cheeks, the firm and seriousness of the situation finally beginning to settle into you. But, as you looked around at the people near you, your family - Jake, standing a little behind Neytiri as he nodded proudly at his son; your father, a begrudging tilt of his lips sent your way; your mother, beaming as bright as the sun as she felt the happiest she’d ever been to see her daughter become a woman with a future mate; and, Neteyam, looking down at you like you were a star in the night sky, like you were the most beautiful, most brightest thing he’d ever lay his eyes upon, never wanting to look at anything else ever again, because nothing else could compare to you - you knew you’d made the right decision to listen to Tsireya all that time ago, forcing you into the Sully’s company.

You supposed you’d have to go and thank her for everything at some point.

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la-petite-lapin · 14 days

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Double the Love | Part Eight

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.1k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, excessive swearing, mentions of sexually explicit content, self doubt, OC has anxiety, poor communication, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is (once again) bad at feelings

The morning after

The next morning, John calls.

Simon and Johnny have left to get some food shopping in, allowing me some much needed time to decompress. I woke up this morning feeling... I don't know. Conflicted. Confused. Like the consequences of getting myself into this - whatever this is - are finally starting to land.

"Hey, Tali," John says softly, and I can hear voices talking in the background. A woman, not Marcella, and a man who sounds fairly pissed off. It takes me a minute to recognise that it belongs to Gaz. "How are things on your end?"

I blow out a long breath. "Everything's okay."

There's a pause. A long pause. An I-know-that's-bullshit kind of one. "Talia, come on. It's me you're talking to." When I don't immediately spill my guts, he adds, "If you won't tell me what's playing on your mind, at least talk to Winslow. Marcella, even. Or, if it's something that the boys have done, try and talk to them about it. They're far more understanding than they look."

My heart stutters in my chest. That's part of the problem. And, to add to that, I don't even know what's wrong.

In the past few days, I've gone from not wanting any sort of relationship at all, to wanting nothing more than to have both of them tell me that they want me. Not even that they love me - God knows that it's far too soon for anything that serious - but something. Any sign that last night was more meaningful to them than a couple hours of mindless fun with a brand-new toy.

But I don't know how to ask. And I don't kind I'm strong enough to handle the inevitable rejection. Not when I've grown to consider them as friends.

"I would... if there was something wrong," I grumble back. My eyes flicker around the empty apartment/ Maybe having some more company around would be a good distraction. "Can you and Kyle come over again, please?"

I can hear the smile in John's voice as he replies. "We're a little busy at the moment, but I'm sure we can sort something out for the weekend. We could watch some more of those God-awful military movies Gaz likes to rip apart."

I snort out a laugh. "Perfect."

We say our goodbyes and John hangs up, muttering something about an 'incident' that he needs to deal with. But, before I can put my phone down, I catch a glimpse of a missed call and a text message from Winslow, all while I was on the call with John.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Call me xx

I'm calling her number before I can even think about it, a sense of panic gripping my chest as I raise the phone to my ear. What if she'd been in an accident? What if she was hurt? Stuck somewhere in a foreign country with no way of me getting to her...?

"Hey, honey," Winnie says immediately, answering on the third ring. Her voice soothes my frayed nerves, so much so that I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just hearing her makes me feel lighter than I have all day.

"I'm so happy to hear your voice." It's only been a matter of days since we last spoke on the phone, but it feels like it was a lifetime ago somehow. Thank God she only has two weeks of her France trip left before she's back home again. "How's Paris?"

Winnie lets out a breathy laugh. "It's been... interesting to say the least. But it's part of the reason why I called." The cold feeling of realisation slides in as she elaborates, "It looks like I might have to stay a little while longer. Just while I help them sort some stuff out and tidy up some loose ends."

My heart seizes at the vagueness of 'a little while longer'. "Okay. How long is that looking?"

"Um... maybe an extra week."

"Oh." It's the only word I can think of.

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry, Tali," Winnie says, and I can hear the genuine sadness in her voice. "I'll be back in time for Alex's birthday though, I promise."

My gaze trails across to the calendar hanging up beside the kitchen. Just under a month. In four weeks, he would have turned thirty.

We would have thrown a big party; which would have pissed Alex off to no end. He would've grumbled about it for months, complaining that he's a private person, which is just a code word for boring, but secretly loving that I'd gone to the effort. Just like his twenty-first.

My heart aching in my chest, I say, "It's okay, Win. You've got to do what you've got to do, and I have the guys here to keep me company." There's a beat of silence, so I follow it up with, "And I'm going back to work, which I've strangely missed."

We both laugh at that.

"Anyway, how've you been?" I can hear Winnie settling in on the other end of the line. I find it more amusing than I care to admit that she's still so invested in what's going on back here while she's living it up overseas. Despite it being a work trip, I've seen her Instagram posts. She's thriving over there.

"I've been good. But there is something you might be interested to know."

Winnie giggles. "Oh? Please enlighten me."

A mischievous grin forms on my lips. "I slept with them. Both of them."

There's a long stretch of silence. It's a pause so long that, for a minute, I think the call might have dropped.

"Winnie? You still there?"

She coughs, spluttering for a second. "Still here. Just stunned into silence because... wow! You really did it? With both of them? How did that even work? What was it like? I have so many questions, Tali! You can't just drop a bomb like that than and not expect me to have questions!"

A laugh slips past my lips, dissolving into a burst of laughter. "It was something new. But it was fun. They didn't take everything all serious and alpha like some guys probably would. They made it fun, we laughed about stuff, and the aftercare was perfect."

"10 out of 10 would recommend then?"

"I would," I reply, letting myself smile. Despite all of the conflicted feelings I have about what happens now, it doesn't in any way diminish how unwaveringly happy I feel thinking about last night.

We talk a bit more - mostly about all of the interesting people Winnie has met in Paris, the new places she's seen, and all the restaurants she's tried - before she has to go. We say our goodbyes and I promise to call her in the morning on my way into the office. Not long after, I hear the sound of the spare key turning in the lock, and I look up to see Johnny nudging the front door open.

He's beaming, a broad smile on his face and two overflowing shopping bags in his hands. Simon follows him into the kitchen, carrying the other three. He nods to me on his way past, a black surgical mask covering the lower half of his face.

"Want to help us with the meal plan, princess?" Si calls out from the kitchen.

Huh?

I follow them through into the kitchen to find Johnny leaning over the counter with a piece of paper and a pen, as Simon dutifully unpacks the bags. Johnny takes one glance at the questioning look on my face before offering me one of his most charming smiles. "Me and Si were talking. Did'nae think it's fair for ye to be doing all the cooking, not when ye're going back to work now. And we eat most of it."

A frown forms on my lips. "I didn't complain about it."

Si turns around now. "We know, but we don't think it's right. You do a lot for us already, darlin'. Just let us do something for you."

I try not to blush as I fold my arms across my chest. "Fine. Okay."

Johnny grins. "So, what do ye want on Monday?"

After dinner, we settle in to watch TV in the living room. I fold myself into my armchair, letting Johnny and Simon cuddle up together on the sofa.

It's hard not to keep glancing over at them; even harder to hold back the un-earned feeling of jealousy that keeps nipping at my heart. They're a couple. They're allowed to act lovey-dovey in the privacy of their own home.

Home. Thinking about that makes it even worse. At some point - when all of their army drama blows over - they're going to leave.

Logically, I know that. I know that me, them, and Winnie can't all live in this two-bedroom apartment together, but it still stings. It's irrational, and I know it.

I watch as Simon runs his fingers through Johnny's hair - the Scotsman all but asleep with his head in his partner's lap - as I swallow down the growing resentment. Bitterness coats my tongue, and I swallow thickly.

Simon looks over, because of course he does, with a questioning look of concern. Mask-free, it's all too easy to see his expression now. It almost hurts to look at his face; to know just how beautiful he was.

I shake my head and close my eyes, kicking myself for being so stupid about this.

We're all grown-ups. We agreed to have sex. It was one night.

But then why does my chest burn when I think about them, like someone's trying to squeeze the life out of me?

"You alright, love?"

I nod, my eyes still firmly shut. Why did I do this to myself? Let myself have a taste of the one thing I can't have from them?

"Hey, love," Simon calls again, voice laced with something I can't place. "Open your eyes for me, yeah?"

So, I do. I open my eyes and level him with the blankest expression I can muster. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go for a walk," I say, thankfully giving no hint of my emotions. "I'll be back before midnight."

His hazel eyes harden. "Not on your own you're fucking not."

I wince, but something in my resolve strengthens. "You can't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I'm not telling you what to do," he growls. "I'm saying it's dark out, it's cold as fuck, and I'm not having you out there alone surrounded by a bunch of creeps while I sit in here like a lemon."

We stare at each other for a long, long time.

Uncharacteristically, he breaks the silence first. "Just let me put Johnny in our room and I'll come with you." He nods to the dead-weight of a completely knocked-out Johnny's cheek resting on his muscular thighs.

My temper flares. "I didn't invite you."

I can feel Simon battling his anger from here. I also get the distinct impression that if I was anybody else - other than Johnny - I'd have already received the bollocking of my lifetime for being so damned difficult right now.

"The only way you're leaving this flat tonight, princess, is if I'm with you," he grumbles, hazel eyes dark and unwavering as he pins me with a glare. A glare that tells me Ghost is back. "I'll lock you in your room to keep you safe if I fucking have to."

I match him with a fierce glare of my own. "Why do you fucking care?"

That seems to take him aback. His eyes soften, the harsh line of his mouth pulling down at the corners, making the scars around it all the more apparent. "Of course I care."

"But why?" A hollow laugh slips past my kips and I spring up from my armchair, starting to pace in front of the TV. I'm completely aware that I must look borderline hysterical as I look at him with wild eyes. "I'm just one of the many, many women you two have fucked. Why do you care if I want to go walking at night? If I cook dinner?"

Simon's frown deepens. "That's not what this is. You know that."

"Really?" I gesture wildly to Johnny, who's still blissfully unaware of what's happening. "All night you've been cuddled up, while I've just sat here and... and watched you. Do you know how much that hurts? After last night when you made me feel so fucking included? And now you're back to making me feel like an outsider." The words spill out of their own accord, frantic and rushed as I feel the tears start to roll down my cheeks. A broken-sounding laugh bubbles up from my throat. "I've spent all day telling myself I wouldn't do this because it's so fucking embarrassing. It was one night, and now you're both going to think I'm crazy."

Si stares back at me and the expression on his face is so heartbroken that it hurts. "I... we didn't know you'd see it like that."

My heart cracks in two inside my chest. The tears pour even faster as I glare down at my slipper-covered feet.

How could I be so reckless? I've just ruined everything.

"Tali, can you come here please?"

My eyes trail back to Simon. To his hand patting the tiny space on the sofa beside him - the side not occupied by Johnny, soft snores pouring out of his mouth like cats' purrs. My feet carry me across the room. I slot myself into the gap beside Simon, trying not to let any part of my body touch his. Preparing myself for whatever it's not you, it's us speech that is inevitably coming.

a/n: hey guys! hope you've enjoyed part 8 :) sorry that it ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but it was getting quite long and I try to stick around 2.5k words to make it flow better i'm aiming to have part 9 out by the end of next week, but I won't make any promises just yet <3 - much love, lapetitelapin

#cod #cod fanfic #fanfic #ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #simon riley x reader #double the love #romance #angst

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daddy-dins-girl · 1 month

Text

Playdate - Chapter Eight

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.1k

Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P

Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.

Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.

“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.

The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”

So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.

“Well, what have we here?”

Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.

In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.

And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.

Dave was well and truly fucked.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.

He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.

A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.

“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.

He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.

“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.

“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.

His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.

“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.

“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.

“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”

“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.

“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.

“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.

“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.

“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.

“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.

“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.

“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”

“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.

“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.

Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.

“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.

“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.

“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.

“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.

“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”

“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.

“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.

“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.

“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”

“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.

Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.

He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.

He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.

Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.

Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.

“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.

Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.

Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.

Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?

He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.

Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?

He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.

It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.

Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.

Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.

He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.

He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.

But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.

Dave York was a bad, bad man.

"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Hi"

Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.

He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.

Dave was gone.

Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.

Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.

Dave York has left the group.

Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.

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#pedro pascal cinematic universe #dave york #marcus pike #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike x dave york #marcus pike smut #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

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