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queers-gambit · 2 years

Text

Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses

prompt: when Eddie confesses he wants to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom, you start coughing out flower petals.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 8.8k [got a bit carried away]

note: given ages aren't confirmed in the show, let's establish that Chrissy is 17-18 years old, and Eddie's 19. reader's 18.

warnings: Hanahaki Disease ([Japanese folklore] fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when suffering from one-sided love), cursing, angst, seemingly unrequited love, but things work out! ✅ no spoilers

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease fics: Tears in the Rain Gone with the Sin

Like every other Friday night, you hitched a ride back to his trailer with Eddie as you had nowhere else to be. Well, probably wasn't true as you were a social butterfly with plenty of prospective friends to hang out with, but your favorite place on any given day was always with Eddie.

He was home, he was safety, he was warmth, he was what you needed after either a really bad, or even a really good day.

Eddie had this superpower where he could either turn your bad mood around or he could increase your happiness tenfold. He was next to never upset or angry or frustrated, he was content to vibe in a constant state of "chill".

Your feelings for him might've started around your sophomore year, when he decked Jason Carver in the jaw for making you uncomfortable. Even to this day - it was one of the only times you've seen him angry, and the fact that it was because Jason was flirting with you made your heart lift. It spurred the hate between the two boys, but only solidified your everlasting friendship with Eddie. Yet, you buried these feelings out of fear of rejection, and change - you didn't want things to change.

You liked things where they were.

But it was getting harder to pretend you didn't like your best friend. As if everything he did didn't make you feel silly, stupid, and giddy all at once.

As if those wide, brown, doe eyes didn't make you melt, yet simultaneously make you feel stronger than before. A single look from him could give you enough confidence for a week.

As if his antics, pet names, hand holds, late night cuddle sessions when you were feeling lonely didn't put your stomach in knots but send you heart up to the sky, like if was filled with helium.

However, you were content because you never wanted to lose him. So, you'd suffer through whatever this was if it meant he stayed close. Despite the heaviness in your chest, you continued to pretend nothing was wrong because if Eddie picked up on it, he would surely hound you until you confessed - something you couldn't handle.

So, you curled up beside him in his (stained) bed with your head leaning on his shoulder as his hands distracted themselves by fiddling with the strings on his acoustic guitar while you nursed the joint between your lips. You were content to simply exist with him; be in his presence and listen to his musical talents. Occasionally, your hand would raise the joint to his lips, allowing him to take his own hit and for the peacefulness to prolong.

Things were good - like they've been for the past few years of being "best friends". I mean, yeah, you knew Eddie before the "Jason incident", but you were just a Freshman that only knew the town's Freak from a distance. You had two classes together. Often saw him at lunch. Sometimes gave him notes if he missed class. And ever since that day that he protected you from Jason's creepy moves, you've been thicker than thieves.

Things were quiet in his room outside of the occasional crackling of the joint's end, and his lazy strumming; things were peaceful; things were good.

Until Eddie sighed and leaned back to the wall behind you both, interrupting the simple thoughts in your head.

"What's up?" You asked quietly, turning to ash the joint in the plastic tray on his bedside table. "Huffin' pretty loud over there, pretty boy, I can practically hear you overthinking."

"It's stupid," he chuckled, focusing on the strings beneath his fingertips again. "Don't even think about it."

"I doubt it's nothing," you countered. "C'mon, you tell me any and everything."

"I, uh... I don't know how to tell you this thing, though..."

Now you were curious, "You kill someone?"

"What? No! God!"

"Gotta hide a body?"

"Not this weekend."

Nodding, you asked, "You fuck my mom?"

"Not yet, but can't say it's not on my to-do list," he teased lightly.

"Then I don't know what scenario there could be that you're too scared to tell me," you chuckled, smoking wafting in the thin air between you both, lingering from the lack of circulation. "C'mon, cutie, what's up with you? You don't usually hold back."

He sighed, the strings plucking harshly as he his head flopped back now. "It's just... Have you given any thought to prom?"

"Prom?" You repeated with a small laugh. "Not entirely, I don't know. Why? Thinking of crashing it?"

But he was silent, which made you a little nervous. You sat up and turned to face him head-on, your criss-crossed legs resulting in one knee pressing to his thigh. He looked like he wanted to say something, but a subtle shake from his head assured you that he changed his mind.

"Are you going?" he asked softly instead.

"Um, nobody's asked so I don't know. I'd like to, maybe," you tried to joke. "Why? You offering?"

He chuckled lowly, "Uh, well, I would be, if..."

"If?"

He gulped, "You know Chrissy?"

Of course you knew Chrissy Cunningham, who didn't? You didn't live under a rock, for God's sake. She was the designated 'it girl' of Hawkins, the 'queen' as people dubbed her - a sweet girl who was captain of the cheer squad that had an impeccable smile. Adorable strawberry blonde hair. A petite body, sweet voice, and of course, she'd been Eddie's crush since middle school. Yeah, you knew Chrissy Cunningham.

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding slowly. "What about her?"

"Well, I uh... I was thinking of asking her to prom. You know, before we graduate and get the fuck out of this town... Thought maybe I'd try my hand, you know? See if... See if something could finally happen."

You swear your ears started ringing because no way you heard him correctly, right? No way he was telling you he was going to ask Chrissy Cunningham to prom - no way. There wasn't any way. After all, the plan since about a year ago was that you would go together pending no other offers. No way the guy you've been in-love with for fucking YEARS was telling you he wanted to ask someone else.

And Eddie didn't know, but about 8 different guys had already asked you but you didn't want to go with them. You wanted Eddie to ask you - you wanted to spend a night of teenage normalcy with your best friend, and maybe get the chance to confess your feelings for him on the dance floor. Maybe you'd dress to match. Maybe he'd even get you a corsage - but Eddie wasn't the type.

So, why was he thinking about asking Chrissy? High school thriving Chrissy? Who would definitely want the stereotypical high school experience? Like - prom with a pretty dress, lots of laughter, her date giving her a corsage as her mom snapped pictures.

She would want all that, right? Would Eddie be the right date to give it to her?

You were honestly shocked he wanted to even go due to the idea that anything socially conforming was out of bounds for him. And when you made that pact, it was mostly out of a joke but you had hoped this whole time he was being serious. And he was being serious about prom, but not with you...

"Sweetheart?" Eddie asked softly, his brows now furrowed in concentration. "You okay? You look a little shaky."

Instantly, you nodded. "Yeah, totally, just, um... Just remembered I have this huge essay due Monday, yeah, uh-huh, yep. I should probably get started on it." Eddie's brows now fully crinkled as you jerked your leg away from his when his hand moved to lay on it, turning and instantly finding your belongings scattered around the floor of his bedroom. "Um, yeah, so, as for prom and Chrissy - I think it's cute. You should ask her, she'd be stupid to say no."

Eddie watched you tug your shoes on in haste, sitting up, "Hey, slow down, speed racer, I'll drive you - "

"No, it's cool," you assured swiftly, tugging your jacket on to combat the chill of the spring night. "I need the exercise."

Eddie scoffed, "I'm not letting you walk."

"I don't want a ride, Eddie," your voice took on an uncharacteristic hardened tick, something you've never had to use with Eddie. But you couldn't help it, your chest was caving in and lungs burning the longer you stayed there. "I just wanna walk for a bit, clear my head before homework, okay?"

He nodded slowly, "You sure, doll?"

"Positive."

Eddie frowned when your bag was tugged up your shoulder, turning from his room and jumping when he called, "Wait!"

Praying to God he was going to tell you he changed his mind and he wanted to ask you to prom - not Chrissy - you turned to look back to him. But he only pouted, "Don't leave without sayin' goodbye, sweetheart, c'mere."

Fearing the wet sensation coating your throat, you just backed up to the door and blindly reached for the doorknob, "You'll see me later, Eds. I've gotta go."

"Call me when you get home?" He asked, standing from his bed when you pulled his bedroom door open and moved out into the hall of his trailer. "Hey, hey, honey, what's the rush?" Eddie called, jogging a couple steps to follow after you.

"Just gotta go, Eds," you couldn't face him. But something tickled your throat and nose, prompting you to ask, "Um, do you have any tissues?"

He nodded, watching you pause by the front door before turning for the bathroom. A moment later, he returned with a box and handed it over, "Take it. I'm sure your allergies are acting up."

You nodded, "Thanks."

"Wait - "

But you were out the door and surging down the steps of his 'porch', turning on the gravel and making for the main road. Eddie watched you go from his front door, worrying over whatever he'd said, but after wracking his mind, he couldn't understand. He didn't need to know your chest was so painful, you debated if you were having a heart attack at 18; making you desperate to get away from him if it meant the pain would lessen.

You cried the whole walk home. The 8-minute car ride was actually a 41 minute walk due to the tightness in your chest, the tissue box tight in your hand as your lungs started to itch, burn, constrict themselves.

The coughing started that night. The entire walk, you used tissue after tissue to cough into and would ignore the flecks of color present against the soft white, shoving them down into your bag.

When you arrived home, the house was, as usual, empty. Steve Harrington used to hang out a lot with you due to how often both of your parents are out of town but once he started dating Nancy Wheeler, all visits stopped. Granted they were broken up now, he still didn't come back, and you were forced to get used to the loneliness. It left room for Eddie to slide into his place, often coming over to keep you company as being home alone for so long often made you nervous.

Eddie hated you feeling nervous, so, he had a couple of shirts and pants at your house for him to change into when he stayed the night. Now that he was going to make a move on Chrissy Cunningham, it made you think there wouldn't ever be other sleepovers. You worried he would never come back to your home, and an ice pick was conjured to stab through my heart.

In your room, you tossed your bag to your bed and groaned when it bounced off and spilled the contents over the floor. Shaking your head, you coughed a couple more times and got ready for bed; but soon, the coughing turned violent.

Kneeling over, your throat burned with crushing pain as your chest felt too tight with pressing tension. The heaviness was back, sitting right on your sternum and causing a twisting discomfort when you hurled into the toilet bowl. However, when your watery eyes opened, they were staring straight into clear water that was peppered with tiny little florals with swirls of bright red blood.

Panting in shock, confusion inked into your mind as you stood shakily to your feet and rushed for your bag again, pushing through the belongings to find the used tissues. Panic swelled in your chest when the tissues found, too, were coated in petals and blood.

"What?" you whispered to yourself, fear taking over. However, instead of doing the rational thing, like go to the hospital, you just threw the tissues away, flushed the rest, and curled up in bed out of exhaustion and draining adrenaline. Sobs wracked your lungs, making your body convulse and for the coughing to get worse.

You didn't move all weekend. You couldn't, for the pain was too great in your heart, mind, and body. Even when the phone rang multiple times through those two days, you couldn't care enough to get out of bed and answer it to see whatever was wanted from you. When the next Monday came around, you forced yourself to get in the shower and wake up from the cold water; getting dressed and heading out the front door to spy Eddie's van at the base of your driveway.

You sighed and made sure there were extra tissues in your bag as you made for his passenger door. When you hopped in, you were greeted with a glare.

"How was the essay?" he grits.

"Fine," you sighed, knowing it was a lie to make your swift escape, and leaned your arm on the door to prop your head up and stare out the window.

"Mhm. Thanks for letting me know you got home safe," he snipped. "Not like I was driving around at 1 am to make sure you weren't dead in a ditch somewhere."

You nodded slowly, "I forgot, I-I'm sorry."

"You forgot?" he repeated before scoffing. But when he glanced over and noted the heavy bags under your distant (watery) eyes, he frowned, "Hey? Y-You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Your nose is bleeding."

"Shit," you hissed, reaching for a tissue, and trying to mop up the blood from under both nostrils. "It's nothing," you tried to explain, sniffling a few times, and noting how sharp the action made your chest. Like something was stabbing through you, perhaps that ice pick again.

He shook his head, leering, "Suuuuure, mhm, okay." But when you didn't respond for another 3 minutes, he was annoyingly asking, "The hell's up with you?"

"Nothing, Eddie."

"Bullshit! You haven't looked at me once, didn't even greet me when you got in, and now you're sitting there, silent as the grave."

You only shrugged, not knowing how to put it in words, "Just tired, Eddie."

"Bullshit," he sighed. "But fine, if you don't want to talk, that's whatever. Just continue ignoring me, I guess."

Your eyes shut as you sighed, whispering, "I'm sorry."

"Why? What'd you do?"

Only shrugging, your head shook, and you sat up when you two made it to school. The moment the car stopped - not even in park - you were opening the passenger door and hopping out to take desperate gulps of fresh air. You waited a moment as Eddie got out, too, and just as his arm lifted to wrap around your shoulders to lead you into school, his attention was caught by someone else.

"Oh, there's Chrissy," he smiled, seeing the pretty cheerleader at her car. "Should I do it now?"

Gulping, you shrugged, "Do whatever makes you happy, Eds."

Eddie didn't understand what he did wrong to deserve your cold shoulder but figured he could talk to you later before making a beeline for Chrissy while you made for the front of the school. You ignored peers around you as you stuffed books and such into your locker, wheezing into a tissue when coughing took over.

A few other students paused to look at you with concern; you hand slamming to a closed locker as you couldn't draw breath in. The pain was suffocating, and the coughing made you nearly double over.

Robin paused at the sight, making her way over to you and just before she could ask if you were okay, she was gasping lightly. Looking up, you saw what caught her attention to spy Eddie Munson entering school with Chrissy Cunningham daintily hanging off his arm. Jason's glare was most prominent, but your best friend’s was much, much fiercer, and you? You had to look away because the ice pick was now hacking at your heart; palpitations making your chest throb with white-hot tension.

"Oh, no," Robin paused, glancing at you to see tears already in your eyes as your hands shook. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry - "

"Why?" You sniffled, shaking your head. "Doesn't matter, they look happy, right?"

"You don't," she whispered.

"Doesn't matter," you repeated. "I'll see you later, Rob."

She frowned as you charged away, watching you go as Eddie and Chrissy came to a halt beside her. "She say what was wrong with her?" Eddie asked the girl softly.

"No," Robin grit her teeth, offering him a stale up and down look. Though, she was slightly impressed Eddie bagged the popular cheerleader, she knew of your feelings for the metalhead, and huffed through her nose before taking off down the hall after you.

"Is everyone mad at me now?" He asked, looking down to the girl he'd successfully asked to prom.

"I'm not," Chrissy chirped with a soft smile.

So, here's the whole thing. Even though you've denied it for years, your friends knew DAMN well how in-love with Eddie you were. Robin had been the only one to really pick up on it a few years ago but kept quiet because of how close you and Eddie were. However, when you sat down for lunch, the Hellfire Club were ready to ask what was wrong when they saw their Dungeon Master enter the cafeteria with Chrissy.

They offered you looks of pity, understanding your behavior now.

Your hands started to shake, and you coughed harshly, bending at the waist to cough into a tissue half under the table. From beside you, Dustin caught a glimpse of pink and red in the tissue as your hand fisted over it and sniffled hotly. "Are you okay?" Gareth asked in concern, his wide eyes looking ready to shed tears. "You're sweating."

"Yeah," you whispered, catching sight of Eddie and Chrissy heading for your table. "Um, I-I forgot I have a test to make up in Spanish, so, I'll see you guys later, okay?" You rushed, picking up your untouched tray of food and shouldered your bag.

Before any of them could protest, you were tossing the tray and racing out of the opposite doors Chrissy and Eddie had come in through. You vaguely heard Eddie calling your name, never turning around, and shoving out of the doors.

You gasped when the fresh air hit you, not caring that you lied about some test and now headed down for the field. You didn't care if someone picked up on your lie. You didn't care about anything other than the crushing feeling in your chest; the way your lungs felt deflated, and how your throat was consistently wet from blood.

Robin had seen your abrupt departure and left Nancy Wheeler's side to follow you. When she found you under the bleachers, coughing and throwing up with tears down your cheeks, she knew something was wrong. Robin crawled under the bleachers, not caring about the trash or debris left, to reach your side and hold your hair back.

"Oh, my God," she wobbled, catching sight of the puddle under you. "W-What the hell is that?"

You panted, a string of blood hanging from your lips before falling to the saliva beneath you. "I-I think... I think something's wrong, Robin."

"No shit!" She hissed. "Let me take you to the nurse - "

"No, it's fine," you insisted, using another tissue to wipe at the blood under your nose. "I uh... I think I know what's going on."

"What?"

"We'll need to go to the library first," you nodded before shaking your head. "No, never mind, y-you should go back to class."

"Nope," she insisted. "I'll go to the library with you. Want me to call Steve? Get us a ride?"

You sniffled and nodded, tugging your bent knees into your chest as she nodded and begged you to stay put before dashing for the outside payphone. She felt anger as her eyes cast through the glass windows of the cafeteria, catching sight of Chrissy and Eddie laughing away with the rest of the Hellfire Club. Her fingers roughly punched in Steve's number and insisted he come pick you and her up. "Right fucking now, dingus!"

About 9 minutes later, Eddie had glanced out of the windows and caught the distance sight of Robin holding you in her arms and walking you (slowly) to Steve Harrington's trademark BMW.

His brows furrowed in confusion and concern before Chrissy's sweet voice was distracting him. In fact, he might've let himself get swept up in the sweetness of Chrissy - that he forgot you. The girl he's wanted since middle school was finally in his grasp but in order to do that, he had to let you go - resulting in cherry blossoms to sprout in your lungs.

The moment he made up his mind about Chrissy was the moment your fate was sealed. And after a trip to the library with Steve and Robin, you had your answer as to what was going on. It didn't make sense, but you understood there were three options for you at this point.

Option One: die. Literally, that was it. Let this disease kill you. Okay, then Option Two: get Eddie to love you back... And that was seemingly farfetched and way out of asking range. Third Option was to undergo a surgery, but according to literature, choosing this surgery would save your life but erase Eddie Munson from your memory. It was the only way to stop the pain besides dying from it or make someone to fall in love with you.

But that wasn't real love, was it?

So, you checked the book out and Steve drove you home.

You thought you could handle things, after all, the book said it could be manageable. So, you soldiered on and played everything off the next Monday as if you had some head cold making you a bit off, and not literal florals blooming in your fucking lungs.

Eddie didn't question it because he was too excited to tell you that Chrissy had said yes. She said yes - to him! To prom! And she was going to wear red, his favorite color. He was so shocked, it made you want to weep a little because Eddie Munson seemed to be the only one (minus Jason Carver) to not understand how amazing Eddie Munson truly was...

Well, maybe the rest of the school body didn't understand either, but that was beside the point. Eddie was always too hard on himself and hearing how shocked and happy he was that Chrissy said yes, just made you honestly sad. He didn't even know how loved he was, making the self-deprivation very real. It was once upon time ago that your job was to help him out of those ruts, but now it would be Chrissy's responsibility.

You knew if he was yours, you wouldn't let a single day go by where he thought he was inadequate. But he wasn't yours, and now that he had Chrissy, you knew he never would be.

Your throat swelled and more petals were coughed into a tissue in your hand when you realized that you'd bought a prom dress (in case Eddie did ask you) about a month ago, and it, too, was red. Yet, he was going to match Chrissy and you'd wasted $150 on a pretty, silk dress... And new heels because your mother insisted you feel (and look) like a princess.

You tried to be excited and happy for him, but it was hard to when Eddie was enraptured with Chrissy. You coughed more in that week than when you had that terrible flu 2 years ago.

When that Friday rolled around, you were heading for his van (like usual), only to find him and Chrissy waiting on you.

"Hey," you greeted cautiously, smiling at the pretty girl you never really had a full conversation with.

"Hey," Eddie smiled - and you noted the lack of pet name. "Uh, you ready to go?"

"Um, yeah," you cleared your throat, glancing at Chrissy again.

He understood your nonverbal question. "I'm thinking I'll drop you off at home first. Cool?" Eddie offered, looking at you as his arm snaked around Chris' waist.

Confusion warped into your voice, "Um, i-it's Friday?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I-I thought we hung out on Fridays? Like, every Friday?"

Eddie's other hand rose to rub the back of his neck, "Well, yeah, usually, but I'm taking Chrissy out on a date, so, I'll have to drop you off first."

"Oh," your eyes widened, and you felt so fucking stupid in that moment. "Shit, okay, my bad," you backed away, "I can get another ride, it's no big deal. Have fun on your date!"

"Hey, no, don't be ridiculous," Eddie shook his head, taking a tentative step forward as if he was nervous to leave Chrissy's side and approach you. "I take you home every day, c'mon. It's nothing, get in the van. I always take you home."

But you felt sick over the petty idea of sitting in the back while Chrissy took your seat in Eddie's car... Your place in Eddie's life.

Your head shook and a half-smile was forced over your lips. "No, it's seriously okay. You guys should go, it's cool. Have fun, okay?"

Eddie frowned, "I'll call you later tonight, okay?"

"Sure," you whispered, turning finally, and hustling your steps back for the school. Your hand balled in a fist to catch the splatter of blood and petals that shot out of your mouth, trying to shake the sick off so nobody would notice.

Light pink petals danced to the pavement behind you, and your heart plummeted with it as Eddie's van tires squealed when he peeled out of the carpark.

Robin was still at school and agreed to give you a ride home with Steve and Dustin Henderson; the two sharing looks of concern for you the entire drive. They kept asking if they could do anything, but the truth was, they could see the life slowly draining from you, and knew they couldn't do anything.

You didn't answer Eddie's call that night. You didn't let him drive you to school, either, since he'd been busy with Chris that all your conversations now revolved around the girl. This didn't mean he didn't come pick you up, but you usually always opted for the bus to "catch up on reading." You didn't hang out on Fridays either, because it was "date night with Chrissy", and you didn't sit at the Hellfire Club table at lunch.

It went on like this for another three weeks. Eddie replaced you with Chrissy, and she was everywhere you looked. You stopped going to lunch all together in an effort to save yourself from the sight of Eddie's arm around the pretty, popular cheerleader; instead, coughing out cherry blossoms under the bleachers and then forcing a smile on your lips like nothing happened.

The time you did spend together (a minuscule amount of time in comparison), Eddie would fill the space between you with chatter about how amazing Chrissy was - unaware of the pain he was causing you.

Unaware that every word strangled air and rational thought from you.

Unaware that you often held your breath to save you from the pain; to save you from bursting into tears; to save you from yelling at your best friend that you didn't care he finally bagged his crush.

Eddie was going mad, however. He didn't understand your distance, but he also didn't do anything to rectify the situation. He just figured you were going through something, and you'd show up at his trailer soon; tears down your cheeks as his arms open to welcome you.

He started to count the day since he last touched you. Eddie began to feel as if maybe he'd done the right thing by choosing Chrissy due to how far you pulled away from him. He's loved you for years but never admitted or confronted the feelings; so, he convinced himself to let you go in pursuit of Chrissy. So, to save himself from rejection of the most important person in his life, he thought it was a "safer rejection" by asking Chrissy.

He was just shocked she accepted, though he had a sneaking suspicion it was just to piss Jason off. Eddie didn't mind being her distraction because Chrissy was his distraction from you.

When the week of prom rolled around, you couldn't get out of bed because you were in excruciating pain in your heart and mind. Your mother had left on another business trip and only left a stack of cash for "emergencies", telling you she loved you, and never noticing your overflowing waste bin of bloody tissues. So, when Eddie rolled up that Monday, he was confused when you didn't come outside for a few minutes. He beeped, waited longer, beeped again - louder - before confusion troubled his heart.

He knew you were upset and distant, he knew you "liked" riding the bus now; but he also knew you weren't out of your house, yet. He planned on showing up earlier than the time you left, because he wanted to ensure you drove to school together - like usual.

Eddie got out of his van and approached your door, knocking repeatedly but never receiving an answer.

When he got to school, Chrissy told him to call your house and check on you - standing with him, as all he did was listen to the dial tone of a connecting call. You never answered.

At lunch, Eddie found Robin and asked her if she spoke to you at all this past weekend. She glared, "What? You didn't?"

"No," Eddie admitted, "I-I was with Chrissy the whole - "

Robin's eyes rolled and she stood abruptly, making Eddie take a step back. "Forgive me while I go vomit," Robin deadpanned, casting a single glare over his shoulder to the strawberry blonde before pushing past them both.

Eddie asked Hellfire what he'd done - but none of them had an answer. "She's not been looking well," Dustin mentioned. "Keeps coughing out blood."

"What?" Eddie asked, rigid with fear.

Dustin nodded slowly, "I don't think she knows I know, but Steve gave her a ride with us, and her tissues are all bloody."

"She's coughing out blood?" Gareth asked sadly, Dustin nodding. "That's not good, we should get her to a hospital."

"She won't go," Dustin frowned. "I heard Robin trying to convince her, but she keeps saying she's fine."

"She's not fine," Eddie growled.

"Obviously," Lucas rolled his eyes. "She's also not sat with us for weeks."

"She's been avoiding everyone," Jeff added sadly.

"Wonder why," Lucas sneered, casting a glare at his Dungeon Master.

"Am I supposed to know what you're insinuating, Sinclair?" Eddie snipped.

"Aren't you her best friend? Shouldn't you know that she's sick - instead of hearing it from Dustin?"

Eddie shrugged, "So, what? I haven't been able to track her every move. I've been busy - "

"With Chrissy," Dustin and Lucas chimed together; Lucas rolling his eyes before stabbing a green bean forcefully.

"We know," the Freshman 'all-star' basketball player rolled his eyes, pushing his tray away and glaring to the tabletop.

"What did I do?" Eddie asked, looking to his comrades with earnest confusion.

None of them answered because nobody knew what was really wrong. All your friends (including outside of Hellfire) felt concern fester because you were never forthcoming with problems. You never asked for help - it was something observed by others before they're offering you a hand. So, if you were going through something, they knew you'd handle it alone until you couldn't anymore and would confide in them.

Eddie grew increasingly frustrated as time went. For you, time was slower than ever, and you were forced to live through each painful retch and convulsion of your muscles. You laid in bed; a bloody projectile pattern splattered across your sheets; dotted with sticky, pretty petals.

The night of prom rolled around, and you were knelt in front of your toilet again. It had gotten worse; Dustin phoning you every day to update you on school, and unconsciously complaining about how much time Eddie and Chrissy were spending - causing a riff in the group. You tried to assure the Freshman that it was a new and exciting relationship for them both, but Dustin voiced his concerns after spying Chrissy speaking with her ex, Jason Carver.

The vomiting got worse after Dusty's phone call. Acid burned your nose and your throat wept for relief; finding only more pain as the toilet bowl before you decorated with not just your blood, but actual buds of flowers. You knew naturally that cherry blossoms didn't have thorns, but there, before you, were floating pieces of your flesh that was cut from the sharp floral.

You sobbed the whole night. Your chest was ready to cave in and the vomiting, nor pain, wouldn't stop. You wondered if this was how it ended for you - alone, on prom night, coughing out blood while the rest of the town got their romantic night.

Fuckers, you thought bitterly.

But then - the weirdest fucking thing happened. Amid vomiting more buds and thorns, your chest started to feel a little clearer and you could cough the rattling wetness from your lungs. There was just slight relief, but enough for you to draw in harsh breaths. You panted and spat out another bloom, trying to ignore how oddly poetically beautiful this was - to die by a fucking flower strangling you. Your body was thinner in the weeks since your turmoil started, throat too raw to pass any food as your lungs were stuffed with petals. It made living harder.

It made getting out of bed physically impossible.

It made your feet numb.

Your chest to ache.

Your head to throb.

And your stomach to knot itself.

Sweat pooled over your brow and your hand rose to wipe at your nose, smearing blood over your cheek. More vomiting. More pain. More petals and blooms and thorns and blood.

It felt like it'd never end but that was the most justice you had - that this would kill you because you couldn't let go of the love you had for Edward Munson. Love that would last a lifetime - or until it killed you.

Seemed like a fate closer than graduation.

You were startled when knuckles began rapping on your window as another violent purge overtook you. Shaking and sobbing, you ignored whoever had climbed up to your window because you were so focused on keeping your hair back as you purged.

The rapping turned into full-on pounding; the glass pane shaking.

The blossoms were bigger now. Thicker. Small, wee little stems on them that only added to your pain. Petals were left behind on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks; throat bleeding into your stomach from the way thorns shredded it up and down.

"Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart," you recognized Eddie's voice over the sounds of your retching. "Oh, my God, my sweet girl. Shit, you're okay, you're okay, I got you," he assured quietly, taking your hair in his hands to hold back as another wave racked through your body. "You're okay, let it out," he soothed, sitting on the lip of the bathtub, and rubbing your back.

You sniffled and spat the remaining petals from your mouth, using your arms to cover the toilet bowl and block his sight. "W-What're you doing here?" You asked through a thick tongue.

"Your window was open, I let myself in." He reached out for the toilet paper and pulled a bit off, gingerly reaching up and wiping the blood from your lips. "A-Are those petals?" He asked in shock, looking at the toilet tissue.

"Why're you here, Eddie?" You asked again, turning to close the toilet lid and rest your head on it. The cool porcelain felt nice on your feverish skin.

"Where else would I want to be?"

You scoffed, "Just fuck off back to Chrissy, I know that's where you want to be."

It was quiet as sweat dried on your skin and created a new cooling sensation across your tired muscles. "Why're you throwing up blood and petals?"

"Why are you here?" You snapped, lifting your head to glare at him. "If I wanted you around, I would've called."

"Haven't called me in weeks."

"Then maybe I don't want you around. Just go - get out," you grit, turning away from him again. "This is hard enough without you fucking here. Get out."

It was quiet as Eddie didn't move, your chest rattling with every labored breath to make it sound like a wheeze. It caused a new wave of violent coughing, Eddie's eyes widening when you appeared to choke on something in your throat, toilet lid lifted as your fingers crammed in the back of your throat.

From this position, Eddie could make out the blood and blooms floating in the water, flinching when you threw up blood - a sight he'd never wanted to see again. Thorns cut your mouth and lips, making you whimper in sheer pain as your chest was ready to cave in finally. Sweat coated your skin again, and Eddie refused to leave your side. He watched you as your body shook with each retch; how the color of blood stained your lips like expensive make-up.

When you panted and threw yourself back to the wall behind you, Eddie reached out and started to wipe blood from your nose, mouth, chin, and cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked.

"Tell you what?" You wheezed.

"That you were sick."

You scoffed, "Would it have mattered? You're too busy with Chrissy."

He shook his head, "We broke up."

Now this - this shocked you. Your brows furrowed, "It's prom night."

"Mhm."

"All you wanted was to go to that stupid fucking dance with her," you pointed out with a glare.

Eddie nodded, "I thought so, too. Until we got there, and I realized that I was with the wrong girl... I thought I wanted to be with her, she was unobtainable and has been my crush for years..."

"Guessing the real thing didn't compare with your imagination?" You sneered, rolling your eyes. "Big fucking deal, Eddie - "

"No, no, I uh... I just, we got there, and I wanted it to be you."

Something in your chest twisted.

"That's not funny," your eyes rolled again.

"I'm not joking. I wanted to be with you all night - hell, every day of the past few weeks that you've been avoiding me, I just wanted to be with you. Why did you pull away from me? Was it that shitty to see me and Chris together?"

You admitted, "Yes."

"What?"

You chuckled dryly, "It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Why?"

"Because I love you."

And there it was... "Yeah," You whispered, "love me like a best friend, right - " Only, the words were gargled as you leaned forward and puked violently.

"No, sweetheart," Eddie frowned, holding your hair again. "Shit, this isn't good, baby, we need to get you to a hospital."

"No," You groaned into the bowl.

"Please," he begged, other hand coming to soothe up and down your back. "You're in pain, and - "

"It doesn't matter, Eddie," you coughed again, sticking your tongue out to pick a few petals off. They fell to the water, a sightly morbidly beautiful image as thick blood swirled.

"It does matter! To me, it does!"

"Why!?"

"Because - Jesus Christ!" He raged, anger finally morphing over his expression. "I'm in love with you, God damn it!"

Your brows furrowed, bottom lip trembling, "W-What?"

He shook his head, "You really don't know?"

"Know WHAT?" You felt anger swell in your stomach. "That I've spent the past however many years thinking I was only good enough to be your friend, and now you're telling me you're in love with me? What? Did Chrissy stand you up? You need a rebound?"

He sighed, nudging you over an inch to slide down the wall into the space between you and the bathtub. You both stared forward, a light splattering of blood across the pale porcelain you stared at.

"I was the one who left her," he admitted with a sigh. "I just... We got to the first dance, and I just hated myself, because all I wanted - for the last few weeks, too - has been to have you in my arms, again. I've missed you more than anything."

You shook your head, "You've wanted Chrissy - "

"She was a want, doll," he whispered. "But I realized tonight that you're a need. I need you in my life, baby, please believe me. Look, I-I got caught up in the excitement of dating Chrissy, but she knew my heart wasn't 100% in it, and told me it was okay."

"Ch-Chrissy told you to leave?"

"She told me to run to you and not let go when I had you in my arms," he nodded, looking down at me now. "She knew the whole time... I couldn't stand being away from you, not talking to you, so she offered to help distract me until I bucked up the nerve."

"Nerve to what?"

"Ask you to be mine," he smiled softly. "Look, I know, I've had this thing for Chris, and when I finally had her, I just didn't know what to do. But she knew the whole time, and insisted I come find you."

"Oh," you breathed, chest tight for a new reason.

"And I realized I was at prom with the wrong woman," he nodded, gingerly reaching his hand out to stroke over mine. I sniffled and turned my hand over to lace our fingers together, leaning into his shoulder. "Not seeing you there, I felt worse than ever before. I couldn't admit I was in love with you - I was scared we'd lose this. Our friendship, we'd lose the comfort and protection."

Tears swelled in your eyes as you squeezed them shut; a few tears rolling sadly down your cheeks. "You don't mean that..."

"How can you say that?" He asked incredulously.

"Because you just feel bad," you whimpered. "It's okay, Eddie. I'm okay - you don't have to do this. It doesn't matter - "

"Anything regarding you, to me, definitely matters. Why're you so against this - against us?"

"Because it's not real," you sniffled. "You've been in love with - "

"Please, please, go ask Chrissy yourself," Eddie begged, shaking his head. "She'll tell you - go ask Dustin, Garth, Jeff - anyone, baby. Please. I'm in love with you, and I need you to believe it."

"Why now?"

"Why what?"

"Why tell me now?"

He chuckled, "Because I hoped there was enough time to get here and take the girl of my dreams to prom."

"You don't even like prom. Or any social gathering, for that matter."

He chuckled, "Yeah, very true, but you're everything to me and I know you wanted to go. Remember last year?" You sighed, soft smile stretching across your face. "You were so excited that I made you that pact that if neither of us had a date, we'd go together." You nodded against his shoulder. "And I just thought... I thought other guys wanted to take you, and you'd want to go with them more sine they could give you the full 'prom experience'. So, I panicked and focused on Chrissy..."

You sighed, "I wish you told me the truth... And that you'd have just asked me properly."

"I regret nothing more," he sighed. "Because it made you feel left out and neglected."

You nodded, "Eddie?"

"Yeah, peaches?"

The old nickname from 10th grade made heat pool in your chest, cheeks, and ears; feeling flustered as you whispered, "I'm in love with you, too."

"Yeah?" He chuckled.

"Mhm."

He sighed, "Oh, thank God."

You couldn't help but chuckle lightly, "What?"

He looked down at you with a grin, "Been waiting years to hear that."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Since I decked Carver in the face, yeah," he breathed. "Just wanted to pull you into my arms and tell you how much I loved you."

"Maybe if you did, we could've had more time together."

"We have all the time in the world now, baby," he beamed. "'Cause I'm not letting you go - hear me? You're mine, and I'm not letting go."

You smiled and leaned up so you could rest your forehead on his, "I don't want you to let go."

"I'll hold on forever, baby," he whispered. "But I have something important to ask you..."

"Hmm?"

"Think you're feeling up for a dance with me?"

You chuckled and nodded, "Uh, maybe one. Do we have to go to the school?"

"Nope, not if you don't want to."

You paused for a moment, asking shyly, "Eddie?"

"Yeah, peaches?"

"Would you go to prom with me?"

Eddie chuckled, "You're throwing up blood, baby, I think I should take you to the hospital instead. C'mon, instead of a prom dress, I'll dance with you in a hospital gown."

You couldn't help but giggle under your breath. "Come with me, I need to show you something," you sighed after, reaching forward to flush the blood and petals before standing up. With his hand in yours, you lead him from the bathroom and to your room, sitting on the bed and placing a book in his lap.

"What am I looking at?"

"Just... Read this page," you pointed to the paragraph you wanted him to read; taking the spot beside him and leaning to his shoulder again as he scanned the page quickly.

"Holy shit," he breathed at the end, looking up at you with tears in his eyes. "Doll, no, no, no. I-I did this to you?"

"I did it to myself," you whispered.

"B-But I've been in love with you, too? So, how did this happen?"

"Neither of us admitted it to ourselves. At least for me, it was until the night you told me you were thinking of asking Chrissy out."

"For me, it was until tonight," he realized with a whisper. "I-I told Chrissy I loved you, an-and it was the first time I admitted it..."

You nodded, "Yeah... So, uh... Yeah."

"Fuck," he shook his head. "I'm so sorry, I-I didn't know it hurt you this bad. Jesus Christ, sweetheart, you didn't deserve that. I'm so sorry."

"But it's over now, right?" you asked quietly.

"Yeah, baby, it's all over," he nodded, tossing the library book aside to turn and wrap you in his arms. He whined lightly and tugged so you were straddled in his lap, running a hand through your hair. "Oh, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain."

"You're here now," You whispered into his neck, fingers twirling a strand of his hair as your other hand clung to his neck. "That's all I care about."

"I'm never leaving you again," he swore, arms tight around my waist to drag me all the closer. "I'm so sorry, peaches, I-I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay," you promised, sniffling after. "I could've spoken up, too, but I was ashamed. I didn't want to ruin anything between you and Chrissy."

"Promise me, you'll tell me from now on. Okay? I don't care what's happening or where you and I stand - you fucking tell me if something's going on with you, okay?"

You nodded, sniffling lightly, "Yeah, okay, baby, deal."

"Hey," he cooed, pulling me from his neck. His hand reached up to caress the side of my cheek, "I love you, pretty girl."

The smile on your lips felt silly, but you replied, "I love you, too, baby."

"Can I kiss you? Please?" He pouted, making you chuckle lightly before reaching for his cheek and bringing him in to meet your lips. He groaned in relief, hands tightly over your ribs before sliding to your back as his tongue poked against your lips, sweeping into your mouth in a slick dance. You whined lightly, Eddie making a noise of surprise as he pulled back, a string of saliva trailing between your lips.

Your brows furrowed as he reached up and picked something from his tongue; a light pink cherry blossom petal stuck between his pointer and thumb. "Oh, my God," you wheezed, leaning forward to rest against his chest and push your face into his neck. "I'm so sorry."

He chuckled and let the petal flutter to the ground, "Kinda hot."

"Eddie," you whined.

"I'm sorry, baby," he chuckled, pecking the side of my head. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhm, much better now, honestly. Having you here helps."

He pulled back to grin brightly at you, "Wanna go to prom then?"

You sighed lightly, gazing down at him in his suit and smiling lightly when you pressed over his red shirt. "Did you match Chrissy?"

He sighed, "She ended up choosing a green dress. Thought red was more my color," he smirked lightly. "But I can't lie, we looked like human Christmas."

You snorted in humor. "Red's definitely your color," you agreed, glancing back at your closet before back at him. "Um, wanna give me a few minutes? We can leave after?"

"Take as much time as you need, peaches," he nodded, leaning in with another smile to press his lips to your own. He chuckled a few times, pecking his lips rapidly before pulling away.

Within an hour, your hair was fixed off your neck; make-up minimal but still noticeable; and red dress shimmied up your body to then tie over your shoulders. Lacing your shoes on, you looked in the mirror before exiting your room and descending the stairs to find Eddie hunched over a counter, working in the kitchen on something.

You cleared your throat as your fingers fiddled together nervously when Eddie turned, and you swear time stopped. "Shit," he breathed, eyes weeping you up and down. "Oh, my... God."

"Yeah?" you asked, looking over the red material.

"Oh, hell yeah," he nodded, slowly approaching you. "You look beautiful, peaches, wow... Shit."

"You've said that," you teased. "Whatcha makin' over there?"

He smirked and picked up a flower from the counter, turning and taking your wrist. "My girl needs a corsage," he explained, showing off the flower he'd clipped from an old bouquet and then fashioned with a rubber band and safety pin. "There," he smiled when it was settled, "now you're ready for senior prom, huh?"

You nodded, hands placed to his chest as you smoothed out a few wrinkles, "You look unbelievably good right now."

He chuckled, "Look who's talkin'. Givin' Bo Derek a run for her money, aren't you? God damn."

You couldn't help the bright grin across your face, stepping into his embrace. "I love you," you whispered.

"I don't think I'll get tired to hearing that," he beamed, pecking your lips after. "I love you, too, baby - so much. And I'm so sorry it took me this long to admit it. You didn't deserve anything you suffered through..."

"It's done now," you nodded.

"And we're never going back," his hands rose to caress either of my cheeks. "Now - wanna go rock this prom?"

"Smoke up your van after?"

"You know it, princess," he grinned, pressing another kiss to your lips. "My lady," he smirked teasingly, offering his bent arm.

"My lord," you breathed, arm around his, and chest feeling lighter than it had in weeks months. Maybe things would be okay and they could work out, but for now, it was refreshing to live in the moment with Eddie. Your partner in crime. Your other half. Your best friend, and now your boyfriend. Someone you adored - and someone who adored you in full return.

Maybe love wasn't too bad after all - when it's not trying to suffocate you from the inside.

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thedreamlessnights · 4 months

Text

Distraction

Gale x F!Reader - NSFW

Summary: Gale is working in his study. You have half a mind to distract him.

Warnings: 18+ (and I cannot stress this enough). Established relationship, blowjob, oral sex (male receiving). Sappy Gale. Mystra hate. Takes place post-game and includes mild spoilers.

Word Count: 2.1k

Gale Dekarios is easily distracted.

It’s something you’d noticed not long after meeting him: his long, informative tangents, excited bursts of information, trails of thought that faded away when he saw you. Anything that came to mind was bound to pull him away from the current time and setting.

Now, after knowing him as long as you have, you’re more than familiar with that tendency for distraction. It’s endearing, in fact. You don't like to be complacent, but you have noticed that his distraction always seems to be most prominent when he’s around you. His sharp wit dulls, and his clean train of thoughts turns into slips of the tongue.

Your mother had given you plenty of advice when you were young, but one strain sticks with you the most: that there is nothing more attractive than a man who wants you, and has no qualms with showing it.

Given your relationship with Gale, you’ll have to agree. Long after the two of you have settled into his tower in Waterdeep, it’s the thing you like to play with most. A stroke of your ego, perhaps, but you never grow tired seeing just how much Gale desires you. Physically, emotionally. Spiritually.

That want isn't always in your head, but it often plays through your thoughts, especially when Mystra comes to mind. How many different ways has he professed his love for you? Moreover, how many times has he internally not felt enough for you - and as the result of a goddess who used him then discarded him like he was nothing?

Time and time again, it’s the subject that irks you: that he has no idea how much you want him. You’re married, yet he still has no clue how much you mean to him. You can never say it enough. Lately, you’ve taken to trying to show him.

He’s never told you specifically, but you know that Mystra had made him feel unworthy, and that he still feels that way now and then. You can practically see the scars she’d left on him, written into his anxious words. Little by little, those scars are fading - but if you have anything to say about it, Gale will never feel unwanted again.

Which is what brings you to the study, looking for your husband. You find him sitting at his desk, scribbling away at a loose paper like he usually does. Something important, judging by the look of it.

His shoulders are scrunched together, his brows are pinched, and the back of his hand is black with smudged ink when he bats a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. It’s perhaps cruel to interrupt him, but something tells you he won’t mind.

You step further in, settling at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

He gives you a smile when he sees you, some of his tension bleeding out of him. “My love,” he says brightly, taking your free hand in his. “I trust your day’s been well?”

“It’s been alright,” you say. Mostly, you’ve been missing him - he often coops himself down here for his research, and you and Tara are the only ones able to pull him away. You trail your fingers further down his arm, locking at the elbow, and his breath audibly hitches.

Oh, you think. You know very, very well what that means.

You lean in a little closer, giving him a soft smile. “What about yours?”

“Good,” he says, suddenly breathless. “Very good. Just wait until you see the research I’m doing. It’s astounding.”

You love listening to him talk. The way he delivers information is charming, to say the least. The way his eyes light up. The way his tangents can spin on for hours, and yet only seem like a few moments. The passion that tinges his voice, his gestures, his words. It’s one of your favorite things about him.

And yet.

You keep your eyes fixed on his as you lift his palm to your lips, and pink dusts over his cheeks. “By the weave,” he mutters, swallowing hard. “You’ll be the end of me - do you know that?”

His hand brushes over his papers, and you glance over at them - the ones he had just been so aptly working on before you interrupted.

You’ve known Gale enough to know the difference between work that’s important, and work that can wait. The eagerness in his eyes, the airiness to his voice, and the way his pupils dilate all spell out one thing: this work can wait.

You experimentally trail your fingers over his thigh. He squirms a little, his breath catching again. Warmth starts to simmer under your skin, and you can't help chasing after the feeling.

“Gods,” Gale murmurs, swallowing hard.

You lean in until your lips are next to his ear. The scent of him is warm and tempting on his skin: something woodsy and sharp, mixed with the smell of old books.

“I’ve missed you,” you tell him, moving your fingers just a little bit upward. Enough to have his breathing jagged and strained, but not high enough to be where you know he’d like them to be.

“If I wasn't working…” he says. And yet, he’s completely dropped his quill. His eyes are on you, not his papers.

Your mind forms a plan.

“By all means, don’t stop on my account,” you tease, nipping at his ear. When you pull away, his pupils are blown out - brown irises nearly drowned out by black - and his eyes only dilate further when you get on your knees in front of him.

For a moment, you simply sit, waiting for a protest. He gives none. In fact, when you start unlacing his trousers, he leans back, giving you more access to touch him.

The heaviness of his breath makes him impossible not to tease. Gale is always incredibly obvious in the things he wants, and you love to see the way he wants you. You want to hear it. Physical proof of it, tangible in the air.

“Go on,” you urge. “Keep working.”

Gale murmurs something under his breath, and your ears only catch the faintest breath of it: your name, said as a plea.

You start by taking him into your hand, belly fluttering at the sight of him. He’s already half-hard, silky and warm in your grip. He inhales sharply when you touch him and shudders when you stroke along his length, placing a kiss to his still-clothed thigh. You halt, and after a moment, you hear a curse. Then, what you’re listening for.

The scribble of his quill.

It halts ever so briefly when you trail your tongue along the head of his cock, teasing at the sensitive skin the way you know he likes. Then it resumes - albeit, erratically - and you take him further into your mouth.

The taste of him is subtle, but you know it like the back of your hand. Something salty, vaguely sweet. You moan around him, planting a hand on his thigh, and enjoy the way his hips unconsciously buck toward you.

He lets out a soft groan, and the quill pauses again. Are his hands shaking, you wonder? Are his sentences coherent? When this is all over, you’ll glance at his paper and find out. If you’ve ruined it enough, you might even keep it.

You want this to last, so your rhythm starts off slow. You want to please him. To pleasure him beyond belief. The goddess of magic may be his old lover, but can she hold a candle to your fervor? You doubt it.

With you I forget my goddess, he’d said. Just the memory of that has arousal simmering under your skin.

Once he’s writing at a normal pace again, you continue, drawing out the drag of your tongue along his length. Then you take him into your mouth once more, gently sucking down the shaft.

In response to your actions, Gale makes an assortment of sounds you’d like to bottle up and keep forever - a soft, seeking noise when you suck a little harder, a long groan when you take him down to the base. His quill is almost certainly shaking by now.

You pull away, and glance up at him - and gods, the sight of him. His cheeks flushed, his brows pinched in pleasure. His attempts to keep his breathing even, and his concentration somewhat on his paper. He’s clearly failing.

You’re suddenly all too aware of how clothed he is. How clothed you are. Arousal floods down your back, hot, wanting more. Wanting to take him back into your mouth and finish him.

Instead, you pull his shirt away from his abdomen and tug it up his torso. Kneeling, you aren’t able to pull it up very far. Gale, ever perceptive, finishes the job for you.

“It seems distracting me wasn’t enough?” he asks lightly, his tone teasing but airy. “Now you want me to remove my clothes as well?”

You let out a soft laugh and work the rest of his clothes off of him, admiring the view.

Gods, he’s handsome. Miles of warm skin under your touch. Soft, dark hair under your fingers. A shudder that you follow down his abdomen. You look over him - the clear desire in his face, his lips parted - and heat floods between your legs. “Well,” you reply, playing coy, “I can stop if you’d like. Let you get back to your work.

He lets out a shaky exhale. “Don’t,” he requests softly.

You press your lips to his navel, trailing feather-light kisses downward, and your name crosses his lips again, half-pleading.

You pause to look up at him, and he gives you a brief smile when you meet his eyes.

“Darling,” he says, his voice strained. “Not that I’m not enjoying what you’re doing, but - surely, you don't mean for me to be the only one this… scantily clad?”

As a matter of fact, you do. Or, at least, you had. You’re impatient. You want him close. Shuddering to his climax, coming on your tongue, groaning your name as his hand fixes tightly in your hair.

But you know he wants to see you, and you’re eager to give him what he wants. After a moment of internal debate, your hands begrudgingly part from him to undo the buttons of your top, exposing yourself to him as his eyes drink you in like the finest wine.

His thumb comes down to brush over your cheek. “I could live a thousand lifetimes,” he says, suddenly tender, “and never find anything as beautiful as you are.”

In response, you lift his palm from your cheek and place a kiss to it - a kiss which you can only hope gets across the thousands of words you’d like to say to him. Then, you gently move that hand into your hair.

Gale hesitates for a moment, then flexes his fingers, grip loose and careful.

When you put your tongue on him again, that grip tightens - not painful, but firm. You let out a soft moan around him and he curses, clearly trying to restrain himself from rolling his hips into your warm, waiting mouth.

In response, you plant a hand on his waist and take him further, encouraging him to take what he so clearly wants to. He curses again, breathing heavily, and chases after his climax, following the rhythm you’re so diligently setting.

If it weren't for the distant ache in your jaw, you’d be content to stay like this forever. Hearing the sinful noises he’s making as he gets closer. Feeling the muscles of his thigh flex under your hand. Listening to his panting, and the sound of your name uttered in warning as his pleasure builds ever higher.

He jerks his hips into you, once, twice - and then the taste of him is filling your mouth, hot and sweet, and he’s groaning your name like the sound has been punched out of him.

You keep sucking at him long after he’s come, until he’s jerking in sensitivity. He gently eases your head away from him with the hand that’s still in your hair.

“You really will be the end of me,” he says breathlessly. “You're wonderful. Now, come here, will you?”

You rise from your sore knees and meet him in a messy, wanting kiss, his lips soft and warm, his hand cradling your jaw.

He nudges his nose against yours, and as his hands tug at your waistband, you realize that you’re positively soaked. His pleasure had come first when he was in your mouth, but now, it’s white-hot and will not be ignored any longer.

“You’ve taken care of me. Allow me to return the favor?” he asks, eagerness spilling into his words.

And how could you ever say no to him?

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x you #gale dekarios #baldurs gate 3 x reader #gale dekarios x you #mywriting

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teabutmakeitazure · 3 months

Text

Pinprick in the Backdrop

The background is something you should always pay attention to.

>Yan! Chrollo x Fem! Reader

>Warnings: not specified to avoid spoilers. please proceed with caution.

>Word count: ~15k (slow burn)

>a/n: proofread to the best of my capabilities. if there's any spelling error, pls ignore

There are always some people you see everyday without fail on the train. Some you find on your way to the station and in the train, some on the train, and some when you step out of it. Most of you have never talked to each other, but you recognise them. Even if the middle aged lady who always sits near the door of car 7 changed her hair colour completely.

You can still recognise them. Seeing their face isn’t a requirement. It’s their existence that matters. It’s especially funny when you call the teenagers by name on Halloween despite the costumes they’re wearing.

Perhaps you missed a great opportunity to go into criminology or become a detective. Maybe even a spy. However, what’s done is done. You can’t say you hate your job, so you suppose it’ll do as long as you’re able to live a comfortable life and send some money back home to your parents.

Speaking of money, your boss - or should you say the man who also overlooks the finance department - has been absent from work for two weeks. It’s the main reason why your salary this month hasn’t come in yet. Why they decided to not pay you all is a mystery, but why your boss has disappeared is a bigger mystery. The money you have left in your account isn’t enough for the entire month, so they better pay you all soon.

The penitence of innocents always baffles you. There was nothing you could have done, nothing you could have changed, so why? Why does the human conscience produce these feelings of guilt? Maybe it’s because you unconsciously recall times when you were cruel or times when you had ignored to cherish the moments.

At the end of the day, it’s puzzling feelings like these that make you human. Black jacket hugged closer to your body, you head back to your desk, shaking the mouse as you try to wake up the monitor. Your boss is dead. The reason why it took so long to confirm was because he died in a different country and his cell phone was destroyed.

Another mystery is why he flew to a different country on a weekend, and that too for just four days. He didn’t even have any family there. They all live here, so imagine their surprise when they find out his ‘business trip’ was actually a personal one. You don’t question why they didn’t bother to contact his workplace when he didn’t return.

Quite a lot has happened within the span of a few days. First there was the news of your boss being pronounced dead. That was followed by the memorial they had in the office, and lastly, your salaries finally came in. You can refresh your savings now.

Still, the radical change in circumstances you cannot get over. Your boss, the half bald guy whose biggest transgression was making jokes in poor taste, dead? The information you all were given is vague. He left for a different country, somewhere in the Mimbo Republic to be specific, from Yorbia, where you are. It’s not your job to dig into people’s business, but this seems too fishy because his family also refuses to utter a word.

Thus, like all women trying to find information on a man they are interested in, you turn to the internet. Scrounging through news articles of accidents and injury and deaths, you finally find a few noteworthy ones from the day he supposedly passed away.

The darkness in your bedroom adds to the suspense, light solely coming from your backlit keyboard and the open window. It doesn’t help that it’s past two in the morning, almost three, but you’re determined as you scan through descriptions of a ‘buy and sell’ gone wrong.

Two hundred people. That is how many died at that event.

To be fair, the entire administration and security also kicked the bucket, and the attendees were around one hundred according to the article. None of this still makes sense. Was your boss among those people? If yes, why would he be at such an event?

Scratch that, his family definitely knows something.

After spending a little less than an hour snooping around, you finally shut down your laptop and go under the covers. It’s understandable when sleep doesn’t come easily.

The commute to work was the same as usual. The only difference was that one of the girls in your neighbourhood was nowhere to be seen on the train. Maybe she skipped school today. Despite the ordinary day, you are in no mood to entertain when familiar footsteps grow closer and closer to your desk.

“Hi, [Name]!”

You wish you left the building for lunchtime after all.

“You’re not going out for lunch?”

With the most uninterested face you can make, you shrug, eyes not leaving the monitor. If he gets the hint, he leaves. If he doesn’t… you’ll just excuse yourself and leave.

“So you’re not eating?” He’s behind you now, eyes fixed onto your monitor as he tries to make sense of the gibberish. “Your work requires a lot of thinking. You should eat something.”

“Not right now,” you sigh. “I have a whole hour left. I’ll eat when I feel like it.”

You know what this guy is doing. His engagement recently went wrong when he found out his ex-fiance was cheating on him, and now he’s seeking out someone to fill the hole. Quite literally in his case, but whatever. Perhaps you would have given him the time of day if he wasn’t so obvious and desperate… or if you ever bothered to remember his name.

It’s worse when you remember that you didn’t recognise him after the break-up. Chills. That’s what you felt. It’s best to keep your distance. He isn’t the same guy who gushed about the love of his life 24/7. There’s something unstable around him.

“Well, whenever you feel like it, just shoot me a text.” His hands grab the edge of your backrest, just millimetres away from touching your back. “I want to treat you to lunch.”

Closing the tab and opening another one, you voice your response. “Sorry, but I brought food from home. I’ll be eating that.”

“Oh.” he sounds disappointed. “No worries. I’ll treat you some other time then.”

Note to self. Bring lunch from home everyday from now on. If that’ll help keeping him off your back then so be it.

It has now been two weeks since your boss’ memorial was held. His replacement has already been hired, but you can’t bring yourself to bother too much. Some of your coworkers have started cozying up to him and buttering him up which is intimidating the poor man. Workplace politics is something you could never have prepared yourself for.

Another thing you couldn’t have prepared yourself for is adulthood. Why is it so hard to choose what to eat? You can’t live off of takeout because it’s not healthy, and whenever you fail to finish eating the fruits you got before they go bad makes you feel like more of a failure. Thus, with great determination, you end up buying half a dozen apples.

If you eat one daily, you’ll finish them all in under a week. More items are added to your trolley and when you finally exit the self-service checkout, you roll your shoulders, readjust your backpack, manoeuvre the plastic bags into a more comfortable position, and begin the walk home.

It’s nighttime, just one hour away from the shops closing. You know you’re safe because almost all of the people you are familiar with. There are only some here and there who you haven’t seen before, but they’re all normal. It’s evident from the way ‘it’ is stable around them. ‘It’ is light and calm.

After a fifteen minute walk, you’re at your apartment building. Unfortunately, you wasted too much time walking around after you got off work and now you’ll have to eat dinner late. Well, it’s not like your sleep schedule is fixed anyway. Another day of sleeping late shouldn’t hurt. It’s the weekend now anyway.

It is on this wonderful Saturday afternoon that you realise you don’t have friends. Clarification. You don’t have friends where you live.

After graduating, all of your friends either stayed in the same city or moved away somewhere else entirely. None of them came here, or anywhere in Yorbia for that matter. It’s realisations like these that force you to ponder over your future. What are you going to do? What’s your aim?

Before, it was to graduate and get a decent job. Now that you have that, what now?

With the lack of ice cream in your freezer, maybe you should start with procuring dessert. What about takeout as well? You could go for an evening walk, watch the sunset and get food for dinner altogether. That sounds nice.

Laptop turned on, you type in the address of a shady website and start browsing through the movie catalogue. Today, you will relax. Having hours of screen time isn’t a good idea, but it’s the weekend. Mistakes don’t count.

Maybe I should get mama and papa to move in with me after papa retires. That’s your thought when you head to the supermarket to get ice cream with takeout in hand. Getting food before ice cream wasn’t the best idea since it’ll be cold by the time you get home, but what’s done is done.

Life is lonely here. Sitting at home, alone, eating takeout and ice cream out of the tub while shows you’ve rewatched more than five times play on the TV. Maybe you should make some friends, but where?

Your workplace doesn’t have anyone, let alone any girl, your age. You also haven’t met anyone you wanted to be friends with. They’re all blended into the familiar background.

Paying with your card, you leave the self-service checkout counter and ready yourself for the walk back home. It’s more fun when you’re leaving the house for a walk, not the other way around.

Still, you take in the people around you like you do all the time. Most people you know, you recognise. You’ve been seeing them for so long. There are always a few who are a little odd as ‘it’ is a little unruly around them, like your notorious coworker. However, ‘it’ is still light and faint but most importantly familiar. That’s the most comforting thing about it. The familiarity is what’s important.

So imagine the surprise and utter shock you feel when ‘it’ is as dark as the night sky around a stranger you have never seen before.

The darkest you have ever seen is something similar to how dark yellow is compared to pure white. So seeing something as contrasting as jet black to white, you can’t help it when the bags fall from your hand and onto the ground.

You’re frozen on the spot, mouth hung open as you stare wide eyed at the stranger who stands just a few metres ahead of you. He doesn’t notice at first, too busy speaking over the phone to pay attention, but when his eyes fall onto you, they’re slow and knowing, like he’s been aware of your gaze since you saw him among the others around you.

A few deep, trembling breaths, and you grab the bags off the ground and dash by him as fast as you can without it seeming too obvious you saw something. This time you do not pause to soak in the familiarity of the surroundings. Your only goal is to get home.

Bringing lunch from home is starting to get tiring. You have to wake up earlier and pack leftovers as well as make sure you have leftovers or cook something the night before in case you don’t. All because some weirdo who’s hung up on his ex can’t take a hint. To be fair you don’t have the guts to outright say no as well.

Maybe you should work on that.

Today, you decided to take a walk on the pier near your apartment building. It’s also a fifteen minute walk away since it’s close to the supermarket. Nevertheless, you sit down on a bench and just watch the water.

It’s soothing, being idle like this. God, you really need a break.

Families and couples who you usually see around walk about the area. There’s something so special about this. This comfortable bubble you’ve created. Sure, you’re lonely with most of your social interaction being the neighbourhood kids or the teenagers on the train, but it’s all so comfortable.

It’s warm. Maybe you should ask your parents to visit. They’d like it here. The accessible sea and half middle aged or above population would be something they’d like.

The sun has gone down now, and the moon has started to become visible. So, with reluctance to let go of the passing time, you get up, backpack once again on your shoulders, and start the walk back home. Maybe you should also get an actual bag instead of using the one you did in university. You know, something that’s more feminine.

Regardless, as long as this one works, you’ll use it. No need to get a replacement if the thing isn’t destroyed yet. Wait, scratch that. Should you get more ice cream? Brownies maybe? The supermarket is right here and they have a section for freshly baked items. The brownies were amazing when you last got them.

You abruptly turn on your heel, completely determined to get what you are now suddenly craving. One step forward and you collide with something, getting pushed back a few steps from the force of whatever kind of brick it was. Barely are you able to regain your balance. Had you fallen, your laptop would not have survived.

You raise your head to look at what it was you walked into, ready to curse while there are no children around, but are completely frozen when you see him again. ‘It’ is large, so much more prominent and stronger than what you have seen in all the years you’ve lived. It’s like it’s protecting him, gently swirling around him like a protective layer.

It’s menacing, to say the least. You have no strength to utter a single word when the stranger steps closer to you, tilting his head as he inspects you for any injuries.

Or at least that’s what you think he’s doing.

You’re absolutely horrified at how ‘it’ seems to dissipate as he steps closer, the presence of it almost completely gone. It’s now as noticeable as it is for everyone, but you can still see the darkness of ‘it’. No way does it help that you can now also feel the mancing aura it has.

“Are you alright?”

Blinking at him, you come back to the present situation, the background noises coming back to invade your senses. Your tongue feels like lead in your mouth, and your chest feels extremely heavy. Why is it so hard to breathe?

“Ah, it seems like the collision stunned you. It’s okay. I apologise for bumping into you.” The stranger smiles, and it causes bile to rise up your throat. You don’t like how he’s still looking at you like that. Like he’s looking for something.

“Hello? Are you alright, miss? Really, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckles. You, on the other hand, fail to see what’s so humorous.

It takes a few more seconds to compose yourself, but your heart still beats loudly, spelling out the letters R-U-N in bold capital letters. However, social etiquette forces you to take a deep breath, bow, and voice your apology.

The stranger fails to get another word in before you awkwardly fast walk away with the nagging memory of the bandage covering his forehead and dark bangs messily falling over them.

Today, you walk home from the train station as fast as you can. The encounter yesterday has shook you to the core, and until you don’t see this stranger for a month straight, you will not cease the hurried travel back home.

Whoever this man is, you do not want to be within even a 10 metre radius of him. Something is definitely off about him, and in your experience the darker ‘it’ is, the worse person they are. You just don’t know what ‘it’ as dark as his means.

Nevertheless, fate likes to throw a pie on your face and laugh at you because he’s standing right outside your apartment building.

Fuck. That’s your only thought. Maybe you’ll hang around the neighbourhood or walk on the pier until he leaves. Yeah. better make yourself scarce. Unfortunately, fate throws another pie because when you turn your back and start quietly walking away, he notices you and calls out.

The bastard calls out to you.

Oh fuck me, you think. So much for not wanting to see him again. What does he even want? Does he want to know why you look at him like you’ve seen the man murder people countless times before?

“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing your evening,” he says as he jogs up to you. How he noticed you while you were literally a building away you do not know. “I saw you leave this building in the morning, so I figured you live here. I’m sorry for intruding like this.”

‘It’ is still barely there like yesterday. That doesn’t mean you can’t feel the suffocating aura he has. Awkwardly, you sputter out a greeting. “Oh uh, h-hi.” The bandages aren’t there today, but those Godforsaken earrings are still there and his forehead is still covered by a hat. Does he have a receding hairline he doesn’t want to show?

He’s smiling at you, and you’re now noticing how wide and innocent looking his eyes are.

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Again, I’m sorry about the collision yesterday.”

You look at him for a few more seconds, heart beating erratically in your chest. “[Name]. And it’s okay. It was an accident on my part as well.”

Chrollo tilts his head slightly, eyes fixed on you and giving you his full attention. “Ah, that’s a lovely name. A lovely name for a lovely lady.”

You have never cringed this hard in years. Still, you force yourself to awkwardly laugh just to be polite and attempt to cut the conversation short. There’s no reason you should stick around. It’s utterly pointless and risky considering how his mere presence makes you feel.

“Excuse my forwardness,” Chrollo says, “but I was wondering if there are any good restaurants here I can try. I’m staying here at a hotel nearby until I find a proper accommodation, so I was hoping you could give me some recommendations.”

You open your mouth to say something just to stop short of any sound exiting your mouth. What comes next is an apology. Be useless to him. Don’t give him any reason to seek you out again. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t lived here long enough to know.” Wait, that makes it sound like I just moved here which makes me an easy target if he’s a serial killer. “No- what I mean is that I’ve lived here for a while but I usually cook, so I’m afraid I haven’t explored the food here. I only get takeout from the restaurant behind the supermarket nearby.”

Grey eyes blink at you, the gaze attentive. The corners of his lips are still turned upwards, and his lips slowly part to allow him to speak. Everything seems more detailed. You can’t wait to shrug him off.

“If I may, I’d love to explore the food here with you.”

Fuck. Did I just get asked out? No no. Be realistic. He just needs someone to cling to in this new environment or he’s a serial killer trying to make you lower your guard. You sigh. Whichever it is, you refuse his offer regardless. “I’m sorry, Chrollo.” The fall of his smile is instant. It’s almost creepy. “I don’t plan on eating out too much. I enjoy cooking, so I’d like to stick to cooking as much as I can.” Seriously. What is it with men and taking you out to eat? “Thank you for the offer though. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d love to get ho-”

“I don’t mind cooking together as well.”

“...” What? There’s no way he just said that to you.

“If you prefer cooking, I have no issues with cooking together.” He’s still looking at you, expectantly this time, and you feel like the ground beneath your feet is crumbling away. Why can’t men take a hint?

“Ah, I really should get home soon. Isasmo must be waiting for me. I promised him I’d be home early.”

“Isasmo?”

“Mhm.” You’re shaking your head now. The presence of a man awaiting your return or curious about your whereabouts always works. “He gets very worried if I don’t get home on time. I don’t want him to worry, so if you’ll excuse me…”

Chrollo chuckles. Closing his eyes, he gently shakes his head. The loss of his gaze is short lived, but when it’s back, it cuts through your being. “Sorry for keeping you. I didn’t know you had someone waiting for you at home.”

Like earlier, your heart starts beating in your ears. How he’s keeping you on edge you have no idea. It’s maddening. “Alright. I’ll be heading home now.”

He smiles. “No ‘see you later’?”

Because I don’t want to see you later! “Goodbye!” With that, you dash past him and quickly enter the comfort of your apartment building without looking back. Honestly, you should start coming home at different times. Just to throw him off in case he swings by again.

Today, you discovered that your other coworkers are ‘talking’. Due to your sad lack of friends, you have no way of getting in on what’s going on, so you’ve resorted to hanging around corners whenever you hear someone talking or walking around with headphones on so that people think you can’t hear them.

Oh you can definitely hear them.

After a few days of gathering information you have learnt that the coworker who has still not given up on his pursuit of taking you out for lunch is acting a bit weird. Honestly, you called it way back. The day his engagement broke, he started acting differently.

You know because you can see with your own eyes at a glance instead of having to rely on long term observation. It also doesn’t help that ‘it’ has become slightly darker. It’s no way as dark as Chrollo’s, but it is noticeable enough to be discernible.

Speaking of Chrollo, why is he at the pier? No, scratch that. Why is he looking at you?

Quickly, as to not make it seem suspicious, you grab your phone from your pocket, press it to your ear, and start acting like you just accepted a call. With that legendary tactic that got you out of countless social interactions in university, you turn on your heel and start walking in the opposite direction.

When confirmed that he isn’t following after you and is nowhere to be seen, you pocket the device and continue on your merry way. The wind is chilly, the moon is hiding bashfully behind a cloud, and a tub of ice cream has been picked up.

Goods in hand, you arrive at your apartment. It doesn’t surprise you that midnight comes quickly. It is only after the clock shows 12: 30 am that you release the unhealthy snack for the night from the freezer and sit in the extremely poorly lit bedroom and stare at your laptop screen.

This time, however, you aren’t gaming, only browsing through more than eleven opened tabs (you lost count after eleven) and growing more puzzled by the minute. The incident that may have led to your boss’ death is gaining attention, especially on the conspiracy theory websites. Some say that the entire thing was a result of the mafia’s activities, while some claim that a notorious band of thieves did that to steal everything.

You have no evidence or trails that your boss died while participating in that ‘buy and sell’, whatever that means, but it sure does make you suspicious because you recently found out one thing. His body wasn’t recovered.

The more you think about it the worse it gets. Despite not wanting to, you’ve doom scrolled for so long that you’ve ended up on a five year old conspiracy theory post claiming that a group called ‘The Phantom Troupe’ goes around the world stealing stuff. The comments are mostly people confirming it, some even claiming to be hunters and saying that it’s true and common knowledge among hunters.

If they’re that dangerous and destructive, why doesn’t the Hunter’s Association take action? It’s all just a bluff or an exaggeration.

Lights all off, you get up to place your laptop onto your desk, but catch sight of something moving in the corner of your eye. It was barely there, something black or dark, but knowing that you left your living room window open, you simply sigh.

It’s completely quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you can hear your own breathing. Setting aside the fact that the awareness forces you to have to manually breathe, you slam the window shut but rest your forehead against the cool glass. Eyes stare down at the empty neighbourhood, and you start wondering how you got here.

It sometimes feels like a dream. Highschool feels like just a few weeks ago, and yet here you are. It’s surreal.

Five minutes of reminiscence are all you allow yourself, hands promptly grabbing the deep green curtains and drawing them just to freeze when you catch sight of something shining right behind you for just one moment. Turning your head around at an unholy speed only gives you neck pain because there’s nothing there.

Curse you conspiracy theorists. You will be extremely mad if you have a nightmare or lose sleep.

Your coworker didn't show up today. It almost makes you feel sad because you can get lunch from outside without having to deal with him. Ah, but the food you brought…

Nevermind. You'll eat it at home. Shoving the lunchbox back into your bag, you grab your wallet and head to the elevator. Headphones are on like usual in hopes of catching any stray gossip from around you.

Oh and do you catch a big one. Your coworker isn't replying to any texts or calls. He's ignoring everyone. The guy from accounting said in the elevator that he might be hungover since he has a drinking habit. Honestly, you should try and advance your relationships with these people from simple greetings. They’re better information sources than the news.

Nevertheless, you breathe a sigh of relief, merrily heading outside the building to head to the little hole in the wall restaurant you've been eyeing for a while.

The streets are busy as usual, almost everyone's lunch hours overlapping at this particular moment, so it isn't a surprise that you bump into a few people while trying to make your way. Although… it is a surprise when you bump straight into Chrollo.

Headphones are promptly pulled down to hang around your neck, and you brace yourself to visually deal with the pressing feeling that’s constricting your chest. ‘It’ is there but the comfort of the crowd allows you to deal with it with less effort.

You still don’t know why he’s like that. You don’t know why ‘it’ is like that around him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, “we should really stop bumping into each other.”

It’s the middle of the day and he’s dressed like he’s going to a funeral. Long black coat, black hat extending over his forehead, black button down, black dress pants, black-

What the actual hell are those shoes? Is that big yellow thing a nail that was screwed in? What the fu-

“Is something the matter?” Head tilted to meet your downward gaze, Chrollo’s expectantly looking into your eyes. There’s a moment of silence between you both, but you fill it with action as you move to the side to not take up space on the street.

With a very noticeable deep breath, you sigh. “Nothing’s wrong.” Something is wrong. His thing around him is creeping you out and making you uncomfortable. “I’m just a little tired.” Make yourself seem uninterested. You don’t particularly like this guy, remember?

He nods. “I see.” A pause and the dreaded question is voiced. “Do you work somewhere around here?”

“Yes,” you reply simply.

“Is it your lunch break?”

“Yes…” you hesitate.

“Perfect.” Like how your luck with the male human specimen has always been, Chrollo proceeds to utter the most undesirable string of words. “If you haven’t eaten, I would love for you to join me for lunch. I found a restaurant and was heading there just now.”

Despite knowing it’s hard to get out of this, you still try. “Ah, actually, I only came for a walk. I brought food with myself.”

“It won’t go bad,” he negotiates. “Please. Just this once at least. I promise you’ll have fun.”

Chrollo’s voice is light, cheerful when he says that. You are tempted, but still want to go where you were originally heading. Maybe you could sneak to the restaurant you wanted after shaking him off somehow. But before that, just to confirm what he has in mind, you ask him where.

And being the joke that your luck is, it decides to practise its humour right now because he took the name of the restaurant you were heading to. It also doesn’t help that your eyes widened and Chrollo commented on it, saying that he ‘caught you’. Screw luck. Screw having your way. Life is just a horrible comedy show with dad jokes and shitty puns coming one after another.

A while later, you are seated across from a man who has broken the record of most uncomfortable you have ever been. This time, however, ‘it’ isn’t what’s making you uncomfortable. It’s the way he looks at you like he knows something or is trying to know something.

You hate to admit it but after spending more than five minutes in his presence, you’ve gotten used to the suffocating feeling.

Even if you would rather not be desensitised to it.

It’s quiet between you both, Chrollo choosing to observe you shamelessly while you try your utmost best to avoid looking at him or showing that you’ve noticed his blatant gaze. It’s not busy in here, so that doesn’t help either. Phone in your hand, you scroll through social media apps, tapping away countless stories of people out and about.

The silence got comfortable, but he opened his mouth.

“I forgot to ask,” he says, voice low, “what do you work as?”

Your eyes briefly flit up to meet his but return to the screen immediately. “Data analyst.”

“Data analyst? You must be quite intelligent,” he chuckles.

“If crying through eight semesters of school is smart, then I suppose so.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he speaks. “You got through it though. I count that as smart.”

Is he trying to flatter me? “Is that so?” You close the app and open a different one, indifference dripping from your tone. “What about you then? You didn’t say anything about yourself. For all I know, you could be a serial killer.” Fuck. Did I really just say that?

To your surprise, he laughs. The bastard laughs. “I’m afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you. I’m not a serial killer. I am, however, a fan of the arts.”

You remove your eyes from your phone screen, looking up at him even with your head tilted downwards. “You don’t look the part.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Those in STEM are all weirdos,” you state. Eyes move back to your phone, and you’re briefly reminded of the awkward lunches and dinners you went through during freshman year when you didn’t have friends. “The arts ones are pretentious. You look sophisticated, more like a theatre kid.”

Forearms now resting on the table, Chrollo leans towards you, an action you do not notice. “I’m quite sure that sophisticated and pretentious are synonyms, and even if they aren’t, they’re similar enough to be.”

You sigh. “‘A pretentious person works at the appearance of things. They want the appearance of substance, while either not understanding or not caring about actual substance. Sophistication, on the other hand, implies an authentic accumulation of knowledge and/or experience, and the ability to apply those things in advanced ways.’”

“...”

“That’s what an internet search says.” You look up, eyes slowly rising to meet his, but are startled when you see him considerably closer than earlier. He’s leaning forward, and out of instinct, you lean backwards. “So,” you continue, albeit nervously, “you’re wrong.”

Unfazed, he chuckles. “That means you think I have ‘authentically accumulated knowledge’. Why, I’m flattered.”

Again, you physically cringe with a crinkled nose at his smile and tone. “I’m only stating my observation. There are no intentions behind it.”

“Still,” Chrollo smiles, “you did think positively of me-”

“Food’s here!” He stops speaking immediately at your interruption, only shaking his head a little when you start eating. There’s not much time left for your break, so you’d rather get done with it and get back as fast as you can.

Not having the luxury of savouring the food to your desire is sad, but you don’t think about it. ‘Next time for sure,’ you tell yourself. The fact that Chrollo didn’t let you pay for your portion just makes you want to get takeout next time. At least you won’t stare at him in horror again.

Even if slowly being desensitised to ‘it’ isn’t a preferable outcome.

Good news is that you haven’t seen Chrollo for a little more than a week. Bad news is that you haven’t seen your coworker for a little more than a week.

If you had a jenny for whenever a superior at work disappeared for more than one week, you’d have two jennys. That isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice. There’s got to be some kind of haunting going on. First your boss, then him? Another coworker? Another superior?

Sure, it’s been more peaceful without him here, but you don’t want another person to end up missing just to be pronounced dead. Neither is it good for the company’s reputation, nor is it good for the work environment. There’s already been word spreading around that they’ve started looking for his replacement.

Maybe that’s smart. Maybe… because not even the police have found any leads on his whereabouts yet. His entire apartment is just as it was, dirty laundry in the laundry basket, his phone and wallet still on his nightstand, bed not made, food left to cool still on the kitchen counter…

It’s a little eerie if you think about it.

Scratch that, it’s downright creepy. Where could he have gone? They even found half drunk bottles of different alcoholic drinks on his dining table. Did he get drunk and run off somewhere? Where could he have gone? Did he… get killed?

You have no idea of what’s going on. That is why you, being the detective that you are, have your laptop open in front of you at 1 a.m. as you scrounge the internet for any missing persons cases from this town. So far nothing noteworthy is coming up, the most being missing girls but nothing about a grown man disappearing to never be heard back from or seen again.

An hour or two of more searching bears no fruit and an additional hour of trying to sleep is rewardless. With great annoyance, you get up and throw on the biggest coat you own, something dark grey that almost reaches your ankles. Grabbing your keys and phone, you make the most foolish decision to take a walk at what you think is probably four in the morning.

The pier is silent. The only person you saw was a police officer on his bike drinking a hot cup of coffee.

It’s empty too, and cold. Is the nighttime really so serene? Hands are shoved into your pockets and your feet bring you to your destination on their own. It feels like walking on cotton, yet it doesn’t feel bad. It somehow feels soothing.

The empty pier’s cool wind blows through your hair. Enjoying this kind of loneliness is somewhat of a liberating experience. Did your missing coworker seek out something like this before he went missing? Did he want to feel the kiss of the cool late night wind on his cheeks? You lean over to look at the waves below, hair cascading around your face. You are met with the reflection of the starry night sky, and it isn’t long before you pull back.

Fifteen minutes of waddling around are all you allow yourself before pulling yourself back home. The keychains jingle when you turn the key in the keyhole, breathing a sigh of relief when you are finally back inside. Your feet immediately take you to your bedroom, hands grabbing the coat and throwing it to the nearest surface, and you immediately jump under the covers.

Face meeting something pink and smiling, you sigh again. “Goodnight Isasmo.” The pink axolotl’s smile remains and you cuddle the plushie before snuggling into the bed’s warmth. You hope sleep comes easy.

Three weeks. It has now been three weeks since your coworker has been missing. He has now been promoted to ‘missing person’ and his face, along with his cinnamon(?) hair, is now on every other newspaper or screen. It has also been three weeks since you last saw Chrollo, but you aren’t bothered by that. It’s actually a good sign. Never seeing him again is a favourable outcome.

Regardless, your coworker’s name is now permanently etched into your memory. Raaz Olen. That's his name. He has no direct family left, parents having passed away around a decade ago, and the only sibling alive is an older sister who wants nothing to do with him. It's a sad background if you think about it.

You sigh, turning off the computer screen before rubbing your eyes. Life has been uneventful these days. The most exciting thing you recently did was video chat with your old friends. Your best friend, the one who is about to replace your position in her life, suggested downloading a dating app because according to her you need some ‘action’. Were the eight semesters of action not enough? What’s so wrong with peace?

Yet in a moment of weakness, you caved into the idea and committed the act. A cropped group photo to show your arm awkwardly cropped out was uploaded and now there have been quite a few messages and matches. This unfortunate experience has only further proved why you say you have bad luck with the male human specimen. Their first move is to ask about your past relationships, and being salty over their shamelessness, you recount in detail just how agonising it was to be in love with what only hurt you back, to pine after what only reduced you to tears.

You deliberately left out the part that the object of your desire was your degree. At the very least, their uninterested replies were entertaining. Ah, such laughable insecurity. The app will go when you’ve had your fun. Until then, you suppose you’ll use it as a last ditch resort for entertainment.

If you do end up scoring a free dinner… well, no. You would rather not risk a date with a serial killer or worse, someone who wants a second date. The chances are slim, but never zero.

Another notification from the app dings, and you briefly check your phone to see a notification from someone who matched with you. There’s a “Hey! You’re very pretty,” as his message, and you almost scoff at the repetition. The amount of times you have been called ‘pretty’ by strangers on this app is laughable. Did they fall short of words? Maybe that’s just the standard compliment in the world of men.

You end up placing your phone face down, ignoring any following dings, and get back to work. There is only one hour left until you get to go home, and you would prefer not to leave this task for tomorrow to complete.

An old lady you see everyday on the train on your way back passed away. Despite having only exchanged greetings with her a few times and carried her bags for her at least a dozen times, you felt oddly sad when you heard of her death. Yes, you only knew her name and that her kids, her three sons, never called after moving away, but you felt like something had been taken when you heard.

Not something big but something small. Something you would not be bothered with by being gone but something you would definitely notice and feel the absence of. You took a day off to attend her funeral since it was hosted by the old age home she was living in, yet you ended up taking a day off after that as well.

Three boys, three men, lost a mother that day and none bothered to show up.

“Okay mama. I’ll pick you guys up from the airport. No, I don’t own a car. We’ll get a cab- it’s perfectly safe here! You’re not going to get mugged on the way from the airport, relax!”

More fretting comes from the other side, and you simply continue stirring the soup. The worries aren’t what annoys you. It’s the panic.

After around ten more minutes of reassurance, the call is disconnected and your soup is ready. It’s been a month since Raaz went missing, yet you cannot say you have moved on. It bothers you that a man like him can just vanish. Also, seeing his replacement walk around the office simply makes it worse. You prefer a person who would make you uncomfortable with interactions because of how ‘it’ seems to be rather than a person whose eyes wander where they aren’t supposed to.

Alas, on this fine Friday evening, soup has been cooked and a plan for your parents to visit you at the end of the year has been made. Your father agreed to use his annual leave to come visit you, and the only thing left is for the tickets to be purchased. If they like it here, you could convince them to move here! Maybe even look into your father working at the same place as you.

All is going according to plan! Now what to do about the guy who keeps pestering you to meet up…

You switch apps on your phone to see that he’s sent another few messages, mainly asking if you’re free this weekend. If you consider the sleep you need to catch up on and the show you want to binge, then you have no free time. Besides that, you really don’t feel like going out on a date. Should you just uninstall the app? Messing with the people you matched with has gotten tiresome. Perhaps you should.

Thus, with a few taps to your screen, your account on the application is deleted and the application itself is uninstalled. Honestly, you consider that a job well done. That calls for a reward; the reward being a coupon that can be redeemed anytime which grants you permission to do one stupid thing.

You know you would do the stupid thing regardless, but having a sort of system like that makes you feel less guilty when facing the consequences.

Being pulled into an alleyway with a hand firmly planted onto your mouth is not what you ever could have expected to happen to you on this Monday afternoon. Maybe your condemnation for toying with all those men on the dating app has caught up or maybe it’s one of those men here to force you to accept his advances.

Either way, you did not expect to start crying first thing when in a situation like this.

A hand strokes your arm, attempting to soothe you, as the other remains over your mouth. You can feel your assailant’s body heat and his breath over your ear when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Be quiet and it’ll be painless for both of us,” he says.

You furiously nod, sensing the threat, and he immediately lets go. Legs promptly spring to run, but the hand grabbing your arm renders your efforts futile. It is when your struggling ends in you falling onto the ground and him twisting your arm behind your back painfully that you relax, repeatedly tapping the dirty ground with your palm to show that you give up.

There are no faces that come to mind when you think of who you could've angered to this point, so the surprise that floods your blood vessels when you see Raaz’s face under the black hoodie makes you almost dizzy. His hair is dirty and unkempt, facial hair clearly not maintained as he was always clean shaved, and there’s a wildness to his eyes. You try your best to not pay attention to how ‘it’ is darker than before. You liken the difference to how dark brown is compared to beige, but you realise that ‘it’ is more menacing than it ever was.

Raaz is clearly unstable, yet you yourself can’t stop shaking from the lingering adrenaline.

“Stay quiet and listen to me,” he orders. “I need a place to hide. [Name], you have to help me. You will help me.”

Hide? What does he need to hide from? You dust off your clothes as you stand, a groan leaving your throat when the soreness in your arm makes itself known. He immediately grabs it again, afraid you’d run, but let’s go when you angrily shrug it off. “What happened to you?” you ask. “Everyone thinks you’re dead.”

“I will be if you don’t help me.”

Taken aback, you try to think over the situation. Raaz, someone who you always thought was or had the potential to be unstable, is here, clearly frazzled and on the run from something or someone, and wants you to help him hide. What does he want? To stay at your apartment? Risk your life for him?

“I-if it’s that bad,” you start, voice already shaking, “I can’t help you.” The betrayal on his face makes ‘it’ stronger, and you freeze, barely able to get your words out. “If you’re not able to hide in such a big city, I-I don’t- I don’t think you’ll be safe anywhere I can keep you.”

Raaz grits his teeth, his hoodie now pulled down to reveal dirty cinnamon hair, and takes a step forward. Out of fear, and to maintain distance, you take one back but panic when you’re unable to lift your feet. One glance down and you see something shiny protruding from the ground wrapped around your ankles. It broke pavement to crawl around your feet and now they’re stuck to the ground.

You gasp when two arms settle on your shoulders firmly. With a shaky breath, you gather the courage to look up into Raaz’s crazed eyes, all colour draining from your face when his hands grab your face instead. Nails dig into your cheeks, harshly tugging it closer to his. When you retaliate by clawing at his wrists, he simply grabs your hair instead.

Tugging the strands, your head is pulled back, neck exposed. You can see him breathing heavily, ‘it’ growing more erratic and frightening. Like all rabbits stuck in a trap, you thrash, attempting to free yourself from his grip, to miraculously free your feet and be able to run into the safety of the public street.

“You-” he pauses, eyes widening. Your hair is immediately let go of, and he whips his head at record speed, looking over his shoulder. The panic is oozing from his countenance, hands shaking and lips trembling. You think you’re looking at a man running away from death just to be caught up with at every corner and turn.

Curses spill from his mouth, and he turns completely. You feel the grip on your feet loosening, and taking the opportunity, you pry your feet out of the grip. Raaz has still turned his back to you, head moving as he searches for something. When he does not react to your escape from your restraints, you run.

A hand barely grabs your hair again, but you are out of the alleyway before his pursuit is successful. Feet hastily take you back to the office building, and the first thing you do is run to the nearest bathroom. No one is inside, and you take the opportunity to catch your breath, letting all tears escape from your eyes before you wash your face and fix your appearance. The adrenaline is still in your system, and you’re left not knowing what to do.

How the hell is Raaz still alive? And what is he running from? Why does he have a target on his back?

You do not know him beyond a coworker who was not over his relationship ending. Who knows? Maybe his ex-fiance did what she did because she found something out and didn’t want to risk staying with him.

Either way, you can’t get the look he had on his face out of your mind.

Embarrassment is all you can feel when you exit the police station with a ‘call emergency services if you see him again’. Why don’t they understand that you might not be alive to call emergency services if you see him again? Bitterness is in your mouth as you hop on the train to get home. It’s dark now, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t scared.

You honestly don’t know what you did wrong to have gotten caught up in all that. Regardless, you’re looking over your shoulder as you walk home from the station, adrenaline coursing through you as you make your way through. It’s when you’re home and have checked all the rooms and windows that you breathe a sigh of relief.

Whatever the hell happened, happened. You’ll keep emergency services on speed dial and try your best to dial them if anything happens again.

If only sleep comes easy after all this.

It’s been a week since your encounter with Raaz. Today is Tuesday, the previous week’s Monday being the fateful day. You’ve since been bringing lunch from home like before and find it a little funny how Raaz is the one who’s making you bring leftovers again.

Anyway, to the matter at hand. Someone’s been inside your apartment.

You can tell because you left a pencil lead in the gap between the door and door frame of your closed bedroom door. It was still closed when you got home, but the pencil lead was broken and on the floor which is something that could not have happened unless someone opened the door with the lead still in the gap.

You had been doing that ever since the incident with Raaz and today is the day your paranoia proved to have grounds. Now what are you supposed to do? Live with the information that someone has been inside your home?

Isasmo stares at you from under the covers, his dopy black eyes peeking out. You’ve checked the rest of your apartment and other than Isasmo and you, there is no one. Or at least no one you are aware of. Maybe you should look into moving.

Should you inform the police? Maybe you should, but what would you say? “I was paranoid so I put pencil lead in the gap between my door like a psychopath and guess what? It was broken when I got home! I’m being stalked!” They might laugh at you or place you under observation, the latter of which is preferable.

You end up sucking up the courage and going to file a report, a picture of the broken pencil lead on the ground being your only piece of evidence. It’s an uneventful walk, one where you are completely alert and looking over your shoulder as you get to the nearest station. After being ridiculed for being ‘delusional’ and ‘overthinking’, they agree to file a report and ‘look into it’ when threatened to find your dead body in your apartment one day. Seriously, what does a girl have to do to be believed? Die?

You shake your head on the way home as you think over your conversation at the police station. The older officers ridiculed you but thankfully a younger one got them to at least file a report. Though you’ve been told you’ll be contacted if their investigation yields results, you doubt there will be one to begin with. Well, at least the pencil lead was intact when you got home. That is a relief.

It’s been a little more than a week since you filed a report at the police station and none of your pencil leads have been broken again. You would have thought the first one to break might’ve been done by something else had you not noticed that you’re almost out of pencil lead. You had counted 7 in the package just this morning and now there are 4…

Who’s messing with you? Do they think it’s funny? What if you’re paranoid? Are you sure you counted properly?

A sigh leaves your lips as you drop backwards onto the bed. Is this really what you have been reduced to? Curse whoever is doing this. The police have not contacted you again, so you went there yourself today and they said they didn’t find anything. As if they actually searched.

It makes you mad, yet you can’t do anything. Since there hasn’t been anything besides the pencil leads in the closed doors’ gaps, you chalk it up to suspicion. Whether you are delusional or the authorities, only time can tell.

Work has been slow lately, and you are reminded every single day of how boring your life has become. There has been no new gossip circulating and your attempts at making any new friends have not bore fruit. Your old friends have also started contacting you less as they’re busy in their own lives. Sure, you hardly have time yourself with how your job takes up two thirds of your day but you also don’t have a social life. That’s why you basically have nothing to do besides work and binge watch stuff.

Goodness, are you turning into your father? The temptation to download the dating app again whispers into your ear sometimes, but you fight it. You will only do so when you are seriously looking for someone, not when you are looking for fun.

Bag on your shoulders, you pocket your phone and head to the elevator. Despite the fact that there isn’t much work, it’s dark when you’re done. Maybe you’ve gotten slow, not work.

The elevator doors open and you promptly leave, heading straight for the train station. It's an uneventful journey, and you choose to fill the silence by plugging in your earbuds. You step out of the train station, adjust your bag again, and head for the supermarket. The grocery list on your phone is pulled out, music flowing into your ears as you go about getting groceries.

Now with two plastic bags in hand, you make your way home. If you had restocked milk earlier - and not gotten lazy - you wouldn't have to haul two heavy plastic bags back home. Delivery is an option, but you won't be at home during the day to receive them. If only they offered delivery during the weekend.

Your phone rings, but you don't check who's calling. It's probably your mother, and it would be inconvenient to stop and drop the bags to pull your phone out. With a sigh, you continue walking. However, your trek is cut short when a hand grabs your wrist in a crushing grip, and pulls you closer. The music is still blasting in your ears, and you start sucking in a breath to scream only to stop when the grip turns almost bone breaking.

One look and you see Raaz's face under the black hood. He narrows his eyes at you and pulls you with him, bags still in hand and earbuds still in. When at his desired destination - a random alley like last time - you are pushed in front of him and you almost fall face first. You brace yourself and end up staggering but the bags fall and slide in opposite directions.

“Bad news, [Name].”

You barely hear him, hands reaching to pull out the earbuds and pocket them. Turning on your heel, you face him. He doesn't look any better than last time, only worse. ‘It’ is quieter, but you can sense how erratic it is. It feels like he's hiding how unstable he is only to do a poor job.

“You're going to go down with me,” he smiles. “Since you refused to help me hide, you now have a target on your back too.”

Disbelief contorts your expression into one of disgust. He's bluffing. He has to be. “Stop lying, Raaz. I'm not stupid and I'm not going to help you.”

He laughs, loud and sad. “That's what your mistake was. You never said yes to lunch and then I… then I ended up drinking again because another woman I love didn't want me.” A hand runs through his dirty hair before it slides down his hood. “I drank so much I bumped into the devil I was running from. And then… ah, fuck. I ended up telling him who I was thinking it was just another guy at the bar.”

Raaz looks you in the eye, and you take a step back from the sheer intensity only to find your feet restrained to your ground like during the previous encounter. It baffles you, but before you could question it or let alone panic, he's talking again.

“Now you're going to go down with me unless you help me. I'll let you go. I-I’ll get over you and Liza if you help me. You won't be harmed… probably.” He shrugs at the last part, and you find yourself not believing him at all.

Still, you prod further in hopes of making a false promise and being able to get away. There's no need to reason with him to go to the authorities. If it could've been helped, he would've gone there himself. “And just what,” you ask, “are you asking of me?”

“Money,” he replies instantly. “I burned all my savings trying to run. I need money so I can get a ticket and get the hell out of here.”

“I don't even know what you're talking about. How do you expect me to trust you?”

Your question makes ‘it’ flare up for a second before calming down, and Raaz doesn't miss the way your eyes widened for a minute. “I suspect you can see things. I'm right, aren't I?”

“Answer the questi-”

“Your legs,” he deadpans. A finger raises to point at your feet, and he continues. “I restrained them. Do you know how?”

You gulp, but humour him anyway. “How?”

He smiles. “I can manipulate metal.” A beat of silence passes before he talks. “That's why I'm like this. Someone wants me dead for this and I know he can do better but he's too busy fucking with me to make it quick.” Raaz inhales sharply, running a hand through his hair again. “I don't even know what he wants by dragging it out, but I'm going to make sure he regrets it.”

“You aren't even sure I'll be okay if I help you,” you state.

However, he just smiles at your complaint. “When someone's too busy chasing the big fish, they ignore the little ones.”

“Fine,” you concede. If it’ll get this psycho off your back, you'll give him money. “How much do you need?”

“Half a million jenny,” he says, clarifying when your jaw hangs open, “and I'm being generous. I'm going to have to fly illegally and it's going to take money.”

“I… I don't have much.”

“You're a data analyst, [Name]. You'll get your bonus after two months. Do something, anything.”

You suck in a breath. Maybe you could take some out of your credit card and some as a loan. You really don't want to pay interest, but you'll have to if you want this problem solved. “Okay.” The deal is sealed and you are sent on your merry way with an address typed into your notes app.

You can't believe you just agreed to that.

It's dark and quiet. The taxi dropped you off a few blocks away, leaving you to walk to the warehouses that once used to be rented by people for storage. The people running the business sold it off to someone who never bothered to continue it. Now you're here, cold and scared as you stand outside the dilapidated structure.

The garage door opens on its own, Raaz's face peeking from the darkness inside. His eyes light up at the sight of you. “You're here.”

You're ushered inside despite your protests. All you wanted to do was throw the bag of money to his feet and be back on your merry way but you just had to be pulled inside by a freaking metal pole of all things. Now you're here, standing with your feet restrained to the ground as Raaz counts to make sure you brought as much as he asked.

The only problem is, he's now talking on the phone and he just mentioned how he's got ‘both the girl and the cash’. Oh, and now there's something that's restraining your hands and despite how much you wiggle and pry your hands apart, it doesn't budge.

When Raaz glances your way from staring at all the money inside the bag, he just smiles. “I'm sorry for dragging you into this, [Name], but a man's gotta do what he's gotta do.”

Anger is the first thing that makes itself known because you took out a loan with interest for this dunce and he goes ahead to stab you in the back. Maybe you should've told the police about him. Shit. You shouldn't have been so stupid. But it is also the police's fault for never taking you seriously. If they had, you would've actually sought them out a third time.

“What are you doing?” Your voice grows louder, angrier and more desperate. “Let me go! You said you wanted money and you got it so let me go!”

Raaz clicks his tongue, and what he says next makes things clearer. “Don't get me wrong, someone has been after me but if I do as the boss says, he'll get me out of Yorbia safely.” Something fades in his eyes as he continues. “It's not like it's my first time. If I didn't have this side gig, I wouldn't be alive right now. There are too many people after you when you're like this.”

Something hard and solid slithers up your body and covers your mouth, cutting short any words from your mouth. Raaz stands, the light behind him hitting his back to make him look more menacing. “You'll be taken soon. I asked them not to hurt you and sell you immediately. Though cruel, it's a small price to pay for my own protection.”

You can hear an engine rumble outside, and a buzz in his pocket is all he needs to start stepping towards the garage door behind you. He moves while looking at you, hand awkwardly reaching behind him to pull up the garage door as his eyes remain fixed on your body. “Tie her up quickly. It'll wear off if I look away so make it-”

Thump.

Something heavy drops onto the ground and immediately the metal grip on you loosens a little. You can hear footsteps and a kick before the sound of the door closing. It's agonising, being forced to be still and helpless while something happens behind your back that is definitely not in your favour.

More footsteps and a figure in black stalks towards the bag of money only to ignore it entirely and head for the door in the back. You take the opportunity to fight against the restraints, wiggling and trying to move your arms but it's metal and you only end up exhausting yourself. You hear a sigh from the other room and freeze.

When the person is back, you are more confused and helpless when you see Chrollo's face. This time, there is nothing covering his forehead and you see something black covered by his bangs. It's when he steps closer that you make it out to be a tattoo of some kind.

“Your involvement was a surprise, but a welcome one,” he says. ‘It’ is calm and his voice is even calmer. He steps even closer, now standing just two steps away. “I had thought you were working with him, so imagine my surprise when it turns out he was using you. Or trying to, at least.”

You make a face but the metal wrapped around your mouth stops you from being able to convey it properly. Chrollo smiles at the display, the corners of his lips curling upwards out of amusement. “Do you need help?” His question only makes you grimace. “I'll free you if you tell me about your ability.”

You have no idea what the hell he's talking about, but you nod anyway, desperate to have the rigid metal wrapped around you gone. Chrollo steps forward and you expect him to reveal a chainsaw or some other tool, so it's perfectly reasonable when you shriek as his hand grabs the metal and literally rips it away from your body. As he pries away the last of it, you end up gaping at him, mouth wide open as you stare at him in disbelief.

Hands hanging by your sides, your features contort into one of fear as soon as he stands. Chrollo is now looking you in the eye expectantly and you have no idea what to answer him. Thus, you take a deep breath, confidence coming from the fact that ‘it’ is still calm and not threatening at all. Your lips part to speak and you briefly catch a hint of satisfaction is his grey eyes. “Do you… come here often?”

Chrollo blinks, once then twice. He raises a brow. “Pardon me?”

“You know… do you hang out here frequently?”

Confusion grows on his face, but he quickly recovers. “No. I don't.” A few moments of silence pass and he speaks up with a sigh. “You're completely clueless about the circumstances, aren't you?”

Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and you look down at your shoes as you nod. Nervousness makes you bite your lip. You were about to be who-knows-what by Raaz before Chrollo strolled in casually. Speaking of, where's Raaz? You turn around, eyes falling onto Raaz lying on the floor and a hat discarded next to him. A realisation hits you, a hand on your shoulder disturbing your thoughts.

“What do you make of this situation, [Name]? What do you think is going on?”

You carefully eye him. Not sensing a threat, you voice your thoughts. “Raaz… was involved in illegal activities. It's why he disappeared. He was running from someone too and the people he worked for promised that he'd be safe as long as he did what they asked.”

Chrollo hums. “And what did they ask of him?”

“A woman to sell off…?”

“You sound unsure,” he smiles. The hand on your shoulder slips down to your wrist, thumb massaging the skin. “He was involved in human trafficking,” Chrollo reveals. “His fiancé didn't cheat on him. She was trafficked.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, more pieces of the puzzle coming out of nowhere. Nevertheless, the most surprising thing is how Chrollo is here. The hand circled around your wrist is wiggled out of, and the question on your mind is voiced. “How are you here?”

Chrollo tilts his head at you. “I could ask you the same.” When you raise a brow at him, he chuckles. “I'm here for your coworker over there. He told you about someone who was after him. That would be me. However, I'm not after his life.”

You raise your brow higher, prompting Chrollo to continue. “You’re a Nen user, right?” When you ask him what he's talking about, he grows more confused. “You're a Nen user without the awareness of being one? Interesting.”

A hand finds its way to his chin, but Chrollo is lost in thought for only a few moments. “What do you suppose I should do with your coworker? He used to ask you out, correct?”

“Yes? Does that matter?”

“Perhaps,” he smiles.

You gulp, sensing a kind of game he's playing with you. “Don't hurt him. Hand him over to the police. They'll… they'll know what to do with him.” Your request is heard, but Chrollo does not seem to care for it because he clicks his tongue and pushes his hands into the pockets of his black trenchcoat.

Crouching down in front of Raaz, he grabs his hand and you look away. A moment later, you look again and Raaz's palm is flat against the cover of a book in Chrollo's hand. Where the hell that book came from, you have no idea.

“Now that that's done,” he says, now moving to stand, “what to do with you…”

Your blood runs cold at the question. If this situation is anything to go by, Chrollo is not any better than Raaz. In fact, he may be infinitely worse. Regardless, you still do not feel any kind of threat from him, ‘it’ being considerably less suffocating than it was the last time you had met him. Perhaps it is the lingering adrenaline that makes it seem so, but you are not afraid of him at the moment. Thus, being the person that you are, you try at making him spare you.

“Maybe,” you start, “you could, you know, let me go home. I'm not going to say or do anything. I couldn't be bothered about this. I'll take the jenny I was scammed out of and go home. Or you could keep the money if you want! As long as I get to go back home.”

Your negotiation attempt makes Chrollo think. He spends a few moments pondering over the situation, eyes still focused on you. When he parts his lips to speak, you have already prepared yourself to not be let go. “I'll let you go if you agree to meet me tomorrow evening. I suppose I can think over what to do with you in the meantime,” Chrollo says.

The offer makes you take a step back. “Really? You won't scam me like Raaz did?”

“I can make a promise if it eases your mind.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. He's smiling at you teasingly and you in no way are feeling any sense of danger from him. Begrudgingly, you agree. “Fine. Where should I meet you?”

“Give me your number. I'll send you the location.”

You make a face at the request, but surrender when he pesters you with promises of no ill will. An hour later, you are at your apartment, the bag of jenny still with you as you start planning to immediately pay off the loan you took out.

It is 7 pm. You stand somewhere to the side where Chrollo had asked you to come, the man in question nowhere to be seen. He asked you to come around 7 pm and you ended up getting here at 6:36 pm. It’s been 24 minutes since you’ve been standing here in wait.

Though you’ve been waiting alone with your thoughts for so long, the dread starts settling in now. It does not help that you can feel a familiar suffocating aura before you turn to look at its source casually strolling up to you on the busy street. It also does not help that your alarm had been explicitly painted on your face as soon as he was within a 6 feet radius.

“I was expecting you to not come,” he says. “This is certainly a surprise.” Chrollo smiles at you again, the curve of his lips somehow more menacing than the darkness around him. There’s a hat covering his forehead like before, you note. It seems that he certainly wants to hide the tattoo in public.

“I suppose my life is on the line. I would rather not walk around with another target on my back. You don’t seem like someone I would want after me, if Raaz’s condition was anything to go by.”

“An excellent deduction. I’m not someone you would want coming after you, at least not for your life or ability.” You gulp his clarification, proceeding to ask what he concluded for the course of action he must take. Chrollo chooses to let a few moments of silence pass, listening to the bustle on the busy street before replying, “I’ll tell you in due time. First…”

That is how almost half an hour later you are sitting at a restaurant, Chrollo across you, and a menu in front of you. What the hell is going on, you have no idea. You came here to find out if you’re going to be kidnapped or killed. Not to be taken out for dinner. When asked what you’d like to have, you insist that you aren’t hungry, something that Chrollo makes it a point to ignore as he ends up ordering for you. It is even more disorienting when it ends up being something you’ve had multiple times for lunch during the workdays.

“So,” you start, nervousness seemingly dripping from your countenance, “I suppose the final verdict will be given for dessert?” When Chrollogives no answer, you continue. “At least give me a hint. Death or imprisonment?”

He blinks at you. “It’s a surprise.” With that simple statement, he is back to observing you, one hand on the table and tracing the rim of the glass tumblr in front of him. “I hope Isasmo isn’t worried about your circumstances.”

Ah shit, he remembers. “Nope. He doesn’t know.”

“You hid everything? I suppose that’s reasonable. An axolotl wouldn’t be able to help in any way.”

Your eyes widen, heartbeat picking up. “You… how do you know?”

Chrollo’s response is simple, but it isn’t any less chilling. “You talk to him everyday.” He’s still watching you, eyes crinkling at the corners from his amused smile. It’s maddening having to be on the receiving end of this. When you do not grace him with a response, Chrollo does not say anything further as well.

The silence is excruciatingly painful. Chrollo's gaze, however, is more uncomfortable than being called out in class for an answer and not knowing it. Thus, a bright idea pops into your mind, a legendary question that easily makes any conversation better. “So,” you start, bracing yourself, “you like jazz?”

The only reaction you get is speechlessness before Chrollo clears his throat. “Not particularly. You?”

You shake your head. “Not my style.”

Resting your face in your palm, you look away, eyes anywhere but him. The surroundings seem more interesting, the two couples and a few lone people in the background having more to tell than the person you thought was going to end up hurting you. Well, it’s not your fault you got caught in the crossfire of whatever was going on.

“What,” Chrollo says, perking you up, “was your relationship with Raaz?” He’s tracing the rim of the glass again, something that bothers you because of the discrepancy between the action and his expression. Regardless, you answer truthfully. There is no guarantee he already knows and is simply testing your truthfulness.

“He was my coworker. He used to ask me out for lunch numerous times. That’s all.”

“And did you go to lunch with him?”

You shake your head. “No.”

Chrollo simply makes a thinking face before he’s back to normal again, hands sliding underneath the table. Silence once again hangs in the air, the tension thick enough to be cut through with a knife. You are completely unaware of Chrollo’s aims and motives, yet he knows you more than you could have ever thought.

Which reminds you…

“Chrollo.” He perks up at the call of his name instantly. You continue. “Someone was most definitely coming into my apartment during my absence. Was that you?”

The smile he gave you told you everything. A groan comes from your throat, the annoyance over being paranoid and doubting yourself while being sure that something was amiss catching up. “And just why were you breaking and entering?”

He clicks his tongue. “I thought you were working with Raaz.”

“Yet when you didn’t find anything the first time, you still persisted.”

“New evidence can pop up anytime,” he shrugs.

How someone can be so nonchalant over something like this, you have no idea. Sure, you were worried at first but annoyed later on, but still!

“So have you decided what to do with me?”

After a moment of contemplation, you are given a smile and a promise to be informed of your inevitable outcome after dinner. Yet after dinner you are taken to a nearby pier with no sign of the final verdict being given anytime soon. Now settled on a bench next to Chrollo, the little distance between you both resulting from your death glares whenever he slid close to you, you decide to enjoy the cool breeze before asking him again.

And you do. You ask him again what he’s decided to do with you, and all you are given before the knowledge of your inevitable end is a smile and a tilted head. This is when you notice how long Chrollo’s hair is.

“I was considering an… ‘arrangement’,” he says. The words cause your heart to start beating faster. “I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head or your family if you agree.”

He pauses, gauging your reaction, and you start praying he does not turn you into some kind of personal slave. “If,” he continues, making you start fidgeting with your hands out of nervousness, “you agree, you’ll live comfortably without a care in the world.” Another pause and the anticipation grows. The sound of chatter in the background is completely mute and the wind has already stopped blowing.

“What I’m proposing is… well, you allow me to court you. I will take the necessary steps, and you simply have to accept.”

The minute Chrollo utters those words, you freeze. A reply is on the tip of your tongue, and you know it is not a wise idea yet you open your mouth anyway. “If you wanted to ask me out so badly, you could’ve just walked up to me and asked instead of threatening to kill me or my family.”

All you receive in response is a shrug before he formulates a reply. “Would you have said yes if I asked under normal circumstances?”

“No.”

“Then my point has been proven.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Maybe you should test the waters. “And what if I said no? What then?”

Chrollo leans back on the backrest, now more comfortable before he continues his negotiation with you. “Was Raaz’s predicament not enough of an example?” The wind blows again, and he leans forward, eyes on the water. “Not that I would prefer that, but you understand what I’m referring to.”

And you do understand what he’s referring to. You understand because you saw what became of Raaz. Nevertheless, you need more information to negotiate. Perhaps you might be able to find a way out during his ‘courting’. “Are you a homeowner,” you ask. “And do you live in the house you own?”

Chrollo looks at you from the periphery of his vision, suspicion making him more alert. “No, but I can purchase a home anytime.”

“Alright,” you nod. “And do you have a stable income?”

“As long as the world has treasure and resources, I will.”

“I see.” You pause, thinking of more questions to ask. “What about family? How much family do you have? Any siblings?”

“None,” he replies, “Any other questions?” He’s looking at you directly now. “Or would you like to leave some things to be discovered later on?”

You purse your lips at the comment. So he has money and no family. Sounds mighty suspicious or concerning. Depends how you look at it. You’re looking at it both ways. Silence settles once again as you think over what to say next. Chrollo seems content to leave you with your thoughts, as he doesn’t make any move to break the silence.

But when the silence is broken, it is broken by your capitulation. Chrollo is pleased as expected, yet there is no sign of relief or contentment on your end. Perhaps you could purposely make the relationship fail, and then he might let you go. At the very least, this arrangement is better than having your parents and yourself hunted down by a criminal.

It has been 3 entire weeks since you accepted Chrollo’s conditions. Your job is going fine, boring as usual, and seeing Raaz’s replacement still reminds you of the feeling of cold metal restraining you and keeping you in place.

It’s maddening, having to relive that feeling everyday. However, what’s worse is seeing Chrollo inside your apartment numerous times a week, mostly when you come home from work. He hasn’t made a move to stay the night yet, always excusing himself to ‘work’ or saying something along the lines of you not being ready for that step. It’s not that you’re ungrateful for it, but you don’t like being indirectly told that he pulls the strings and holds the power.

That’s why you’re here. Everything in the past several weeks has led to this and the tension and stress of those weeks has boiled down to reveal someone very tired and just a little spiteful. You knew he was someone to stay away from, and you did stay away from him. Or tried to at least.

“You said you wanted to speak to me about something?”

The devil has voiced your intentions, and you are now obliged to jump straight to the point. Having just got off work, you’re tired and a bit annoyed due to the lack of proper sleep. Despite that, you suck in a breath, continue strolling with him in the park, and give your response.

“We should break up,” you say, a sense of finality in your words that conveys your message that you shan’t be swayed in your decision. “Or stop this, considering this isn’t a normal relationship.” You had refused to hold his hand today, saying you want to keep them shoved into your pockets since they’re cold. They are currently sweating. “I don’t love you, and I don’t feel any bit comfortable. Continuing this would just make the both of us miserable.”

The break up dialogue sounded better in the TV shows you’ve watched, but you let it slide and continue. “Let’s just… see other people, okay? You’re probably just lonely. You said you have no family, and I can’t be the replacement. I don’t feel it working. I don’t feel loved and I sure as hell can’t love back.”

There is silence before Chrollo stops in front of you. He turns, facing you, and you are suddenly reminded of the children playing nearby and your bag being on his shoulders. “Is it because you remember the circumstances? If that’s the case, I can make you forget them.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant.” You flex your sweating palms inside your pockets, nervousness skyrocketing. “I just… it’s not working Chrollo.” There is desperation in your voice now. “You may find this arrangement fulfilling, but it’s not the case for me. I don’t even know what you do for a living! I don’t know your last name and-” You cut yourself off. You’ve gone off-topic.

“What I’m saying is,” you continue, “I’m certain this isn’t working out. We should go our separate ways.”

Silence once again settles, but it is soon broken by the sound of footsteps. With your head down, you see Chrollo’s shoes when he walks up to you. A hand on your chin raises your head to meet his eyes, and you gulp out of nervousness when his lips part to speak. “The condition was that I would court you and you would accept. There was no room for rejection to begin with.”

He pauses, looking for any reaction on your face. When he fails, he continues. “If you don’t feel loved, you should communicate instead of breaking up. A relationship thrives when both parties communicate, right?”

You brush off his hold, lips twisting in slight disgust. “You aren’t getting my point-”

“Explain it to me then.”

“I just did.”

“Your argument lacks claim and reason. It isn’t even an argument to begin with.”

A frustrated groan and you bring your hands out of your pockets. With a few slaps to your cheeks, you try again. “I don’t like you and I can’t stand you. If this wasn’t something that came as a result of what happened to Raaz and I met you as a stranger and ‘it’ wasn’t as creepy as it was, I might’ve given you the time of day but none of it happened!” Chrollo looks at you like you’ve grown two heads during your outburst, but you do not care. “Chrollo, you creep me out and I don’t like you. I can’t accept you and fall in love with you. What more do you not understand?”

He blinks, once then twice, before grabbing your shoulders. The action makes you freeze, the suffocating feeling from ‘it’ growing and becoming more visible and menacing now prevailing. “Elaborate on ‘it’.” The grip on your shoulders slides down to your arms but you do not feel any less threatened. Maybe that’s why he never stayed the night. You’re too frightened at times.

“There’s… something around you.” Revealing this feels wrong, but you know you have no choice now. “It’s dark, the darkest I’ve seen yet on any person. It’s scary and overwhelming and I don’t like it. Sometimes it’s calm and tolerable and sometimes it’s huge. It doesn’t have anything to do with emotions, or that’s what I think.”

Chrollo hums, letting you go. ‘It’ does not simmer down until a few more minutes pass, and he only speaks after it does. “It’s your Nen ability. You cannot see Nen, but your ability is an exception.”

“What do you mean?”

Chrollo glances around before stepping closer. He points to his right palm with his eyes and in a moment, a book suddenly just appears in his hold. Any questions on your end are silenced with the excuse of being in a public space. The only answer you get that evening is that the book is Chrollo’s ability.

Any further probing is told off immediately. Chrollo does not wish to say anything further, changing the topic promptly and continuing to converse like you did not just attempt to break up with him. The lingering fear from his threats slowly starts seeping in, and you once again grow bewildered over how your circumstances have changed.

You're in the kitchen when Chrollo says you need to pack your bags. He had gotten up from the living room sofa and strolled into the kitchen when he broke the news. Now, as he stands in front of you, your back to the counter, and recounts the essentials you need to pack, you blankly nod. Everything is a blur. You cannot control your actions, only watch them like a third party.

He turns his back to you now, sighing at your silence, but before he can take a step forward, you plunge a knife into his back. The silence is deafening, but when you pull out the blade to see your handiwork, you are greeted with only a handle.

The blade sits in Chrollo's palm, and he's looking directly at you.

All your muscles are frozen, and you cannot discern whether the ringing in your ears is from the adrenaline or from being stared down. Minutes pass this way, and it is only when you throw the handle somewhere to the side that it subsides.

“Pack the essentials,” Chrollo says, his voice cutting through the silence. You’re now noticing the TV is turned off. “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

You just noticed Chrollo’s palm is unscathed. How odd.

#yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucifer x reader #yandere hunter x hunter

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galesdevoteewife · 4 months

Text

Gale may not be so typical squishy wizard/scholar?

-My Galeology study note-

Looking at his character sheet in the Deluxe pack gets me thinking, maybe our wizard is not exactly designed to be the typical squishy one...?

[Act2 spoiler warning]

2 things caught my eyes:

1) Great physical fitness, and good reflexes. (For your reference, Gale & Wyll are the two companions who have the highest Con: 15. I put everyone's sheets at the bottom of the post.)

His Con and Dex are... very high?? I mean, higher than Karlach and Lae'zel...????

Note 1: I suspect it could have something to do with his background as Mystra's chosen, as they are somewhat "transformed" when they agree to become the goddess's chosen. A topic for another day since I haven't quite figured it out yet, for anyone who is interested there's a chapter about it in The Seven Sisters. Also, I have little clues on how much chosen lore credit Larian was taking into account while designing him, or how Mystra's "taking back the given ability" works. Note 2: Again, Mystra's chosen are often sent on missions that involve a lot of traveling according to Elminster's series. Mystra also mentioned that Gale and she used to have adventures together, which leads to an assumption: despite his preference he might be traveling quite a lot until he was cast aside and quarantined himself in his tower. Might be the type of scholar who is very keen on field studies?

Note 3: Can someone undress Elminster to exam my theory please??xD Neh won't work I think all human might share same body model in game

Come to think of it, there was a party banter between Karlach & Gale that went like :

Karlach: Whoa! Almost slipped there. Gale: You wouldn't be the first, I'd wager. It's been some time since these walkways felt the carpenter's hammer. Karlach: You gonna catch me if I eat a brick? Gale: With my reflexes? I'd catch you before you so much as stubbed a toe.

At first I thought that was a sarcastic joke but, seems like it wasn't? Also this:

Karlach: Ready to enter the belly of the beast? Gale: It's the stairs I'm dreading. I shall close my eyes, and pretend I'm climbing my own, far superior tower in Waterdeep. Karlach: In that case, welcome home.

...So it seems when I pictured him as a homebody, I should reimagine the concept of home... His has...lots of stairs? Just walking around in the tower could be counted as a workout, sort of thing? Note: I don't think the place he shows in the Act 2 cutscene is his tower. Otherwise, aren't these neighbors pretty much doomed?

2) Not THAT smart. Well, I love him, so I will speak in his defence: [1] He has a warm(s) digging holes in his brain. [2] Poisonous magical bile running in his blood. Maybe he's just not at his best, makes sense, eh? Wyll mentioned he is nerfed after tadpole too. After all, this man obviously memorized a DICTIONARY:

Gale: You promised to stay in Waterdeep. 'Promise,' verb, meaning to swear something will or will not be done. Tara the Tressym: And I decided 'will not'. And a good thing, too. You look like you haven't had a good meal in days

Player: When I said we could be more than friends, you answered 'perhaps'. What does that really mean? Gale: If I recall correctly, the Waterdhavian Dictionary of the Common Tongue of Faerûn defines it as an adverb that conveys the meaning of 'it may be that', or 'possibly'. Gale: Sorry, sometimes I just can't help being quite insufferable. In seriousness, I'm glad you asked that question.

Along with a bunch of you-may-never-need information:

Everything about ceremorphosis? Myconid? Why in the world have him read about Cazador??? And how can he not know the distance between Waterdeep & Baldur's Gate, even Karlach ―who spent a decade, which is likely half of her life in hell― knows better geography than him. Gale either totally ignored the subject or portaled everywhere; distance meant nothing to him?? Uh, but you can't take party banters too seriously; it's buggy. How could a bug bit Karlach in the swamp? It should've been burned into ashes before it even reached her, no?

Anyway, just rambling some thoughts <3 I would have gone to Harvard if there was a major in Gale...

-DISCLAIMER- Brought to you by a brainrot wife, Galerian missionary. Be warned the article might has (strong) bias because the writer is braindead and she thinks Gale is the most awesome character in the world.

#baldur's gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 gale #ramblings #Galeology #bg3 datamine

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m1d-45 · 3 months

Note

just a small idea since you said you had a lil writers block: since wushi (lion dance) is used for important events/occasions and to honor special guests, maybe you could write about how ga-ming does a lil performance for creator?

- curse anon

vanguard’s fortune

note: this is not what you asked ! i thank you so much though

word count: 1k

-> warnings : written prior to 4.4, lots of “if you know you know” spoilers for liyue archon, story, and hangout quests, but nothin big

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept

< masterlist >

despite everything, ga ming knew he was lucky.

he certainly didn’t feel like he was. aside from his continued streak of bad luck at his performances, you never attended any of his shows and your vessels never gave him so much as a second glance. you’ve walked right by him on the street before—and yes, he knows you don’t ‘see’ most of liyue, but he was in the middle of a dance. he’s certain that word must have spread at least somewhat, but even when he put on a show during the last lantern rite, you didn’t attend. it was as if you didn’t even know he was there, skipping his meager stage to meet up with yun jin.

part of him wondered if you simply disliked liyue, but that was easily proven false. you took the time to accompany chongyun on his patrols, xiangling was more than happy to talk about when you’d helped her in a competition in mondstat, and you’d even fetched ingredients for the wangsheng consultant last year. it was the simple fact that you had nothing against liyue, and he was an outlier.

and yet, he was blessed. vision wielders were rare on their own, and only a thin sliver of them had constellations. he was incredibly lucky to be one of the few within your spotlight of attention, but he never felt the love that was supposed to come with it. yes, he had a vision, the lion carved on the back a figure he’s long memorized, but even the latest of liyuen rotations had a chance to exist by your side. though the others always tried to reassure him, their words fell flat. xingqiu had recieved his vision long before he became a vessel, but he had several turns in the sky to try. chongyun was largely ignored and ningguang was rarely missing from the jade palace, but that information didn’t help as much as they thought it did.

he didn’t care that he wasn’t a vessel (as much as one couldn’t care about such a thing) so much as he was ignored. you fought by ningguang’s side and helped yanfei out of the chasm, but he’d never even heard his name thrown your direction. it could be argued that he was being selfish or even egotistical, but he didn’t think so. sword and strongbox secure transport agency was a well-known name throughout liyue, and yet you’d never so much as heard a rumor. it didn’t affect his business—nor did he want your attention for business purposes—but with you helping a film show (at least now he knew you enjoyed theater) in fontaine, he may or may not have been hoping that yilong wharf’s name might have been passed your way.

it hadn’t been, though. his days went on and he continued his rounds as usual, doing his best to promote his dance and maybe getting a few mora thrown his way in return if he was lucky.

but that was fine. irritating, sure, but fine. liyue was in the tail end of preparations for this year’s lantern rite, and he was set on attending. as soon as the ministry of civil affairs opened applications for performers, he’d done his best to secure himself a stage. nobody had given him a secure word, though, saying that it was “up to divine guidance” as if your traveler hadn’t taken the transport up to the jade chamber last week. yes, you often found other things to do during lantern rite, digging into liyue’s past, but you still attended the scheduled events. you still walked the streets and saw the stalls, and there was no way that the entirety of the main road was already taken up when he’d made a point of asking early.

it was because they saw him as a guard first and a dancer second. most people did, and he was lucky they’d given him uncertainty over a guaranteed rejection. the only reason they did at all was because of the constellation etched into his vision, and he was lucky to have that too. he was lucky to have this chance when most street performers could only dream of performing at the lantern rite.

‘lucky.’ it was an accurate word, but one he was beginning to get tired of hearing.

it was fine, though. he was determined—his vision blazed as he left the ministry’s office, a constant warmth at his side—to prove himself, determined to perform for you. he didn’t know when his chance in the stars would be, or when he’d have his time by your side, but he would make the most of each day until then. when, not if, he did, he would do everything in his power to make the best impression possible.

he gave a few polite waves to various merchants as he walked through liyue, making the familiar trek over the bridge and past the gate. the millelith didn’t stop him, and he didn’t stop to say hello, only lingering long enough to acknowledge them with a quick nod. he knew liyue’s hills and they knew he did too, easily navigating to a quiet, flat space of plain. the threat of hillichurls was a constant outside the harbor, but he didn’t let that stop him, confident despite the growing twilight.

ga ming reached into his inventory and pulled on his mask, hands easily finding the controls for the massive puppet. he took a breath, then began to dance, his feet sweeping over the quiet grass.

he had no guarantee when or if he’d receive the chance to chance to win your favor. but if you chose to have him on your stage, he was determined to put on the best show you’d ever seen.

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nyashykyunnie · 2 months

Text

˗ˏˋ Sung Jinwoo x Terminally ill Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ TW: Terminal Illness, Angst to Fluff, Solo Leveling Spoilers ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Part 2 || Part 1 ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ We'll Try This Again, Begin Again with Zero. But This Time? I'm Never Letting You Go. ] ¡! ❞

Living felt more like a punishment more than anything. The pain he goes through starts feeling more and more deserving in his eyes. He was pushing himself to the limits when he shouldn't, he's punishing himself over a sin that wasn't really his fault.

But if anyone tells him that, he wouldn't look back at them. He would ignore their concerns.

He has a duty to uphold anyway, a duty that only he can do as a monarch.

Jinwoo has ultimately grown to be a vessel of war thanks to the system.

He didn't really care much, he already placed insurance to his name if anything happens to him.

When he's gone, his remaining family would atleast live off of something.

He has already watched his father die too thanks to the godforsaken monarchs.

What more can he loose?

Over and over again, he puts himself in the battlefield, exhausting himself on purpose, never even sleeping nor eating.

He was just fighting like a dog.

Well, dog's get much more care than what he does to himself, so does it really count?

It doesn't matte,r Jinwoo physically cannot be exhausted.

But mentally? It's a different story.

He wasn't really depressed, at least, that's what he tells himself.

He really felt numb, not exactly sad, not exactly happy either. It's as if his emotions lie in the middle.

Jinwoo felt hollow, completely hollow.

As if he were merely nothing more than a puppet in war.

The only thing that really urges him to move forward is the distant sound of his beloved's voice in the back of his head.

And soon, after he had finally murdered the Monarch of Destruction— He would be granted a wish.

Battered and tired while on the floor, he thought of what he could possibly ask from the rulers.

Thought of?

No, Jinwoo already knew what he wanted.

It was to turn back time.

To meet old friends again, to stop the gates from opening, to have his family whole again

,... To meet you again.

Yes. That's right. All of this was for you anyway.

Jinwoo recalls that memory very clearly, how you were still in the hospital bed and you two were playing a game of cards while he tells you about how he plans to be a hunter soon.

Your words were quite cute really: "I hope Woowoo becomes a really strong man!"

Those silly, innocent words of yours.

Up to this day, he still smiles lovingly whenever he remembers that.

He became this strong not just for himself and his family who needs him, but for you, the brave little soul who endured that illness—

Jinwoo fought for you

And since he is given the opportunity to correct the past, he requiested for time to be rewinded.

Right then and there, a brilliant flash of white would engulf the earth, bathing it in all it's glory. eradicating all traces of the lifeforms and shadows there is to this pathetic universe. For once in a million years, the earth was beautiful again. It looked like a star gleaming along with countless others.

Soon, Jinwoo would wake up to the sound of his baby sister's calling. Jinwoo would sit up, gently smiling at her.

It took a while for everything to sink in, for everything for him to realize that this? All of this was reality.

How badly he wanted to find you in the time he spent, for just a few weeks, he enjoyed being a child again.

Laughing with friends, screaming at others for a vanguard or healer in the pc cafe— He wanted to find you in an instant. But not right now.

He took care of some stuff first.

Your illness wont awaken until then after all.

27 years, he spent time in that goddamn dimensional crack fighting monarchs and all that crap.

When he was done, he finally came home.

Just as he set foot back in earth again, he went straight to the hospital.

April 9th of spring, where the pink petals bloomed and flew around the air— This beautiful but tragic day.

Was the first time you had collapsed and coughed out blood.

It started with your lungs, to your kidneys, to your heart, to everywhere.

You had metastatic cancer.

Coughing up blood was only the start.

And Jinwoo had come home just in time.

He didn't even ask for directions, he just went straight to your hospital room.

He knew this godforsaken place better than the doctors and nurses himself after all.

As he pried open the door, there you were, resting on the bed staring absentmindedly at the pink trees outside your window. When yopu heard the sound of the door, you turned your attention to Jinwoo.

Dazzling and innocent eyes, just as he remembers. Your youthful face, free of any sign of wrinkles. Still chubby and plump that he wanted to just kiss your cheeks all over.

As you called out his name, Jinwoo marched over and embraced you tightly.

"I'm sorry, it took me a while" Jinwoo whispers ever so lovingly as he rubs the b ack of your head affectionately.

You were confused at first, wondering why your best friend is acting all cuddly and sappy when he totally did not disappear off of the face of the earth and come out of nowhere like some sort of boogey man. But regardless, you can't help but notice the traces of tears about to break from lovely grey eyes.

When you reached over to touch his face, his voice broke and he started crying almost instantly.

Panicked and confused, you pulled him to a tight hug.

Jinwoo was crying, and in his tears and broken voice you could hear the amount of anguish he had been bottling up, the brokenness in his heart finally being revealed in the open for you to hear and see. It felt as if Jinwoo was carrying a hundred years worth of burden. And you could do nothing more than to soothe him.

"I'm sorry... Ditching you out of nowhere and acting like a sappy pup wo got kicked" He chokes as he chuckles gently, "I promise, promise, that I won't leave you like that anymore. Just trust me, okay? Here, drink this."

He hands you a weird fantasy-potion thing with red liquid inside. You wanted to deny him of it but Jinwoo stubbornly insisted upon it, as if your life depended on it.

Well, tehnically speaking, it did depended on that potion.

After making sure you gulped down every single drop of the crimson liquid, Jinwoo pressed his forehead against yours.

Mumbling ever so sweetly; "Let's do this again, okay? You and me, goofing around. I'll let you eat as much sweets as you like, I'll show a lot of pretty things. Don't worry about anything else, Woowoo will take care of it."

Somehow, you felt that Jinwoo meant that on a deeper level. You felt like right now, what in front of you wasn't just anyone else, but someone ready to lay down their life for your sake. The person in front of you, you felt as if he was going to follow you to the ends of the earth to the stars above your heads. Somehow, it feels as if his words was a promise that he would follow you wherever you go.

He already lost you once, damned will he be if that happens again.

#∞ ₒ ˚ ° 📎— kyunnya speaks #sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #ore dake level up na ken #solo leveling x reader

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hisui-dreamer · 1 year

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harveston's warmth

Characters: Jade, Idia, Sebek, Epel, Jamil

Synopsis: Your lover notices you're cold while looking around in the Harveston market, how does he help warm you up?

Tags: spoilers for Harveston Event, warming up, fluff

Word count: 901

Notes: i was craving warming up scenarios the whole time i was reading the event, so here's our Harveston bois being super fluffy!

Masterlist

Jade's like a child in a candy store running around from stall to stall looking at what interesting plants they have

once he notices you're shivering though, he drops everything and makes you his first priority

he's a bit frustrated at himself given his low body temperature can't warm you up

his touch would be ice cold, so he's careful to not accidentally chill you

he can't physically warm you, but his affection does wonders

gets you warm drinks and the mushroom soup to help maintain your body warmth

takes off some of his outer layers to give you more insulation

analyses your every move to see if you're improving

definitely goes and learns warming spells after the trip to make sure he's well equipped to take care you next time

might also tease you by placing a cold hand on your neck haha

Jade's eyes narrow as he notices your shivering, before quickly springing into action. "My pearl, I can see you're feeling cold," he says with concern. "Come, let's get you warmed up. Just hold on a little longer, and I'll make sure you're cozy in no time," his cold lips press against your forehead, but the heat that rises to your cheeks warms your heart.

Idia is a bit sensitive to the cold, but with enough cold gear he's fine

i mean his hair is fire, he's not that cold

he's imprinting every single detail of the market to memory and noting what similarities there are between the anime and real life

when he sees you shivering, he gets a bit worried

temperature causes health damage after all

quietly buys you apple ginger tea, the statistically most efficient drink for warming up

and might just stand closer to you and radiate his hair body heat for you

he's too shy to be openly affectionate in public so cut him some slack

the next day, he's giving you a small portable heater he built from scraps he found

you can't freeze to death on him now, okay?

"Hey... uh, it looks like your temperature bar is dropping," Idia mutters with a concerned look. "Let's quickly buff up your warmth stat and get you back in the comfort zone ASAP before you take health damage!"

he's also freezing

distracting himself from the cold by thinking about malleus

then he notices you're also cold

he has an excuse now

takes you to the bonfire for you to warm up, but it's just the two of you, side by side, gloves off, hands in the air trying to get some warmth from the flames

it's kind of endearing really

inches closer to you to try and offer his own body heat

if you get him to rant about malleus, his face will get warm from how passioned he is trust me

gets you a hot drink but only because he was already getting one, okay human?

might hold hands blushingly hehe

or if he's feeling bold, hugsss

would also suggest going on brisk walks to generate body heat

"No one can warm you up better than me, human!" Sebek exclaims, his chest puffed with pride. "It's my duty as your lover to keep you comfortable." There's that smug glint in his eyes that always makes you smile.

he's so excited to show off harveston to you!

his favourite person in the world, at his hometown, his favourite place in the world

as the tour guide, he notices you're cold rather quickly

takes you to a good spot to sit by the bonfire

once your comfortable, he'll go and get any warm drinks you want

definitely huddles closer to you, wrapping his arms around you to share his body warmth

takes off his gloves and slides his hand into your glove!!!

many tricks to get warm from him, given he had to grow used to it

uses this as an opportunity for you to try all sorts of harveston cuisine

he's so so happy to be able to take care and provide for you

"Aw shucks, looks like ya need some warmth, sugar cube!" Epel says with a gentle smile. "Lemme fetch ya a hot cuppa cocoa or some warm soup. I'll make sure ya stay warm and toasty, no matter what it takes. You can count on me!"

Jamil is a bit sensitive to the cold, but he's used to it given the chilly nights of the scalding sands

so he's doing okay in the harveston cold, not entirely warm, but not uncomfortably cold

and the excitement of travelling has him more excited and energised anyways

with how observant he is, he notices how you've become all quite and how you're shivering slightly

he can't give you some of his layers, so he'll drag you into the market to get some warm drinks

also just walking in crowds can heat you up with a bit

gets you apple ginger tea because he knows the medicinal properties ginger has to warm up

very very attentive and blows at your drink to make sure you won't burn your tongue

really, he's not fairing very well himself, but he's putting in a lot of effort to make sure you're comfortable

"You really should speak up when you're not feeling too well, you know?" Jamil sighs, smiling wryly. He extends his hand toward you. "Follow me, I know just the thing to get you warmed up."

Masterlist

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topperscumslut · 7 months

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Kiss Me With Your Eyes Closed (Sejanus Plinth x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) is the victor of the 9th Hunger Games and the beloved girlfriend of Coriolanus Snow, though she’s secretly in love with his best friend (in this au the hunger games progressed more quickly, for example mentors were already present before the 10th games etc etc). title inspired by Hot Freaks’ Puppy Princess!

Warnings: not much rlly tbh, a wee bit of angst but mostly FLUFFY FLUFFFFF. might write a smutty sequel if this does well (or just if i feel like it lol) but even then it would be more fluffy smut, like sweet love making rather than getting absolutely railed lmao yk? (i probably will so stay tuned if u like this and lmk if u wanna be tagged!)

spoiler free apart from references to coriolanus x lucy gray!!

ok actually it is a pretty good amount of angst nvm lmao

Word count: 2k

You sigh as you run your fingers over the tattered poster, so shiny and new only a year before, reading the now barely legible words. (Y/N) (L/N) Victory Tour, In Honor of the 9th Hunger Games, Arriving Soon in Your District. You remember your victory tour all too well. Despite the traumas you had endured as a victor, you’re grateful for how far you’ve come. Sure, you still have nightmares of your games every now and again, yet even still you have the best fate a girl from District 3 could ever hope for - you had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol.

From an outsider’s perspective, it was the perfect love story. A doomed romance from the beginning; star crossed lovers, one might say, a Capitol boy and a District girl. When you had arrived at the Capitol for the 9th Hunger Games, near certain you had no chance of winning, your dashing mentor Coriolanus Snow had immediately taken a liking to you. He took you under his wing and coached you through your games, and when you had miraculously emerged victorious and returned to the Capitol, he decided that he wanted you for his own, and who were you to say no? Not even a few weeks before, you were just another girl from District 3, completely unknown, barely scraping by. Now you had been thrust suddenly into a lavish lifestyle with a handsome suitor to boot, adored by all of Panem; the nation’s sweetheart. After your games, you could have left it all behind. Sure, you would never be granted total anonymity being a victor, but you could have gone back to your beaten down home in District 3 and lived a relatively quiet life. After all, it’s not like the Snows had the finances to buy your freedom from your district and turn you into a full fledged Capitol citizen.

But the Plinths did.

You never particularly enjoyed Strabo Plinth as a person, but you couldn’t help but be grateful to him for what he had done for you. You had, however, immediately taken a liking to his caring wife, as well as his juxtaposition of a son, Sejanus, who clearly took more after his mother. In contrast to your rugged, analytical lover, Sejanus was gentle, complex. The two of you had become fast friends while Coriolanus had helped you prepare for the games.

And so before you knew it, this was your new life. At first you were anxious, concerned that your becoming a Capitol citizen and Coriolanus associating so intimately with a girl from the Districts would be seen as an act of rebellion and put you both in danger. However Coriolanus assured you that the nation loved you, both as an individual and as a couple. Sure, it was unexpected, yeah, it broke the (admittedly unwritten) rules, but that’s what made it oh-so fun to watch. Because at the end of the day, the games weren’t a competition - they were a show, and everyone loved an underdog.

There was only one minor flaw. You had fallen in love with a boy from the Capitol, yes, but it wasn’t the one you had so publicly given your heart to.

Your relationship with Coriolanus was practical, and that was about the only positive thing you could truthfully say about it. Neither of you were particularly wealthy or powerful individually, but together, you had potential. If you could keep all of Panem tuned in to your epic love story, you could almost certainly ensure mutual survival. You offered Coriolanus the opportunity to be known as not only a mentor to a victor, but a lover as well. And though nearly a year later his eyes had started to wander, the dapper blond had been quite infatuated with you when the courtship had begun, and Coriolanus was notoriously possessive. While his family was in the midst of financial hardship at the current moment, becoming a Capitol resident gave you the opportunity to get by still much more comfortably than you had in your impoverished home district. And who knew what volatility Coriolanus was capable of if you had rejected his advances? You had been coaxed into this very moment and had no other option but to grin and bear it. After all, all the girls you knew back home would kill to be in your position. A handsome sweetheart, financial stability courtesy of the Plinths, and the whole country all but worshiping you. Coriolanus Snow had offered you not only fame and fortune, but more importantly, security. Safety, in return for your undying affection.

Coriolanus was sweet at first. Charming, for sure. He was certainly attractive, yet he had never really had much of an effect on you. Maybe it was simply intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that he could never compare to his best friend, Sejanus Plinth.

Kind, pure Sejanus. The type of boy that, unlike Coriolanus Snow, truly made your head spin. The chemistry between you and Sejanus was unspoken, yet undeniable. However, you had already reluctantly sworn yourself to Coriolanus, and knew running off with his best friend would certainly put both you and your not so secret admirer in a treacherous situation. Sejanus Plinth was a risk you simply couldn’t afford to take.

What stung the most was that in any other situation, it could have worked. Sejanus was certainly more wealthy and influential than Coriolanus, not that that was what truly mattered to you. If you had been just a bit more fortunate, you could have had the boy you truly loved as your mentor and still have the same security and more that you were now so gracefully granted, if you had simply found your way to Sejanus before Coriolanus had set his sights on you and claimed you as his own. But unfortunately for you, your current romantic relationship was one built upon the grounds of survival rather than love.

If you were fully honest with yourself, you never truly loved Coriolanus - well, not romantically, at least. There was once a time where you had loved him as a dear friend, but in the time you had known him, he had become cruel and vitriolic. You knew from the start that he had always had it in him to become this way, though you had always naively hoped that he wouldn’t, that he would control himself, but the poison within his soul had soon taken over his cold, uncaring heart. He had become hardened by the misfortune of his family and gradually more complaisant in the ways of the Capitol, as well as secretly resentful of the great fortune of his supposed best friend and honorary brother Sejanus.

Now just over a year since you had met, the 10th Hunger Games were nearing to start. You had heard the whispers of Coriolanus sneaking around with his newest mentee, your replacement in more ways than one, Lucy Gray Baird; however it never bothered you. Lucy Gray knew that your relationship with Coriolanus was nothing more than a facade, and the two of you had become unlikely friends. You weren’t sure just how much of his affections for Lucy Gray were genuine, or how much was motivated by a desire to flatter her in an attempt to gain another victor to further his own career. Though Coriolanus’s mood was recently heightened by his new lover, he was still resentful of being assigned such an impoverished district for two years in a row and was prone to fits of rage over this perceived insult. While your home of District 3 was never much of a spectacle, Lucy Gray’s District 12 was miraculously even more down trodden, the poorest district of them all. You couldn’t help but wonder if this assignment was actually made to compliment Coriolanus, to show that if he could made a diamond in the rough out of you, that perhaps he could do the same for Lucy Gray.

As you sit alone in Coriolanus’s bed, still running your fingers gingerly along the photograph, you hear a knock at the door.

“Sejanus?”

“Oh, hey. Is Coryo around?”

You shake your head. “He’s out right now.”

Sejanus’s jaw tightens at your response. “With her?”

You nod unenthusiastically and can see the disgust and anger wash over his face as he makes his way over to you.

“It’s not her fault, Sejanus. She’s actually really sweet.”

He sits down on the bed next to you, careful to leave enough space between the two of you as to not make you uncomfortable. “I know it’s not. It’s his. Does it really not bother you at all?”

“Not particularly.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re better than me, (Y/N). I don’t know how you put up with it. If I truly loved someone, it would kill me to see them with someone else.” He’s subtle, but you can tell exactly what he’s implying.

“Well good thing I don’t have to see it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sejanus looks sympathetically at you for a second, blissfully unaware that his kind, beautiful brown eyes are making you melt, before noticing the poster in your hand.

“Is that-”

“Yep.” You shiver, remembering your games, the things you saw… “I don’t think it ever occurred to him, the things I had to do in there.”

“It occurred to me.” He gently places his shaky hand on your knee, carefully surveying your expression to make sure you’re okay with the contact, to which you nod slightly, nearly involuntarily. “Look, I’ll say it since no one else in this screwed up place will, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You bite your lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach once again as he gives you that look and it takes everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Your boyfriend could come home any moment, after all, and you quickly compose yourself, breaking Sejanus’s gaze. “It’s okay. I won. It’s the Hunger Games. It’s an honor.”

He inches carefully closer to you before speaking up again, his deep voice barely above a whisper. “(Y/N), you don’t have to pretend around me.”

You shake your head in denial. “I’m not pretending.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that light in your eyes that I love so much since you’ve left the arena? Why don’t you care that he’s always off with Lucy Gray? Why are the rules different for you than they are for him?”

And suddenly it hits you all at once. Sejanus is right. If Coriolanus is sneaking around with your friend everyday, even when they aren’t training, then what’s to stop you from doing the same to him? What do you owe him when all he’s ever done is keep you like a bird in a cage?

You don’t stop yourself, you don’t even think as you lean in and kiss Sejanus. He gets over the initial shock quickly and melts into it, cradling your body in his arms and pulling you in by the small of your back. You both pull away at the same time, not quite sure what’s gotten into you, but whatever it is, you like it.

“Coriolanus has never kissed me like that.”

“Go figure.”

His nerves kick in once again as he starts to stutter an apology before you shut him up by kissing him softly again.

“Since I first got to the Capitol… Sejanus, nothing here has felt right, except for you.”

“I could say the same about you,” he muses as he leans in once again, kissing you slow, both of you pretending the moment could last forever. If only…

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yelena-bellova · 1 year

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten: September 26th, 2003

Plot: There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Word Count: 12.8k (longest chapter yet)

Warnings: tlou ep.1 spoilers, language, canon-typical violence, gore, blood, guns, death, loss of a child, injuries, implied smut (16+)

A/N: Well, we’ve arrived at that fateful chapter…this took so long to even be emotionally able to write. There are so many small details that I hope people catch, and plenty of things to remember for future chapters.

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist unless your age/range is specified in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this one, and thank you so much for all the kind words, theories and general love I receive throughout the week 💞

————————

September 26th, 2003. Austin, Texas.

There are very few tragedies in life that come with warning.

Families of the terminally ill are given a vague timeline of when they’ll lose their loved one.

Soldiers are told before marching into battle that they may lose their life.

But a car crash does not announce itself before causing the collision.

A heart attack doesn’t prepare its victim before it steals their breath.

Nor did Cordyceps feel it owed the world any notice before it arrived.

On the morning of September 26th, Y/n was awoken by strips of sunlight coming through the blinds of Joel’s bedroom window. She was the early riser out of the two and she never minded, it gave her more time to admire the handsome lump weighing her down.

Y/n brushed a strand of hair off her boyfriend’s forehead and pressed a feather light kiss to it. Joel didn’t wake easily, but she liked to say she at least tried the sweet way before having to go nuclear. She gently rubbed his back, running her palm up and down the warm skin, but it only made him settle deeper into her chest. Y/n smiled and shook her head, knowing that in mere seconds….

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

It truly was miraculous how deep Joel could go into his rest. Y/n rolled her eyes and tried to reach across the pillows to switch off the clock, her fingers wiggling in the air as she strained. With his arms firmly wrapped around Y/n’s body, Joel didn’t even budge.

Finally, salvation came in the form of Sarah banging on the bedroom door, jolting Joel awake.

“Alarm,” the girl called, raising her voice the second time, “Alarm!”

“Thank you,” Y/n called back.

Joel rolled over, barely aware of his surroundings, and switched off the clock. He pushed up on one arm and turned back to his girlfriend, watching him with a smirk.

“What?”

Y/n shook her head, “You must be great in emergencies.”

Joel rubbed at his eyes, “Maybe I’m a little tired because someone wore me out last night.”

“Oh, don’t blame me for this,” Y/n laughed, “A year and a half and I’ve never seen you wake up when your alarm goes off. Not once.”

Joel looked down at her, squinting from the sunlight, a small smile playing on his lips, “Maybe I hear it, but there’s a more compellin’ reason to ignore it.”

He slipped back down into the sheets, resting his head once again on Y/n’s chest.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Y/n began to shimmy out of his arms, “We gotta get up.”

Joel tightened his hold around her torso, “My birthday, I make the rules.”

“No, it’s your birthday and Sarah and I make the rules,” Y/n corrected. Joel had never been one for celebrating the day, meaning it was up to Sarah and Y/n to make the day special, “What you want actually ranks very low on the list.”

Joel was paying very little attention to his girlfriend’s words, trailing a line of kisses up the chest of his t-shirt she was wearing and across her neck. “Five minutes,” he mumbled against her skin.

“No,” Y/n denied, her pulse speeding up the further his lips travelled.

“Yes,” Joel ignored her protests, making his way up to where her jawline met her ear.

“No,” Y/n laughed, her words not lining up with her reaction as she ran a hand over Joel’s hair.

“Say it again, honey,” Joel whispered against her ear, “And mean it.”

Y/n was teetering on the edge of letting him take what he wanted, but her loyalty to Joel’s daughter won out. “Sarah’s cooking you breakfast,” she said, slipping her hand between their chests, “And I’m not gonna be the one to tell her that her dad missed out on her efforts because he was horny.”

Joel snorted, dropping his head and laughing against Y/n’s chest.

Y/n pulled his face up to hers and laid a kiss on his lips, “Happy Birthday.”

“Just another reminder I’m gettin’ old,” Joel grumbled.

“True,” Y/n smiled, taking his scratchy cheeks into her palms, “But you’re my old man.”

Joel chortled, running his hands over Y/n’s body one last time before reluctantly rolling off of her. Their day had to begin, whether he wanted it to or not…

The two got dressed for work, while Y/n hadn’t officially moved in with the Millers, it was her second home. She kept practically one of everything in Joel’s room because of how often she slept over.

Y/n was the first of them down the stairs, landing in the kitchen where Sarah was already laying strips of bacon in a pan, “Can you take this so I can get the eggs?”

“You got it,” Y/n responded, switching places with the girl.

Sarah opened the fridge doors, getting a whiff of the inside, “When was the last time we cleaned this out?”

“Uh, two weeks ago, I think,” Y/n replied.

“Well, something died in it recently,” Sarah stated, grabbing a bowl to whisk the eggs in.

Sarah and Y/n’s relationship had stayed as steady as her and Joel’s. She’d expected some sort of pushback eventually, Sarah had just hit the teenage years, but it had yet to come. Y/n theorized it was because the young girl was just happy to have a woman in her life, but she felt like that was giving herself too much credit.

With the protein cooking on the stove, Sarah started searching through the cabinets. Joel had just come downstairs, still buckling his belt.

“Where’s the pancake mix?” Sarah asked her dad.

Still groggy, Joel scrunched his brows. “Oh, I was-” he’d forgotten the trip to the store he was supposed to take the night before, “Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

“I was gonna make you birthday pancakes,” his daughter complained, marching to the fridge and muttering to herself, “I swear…”

Joel ignored the smell of the food cooking and headed straight for the coffee pot, “You know, I don’t really like pancakes.”

“I know you don’t,” Sarah replied, pouring a glass of orange juice, “It was for my and Y/n’s benefit.”

“We’ll survive,” Y/n said, working on the eggs while Sarah was away, “Though pancakes are a weird thing to not like.”

Joel bristled at his girlfriend’s remark, turning around and facing Sarah with the glass of juice extended towards him.

“Vitamin C,” she explained.

For as much as Joel took care of his daughter, the roles were beginning to shift the older they both got. Sarah could spot his bad habits and tried to fix them wherever she could, the biggest one being his lack of actual nutrition. The man existed on coffee.

Joel took the glass from her, setting his mug down and humoring Sarah with a sip.

Y/n chuckled as she watched his expression turn sour, “Look more enthusiastic. I dare you.”

Joel grimaced, proceeding to pick up the coffee as soon as Sarah was back at the stove.

“You get your, uh, homework done?” Joel asked Sarah, waiting for her smile when she turned around, “Fractions?”

Sarah laughed, it was fact not only that she was ahead of her classmates, but Y/n was her tutor when it came to math. Joel wanted nothing to do with the subject.

Y/n and Sarah plated the feast and the three of them sat down at the table, as they did most mornings. Between Y/n and Joel’s work schedules and Sarah’s extracurriculars, it was the only guaranteed time they had each day to spend together.

“How old are you again?” Sarah asked her dad.

“Thirty-six,” Joel answered with a mouthful of egg.

“Gonna have to start wearing diapers soon,” Sarah joked, her tone remaining remarkably even.

”Who says I don’t already?” Joel replied, it wasn’t hard to track where Sarah’d gotten her humor from. He proceeded to pick something out of his teeth, looking to his daughter, “Shell.”

“Calcium,” she said, grinning wide with a mouthful of eggs on display.

“Lovely,” Joel muttered, looking over at Y/n as she laughed, “You’re encouragin’ bad table manners.”

Y/n shrugged and held her coffee mug to her lips, ”I see it as supporting a potential future as a comedian.”

The truck engine in the driveway signaled that Tommy was there to pick his brother and Y/n up for the day.

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Joel asked Sarah.

“There would’ve been,” Sarah grumbled into her plate, still bitter about the lack of pancakes.

“I can whip him up something, if we’ve got time,” Y/n offered.

Joel shook his head, “Nah, we gotta get going.”

Tommy entered through the garage door, the most carefree of them all. “Ay,” he clasped Joel’s shoulder, “You’re still alive, you old fucker.”

“Language,” Y/n chastised, she’d been trying for months to curb Tommy’s soldier’s mouth around Sarah. It wasn’t working.

“Aw,” Sarah cooed to Joel, “He loves you.”

“He’s dependent on me,” Joel watched his brother begin to raid his kitchen, “Not the same.”

Sarah shrugged, “I think it’s the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” Tommy said, examining the countertops for food, “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.”

“The age started to take his memory last night,” Y/n’s tone turned serious as she pressed a hand to Joel’s bicep, “We’re meeting him where he is.”

Joel’s smirk contradicted the glare he shot his girlfriend, letting her hand stay on his arm through the teasing. “We’ll pick you up somethin’ on the road,” he addressed Tommy, “Concrete guys gonna be there?”

“Yeah, they said maybe,” Tommy replied as he opened up the fridge.

“‘Maybe?’” Joel echoed, “We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.”

Tommy started sniffing through various leftovers, “Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.”

“No, no,” Joel shook his head and cut up another bite of eggs, “I’m not splittin’ this job, I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.”

Sarah and Y/n both turned to him.

“Literally?” Sarah asked, “Today?”

“Joel, come on,” Y/n agreed, “Not today.”

“I know,” Joel was quick to remedy the moment, “I’d be done by nine,” he called to Tommy, “By nine, right?”

Sarah gazed across the table to Y/n, the two of them sharing a disbelieving look.

“I’ll bring back a cake,” Joel looked between the girls, “I promise.”

Y/n sighed, holding her coffee cup to her chest. Joel had been pulling double shifts more and more recently. She’d been meaning to talk to him about it, how she and Sarah had been missing him, but she was in no position to stop him from working. Money was tight and contract work was never a sure thing.

A news broadcast broke up the top 40 station Sarah had turned the radio on to while cooking. “Continued disturbances in Jakarta…” the voice announced, the clinking of silverware against plates breaking it up, “But are advising U.S. citizens-“

“Jakarta?” Joel repeated, “Where is that? Middle East?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Tommy shook his head, holding a coffee cup, “It’s definitely a country. Or maybe a part of Asia?”

Y/n smiled and tilted her head at Sarah, who was already prepared to answer.

“Jakarta isn’t a country,” she interjected, “Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country and in fact, it’s the capital of Indonesia.”

“That’s my girl,” Y/n said proudly.

“Shit,” Tommy grinned, “Hope for us yet.”

Joel took a final sip of his coffee before slapping his hand against his bare wrist, still expecting his broken watch to be there. He, instead, dug into his pocket checked the time on his cell phone.

“All right,” he announced to his daughter, collecting his and Y/n’s plates, “Finish up quick. We’ll drop you off.”

“I’m still eating my eggshells,” Sarah said.

“You got seven minutes,” Joel replied, dumping the dishes in the sink for later.

“Your t-shirt’s inside out.”

Joel looked down, deflated at the trip he now had to make back upstairs, “Shit.”

Sarah waited till he was out of the room and cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Y/n.

“Pop that thing down, missy,” Y/n pointed downwards, “Your dad just pays shockingly little attention for someone who works with power tools.”

Tommy smiled over the wings he’d taken for himself, “He’s losin’ it.”

Y/n laughed and nudged Sarah’s leg, “C’mon, finish up.”

Sarah scooped the last bite of egg into her mouth and handed her plate to Y/n, who brushed past Tommy on her way to the sink. She reversed a few steps to get a whiff of the chicken.

“Found the smell,” she called out to Sarah, patting Tommy’s shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Stomach of steel,” he replied, setting his plate on the edge of the sink and planting a kiss on Y/n’s cheek. The two of them had become as good as siblings.

Y/n climbed up the stairs and down the hall to Joel’s room. He emerged just as she approached, brushing his hand across her hip as they passed one another. As much as they both loved pouring out the fullness of their affection, the casual intimacies were their favorites.

Grabbing her keys and wallet off Joel’s dresser, Y/n peeked out the window and waited till she saw Joel outside with Tommy. “Sarah,” she called down the hall.

Sarah tiptoed her way in, just to be safe, “Good?”

“Yep,” Y/n nodded.

Sarah found the assigned drawer, digging through Joel’s possessions to pull out his broken watch. She’d developed the plan to fix it as a birthday present last month and had gotten Y/n in on it.

“You’ve got the money?” Sarah checked.

Y/n flipped through the bills in her wallet, “Should be enough.”

Sarah thumbed through Joel’s cash and pulled out a few extra, smiling mischievously, “Now we can be sure.”

“Sarah! Y/n!” Joel called from the truck, Tommy was honking the horn.

Slipping the watch into her backpack, Sarah and Y/n quickly left the bedroom and headed down the stairs. Y/n hung back to make sure the coffee pot and stove were off before exiting out the front door. From the porch, she could see Sarah was in conversation with Mr. Adler next door. Or rather, dodging conversation.

“Make ‘em happy,” Joel encouraged, passing Y/n to grab another load of tools.

“I could come by after school, but just for like, a little bit,” Sarah offered.

“She’ll take what you got,” Mr. Adler replied as he fed his elderly mother-in-law, “Y’all can bake or whatever. Speakin’ of,” the man held up a plate, “We got a lotta extra here, y’all want some biscuits?”

“Dad,” Sarah masterfully tossed the ball to Joel, “You love biscuits.”

“I do,” Joel replied cheerily, “But Y/n’s got me on Atkins.”

Y/n snorted, watching the exchange go down from the bed of the truck.

“On what now?” Mr. Adler asked.

“It’s uh-“ Joel stopped himself, “You know, we gotta run but Sarah’ll be by later. She’ll stay as long as you want,” he smiled genuinely to his neighbors and smugly to his daughter, “Tell you all about Atkins.”

“Great, I’ll let Connie know,” Mr. Adler called back as Joel took Y/n’s hand and led her around the truck, “Hey, Y/n, you’re invited too.”

She peeked over the truck’s flatbed, “I’ll be working, but I’ll come grab Sarah on my way home.”

“Thank you,” Sarah smiled at her dad’s girlfriend, glaring at her father himself, “Solid.”

Joel held the door open for them, smirking at Y/n. “Thirty minutes, then you can rescue her,” he instructed.

“I never suggested Atkins,” she replied, sliding into the backseat beside Sarah.

“Can’t tell you how exciting it was listenin’ to that fuckin’ conversation,” Tommy commented, his speech molding around the cigarette between his lips.

“Put that out,” Joel said, a second before Y/n could form the same words.

Tommy flicked the smoke out onto the driveway, “Happy birthday to you.”

The truck pulled out into the cul-de-sac, carrying each of them off to their separate days.

Once Sarah had been dropped off at school and Y/n at the hardware store, Joel and Tommy headed across town to their construction site.

“Y’all got plans for tonight?” Tommy asked as they rode.

“If I don’t bring a cake home, they’re gonna string me up,” Joel answered, “Other than that, nothin’.”

His brother chuckled, “Least they gang up on you together. I got a buddy who just brought his girl home, his kid can’t stand her.”

Joel wasn’t an idiot, he knew how lucky he was that his girlfriend and daughter got along. No, they did better than just get along. They were practically inseparable. He’d take as much shit as they could give him, so long as they did it together.

“When’re you gonna marry that girl?”

It wasn’t the first time Tommy had asked that question. It had been increasing in frequency over the last few months. After they’d passed their one year anniversary, it became a thought consuming more and more space in Joel’s mind. It had taken enough time to sort out his thoughts and fears on the subject of going into marriage again, but it had been something that week that had settled him on the matter.

Monday night, Y/n had dropped by after her shift to help Sarah with homework. Joel had been at work, but when he got home, he expected to see them waiting for him at the kitchen table. Finding only silence, he climbed the stairs and peeked into Sarah’s room. Y/n was sitting against the headboard of Sarah’s bed, the young girl tucked into her shoulder, the math homework spread across their laps.

In the seemingly meaningless display of affection, Joel saw so much more. He saw the rest of his life. He could finally give Sarah a crucial piece of happiness that she’d been deprived of. He could have the love he’d craved and denied himself for so many years. The three of them, a family.

He was going to ask Y/n to marry him that weekend.

“I was gonna head to that place in the mall tomorrow morning,” Joel replied, his fingers rubbing together in anticipation. The last few weeks of working double shifts would pay off if he could find the perfect ring.

“Oh, shit,” Tommy grinned, “You’re actually doin’ it.”

“No reason to wait,” he said, staring ahead as if he could see his bright future.

“Think she’ll say yes?” Tommy asked, practically bleeding from the daggers Joel shot at him. He heartily laughed, “You get Sarah’s blessin’?”

A small smile stretched across Joel’s lips, “I know I already got it. But yeah, I’m gonna show her the ring, ask her officially.”

“Girl’s not gonna say no,” Tommy replied, making a turn onto the street the construction site was on, “She’s as crazy about her as you are.”

Joel couldn’t see any reason why Sarah would reject Y/n, she liked her better than she did Joel half the time. But he’d still never make such a big decision without consulting his daughter.

“You fucker,” Tommy chuckled, smacking Joel’s chest, “Won the damn lottery.”

Joel smiled out the window, he knew it too.

——————

Y/n’s day went by as slow as possible. She kept moving around the hardware store, helping employee and customer alike with anything they needed. All she needed was to stay busy until 3PM when she’d clock out an hour early, pick Sarah up at the house and they’d head downtown to the watch repair shop.

She absentmindedly spinning down one of the aisles, passing Melinda, one of her co-workers.

“Head outta the clouds, kid,” she chuckled.

“I’m on the ground,” Y/n replied, doing another twirl, “I just need this fucking day to end.”

Melinda went back to hanging inventory, “You and Joel got big plans tonight?”

“I was gonna grill us up some steaks,” she shrugged, “Cake. He’ll get squirmy if Sarah and I spoil him too much.”

“I got a question,” Melinda rested her arm on a shelf, “And if it’s too personal, you tell me. I won’t care, but you can tell me.”

Y/n giggled, “Okay.”

“Are you two ever gonna get married?”

Y/n’s movements came to a stop in the middle of the aisle. She’d been thinking more and more about what it might look like to marry Joel. It wasn’t like she was daydreaming about meaningless details like what dress she’d wear or what color roses would serve as centerpieces. She thought about waking up in Joel’s arms every morning, cooking breakfast for Sarah, being there for every moment, big or small. That was what she cared about.

Joel had eventually opened up to her about his ex-wife and what her abandonment had done to both him and Sarah. Y/n knew it was a scar that was as healed as it could be. She would never rush Joel into making a decision about their future, but she’d have been lying if she’d said she didn’t want to eventually wear his ring on her finger.

“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

“Well, he needs to lock you down,” Melinda pointed towards Y/n with a hammer, “My cousin, came in last week, got one look at you, he’s been asking me for your number all week.”

Y/n laughed, “Ring or no ring, I’m locked down. This is it for me.”

The women turned their attention down the aisle to a man, taking sloppy steps down the aisle. It was barely two in the afternoon, a little early to already be drunk, but Texas took the rules of happy hour very loosely.

Melinda groaned, “Ugh, you want me to take him?”

“No, I got it,” Y/n put on her cheery voice and walked up to the customer, “Can I help you find any-“

The man spun to face her, snarling, and took a swing at Y/n. She jumped back just in time.

“What the f-“

Growling, he charged towards her again, this time using her shock against her and tackling her to the floor. Y/n screamed, shoving her hands against his chest in an effort to push him off of her.

“Fuck!” Melinda yelled, pulling at the guy’s legs, “Help! We need help!”

Y/n stared into the man’s eyes, they were glazed over entirely, filled with pure, animalistic rage. He snarled and bit at the air before wrapping his hand around her neck. She used all her strength to push him away, her breath stuck in her throat. He lunged to burrow his face where his hand lay, Y/n couldn’t get him off her, but she kept him from getting any closer.

The manager, Don, sprinted down the aisle with a few other guys and pulled the attacker off of Y/n. The man fought back, growling and clawing relentlessly at her. One of the employees dropped him on the ground and sat on him, ensuring he didn’t go anywhere.

Y/n scrambled to her feet, Don came to embrace her.

“You okay?”

She was fighting to catch her breath, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m callin’ the police,” Melinda announced, rushing off to the phone at the front desk.

“What happened?” Don asked, moving to hold Y/n’s arms.

“I-I don’t know,” she ran a hand through her hair, “He came down the aisle and just lunged at me. I-I just offered to help him.”

With the man still fighting to break out of his hold, making sounds that made him seem possessed, Don pulled Y/n out of the aisle.

“I’m sorry, Don,” Y/n apologized, her voice still trembling.

“You got nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart,” he quickly shook his head, “Men gotta learn they can’t go gettin’ rough on a woman just cause they’ve had a bad day.”

The police arrived within ten minutes, running down the aisle and cuffing the monstrous man. Y/n stayed far away from her attacker as he was dragged out of the store, residing between Melinda and Don. She’d been asked if she wanted to press charges, but she declined. She just wanted the whole thing to be over.

“Take off now,” Don offered after the officers left.

“No, I-I’m okay,” Y/n smoothed her apron down with shaking hands.

“Don’t even try,” Don shook his head, “Get on out of here.”

Y/n took the first breath she could actually feel, wasting no time in dashing back to the break room and grabbing her purse out of her locker. She wanted to be as far away from anything about the afternoon as she could. Plus, it would mean she could pick Sarah up straight from school instead of the Adlers.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Y/n bid her co-workers farewell on the way out.

Don rasied a hand alongside Melinda, “See ya tomorrow. Wish Joel a happy birthday from us!”

The mention of his name got a smile out of Y/n, “I will.”

With Joel and Tommy having dropped her off, she had to call a cab to take her back to her apartment. She held in her tears until the front door was locked and she knew she was safe.

Why hadn’t she fought back? Fought harder? She was great with her words, but she’d never been able to physically defend herself. In the world they lived in, it was becoming more and more necessary for a woman to be able to throw a punch. Y/n felt weak for not fighting for her safety with the ferocity that Joel or Tommy would have. It just wasn’t in her nature to be violent, even if her own life was on the line.

She managed to collect herself, drying her tears and heading back down to her car. She was determined to put the incident behind her and not let it ruin her day.

Y/n parked directly outside the front of the school so Sarah couldn’t miss her. She waited against the car door, tapping her heel against the asphalt until a barrage of kids came pouring out of the building. Sarah clocked her just before she headed for the bus.

“I thought you were picking me up at home,” she called across the street.

“My shift ended early,” Y/n explained, excluding the reason why.

Sarah opened the passenger side door and jumped in, “Can we grab ice cream or something after?”

“Nice try,” Y/n started up her car, “I’m dropping you off at the Adler’s after this.”

Sarah let her head fall against her seat, with a small groan.

“Half an hour and then there’ll be some big birthday emergency,” Y/n offered, turning onto the next street over, “Seatbelt.”

It was these small domestic moments that showed just how good of a parent Y/n would make. She still didn’t believe she was doing anything exceptional, but the smallest acts of care meant the most. Making sure Sarah walked on the inside of the street, making sure she’d eaten enough, helping her with homework…all of that equated to Sarah knowing she had someone else looking out for her.

They made it downtown to the jewelry-clock repair shop within minutes. Their part of Austin was small enough that everything was five minutes away.

The owner at the front counter examined Joel’s watch, “Twenty.”

“That’s it?” Sarah asked, surprised.

“Okay,” the man smiled, “Thirty.”

“My little negotiator,” Y/n looked down at Sarah, smirking, “Let’s stick with twenty.”

“It’s a spring,” he explained as Sarah pulled out the twenty she’d taken from Joel, “I’ll do it right now.”

Y/n put an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and tugged her into her side, the two of them absentmindedly hugging as they glanced around the store. Behind them, a line of police cars followed by a fire truck sped down the street. It pulled Y/n back to an hour before.

“All day, I swear,” a woman emerged from the shop’s back room, switching between speaking in English and Arabic, “We’re closing.”

“It’s 3:15,” the owner responded, “We close at 7.”

The woman anxiously stood at the window, staring down the street. She lapsed back into Arabic as she addressed her partner, before putting her hands on Y/n and Sarah’s arms, “I’m very sorry, he cannot finish.”

“I already finished,” the man replied, holding out the boxed watch to his wife.

She pressed the box into Y/n’s hands, “You should go home.”

“W-wait,” Y/n stuttered as the woman rushed them out of the shop, “Wh-“

“Go home,” the woman urged, staring into Y/n’s eyes with a desperation a child could never understand.

She shut the door on Y/n and Sarah, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ after and pulling the blinds.

“That was weird,” Sarah muttered.

“Yeah,” Y/n watched as the woman continued shutting the blinds in the windows.

Successful in their quest, Y/n and Sarah loaded themselves back in the car and headed home. On the way, they passed four more police cars and one more fire engine. Austin had its fair share of crime, especially downtown, but this was out of the ordinary.

“What do you think’s going on?” Sarah asked at one point.

“No idea,” Y/n answered, pulling them into the driveway of Joel’s home and unbuckling, “I’ll check the news. Go be a good person.”

“I’m timing you,” Sarah said firmly.

Y/n smiled, “Go.”

Sarah dragged herself and her backpack out of the car and trudged across the Adler’s lawn. Y/n watched her lovingly, she had the biggest heart of anyone she knew, it was just butting heads with teenage hormones.

Y/n let herself into the Miller’s house, her body relaxing as soon as the door shut. She kicked off her sneakers and headed for the living room, switching on the television. She changed the channel to the local news station, expecting to see a fire or mass shooting. All the anchors said was that there had been reports of heightened violence throughout the day and that citizens should avoid going downtown. That lined up with what Y/n had experienced at the store, apparently the city of Austin was acting like a collective asshole.

Satisfied, Y/n busied herself with laundry and taking care of the dishes from breakfast until she scanned the clock, seeing it was ten past the time she said she’d pick Sarah up at.

She went outside, crossed the shared lawn and knocked on the Adler’s front door. Connie was the one to open it.

“Well, there she is,” the woman exclaimed, “Come in!”

They entered into the hallway, which smelled like cookies and mothballs, and Y/n spotted Sarah sitting in the kitchen, bag packed and a barely concealed frown on her face.

“I’m sendin’ you two home with some cookies,” Connie said, bustling around the kitchen for a Ziploc, “They’re raisin.”

“Oh, yay,” Y/n feigned excitement, following her in and stroking a hand across Sarah’s hair, “Those’re Joel’s favorite.”

Sarah fought the laugh caught in her throat, Joel would’ve rather died than touch anything with raisins in it.

Connie handed Y/n the bag and took her other hand, “You tell him happy birthday from us.”

“We will,” Y/n smiled before they headed down the hall and to the door.

“Wait,” Sarah mumbled just as they were walking out. She stopped to see Mercy, the Adler’s dog, whining at Nana Adler, seated in her chair as usual.

“Dogs are super tuned into their owners,” Y/n explained, “Some studies suggest that they can sense if their person’s in pain.”

Sarah hummed and accepted the answer, exiting out the front door with Y/n. “You were late,” she stated.

“I was doing your laundry,” Y/n replied, dipping her hand along Sarah’s through a lawn sprinkler, “So I’d say we’re even.”

The sun was just setting, a warm pink taking over the sky as night’s opening act. Kids, home from school, were playfully screaming a few houses down. Everything felt perfectly in place.

An overhead thundering encroached on the peaceful scene, drawing Sarah and Y/n’s attention skyward. Three fighter jets in formation blew over their heads, flying in the general direction of downtown.

“Air Force base isn’t too far from here,” Y/n commented, it was the only explanation that made sense.

Sarah didn’t seem too concerned, cutting ahead across the lawn and up to the front porch.

Inside, Y/n busied herself with cooking dinner while Sarah sat at the table finishing up homework. The steaks she’d bought a few days prior had gone bad, and she was searching the fridge for anything she could turn into something special.

Pressing her forehead to the appliance’s cool steel, she admitted defeat.

“You know Dad’s not picky,” Sarah tried to comfort her.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to do something nice for him,” Y/n replied, kicking her foot lightly against the fridge, “But I suppose ordering Chinese is just as special.”

“We could always run by the store,” Sarah suggested.

“Mm-mm,” Y/n shook her head, digging through the takeout menu drawer, “No one’s going anywhere while there’s all those cops on the road.”

They ended up ordering enough for themselves, Joel and Tommy, if he decided to stay for dinner. As the night went on, the food grew cold, and by eight o’clock, Y/n and Sarah grew too hungry to wait and sat on the couch with their cartons.

“If he’s home by nine,” Sarah thought the next part of her sentence over carefully, “I’ll give you a whole week off of helping me with my homework.”

“Doesn’t feel like much of a win,” Y/n shrugged, picking at another piece of orange chicken. They were coming up with bets for when they thought Joel would actually return home, “I don’t mind being on homework duty.”

“Okay, fine, um…” Sarah continued drafting, snapping her chopsticks together, “I’ll do the dishes for a week. Every load.”

Y/n waved a chopstick at the girl, “Done. But if he’s home past nine, I will…get him to learn one of the Halican Drops’ songs,” she tilted her head, “That’s a win for you and will definitely cost me.”

Sarah laughed, “Deal.”

They spent the evening talking and watching tv, the later hours eventually tiring them. Sarah leaned up against Y/n, lost in a magazine while Y/n read a book she’d left on the coffee table. The television played lightly in the background, though they’d stopped paying attention long ago.

Eventually, five after ten, a pair of keys jingled in the front door lock, signaling Sarah had won the bet.

“You locked the door this time,” Joel said, addressing his daughter, “Good job.”

“Yeah,” Sarah switched off the tv and sat up, “Y/n reminded me.”

Y/n scooted over to give Joel a spot on the couch, he flopped down on the cushions, digging his palms into his eyes.

“It’s 10,” Sarah said what they were all thinking.

“I know,” Joel groaned, pulling back up to take off his boots, “They…gave us the wrong size for the headers,” he looked over his girlfriend to Sarah, “That doesn’t mean anything to you, barely means anything to Y/n. I’m sorry.”

Y/n’s fingers walked across Joel’s leg, “And dessert would be…?”

Joel slumped forward, “Shit.”

“Come on, man,” Sarah bemoaned.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” Joel promised for the second time that day.

“Swear,” Sarah replied, “Or you don’t get your present.”

Joel turned, brightening up adorably fast. “You got me a present?”

“Swear,” Sarah continued.

Y/n smiled, eyeing her boyfriend with the same loving frustration as Sarah.

“On my life,” Joel swore.

Deeming it an acceptable answer, Sarah rotated and dug behind a pillow. Joel slid his hand over Y/n’s, flattening it down against his knee.

Sarah presented the box, holding it out to her dad.

“Wow,” Joel said, making a theatrical face before opening it. He hadn’t expected what was inside.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah beamed with reserved pride.

Joel ran a thumb over the watch and held it to his ear, furrowing his brows, “Did you?”

“What?” Sarah reached for his hand.

“I don’t hear anything,” Joel continued.

“It was working four hours ago,” Y/n exclaimed, adjusting herself to sit up and examine it for herself.

The two girls barely had to raise it to their ears before they could hear the strong ticking. Sarah groaned and lightly shoved Joel, who was heartily laughing.

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Screw you, man.”

“That was lame,” Sarah smiled, “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel chuckled, taking another second to admire his gift, “Where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs,” Sarah answered, “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“It’s better than what I do,” Joel slipped the watch onto his wrist.

“It was only $20, which I stole from you.”

“Which I had,” Y/n interjected, “If you’d have given me two seconds...”

“I could have stolen $60, but I put the change back,” Sarah defended herself against Joel’s parental stare, “Because I’m an honest thief. Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it for yourself, so…”

Joel, never one to be selfish, looked on lovingly at his daughter and co-conspirator, before turning his head downward. “Thank you.”

Sarah smiled, looking to Y/n victoriously. “Oh, there’s one more,” she dug behind the pillow once again and retrieved a DVD case, “Borrowed it from the Adlers.”

Joel wasted no time in taking it from her, it was Curtis and Viper, the guiltiest of all guilty pleasure movies. “Oh, this is the one with the deleted scenes.”

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be,” Sarah commented, “Come on, pop it in, while it’s still your birthday.”

Y/n got up alongside Joel, “I’ll go heat up dinner and brace myself for the cinematic masterpiece I’m about to experience.”

“I showed it to you a while back,” Joel called out to her, “Remember?”

“I remember,” Y/n swung into the kitchen, “And yet I’m still with you.”

Joel smirked to himself, setting the disc in the tray and jogging off to join Y/n. “Chinese?”

“There was going to be something home cooked,” Y/n scooped some food onto a plate for Joel, “But the grocery gods were conspiring against me.”

“Kidding? This is great,” Joel replied, coming to hold Y/n’s hips and move around the kitchen with her. He settled his chin against her head, “Thank you. For all of it.”

Y/n leaned back into Joel’s chest, “I don’t see how crappy Chinese food and aiding your daughter in thievery deserves thanks but,” she twisted her neck to plant a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll take it.”

Joel absentmindedly ran his hands up Y/n’s arms, gazing down at her skin. His eyes drifted to her exposed neck, the glow of the microwave illuminating a purple splotch across her throat.

“What’s this?”

Y/n was watching the timer, “Hm?”

Joel pulled back the rest of her hair and lightly ran a finger over the skin, “Where’d you get this?”

Y/n pulled away, confusedly grabbing a spatchula out of a drawer and relfecting it back on her. Sure enough, there was a large purple bruise developing where the psycho in the hardware store had choked her.

“Hm,” Y/n thought, she hadn’t intended to ruin the levity of the night, “Uh, are we sure you didn’t put that there?”

Joel bristled at the idea, even at his most passionate, he wasn’t rough like that, “I’d never do this to you.”

Y/n sighed, pressing the ‘stop’ button on the microwave before it could beep. She pulled Joel’s food out, set it down and leaned up against the counter.

“A guy attacked me today at work,” she said softly, not wanting Sarah to hear.

Joel’s eyebrows raised two inches, his voice got low, “What?”

“He came down the aisle and just,” Y/n gestured suddenly to herself, “Tackled me to the ground. It took three of the guys, plus Don just to get him off of me.”

Joel surged forward, hovering his hand over Y/n’s neck and examining her, “How bad is it?”

“I’m okay,” Y/n gently took Joel’s hand, bringing it down to his side, “Headache from smacking my head on the floor, little sore, but fine.”

“Please tell me you called the police and pressed charges” Joel asked, fully in protector mode.

Y/n shook her head, “I didn’t wanna drag it out, I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The cops took him, they can deal with it.”

Joel braced himself against the counter to Y/n’s side, halfway-caging her in. “And you weren’t gonna tell me about it?”

“It’s your birthday,” Y/n smiled softly up at her boyfriend, “I just wanted to come home and have a normal evening with you guys. Forget it ever happened.”

Anger swelled in Joel’s stomach for whatever freak had gone after her, but his gaze stayed soft. Her pain was his pain.

“Wanna know what the worst part was?” Y/n asked, looping a finger through Joel’s and smiling sadly, “I could have fought back…but I just laid there. I tried to push him off but…”

There was no need for her to finish the sentence. Joel’s mind flashed back to the night they’d met, when that creep had laid his hand on her and she hadn’t fought back. It was one of his deepest worries, that one day someone would come at her and he wouldn’t be there to protect her.

“Can you please,” he begged, “Enroll in a self-defense class?”

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, saying whatever she could to get the night to return to normal, “I think there’s one down at the community center.”

Joel’s shoulders rose and fell with his sigh, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her into his body. She wrapped her arms around his middle, digging her face into his pec.

“I hate the world sometimes,” Joel said over her shoulder.

Y/n scoffed, “You and me both, bucko.”

They stood in each other’s arms a moment, letting the stress of the day melt away.

“Your daughter’s waiting,” Y/n smiled into Joel’s chest, “And she’s been waiting all night.”

Joel broke from her, stroking a thumb over her cheek. He was looking forward to revealing the reason for his late night hours.

With dinner in hand, Joel and Y/n headed back into the living room, where Sarah was waiting with the remote. Joel settled down in the middle of the couch, giving him room to be surrounded by his two favorite people.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he warned, as Sarah snuggled into his shoulder.

“‘Course I won’t,” she said, “It’s too riveting.”

“I make no such promises,” Y/n replied, hanging one of her legs on Joel’s knee.

Both of them were out cold within an hour.

Joel couldn’t complain even if he tried. With Sarah passed out on his leg Y/n tucked under his arm, it was the happiest he’d been the whole day.

While watching the movie, Joel’s mind kept spinning around proposal ideas. If he got the ring in the morning, he could do it that night. Or did he need to spend more time, crafting some elaborate idea involving doves and roses and all the movie shit? Y/n wasn’t fancy, she probably wouldn’t care if that was missing. All he cared about was that she said ‘yes’ and that the ring was something she could cherish the rest of their lives.

Joel gazed down at his daughter and soon-to-be fiancé, fast asleep on him. A lifetime of that was a thought he could get used to…

The vibration of his cell phone broke Joel out of his daydream. He reached forward, trying not to wake either girl, bur Y/n stirred enough to come to.

“Sorry,” he whispered, picking up the call, “Hello?”

“Joel, it’s me,” Tommy’s voice cut through, Y/n’s head was close enough to hear the call, “Uh, I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Joel asked.

“But I’m in jail.”

Y/n sat up groggily as Joel arched back into the couch, rubbing his eyes in stress.

“Wasn’t my fault this time,” Tommy was quick to defend himself, “I was at the bar, some guy goes crazy, starts swingin’ at waitresses, I stepped in, knocked him out, cops showed up-”

Joel and Y/n shared an exhausted look, both from true tiredness and Tommy.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Tommy hurried, “You gotta bail me out.”

“Now?” Joel hissed.

“It’s Friday,” Tommy said, “You don’t get me out, I’m in here all weekend. It’s a fuckin’ madhouse, Joel. I gotta get out.”

Y/n rubbed the sleep out of her eye, and lowered her voice, “I’ll go get him.”

Joel’s hand shot out across Y/n’s legs, “No,” he switched conversations, “Well, which jail. Travis County?”

“Yeah, on 10th,” his little brother answered.

“Damn it, Tommy,” Joel shook his head.

Tommy took a breath, “I’m sorry…please.”

Joel waited before answering, “Okay,” he hung up his cell, “Fuckin’ idiot.”

“Joel, just let me go,” Y/n offered, gesturing to Sarah using his leg as a pillow, “You got him last time.”

“I don’t want you out this late,” Joel shot down the idea a second time, “Especially in that part of town. I’ll be back, hour tops.”

Carefully, Joel eased Sarah off of him and lifted her into his arms. He carried her upstairs to bed while Y/n stayed on the couch, trying to get her bearings.

Joel came back downstairs, grumbling to himself as he collected his wallet and keys.

“We do all this,” Y/n gestured to the empty dinner plate and gift box, “And Tommy’s still gotta one up us.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel muttered, throwing his cell phone in his pocket, “I shoulda just left him in there.”

Y/n looked up amusedly at her boyfriend, “Yeah, like you’d ever do that.”

Joel’s instinct was to protect, he couldn’t have left his brother to rot for the weekend if he tried.

Y/n got to her feet and slid a hand up Joel’s chest, bringing his restlessness to a halt. She wrapped her other hand around the base of his neck, rubbing at the permanently tense muscles.

“Happy Birthday to you,” she sleepily smiled.

Joel leaned forward to connect his lips to Y/n’s. In an ideal world, he’d carry her upstairs and they’d fall asleep in each other’s arms. But after rescuing Tommy, they’d have the whole weekend for that. Still, he poured as much love as he could into his kiss.

Neither of them knew it would be the last one they shared.

“Be safe,” Y/n told him once they broke apart.

“I will,” Joel replied, heading for the front door, “Go to bed. Be back soon.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes following him till he was out of the house. In her stupor, she wasn’t thinking of how packed the streets had been earlier in the day with cop cars. Or how the news had said there’d been increased violence in the city. Or how the story Tommy had recounted sounded eerily similar to hers. She was just tired enough that all that made sense to her was climbing into Joel’s bed and going back to sleep.

Slowly climbing the staircase, Y/n made her way down the hall. She paused outside of Sarah’s room, poking her head in to make sure she was settled. Joel had thrown a blanket over her and she was rolling over. Satisfied, Y/n pushed off of the door frame to leave.

“Mom?”

She froze in her tracks, she’d barely moved out of sight before Sarah had called for…someone. Not her. It couldn’t be her. But who else? She had no memory of her birth mo-

“Mom?”

Y/n’s chest fluttered, it could only be her. She hesitated to answer, “Yeah?”

“Where’s Dad?” Sarah asked, her eyes were still scrunched but she was looking to Y/n’s silhouette.

“He had to run by Uncle Tommy’s,” Y/n answered, saving the full answer for the morning, “He’ll be back soon.”

Sarah seemed to accept the response, nodding a little and settling back into her pillow.

“Goodnight,” Y/n wished, her hands awkwardly fidgeting against her chest.

“Night,” Sarah mumbled.

Slipping against the nearest wall, Y/n’s breath trembled with joy, shock…she couldn’t tell. Sarah had made up her mind as to what Y/n was to her…and what she was was a mother.

Feeling like she was floating, Y/n made her way down the hall to the bed that was as good as her own and slid underneath the sheets. Her smile stretched so wide, she thought her cheeks might split. She couldn’t wait to tell Joel when he got home….

—————————

First came the sirens.

Then came the choppers.

Then the car alarms.

And the flares.

Y/n was the first to wake, the sound of helicopter blades and the sensation of the house rattling waking her. She reached over in the dark for Joel and grasped air. The clock read 2:15AM, he’d left at 11.

That was enough to wake Y/n the rest of the way up.

She rolled out of bed and went to the window, peeking through the blinds to see flares being shot into the sky. Though her vision was blurred from sleep, she could see the smoke cloud in the distance. It was coming from downtown.

“Dad?” Sarah called down the hall, “Y/n?”

“In here,” Y/n said, still watching the sky as another round of helicopters flew over their neighborhood.

Sarah came through the door, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n answered, her stomach twisting in confusion, “Go check if your dad’s downstairs.”

Sarah left, calling for Joel as she descended the staircase. “He’s not here,” she yelled up.

Y/n’s chest sank, anxiety beginning to creep its way up her throat. Was this some kind of invasion? It had barely been two years since 9/11, was something of that scale happening in their backyard?

“Y/n!”

The urgency in Sarah’s voice got Y/n moving out the bedroom and down the stairs as quick as she could. “What is it?”

Sarah had switched on the tv, the emergency broadcast signal was on every channel, delivering an ominous message to stay indoors and wait for law enforcement.

A thud against the window had Y/n pulling Sarah to her chest, the girl wrapping her hands around Y/n’s wrists. Mercy, the Adler’s dog, had his paws against the window and was trying to get inside.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, heading to unlock the front door. She crouched down on the porch and the dog leaned against her legs, whining. “Shh, Mercy, shh…”

“Is he okay?” Sarah asked, right behind Y/n.

“I think,” Y/n answered, clueless as Mercy panted furiously under her touch. She looked across the street, finding nothing out of the ordinary visually. Audibly, there were car alarms coming from all directions and the chopper was making another circle around the subdivision. Something felt very, very wrong.

“Stay here,” Y/n told Sarah, “I’m gonna take a look around.”

“No, I’m coming with-“

“No,” Y/n’s tone firmed up, “Take Mercy inside and stay-“

Mercy started barking as if he knew he was being discussed. Y/n knew nothing she said would get Sarah to listen, she was out of options.

“Let’s get him back home,” she said.

Sarah led Mercy by the collar across the lawn and onto the Adler’s driveway. Once he realized he was back at his house, Mercy began to whine and pull away from Sarah.

“C’mon, Mercy, please,” Sarah begged.

Mercy pulled one final time, the collar unclipping and letting him loose. He took off into the night.

“Mercy!” Sarah called, he was too far gone to hear her.

“It’s okay,” Y/n quickly tried to smooth Sarah’s heartbreak over, “We’ll find him. But first, we’re going home and-“

Clanking from inside the Adler’s home drew their attention.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah called, receiving no answer, she looked to Y/n to decide their next move.

Y/n was torn between following the noise and running back home to call Joel.

“Stay behind me,” she decided, placing herself in front of Sarah as a barricade.

They crept up the Adler’s porch, letting themselves in through the ajar door. The carpet runner was scrunched up, something the meticulous Connie would have never allowed.

“Connie?” Y/n announced their presence.

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah repeated, the two of them frozen in the hallway.

Another loud sound from the kitchen, followed by a distant gunshot and chased by a car alarm.

Y/n tried to inhale steadily, but the trembling came anyway. The long stretches of silence broken up by what sounded like war were creating a steady pit of fear in her chest.

She reached backwards, pulling Sarah closer to her body. The girl was already holding onto Y/n’s hips. They took soft steps through the hall and to the kitchen.

“Con-“ Y/n held on to the room divider as she stumbled, looking down to see the slippery substance across the floor.

Blood.

Sarah and Y/n’s breaths caught in their chests as their eyes followed the trail of crimson through the kitchen…to Mr. Adler, laid against the cabinets.

“Help me,” he whispered, a particularly gory wound to his neck oozing blood down his body.

Y/n moved to help him but was yanked back by Sarah, who already had eyes on the next terror.

Nana Adler was hung over her daughter, her face burrowed into her neck.

Y/n eased Sarah back, making no sudden movements, as the elderly woman slowly looked up to them. There were strands of something springing from her mouth, it was something out of a horror movie.

Nana rose to her feet, her movements choppy and careless, and Sarah wrapped her arms around Y/n’s torso.

The woman, animalistic, shrieked and ran towards them.

Y/n shoved Sarah back towards the door, racing out of the house and onto the lawn. She was pulling the girl toward their house when the roar of a pickup truck came barreling down the street.

Tommy’s truck.

Tommy pulled the truck up onto the curb, Joel jumped out before it had even stopped.

“GET IN THE TRUCK,” he yelled at Y/n and Sarah, “RIGHT NOW!”

With Sarah in her hands, Joel grabbed Y/n and pulled them to the vehicle, “Move!”

Nana Adler came screaming out of the house, Y/n and the Millers watching the bones in her body violently crack under her skin before she fell to the ground. They waited in anticipation until she startled back to life with a gasp, stumbling to her feet and charging towards the family.

“What are we doin’, Joel?” Tommy yelled, his rifle pointed at the grandmother.

Y/n wrapped Sarah in her arms, shielding her body from any harm, but not her eyes.

Joel wasted no time in making the decision, it was either her, or the women he loved. He slashed the wrench he was clutching into Nana’s head, the life leaving her as she dropped.

After, he turned to Y/n and Sarah, their tearful eyes widened in horror. He rushed to them, bending to cup Sarah’s cheek.

“You killed her,” the girl said, unable to form a deeper thought.

Joel pulled his daughter and partner into his arms, “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“Joel, we gotta go,” Tommy warned.

“Joel,” Y/n shook, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” he looked to both his girls, “It’s not just the Adlers,” he took Sarah’s cheeks into his hands, “But we’re gonna be brave, and we’re gonna get out of this.”

A flash of green to their left and Joel was covering them with his arms. The transformer at the end of the block had exploded.

“Hey,” Tommy rounded the truck, “Let’s go. C’mon!”

Joel and Y/n hurried Sarah in front of them, “Get in.”

Y/n stopped before joining her, gripping Joel’s arm, “Joel…”

“I don’t know,” he shook his head, posessing no more answers than she did, “I don’t know.”

Y/n dove into the truck, pulling Sarah into her arms the minute she was seated.

Joel slammed the door shut, his neighbor calling his name out in concern.

“Denise, you get back inside the house,” he yelled, “You lock your doors! Now!”

“C’mon, c’mon, get in,” Tommy urged.

The second Joel’s door shut, Tommy was already pulling them around the cul-de-sac. As he rounded the turn, Mr. and Mrs. Adler came across their lawn and into the street, in the same possessed state as Nana had been.

“Get your seatbelt on,” Joel told Tommy.

“Hold on,” his brother said, accelerating the engine and ramming into the Adlers head on.

Y/n tried to pull Sarah’s head into her shoulder, but the girl was too quick, already looking out the back to see Mrs. Adler on her feet.

“You take 70-“ Joel began to give directions.

“71,” Tommy finished, “I know.”

A line of police cars blew down the opposite lane, speeding towards more chaos they didn’t even understand.

Sarah’s breath had steadied enough where she could speak clearly, “Daddy-“

“We don’t know,” Joel cut her off.

“They’re saying it’s a virus,” Tommy explained, “Some kinda parasite.”

“What parasite does that?” Y/n asked, knowing none of them had an answer.

“Is it from terrorists?” Sarah asked, her voice getting watery.

“We don’t know,” Joel repeated himself, watching his brother as he drove.

“A-are we sick?” Sarah’s panic was growing.

“No, we’re not sick,” Y/n answered immediately.

Joel fiddled with the radio, getting static back in return.

“Why did things blow up?” Sarah asked.

“No cellphone, no radio,” Tommy mused, “Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up.”

“They were broadcasting emergency signals on the tv,” Y/n recalled, as if it made any difference now.

“How do you know?” Sarah kept up her questioning.

“What?” Joel acknowledged her.

Sarah couldn’t hide her tears any more, “How do you know we’re not sick?”

Y/n stroked her hair, offering what little comfort she could while also sharing Sarah’s terror.

“They’re sayin’ it’s mostly people in the city,” Tommy explained, “That’s why they got the highway blocked off.”

Joel craned his head to meet Y/n’s eyes, “This what happened at the store today?”

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, flashing back to 12 hours before. Her attacker hadn’t had the strange strands hanging from his mouth, but he’d had the same animal-like rage.

The car fell silent again as they passed a house, the whole structure consumed by flames.

“It’s Jimmy’s place,” Tommy said as they drove by.

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city,” Sarah continued to try and solve the puzzle, “To the hospital for stuff.”

“That’s right,” Joel agreed, “They would. That’s probably why.”

“But…” Sarah’s brain worked double time, “You’d have to go a lot…right?”

Tommy shook his head slightly, “We’re fine, trust me.”

Through the dashboard mirror, Y/n’s worried eyes met Tommy’s. He was saying a prayer rather than stating a promise.

On the side of the road, a car was pulled over, a family standing outside it waving their hands wildly. “Here! Right here!”

Tommy began to slow down, drawing Joel’s confusion. “What’re you doin’?”

“They got a kid, Joel,” Tommy gestured to the family.

“So do we,” Joel said firmly, “Keep drivin’.”

The father panicked as Tommy followed orders, screaming for them to stop.

“We could put them in the back,” Sarah offered just as they passed them by.

Y/n’s heart sank as the father’s cries echoed in her ears, her eyes drifting to the back of Joel’s head.

“Somebody else’ll come along,” he said to the car, but mostly to himself.

Sarah, trying so hard to remain calm, let her tears fall silently. Whatever shred of reality they could make of the chaos around them was starting to sink in on Y/n too. She pulled Sarah deeper into her arms, feeling the girl’s sadness land on her skin.

Tommy sped down the lane, trying to get on the freeway, and meeting the sea of likeminded cars.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, “Everyone had the same fuckin’ idea.

Panicked drivers were speeding towards them, the little white lines on the asphalt ceasing to matter.

“I can’t get through this,” Tommy said, dodging the cars.

“All right, all right,” Joel tried to remain calm, “Let’s think it through, we’ll think it through.”

“Tommy!” Y/n cried as another reckless driver nearly clipped them.

“All right, take the field,” Joel directed, “We’ll cut across and pick up on the-the west side.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy’s breath shook, “West, west, all right. All right, hang on.”

Sarah held onto Y/n a little tighter, bracing herself as Tommy went off road into the tall grass. The truck dipped and bounced with the land, until they met smooth dirt…giving them a view of the freeway. The military had already set up shop.

“Shit,” Tommy exclaimed, “Fuckin’ army!”

“Isn’t that good?” Sarah asked

“It’s good for them” Tommy said, “But that’s the highway we’re tryin’ to get to.”

Joel’s brain was spinning with roads, “All right, keep movin’. Head north.”

“Could be a lot of people,” Tommy pointed out.

“Well, we can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west,” Joel replied, “Hell else we supposed to go?”

Tommy hesitated, his hands nervously gripping the wheel.

“Tommy, come on,” Joel yelled, his own anxiety beginning to show itself.

Listening, Tommy turned the truck north, leading them towards the distant light of a small town.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know that place,” Joel said, “This can work.”

“Joel,” Y/n spoke up, “What then? Where are we going?”

He didn’t know, he barely could remember the numbers of the highways. All he knew was he needed to get his family to some sort of safety. “I don’t know, Mexico,” he blurted out, “Just far, far as we can,” he looked to his brother, “How much gas?”

“Three quarter tank,” Tommy answered, it was enough to make it to the border.

“Go through town,” Joel began to list off directions, “Golf course by the river, straight across, we pick up the highway on the other side of the blockade…” he exhaled, “Then we’re out.”

“Maybe it’s everywhere,” Sarah theorized, trying so desperately to make sense of what was happening, “Maybe there’s nowhere to go.”

Joel and Yn’s worried eyes met in the dashboard mirror, they were both wondering the same thing. Illnesses didn’t stay quarantined to just one city in one state, they spread like vines, reaching for any life they could. What if this parasite worked the same way?

A loud roar began to encroach on the truck from above.

“What the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed.

Sarah and Y/n shielded their ears from the noise, looking up through the roof’s glass top to catch a low-flying plane directly above them. There were a line of three more trailing the sky behind them.

“Shit,” Y/n whispered, her facade for Sarah was fading.

Down the road, the red white and blue lights of a police car became a stumbling block. “Son of a bitch,” Tommy complained, “Gotta go around. Grab somethin’!”

Joel reached an arm back, both to brace himself against Tommy’s seat and give Y/n something to hold onto. Sarah held fast to Y/n as Tommy made a hard right down the next street. The town they’d turned into had descended fully into chaos, its residents running wildly through the streets, either screaming for help or attacking one other.

“All right,” Joel talked his brother through the roads, “Keep goin’, keep goin’,” he looked to his left to see a truck barreling towards them, “Shit, Tommy!”

The tire screech had Y/n flipping Sarah’s body over hers, making herself a human shield. Thankfully, the crash never came.

The next street Tommy turned them down was even worse. People were beating each other senselessly in the street, the screams of the wounded piercing their ears.

“Tommy, you can’t stop here,” Joel said as his brother slowed the car.

He gestured to the crowds, “I can’t drive through ‘em.”

“Are you serious?” Joel yelled, “Just keep goin’!”

Up ahead, an explosion shattered the windows of a building, eliciting every person inside to run for their lives, all headed towards the truck.

“Go, go, go,” Joel urged, smacking the dashboard a little harder with each utterance, “Back, back, back, back, back, back, back!”

“I’m tryin’!” Tommy yelled back.

Y/n caught the faces of people as they ran past, the terror, the confusion in their eyes. One woman had blood streaming down her chest, the deep red turning her white blouse deathly crimson.

“Tommy, go faster,” Joel berated, “We gotta go!”

“I’m tryin’, there’s nowhere to fuckin’ go,” Tommy said, maneuvering them backwards.

“Tommy,” Y/n couldn’t stay quiet, “Fuck, anywhere!”

“Find an alley!” Joel added.

“What alley?! There’s people everywhere!”

“Roll the fuck over them,” Joel ordered, “We gotta get off this street.”

Sarah had shifted out of Y/n’s arms and was staring out the back, watching as the humanity was sucked out of her city. In the sky, she could spot bright, blinking lights headed straight for them.

She blindly reached for Y/n’s hand, “Dad?!”

Y/n and Joel both turned, their eyes falling on the same sight. One of the planes was headed straight towards them.

“Fuck,” Y/n uttered breathlessly.

“Move…” Joel managed to say, “Move!”

The plane completed its nosedive into the road behind them, exploding in a fiery inferno. Joel reached back to grab hold of Sarah, Y/n shoved her down into her lap.

None of them saw the piece of debris heading for the truck.

—————————

Joel was the first one to wake up. He struggled out of his seatbelt, dropping to the roof of the flipped truck and looking into the back.

Y/n and Sarah were out cold.

Sarah’s leg was elevated, her foot caught in some part of the truck. Y/n lay in a terrifyingly still ball.

“Sarah…Sarah…” Joel weakly called, tugging on her free leg and startling her awake, “Stay right there. Don’t move,” he looked to Y/n, “Y/n, wake up.”

No response.

“Rosebud,” Joel urged, his voice betraying him and turning to a whine, “Honey, get up.”

“Y/n,” Sarah disobeyed her father, fear-stricken, and stretched her arm out to shake Y/n.

Y/n gasped, waking up the same way she’d passed out; panicked.

“Joel,” she cried out, “Sarah?”

“We’re here,” Joel reassured her, a hand to her arm, “We’re here. Tommy? You okay?”

Tommy grunted, trying to free himself, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

With a pounding headache, and the feeling of air hitting small cuts across her face, Y/n struggled to her knees. Nothing felt broken inside her, just weak.

Sarah’s breathing began to pick up, turning her body to stare out the busted window. Twenty feet away, someone was heaving over a body, draining it of blood the same way Nana Adler had.

“Sarah,” Joel moved to the back of the truck, “Don’t look. You look at me or Y/n, okay?”

Y/n was at Joel’s side instantly, gently holding Sarah’s calf so he could free her leg. The girl winced as Joel worked.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know, I know,” he apologized profusely, letting her leg drop into Y/n’s hands.

“Come here,” he urged his daughter, “Put your arms around me. Come here, come here,” he pulled Sarah into his embrace, “I got you.”

Y/n was crawling past, into the driver’s half of the truck, “Tommy?”

Tommy was already out, kneeling down at the window, “Come on, take my hand!”

Straining to reach him, Y/n slapped her palms against his and he dragged her out. She could feel the glass scrape against her skin, trying to hold her cries in for Sarah’s sake.

Tommy and Y/n pulled each other to their feet, Tommy reaching for his rifle after. Joel and Sarah had made it out on the other side. Y/n rushed around the wreckage of the truck to reach them, grabbing them both, “What’s wrong?”

“My ankle,” Sarah strained.

“We gotta get off the street,” Tommy urged, a fast approaching siren sending him diving for the asphalt, “Shit!”

A police van slammed into their truck, creating a fire between the two vehicles. Joel and Y/n shielded Sarah from the flames, “Tommy?”

Y/n wrapped her arms around Sarah, trying to take some of the weight off her ankle and freeing Joel.

“Tommy!” Joel screamed again.

Separated by the two totaled bodies, the brothers found each other.

“Head to the river,” Tommy shouted, “I’ll find a way!”

Joel hesitated to leave his brother behind, regardless of his competency.

“Get ‘em out of here,” Tommy insisted, “Go, Joel!”

It was the mention of Y/n and Sarah that snapped him back, he immediately turned and bent down to Sarah’s eye level.

“We can’t leave him,” she argued.

“Joel-“ Y/n began.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, “Can you both run?”

“No,” Sarah said as Y/n nodded.

Joel bent over and swung his daughter into his arms.

“You keep your eyes on us,” Joel half demanded, half begged Sarah, “Okay?”

“Okay,” she breathed.

“And don’t look anywhere else,” he finished, his panicked gaze moving to Y/n, “Don’t let go.”

Y/n locked one arm around Joel’s shoulders, the other under Sarah’s legs, needing one hand on them both.

The three of them rushed through the street, lost as to how to get to the river. Joel stopped in fear when they found a grouping of bodies, groaning, writhing, devouring one another on the ground. He guided Sarah’s head back into his body, but she’d already seen too much.

One of the monsters popped up, eerily fast.

Y/n and Joel’s hearts collectively stopped, anxiety kick starting them to run for the back door of a building. They dove inside, Y/n running ahead to bang on the locked door.

“Move,” Joel cried, kicking down the wood and pulling them through it, “Get ahead!”

Y/n jumped in front of them, racing down the length of the diner. She could hear the frantic footsteps and growls of the monster chasing them.

Slamming her body into the second door, Y/n cleared the path for Joel, the two of them sprinting away from the encroaching death nipping at their heels. The monster snarled as it came after them, too quick for Y/n or Joel even at their fastest-

BANG!

A shotgun fire silenced the animalistic sounds, Joel spun around to see the creature laid out in the grass, blood spilling from its head.

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured Sarah, “You’re safe.”

Y/n’s hands dropped to Joel’s arm, resting her head against his shoulder in an effort to catch her breath.

“C’mon,” Joel urged, turning around for the way of the river.

A searchlight hit them.

“Don’t move,” a stern voice commanded, through the light, Y/n and Joel could make out it was a soldier.

“My daughter’s hurt,” Joel explained, “Her ankle.”

“Stop right there,” the soldier ordered, they’d barely moved in his direction.

Y/n and Sarah both trembled, in shock at the sight of the rifle pointed at them.

“Okay,” Joel backed down, taking them the slightest step back, “Easy now. We’re not sick!”

The soldier reached for his radio, reporting into it, “I got three civilians by the river, one of ‘em injured,” he waited for a response, “Ankle.”

“What about Uncle Tommy?” Sarah looked up to Joel.

“We’re gonna get you somewhere safe first,” Joel panted, “Then we’ll go back for him, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah accepted.

Y/n rubbed a hand over Sarah’s uninjured leg. The horror still had yet to be named, but they were so close to asylum from it.

An impatient Joel took a step forward, earning another up and close look at the rifle’s barrel.

“Hey,” the soldier shouted, “No one told you to move.”

Y/n trembled against Joel’s arm as they waited, why was it taking so long?

“Yes sir,” the soldier said into his radio, his voice having shifted and making Y/n and Joel’s stomachs tighten.

The gun came back up.

“We’re not sick,” Joel echoed, knowing what was about to happen.

“W-w-wait,” Y/n’s lips began to shake, she held out a hand to the soldier, “We’re not sick.”

“Sir,” Joel urged again, his voice rising with every second of silence, “We are not sic-“

Bullets rained down on the three of them, the force of the lead sending them rolling down the hill.

Joel pushed himself off his stomach, a harsh light on him drawing him onto his back. The soldier was mere inches from him, his rifle trained on Joel’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, he almost sounded genuine.

“Please don’t,” Joel begged, raising his hands.

Y/n had rolled farther than Joel, already weak from the crash and now with a pain radiating in her side. One of the bullets had definitely grazed her. She was able to push up onto her arms, dragging her gaze across the dirt and spotting the position her boyfriend was in.

“JOEL!”

The soldier was thrown forward, a bullet from behind lodging in his chest. Joel looked up to see Tommy, marching forward with his rifle still trained on the dead soldier.

Joel hurried to sit up, running a hand his side, a bullet had scraped across the skin.

Y/n let out a breath as she watched Joel move, her eyes scanning around her for Sarah.

“Oh, God,” Tommy breathed.

Frantic breaths could be heard, closest to Y/n and furthest from Joel.

Y/n froze at the sight.

Then she was rising, racing to the spot.

Joel was right behind her. “No…” he mumbled, “Oh, no.”

Y/n made it to Sarah first, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes ran over her body. Her attempts at breath were wracking through her violently.

“No, no, no,” Joel shushed his daughter, pressing a hand to her neck, “Okay, you’re okay. You’re okay, move your hand, baby.”

“Sarah, move your hand,” Y/n rubbed the girl’s cheek, “We gotta take a look, babe.”

Sarah let her hand drop to her side, revealing the blood that covered her entire lower abdomen.

Joel felt his heart drop into his stomach.

Y/n felt her entire body lock up.

Joel was the first to move, slipping an arm under Sarah’s shoulders. She let out the most heartbreaking cry, pain flooding her body as she reached to push her father away.

“I know, baby, I know,” Joel agreed, “I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts.”

Sarah’s breaths came quicker, groans accompanying them as she strained to take in air.

“Eyes on me,” Y/n urged, taking her face into both palms and rubbing her thumbs across the skin, “Don’t look down. Look at me.”

Sarah struggled to move her lips, barely pressing them together and humming. She was trying to say something.

“Shh, shh,” Y/n tried to keep her calm, “It’s okay.”

“Come on, baby,” Joel soothed as he examined her wound, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Another wave of unbearable pain hit Sarah as Joel pressed down on her wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

“I know, I know, I know,” the panic finally reached Joel’s voice, “I know, baby. I know, I know. I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay.”

Sarah’s breaths grew ragged.

“You’re okay,” Y/n fought back the relentless tears, keeping her hands on Sarah’s cheeks, “You’re okay. I promise. You’re okay.”

“All right, baby, baby, baby,” Joel tried to talk over and in between Sarah’s noises, “Listen to me, I gotta get you up, okay?”

Sarah shook her head, her eyes widened with terror she couldn’t physically put into words.

“Babe, we have to get you up, okay?” Y/n continued, “It’s gonna hurt like hell for a second, but it’ll be alright.”

“All right,” Joel couldn’t wait any longer, “You come on.”

Y/n moved around to help lift Sarah’s back, her and Joel working as a team to raise her. Sarah groaned and wept as they shifted her body.

“I know, baby,” Joel was on the verge of tears as Sarah strained to help herself up, gripping his neck. “I know, I know, I know,” his voice rose in fear, “I know, I know, I know.”

Joel turned to where he’d left his brother, “Tommy, help me!”

Tommy didn’t move, “Joel…”

Sarah’s body stopped shaking under Y/n’s hands, her chest went still.

“Sarah,” Y/n begged, “C’mon, babe.”

“C’mon, baby girl,” Joel whimpered, moving frantically to loop an arm around her, “I gotta get you up. Come on. Come on, we’ll get up.”

Rising on her knees, Y/n hung her head over Sarah’s. The girl’s eyes were blank, her lips were parted.

“Come on,” Joel sobbed, his pleas dropping off as reality began to invade his blind hope, “Come…please…”

It was too late.

Joel took Sarah fully into his arms, wrapping around her so tight, he thought he might be able to physically put her back together.

Any air Y/n still had in her chest left her body, her hands resting in midair as if she was still holding the child.

She crawled to Joel, covered in blood, rocking Sarah’s body and sobbing breathlessly over her shoulder.

It was real.

“Sa-“ Y/n whispered, tears starting to flood down her cheeks. Her voice dropped to a whimper, “Sarah.”

If the universe could grieve a human being, it was Sarah Miller’s passing that brought it to tears. No part of the Earth would be spared from the chaos that had claimed her. No corner of the planet would ever bloom and flourish as it had when she was alive. When she ascended, she took humanity and all of its beauty with her.

And the souls of the two people cradling her corpse, screaming into the night, went with her.

——————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking @endofthexline @alexiaricciardo @eonnyx @pedrosmexicangf @scarlettequinn @ao-sleepy @toinfinityandbeyonce2 @deanlovescassie @turmoil-ash @sorrowjunky @kpopslur @xxlilyxx90 @midgetpottermills @presidential-facts @scoopsnini @tubble-wubble @jamesdeerest @burninggracesandbridges @star-wars-lover @lucyhotchner @cococola-cocaine @witheringhqarts @fall-writes @alwaysdjarin @xxmoonn @emilia-the-artist @wand-erer5 @boneyarrd @lizard-zombie @itwasallinmyhead1 @cassidylea123 @paleepeaches @mxltifxnd0m @kettlekatie @ultimate-cinephile @gloryekaterina @caramelkatsukis-bitch @whovianayesha @memeorydotcom @deadunicorn159 @get0ut0fmyr00m @siriuslymooned @emmyeed @superbreadsoul @hellu-people1 @ourautumn86 @inas-thing @noraapple05 @givemylovetoall @luvwanda (tags continued in comments)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fic #twenty years later

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absurdthirst · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 2023: October 15th

Day 15: Boot Worship, Spanking/Flogging/Whipping/Caning, Lactation/Breastfeeding

Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Post-pregnancy, lactating, pumping, breastfeeding kink, paying to drink breast milk, drinking milk, breast play, grinding, frottage, cumming in pants

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

There are some perks to being Dieter Bravo’s assistant. As crazy as he can be and put you through stress and odd situations, he is a fairly lenient boss. When you had come to him, explaining that you wished to be a surrogate for your sister who was unable to carry a child, he was cool with it.

Did it stop the 2AM calls because he couldn’t find his favored crocs, or didn’t remember the name of that 24-hr Mexican restaurant? No. But he let you take off for all the doctor’s appointments without too much complaint, stopped doing drugs around you since it was bad for the baby, and insisted that you have a chair on set next to his to sit down in at all times. In actuality, it was pretty sweet.

You had planned on coming back to work right away, since the baby was immediately going to your sister from the delivery room, but Dieter had pitched a fit. Telling you that even though you didn’t have a newborn to take care of, you still needed to recover from giving birth. You had compromised, telling him that you could recover and still manage his calendar from his admittedly comfortable couch.

You hadn’t expected the questions. Dieter is one of those enigmatic souls that there is no telling what will pique his curiosity, but you hadn’t expected it to be your breast pump. Your sister and you decided that you would pump your milk for at least the first few months, or as long as you could.

Dieter was obsessed. Like a kid with a new toy, you found him playing with the pumps. There were two that you could wear inside your nursing bra to let you pump while you just went about your day. Removing them and draining them into the storage bags as needed and putting them right back on.

He was staring at your breasts, frowning slightly as he looked away and then looked back at them. As if he was figuring something out. Until you realized he was trying to decide if you had the pumps on or not. He kept muttering to himself, shaking his head and walking out of the room abruptly. You would think that he was on drugs again, except you haven’t ordered any from his regular supplier in nearly two months.

So it’s a complete surprise when you are sitting on the couch, nearly two months after you have given birth and settled back into your routines with Dieter that he plops down on the sofa beside you. “How much would I need to pay you to drink your milk?”

Freezing, your jaw hits the ground in shock. Immediately flustered and wondering what the hell is he talking about. Drinking your milk? He wants to taste it? Pour it into his cereal? What?

“Dee, what? What the fuck are you-”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” He groans, shuffling closer and staring at you with wide, pleading eyes before his gaze drops down to your breasts and he groans. His hand moves down to his crotch, almost covering himself like he’s trying to hide something before he grabs a pillow and shoves it in his lap. “Please, I - fuck, I’ll give you a thousand dollars. Give me….two ounces.”

“Dieter…”

“Two, all I’m asking for is two. The baby can spare that, right? You’ve been pumping like 80 ounces a day, right? Around that?” His tone is slightly whiny, begging like he always does when he really, really wants something.

It shocks you that he’s aware of how many ounces of breastmilk you are pumping. That means that he’s got to be looking in the freezer. You’ve been storing it here since you are here more than your own house and having it sent over to your sister’s.

“You want to buy two ounces of my breast milk to drink?” You ask, wanting to make sure you understand what the fuck your boss is asking you. “For a thousand dollars.”

“Two, two thousand.” Dieter ups the price, biting his lip and swallowing harshly. “A thousand dollars an ounce. Please, I know it’s weird, I know that I shouldn’t ask, but please, please just let me have some.”

His eyes are earnest, begging you. Almost more intense than the first time he has if you would have sex with him. Finally finding something he wants more than sex.

“I don’t know…”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” He rushes out, his face twisted in embarrassment but Dieter has no shame when there is something that he wants. He’s willing to humiliate himself as long as self-gratification for whatever he is obsessing over happens. “Drinking it, sipping it. Swallowing it down. Knowing that it is supposed to feed me. Feed a baby, I mean. It’s natural. The most natural food a man can have.” He justifies it, always good at finding reasons for why he needs to have what he wants. “It fucking- fuck, baby, it fucking turns me on. The idea of drinking your milk.”

You can tell he wasn’t supposed to say that. From the way he immediately snaps his mouth shut and recoils from you, like you are going to reach out and slap him. Maybe you should slap him. It’s a slappable offense, but you aren’t.

“Two thousand dollars, for a chance to drink two ounces of milk?” You don’t dismiss the idea, or slap him and that makes Dieter perk up. Immediately nodding, making his disheveled hair wave eagerly.

“Yeah. Please?” He begs again. “I promise I won’t ask you to sleep with me again or go get my coffee. Ohhhh your milk in coffee.” You watch as he rolls his eyes back in his head at the thought, the pillow being crammed against his lap even more and you huff.

“How many times have you jerked off thinking about drinking my milk, Dee?” You demand, making your boss nearly cringe at the question.

Ducking his head and turning a range of mottled reds in mortification, he mumbles too quietly for you to hear. “- times a day.”

“What?”

He mumbles again. “-day.”

“I can’t hear you.”

“Seven or eight times a day!” Dieter finally shouts, grabbing the pillow from his lap and shoving it over his face to scream into it while your brows shoot up in surprise. You know Dieter has a high sex drive, but you never imagined he could go that many times.

While he is having his fit, you think about it for a moment. It’s two thousand dollars and you’d rather your boss ask you to drink your milk than some random pregnant lady on the street. You wouldn’t put it past him. Despite his tendencies, Dieter is actually pretty respectful. He doesn’t push when he’s rejected and if you say no, you know that he will be disappointed but he won’t get angry.

You aren’t wearing the pumps, thank goodness, so it’s easy to manage when you pull away the pillow from your boss's face and straddle his thighs, putting your milk filled tits in his face.

“I- what are you-” Dieter chokes out, eyes wide and fixed on the tops of your tits, wanting to touch you but this wasn’t what he asked for.

“You don’t want to drink straight from the source?” You ask innocently.

The fact that you are on his lap makes you fully aware that Dieter’s cock is hard. Letting you feel the way that it jumps when you ask if he wants to drink from you. Not hiding his love of the idea even a little bit.

He groans, tearing his eyes away from your breasts to look up into your eyes. “Yeah? Really?” He asks, still not touching you, but his hands are hovering over your hips, wanting to settle on them. “I- you would let me do that?”

“You can’t squeeze them.” You caution. “They are tender, and sore a lot of the time. But if you want to, you can nurse, suck the milk from my tits and drink it down.” It was good timing, because you were going to have to pump anyway.

“But I-” He seems to be completely stumped as to why you would offer more. No one ever offers more when he is desperate enough to pay for what he wants. “I’ll be careful.” He promises, leaning forward to nuzzle into your bosom and inhale the slightly milky scent of your skin.

You feel the way he twitched under you. That admittedly impressive cock throbbing against your core in a way that you hadn’t thought about before this moment. He’s hard because of you. Because of this infatuation with your tits, your milk.

Those hands that you had worried would be carelessly eager are almost timid. Asking if he can take off your shirt, or if you would prefer to just lower your shirt. You explain that it feels better to just lower your shirt and he quickly agrees. His fingers almost worshipful as he gently pulls your breasts out, taking your warning to heart as he positions them in his face and gets his first good look at your hard nipples and burgeoning jugs.

“Oh god. I just want to…” he lunges forward and snuggles his face between the breasts he is holding almost reverently. Nearly motorboating you but just breathing deep. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He hisses, throbbing even more underneath you and you swear that you feel a bit of wetness transfer from his sweats to your leggings.

You wrap your arms around him, for stability, for a lack of places to hold onto him, bringing him closer and you feel him sigh into your skin. As if he has found a place he wants to stay.

It’s not too long before he wants more. His lips move along your skin in a surprisingly romantic scattering of kisses, as if you were his lover.

His arms slowly slide around you as he kisses around your nipple, tilting his head down, and he groans when the warm, wetness of his lips wrap around a hard nipple to pull it into his mouth.

Dieter’s hips rock up, grinding up into yoh and he twitches harshly when he tugs on the nipple, letting the first spurt of milk hit his tongue. His groan is so loud, almost pained, it covers the gasp that you give at the sensation.

It’s so different from the pump. Warmer, wetter. More intense as he starts to suckle eagerly. Gulping down mouthfuls of milk as fast as he can while dragging you closer, making you grind down on his cock from the movement.

You get lost in the feeling of it all. His cock hard and throbbing under you. Pressing against your sensitive clit as your hips rock. The subtly erotic sensation of his whiskers against your skin. Eagerly letting him switch from breast to breast as he drinks you down.

Dieter drinks more than two ounces, far more than you had agreed on, but neither one of you pulls away, even trying to stop. He’s gorging himself on the warm, slightly sweet milk in great, greedy gulps, groaning as he swallows.

You don’t realize you are about to cum until you do. Stiffening in his arms, you push your breast into his mouth more as your back arches, a harsh cry escaping your lips. Pleasure washing over you in waves, and you don’t realize that Dieter is moaning your name. Rocking his hips up harshly to keep the friction going until he’s throbbing against your core. The warmth of his cum coating the inside of his sweats as he cums in his pants, drunk off your breast milk.

“Holy shit.” You pant as he pulls away, milk drunk and softening underneath you as he swallows one last time.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

#pedro pascal #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #absurdthirst kinktober #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo imagine

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delugguk · 2 years

Text

perfect timing.

pair: jungkook x reader.

genre: best friends to lovers.

word count: 8.0k (omg this is the most I've ever written)

warnings: smut and a lot of pining?? there's a lot of tension.. I don't want to spoiler so you just.. get right into it *giggles*

summary: one night in a city full of life; what it's supposed to be a friendly and fun dinner date, ends up with a night full of unrevealed secrets and unexpected pleasure.

a/n: inspired by this request.

tag: @kookiecrumb ^v^

can you trust yourself right now?

that's your most prominent inner question but before we all go under this.. mess of thoughts, let's better get right into the main issue. shall we?

chilly nights weren't your most favorite or.. well, who are you lying to? you definitely loved these type of nights. just not when you didn't had the time to plan an awesome outfit for it ㅡ wearing only a skirt with nothing more than your panties wasn't a good plan when the cold breeze freezed your legs to death everytime you walked around but looking at the bright side of it, the only good thing about it is that at least you got to pick a decent outfit.

jungkook told you to look cute tonight because he was taking you to an 'apparently good' famous restaurant here in vegas but he barely gave you time to dress and it was always like thisㅡwell, not actually.. but-

..you're normally used to take your own time when choosing an outfit! - you know you can take too long some days but come on, you don't think you're that bad?

he always teases you about it and with the little light fight you both had because of him hurrying you up, you still think he should've given you more time. but he's jungkook and he always has to win.. right? - you scoff by just thinking about how stupid that sounds. you should definitely win sometime. at least that's what you like to tell yourself.

"what's happening?" jungkook glances at you while his hands flick through the restaurant's menu.

"nothing, why?"

"I don't know, you just seemed annoyed." he comments with a light grin. "are you still mad?"

followed by that question, you hate him so much because why does his doe eyes have to be so big and bright... you absolutely dislike when he purposely give you those manipulative puppy eyes.

"I'm not mad. I just remembered how annoying you are sometimes." you sarcastically answer.

he laughs. "is that it?"

"yep." your body leans upfront to look at your menu.

"I thought you weren't going to speak to me tonight."

"nah, it's okay. at least I look nice so I'm alright." you smile at him.

"that's true." he confirms with a soft smile. but it doesn't last long when his soft expression is already turning into a worrying one. "..but aren't you cold? I feel sorryㅡI didn't know it was going to get this cold." he sadly pouts, inmediately taking off his denim jacket not thinking twice into giving it to you.

"oh- no! I'm alright koo, well- yes I'm a little cold but you don't have to-"

"agh" he chuckles. "just take it, yeah?"

"but you'll also get cold.." you pout in a lower voice, feeling defeated.

he clicks his tongue in response. "don't worry about me. I always use two shirts underneath me, have you forgot?" he smiles.

..and of course you remember. it's something he has been doing for years now. claiming is for 'fashion purposes' in all failures and practices, you've seen him master his layering techniques improving with each year so.. it clearly is something you can easily forget.

"how can I?" you return a warm smile. "thank you koo.."

quickly standing up, jungkook tries placing his jacket down on your legs being very careful with it and it's a nice gesture, but you can't help laughing about it. "jungkook, I think I'm alright. I can do this myself."

"ah- I know. I just, uhm-" cheeks gaining a little bit of color, "yeah you.. do it." he goes back to his seat. "should we order some food and then some drinks if you're okay with that?"

the sudden changes in his tone of voice trying to jump out of this moment almost makes you laugh again. you usually tease him in situations like this but you'll let it pass this time. why was he being so cute? he always was, but right in this moment, you truly feel like you could explode.

"yeah, that sounds cool." you answer as you fix his big jacket above and beneath your naked legs. - feeling relieved as soon as the nice warm embraces your skin.

"cool."

between having nice convos, probing the food, giving reviews as you both enjoyed this momentㅡthe restaurant's food is actually nice. totally worth its popularity.

you both weren't chefs or professionals but you could say this is one of your favorite things to do. being used to travel together, going here and there for many years now, getting to know new places (for you both) like this, was sort of your thing. - something nice because while doing so, you both have been able to gain a lot of knowledge through experiences and so, along with traveling the world.. that always made you start nice, very interesting, entertaining and debatable conversations. It could never get boring between you two. speaking about anything and everything just comes very naturally for the both of you. - which could also explain why you two have grown so good when it comes to giving very well done, reasonables reviews everywhere you go. - spending time together just seemed to get better and better each time and so.. with the amount of confidence you have with each other, it's easily to just talk about whatever.

"it's all good now?"

"yeah, I've already finished." you smile.

"this wine is starting to have an effect on me, I'm not gonna lie." jungkook laughs as you follow.

"well.. I'm not very much different than you." both smiling at the same time.

jungkook's lip piercing seems to be a bit.. shinier than ever, or is that just on your mind?

"I've already pay, by the way.." jungkook says, sipping a little bit of his now finished wine.

"hm? when did you-"

"when I told you I was going to the bathroom?"

"jungkook!" you whine. "I told you tonight was my turn to pay." you try to slap his body from your seat but fail miserably when he leans his body back into his seat, laughing at you. "ugh, you even dare to laugh." you mutter.

"come on princess, you'll do it next time." he softly smiles.

but.. your heart stopped beating a little. did he just called you princess?

"p-princess?"

did you heard that right?

"you don't like that nickname?"

"yeah but you've never called me-" he interrupts you.

"do you want to go now? It's getting colder and you're just wearing a skirt." he suddenly asks.

"I- uh.. we didn't used a car." It's true, you choosed walking around this time.

"I know. remember I told you I had a feeling we'll get sort of drunk tonight?"

you nod.

"well, we're both tipsy." he laughs. "I've already called an uber."

"ah." It's all you say.

"what?" he asks, observing your sudden change of humour. "are you upset this moment is ending?" he teases.

you playfully roll your eyes. "yeah.. I mean, I like it here." you softly say leaning back to your seat, hugging your own body while looking around the atmosphere. people laughing, having their own fun, people in love..

oh yeah, you were definitely getting drunk.

jungkook also takes a glance around as soon as you do but not longer like you. placing his eyes on you instead.

"you know we can.." he pauses, thinking about it. "still have our own fun back at the hotel, right?" he's expresionless and you wish you could tell what does his eyes mean as soon as your very own meet his.

"like we always do?" your eyes glistens.

but like you said, it could never get boring.

"yeah." he smiles and you mirror him.

fixing your posture, you push strands of your hair at the back of your ear with both hands. later on, placing both palms hiding beneath your thighs. - it's such a small movement, but jungkook notices.

"are your hands cold?" he questions, earnestly.

"uh.." you don't know why you hesitate to respond. "..a little?"

jungkook gives you a warm sided smile. "do you want us to go now?" endearing enough, he extends both of his hands at you. signalling for you to reach them.

the moment you feel his palms, you're astonished. "how are your hands so warm?" you ask, kindly squishing his hands.

It makes jungkook chuckle. "I'm always warm.."

and there's just something about the way he said it..

your heart should stop beating this fast. what was going on?

jungkook continues, "I think it's time for us to go, we better wait outside." then he remembers, "shit, right- only if you want though.." mumbling a tiny, "it might be colder outside.." in a very regretful voice.

but all you do is smile at him. you know you were mad at him earlier but that doesn't mean he had to feel so bad about it. you've already said to him you were feeling nice because you still managed to look great. him just acting like this was so endearing to you because he also was being so considerate and I mean, he always was.

there was just something about tonight. maybe the wine.

"It's okay, I have you. my human heater." you tease him and jungkook nervously chuckles.

"ah.." he awkwardly looks down your hands. "yeah.."

laughing about it you delicately unattach your hands off his. scrunching your nose in a smile, lending your arm at him to return back his heavy jacket. "let's go."

but he hesitates about if he should take it or not.

"no. keep it. it's way colder outside, trust me." he gently refuses, pushing your arm back but failing at it.

"I'm okay, jungkook. I won't turn into an ice cube, I promise." chuckling, you motion back again your previews gesture.

he takes it as he faintly glowers. "but wouldn't you get more cold?" he asks, trying to give you the piece of clothing back.

"no, I'm alright. I think I can survive outside." you giggle and he does too, feeling puzzled.

"fine.." he sighs. "but, just let me know if you get too cold okay?" finally, putting back on the sky blue item.

the sight of jungkook putting on a big jacket like this was.. uh, how can you explain this? the glasses looked so good on him and his little bucket hat could never be missing in times like these right?

he's justㅡthe white shirt marked all of his (what it seems to be like-) strong chest.. pectorals softly drawing a line in between, you feel like you should look away. - and you do. you don't know exactly why. you've seen him do this many times so why were you thinking this way? it must be the wine all over again.

but if you were going to blame on the wine, then how can you explain the way his eyes lingered on you the whole time? and why was he doing it so slowly? almost like teasing you?his eyes were so.. cloudy too? perhaps this wine was hitting strong on him too.. you don't know.

"uh- yeah, like always." you try to smile back at him but you believe your cheeks were embarrassing you right now.

trying to walk away from him, jungkook's faster into grabbing your shoulder, gently.

"why are you in such hurry?" he giggles. "here." taking your hand like he always does. - in any other day, you'll normally think this is something very usual, but tonight..

walking towards the exit, you don't expect feeling his hand play with his fingers trying to find yours so he could slowly fill the little empty gaps in between your fingers.

he's bold enough to lace them together, and it's a completely new feel to what it should be a normal intimacy between you two. - but then, you remember what he once told you once about holding hands with just the palms and the one lacing fingers.

"I just think it's very intimate" he states. "I wouldn't just do it with anyone. It's too intimate, I mean, I'm okay with just touching our palms but if I ever lace my fingers with anyone," he pauses. "then just know that's me being very much in love." he laughs. "I don't fuck around when it comes to those type of things and you know it."

and.. hell yeah you knew. not only you were a hopeless romantic but so was he. you remember agreeing to it.

discussing about it, he even told you he could never hold your hand that way because it'll feel way too weird. you couldn't agree more in that moment but if he's doing it now.. was it because he..? no. you don't think so. he's just tipsy right?

you can't help but feel your body tense as soon as he does and all you wish is for jungkook to not notice since he's sort of walking ahead of you but.. he's jungkook and so, of course he does.

"Is everything okay?" he glances back at your frame, stopping a little but you encourage him to keep walking.

"yeah, I'm.. alright." you try to give him a not-so-nervous smile and all he does is grin while looking back upfront.

is he crazy?

stepping outside of the restaurant, jungkook wasn't lying when he said it'll be more cold. - to be honest you low-key knew it was all true but at the same time, you didn't wanted him having to sacrifice his own comfort because of you.

"our uber should be here in a couple of minutes." jungkook says as you nod your head.

still holding hands, you take your time to look around as jungkook's gaze reminds on you. you don't notice it but him gently squishing your hand caughts your attention.

"yeah?" you meet his eyes once again that are only hidden by his transparent glasses.

jungkook doesn't know if you think he's a fool but he can notice the way your body quivers. grinning to himself, he quickly manhandles your body against him into a hug.

"what are you-"

"I know you're cold, silly." with his big jacket still on, he manages to wrap it around your body. but not only before guiding your hands around his waist so you could hug him first which is now so...very, much close to him. "come here."

you were going to complain but.. the wine playing its role into making you not care about itㅡgot you absorbing how warm jungkook's body actually feels against you and all you could imagine are pure dangerous thoughts now. wondering how his naked body would feel against your skin because if he naturally feels this good with clothes... you just wonder how perfect it'll be.

but what were you thinking?

you shouldn't be thinking like this. he's your best friend, damn. for many years too! you can't just act silly because of you being tipsy.

tipsy. not even drunk. fuck.

"I'm very cold." but your subconscious didn't seemed to listen to your right mind.. taking all the control over your body needs and heart. It was a rare but very possible situation.

"I know baby." jungkook replies and it's just.. he first calls you princess and now.. baby?

you need to know if this is just him being tipsy because you've been tipsy, even fully drunk around each other before and none of those moments compares to what you feel and what he's doing tonight.

glancing up at his face, your chin buries on his chest.

he smells so good..

"baby?" you repeat and damn how you wish he wasn't wearing those glasses. wanting to see those pretty eyes up-close.

when he looks down at you, his face is so close to yours you feel like pulling out of his body but something in you tells you not to and that's when the staring contest begins.

silently looking into each other's eyes you both last a few seconds. seconds that feels like minutes. his trained arms wrapped around your body in a delicate hug that feels tight enough to ever let go. - your pupils move around his pretty face quickly enough to end up focusing on his lips. his lip piercing looking very tempting right now so it wasn't just your mind playing games earlier, you were growing this tiny desire of wanting to kiss him. very badly.

jungkook notices your eyes pattern. faintly grinning to himself, he licks his lips trying to provoke you. perhaps he's insane but giving him a very intense expressionless face, your eyes glisten so much, so does his and it's like as if you both were silently asking for something that you can't quite put into words but it's also something that's so obvious to guess. - so naturally, jungkook gives two tiny squeezes to your waist. again, something he usually does, but as your breathing was slowly increasing, this wasn't just a casual touch. you actually wanted more.

"what are we doing?" you whisper before even thinking about it.

"I don't know." he responds in the same way. tucking one hair that just seemed to fall over your face behind your ear. his gaze quickly going back to your lips while doing so.

"what do you want?" you dare to ask, you needed to know. this feeling only increases with time so it's only fair for you to know what's also going on in his head.

but just before he could answer, of course your uber comes.

lingering his gaze into your eyes, you could tell he was thinking. about what? you don't know, but he seems very doubtful.

"let's go. you'll get more cold." It's all he says.

and as soon as you blink, you're on the car.

the way back to the hotel wasn't so awkward thanks to the person that was driving having a bright personality. there was just this one question they made that make your body tense for a couple of seconds but it was alright afterwards.

"you're both very pretty. are you dating?"

with a smile on his face and you glance at jungkook who's also waiting for you to respond.

"we are friends"

"no."

you both say at the same time. the person's driving just laughs and there's that look he gaves that yells I know something you don't but of course, doesn't mention anything.

"that's a shame." It's all he says later on after finishing up talking some more.

you should be used to that question. you both, actually. people always asked you this.

but you just didn't know what was happening tonight.

jungkook kept on watching the city lights as the car goes and you notice how he.. still hasn't let go of your hand. surprisingly enough? your palms aren't sweating. keeping all the warmth jungkook's hands was giving you and you wondered if your heart was the only one beating this fast.

the city lights didn't seemed so blurry as you go in the car, meaning you weren't drunk. but it maybe is because you were seating right now. once you get out of the car.. that's when you know the real deal.

still sort of feeling cold, the car didn't helped at all for your legs to stop quivering, so you have no other choice than to start caressing your bare legs with your only available hand and because of that sudden repetitive motion, jungkook notices as he finally nods his head looking at what you're doing.

"do you want me to tell the driver to turn the heater on?" he suddenly asks and the soft warm of his breath hitting your ear made you feel some things..

"h-huh?" you flinch, quickly reacting. "no, its fine."

silently staring at you all jungkook does is, let go of your hand. pinioning both of your legs slowly placing them at the side above his thighs with your entire body as he hugs your legs and one of his hands rest on your back so you could get close to him and it's justㅡhe was so strong he could only manhandle you so easily.. not that you complained though but you think that this is the most he has ever done that.

what the fuck is he doing? was your first thought.

the fact that he did this so casually, looked like he didn't seemed to care about how much this was going to affect you.. or maybe he didn't know?

In this position, jungkook could hug you side ways muffling only a portion of his jacket around you.

this feels nice was your second thought. already feeling his warm embrace.

fuck was your third. as soon as his hands started to leave slow caresses through the entirety of your legs. only close enough to your thighs.

"to keep you warm." Is all he says with a smile, but oh boy was that doing more than to keep you warm.

everything seemed to happen so fast so you tried your best to not do something stupid but jungkook was so.. damn. his hands touching your skin feels as if they burned your entire skin and you didn't know if that was because of you wanting to see just how far he could go. - explicit images fullfiling your mind of how many possibilities but fuck. you repeat to yourself once again how you shouldn't be thinking about your best friend like this.

at least not when you don't know if he feels the same.

but as soon as you say that, you find one of your hands moving naturally taking his glasses off. not because you hated them but because you wanted a clear view of his doe eyes. - jungkook's reaction draws a smirk to his face. lowkey knowing just how badly you've been wanting to do that and as expected, they looked very different now that you could clearly see them. well, not as clear yet because there's not really so much light in this car, but you get it.

saving up his glasses through one of his pockets, your face leans closer to his. "perhaps.." growing bolder, you tease him at the side of his ear. "you want to seduce me, jeon?"

"define seducing." is all he says, glancing at you.

"hm." you hum, nodding your head softly.

if he wanted you to show him, then that's what you'll do.

sensually biting your lips, you start guiding your anular and second finger, walking a path against his chest. teasingly. your head resting on one of his shoulders as you watch your hand go. - ending at the nape of his head, you start playing with the little strands of hair tangling on your fingers as your breathing is now brushing his neck when you purr, "this.." leaving a soft peck on his pretty neck for the first time ever. your lips has never touched jungkook like this or in any other way, ever.

"..is me.." another peck touches his hot skin, this time with a little trail of sensual kisses. "..seducing.." all of it while guiding your lips towards his jawline.

"..you." suddenly stopping as you whisper against his skin and something tingles inside of him.

It makes him automatically react by gripping one of your thighs and you swear you almost let out a tiny scream by how sudden it was. but your skin was basically crying wanting to be touched by him, it was only understandable.

feeling risky as you gain more confidence, you place a lingering kiss to his jawline. jungkook's starting to feel sort of hot and so, he bites his lip ring trying to cope with his desire.

not being able to stop whatever was happening right now, he immediately manhandles your whole body adjusting your thighs to be accommodated along his hips. body no longer beside him as you were now facing him and he makes sure to really open your legs so you could be perfectly close and at his center. he was getting so turned on but still, was trying really hard not to. he couldn't risk having a boner in front of you when he didn't know what you actually wanted from him.

despite not having so much light, you linger your gaze to each other. only the flickering lights could do some justice into lightning your bodies and faces. - staring for a couple of seconds, all you can hear is the car's smooth driving sound. there's no a single smile on his face but you on the other hand, were smiling seductively taking your lips in between your teeth.

gosh.. just what was wrong with you.

you thanked this car for being huge so the driver couldn't really see what was actually going on at the back.

he'll think of you as liers for sure..

when jungkook drags his eyes down your lips, all he wants to do is kiss you but.. he didn't wanted to make a stupid move when he isn't even clear of what you want.

"y/n.." he quietly calls your name. "what.." pausing, only to gather a little more of courage. "what are we doing?" now he's the one to ask. hands resting on your thighs, curiosity paints all over his eyes.

"I don't know." you sincerely reply. same eyes, same feels.

only for you to lean over his chest as your face remains just a few inches away from him. your face remaining with a few inches away, you can perfectly feel his breathing along with yours. - jungkook frozes for a few seconds.

but it doesn't last long as soon as he's saying, "we are both tipsy."

"I know." you giggle. "so?"

"so?" mimicking your tone and chuckling about it, "I don't want you or.. usㅡmaking something that will later ruin us.." he utters.

"ruin us?" you repeat.

he nods.

"are you speaking from my or your point of view?"

"y/n.." he humorously warns, with a hint of being serious. "I mean this."

"I know, koo." you aver very gently to him. "we can just let this go. It's all good." you mean that but still.. can't help but feel a bit disappointed.

and as always, jungkook can see through you. but he doesn't says anything as the driver calls for your arrival. - you quickly get off him, suddenly missing his body warmth but you guess that's all for tonight.

but only did you forget about one little thing.

entering the room, jungkook's hands doesn't seem to leave your body despite what he said on the car. dancing almost all night, teasing each other with a hint of tension here and there, it was a great moment.

but the couple of stares coming from jungkook were getting harder to digest as the night progressed and so, standing in front of him right now felt like an actual nightmare. so before it all gets worst, after a few more drinks you both call it a night and prepare to take separated showers.

you low-key wished that taking this shower could make all of your strange thoughts turn into dustㅡbut apparently, the universe didn't wanted you to behave so here you are, laying in bed while jungkook's at your side, thinking about many things. dangerous things. things you aren't even sure what they meant.

or maybe you do..

..and that's why you're now looking at the pitch black ceiling. - all you can hear is the subtle blow of the air conditioner as you wondered if jungkook's mind was also flooded with heavy thoughts just like yours.

"are you sleeping?" you softly ask.

"nope." he says almost humorously making you chuckle. "I'm very much awake."

"so am I." you remark as your body slowly faces to his side and that makes you actually take a rough glance at what is like jungkook's body right now. you could only tell much because the only light functioning as your source was the moon peaking through the giant curtains. - with his body facing up the ceiling, you could take a view of his very familiar side profile. the pearly soft lights of the moon barely caressing his skin but you can still have a view of his very well defined jawline. his hair was slightly parted side ways and you wondered just how soft it'll be if you ever get to touch it again.

you suddenly get this strong urge of wanting to kiss him and just before you could think first about your future actions,

"jungkook.." your mouth is already speaking before you.

"mhm?"

lifting your body, you seat up still facing directly to his side. "can we do this just one time?" voice small, definitely shy enough for him to note the lowkey nervousness of your tone.

"do.. what?" he's careful to ask.

without much thinking, your next move is to slowly but surely straddle his waist as you make sure he isn't feeling weird or awkward about it. - as he let's you place yourself on him, you continue. - eyes gazing at each others and your hands lay on his clothed chest. your face slowly leaning towards his.

jungkook doesn't have a clear point of what's going through your mind but whatever it was, he wasn't going to stop you from doing it.

"kiss me just once." you purr close to his lips.

"Iㅡare you sure?" he wasn't going to lie. that's something he has been wanting to do ever since you've arrived in vegas. but as always, just because he wants it as badly doesn't mean he won't care about what you feel first.

instead of just responding with a simply 'yes', all you do is place a very daring kiss to his cheek, closer to his lips and that makes jungkook feel sparks inside of his stomach and so then, he wanted to kiss you bad, oh so badly.

so he pushes his lips towards yours. a gently touch that soon turns into a deadly unstoppable heated session as gasping for air was a strong necessity. who would've thought of you two really going at it as soon as you touched your lips. is this your bodies communicating into how much they've been wanting each other? It definitely was something to think about later on.. but as of now, you'll just take the risk. take this momentㅡto saviour what you've been wanting to touch, wanting to feel, wanting to experience.

you wanted to know what every other girl get to feel when playing around with him. why every girl always seemed to run up to you the moment things were over, asking you for advice just so they could have him back. but jungkook wasn't an asshole with girls going around breaking their hearts. you always wondered why his relationships always finished almost too fast. but given to how desperate they always were.. made you wonder about many things. was he really that good? if we were to mention his personality.. yeah he has his flaws but don't we all? he still was so good for you. almost too perfect in your eyes but.. the only thing of him being unfamiliar to you was this. so what if once you get a taste, you can't escape? like all the other girls. what if you feel more after this? is this really okay? - you don't know, but as of now.. you were more than willing to find out. accepting all kinds of fate.

"touch me." you moan to his lips.

"where do you want me to touch?"

"anywhere and everywhere. I'm yours tonight." you say, mind already gone.

"are you sure about that, baby?"

he rasps and fuck that nickname, he already was making you feel crazy and you haven't even started yet.

"mhm" moaning, that's all you say. grinding your center against his as jungkook helps you get more friction, lifting his hips.

you seem very eager and jungkook likes that, so he starts by caressing your bare legs. all you have on is your very short silky pajama shorts with a cotton blouse and he doesn't know how you always manage to stay so pretty for him.. or not for him, but the thought of you ever doing that excites him. the movement of your hips seemed to get more prominent the moment he started gripping your thighs getting close towards your waist. he loved your body, he always has. he just hasn't find the right time to tell you that because he thinks it might feel too awkward. but he has been dying to tell you that for years now. maybe tonight could be the perfect time for him to do that, so he gives it a try. admiring your clothed body as he switch positions taking you down and kissing your neck. the feeling of his hands sneaking underneath your blouse only burning your body.

"I love your body so much, so perfect to me." he deeply mumbles against your neck, heat traveling all over your skin. "I wish I could just take this blouse off." desperately kissing you close to your ear and god, did you feel so hot right now.

"then take it off." you command. your hands sneaking through his shirt so he could also take his off.

jungkook doesn't think twice when he's already doing it. not after leaving a kiss to your lips though. feeling intoxicated by it, he comes back to taste your pretty lips, not getting enough of it.

his body looked so hot on top of yours, you liked the view way too much. his tattoos only being the second protagonist here, of course the main one it's him.

once your body's full bare, you were completely naked in front of him, except for your silky shorts. - not even realising it, he let's out a gasp.

"It's even better to what I've ever imagined." licking his lips as you bite yours, his eyes only darkens the moment he sees your nipples be erect and it's all because of him and there's something about it that makes jungkook want to keep you here and stay in this moment forever.

so taking one of your boobs, he's softly squishing them. fingers circling around it ever so slowly and soon enough, he's already tapping your mouth so you could open up and lick his finger for him. only to bring it back into your nipple, just touching directly this time. - he flicks, pinches and lick them with such detail and care, you feel you could faint as your legs start repeatedly pressing up against each other, only increasing their need for some type of friction. jungkook slowly watch as he silently enjoys your reactions and desperation about it. giving him satisfaction, but because he can't let you get your way just yet, your little cries could only affect him this much so that's why he gently sundered your legs apart so you could stop doing that and prevent him from wanting to fuck you right away.

you make him that weak.

"calm down baby, I'll treat you nice.. I promise." he kisses your lips but all you do is complain, moaning into his lips.

"I'm so wet, please do something about it." you arch your back as you slowly circle your hips in the neediest way, giving him those pleading puppy eyes an jungkook's mind almost stop functioning for a few seconds. you were so adorably fuckable, this might not last as much as he wants.

"fuck- you really want me to.." he pauses. "agh, fuck." hissing between his teeth he takes a step back getting comfortable in bed, opening more your legs as he got rid of your shorts. only letting you wear your white, now with a big round wet circle, underwear. "fuck. you really are so wet." he sighs, overwhelmed by the sight.

tracing one finger on top of where you want him the most, he teases you with long and slow traces as he watch your body twitch. god, you were so needy. he never imagined you to be this way and fuck does that turn him on so badly.. - your little whimpers are like music to his ears when he sees you caught your lips in between your teeth as soon as he keeps teasing you. just now adding a bit more of weight on his finger. you close your eyes and he let's your hips grind on it.

Intensifying your sways of hips, you seat up on your elbows as you keep your eyes glued to him, panting so much with your mouth mid-open as your arousal and orgasm increases. -jungkook suddenly flicks over your clothed heat and you flinch, just to feel your clit and walls pulsate because of it. "fuck" you cry as your head faces the ceiling. - jungkook grins at that seeing the way your hips grind on his hand more aggressively, he proceeds onto flattening his entire palm over your pussy and as soon as you know, he's giving consecutive mini slaps into it. making your breathing cut in between as your legs tremble.

"mm, are you going to cum pretty girl?" his voice so nice, so sensual. It just feels so right.

"euhng" you sob.

"is that all you can say?" he traces a long deep line in between your wet clothed pussy lips.

but you can barely talk as it's already so hard to breathe.

"it's okay baby.. you look so fucking hot right now." he rasps licking his lips. "so sexy.." in between his breath.

"cum.. make me c-cum." you plead with those eyes again.

"yeah?"

you desperately nod with your eyes closed.

"is that what you want?"

"eung." you moan.

and it sounds so rich that jungkook doesn't wait any longer into taking your drenched panties off and rapidly enough, he gets comfortable to start eating you out.

"agh! fuck-" his tongue so warm against yours as he flattened it on top of your clit. his saliva just mixing with your arousal as his silky black hair just landed over his sweaty forehead - jungkook barely moved but he felt so hot and so turned on, his body was already condensing it all.

"so fucking good." he moans against your clit, kissing on it very passionately. he was so good that your hands couldn't find another spot other than to stay over his head.

you think you've never been more turned on in your life. he really wasn't kidding when he said he'll treat you nice. this was beyond good for you. he was incredibly so good.

introducing one of his fingers now, the feeling was so high that you couldn't wait more so you cummed on him, so god damn much, jungkook just enjoyed having to place your hips back down to bed because you were trembling so much. your moans enriching his ears... he wanted you so fucking bad. he don't think you could even imagine a portion of how much.

after reaching your end, your walls were pulsating so crazy along your clit. and you don't think you've ever felt this horny before. your clit just have this rich sensation of wanting to be stimulated all over again.. it's not even to the point of you wanting to feel some overstimulation, you were actually very horny again like you feel you could cum again if he wanted you to. you've already recovered so fast, you don't think somebody has ever made you feel this way..

"jungkook.." you seat down this time, arching your back and sticking up your ass as you almost cringe at how wet you are. only the soft and cold air of the room meeting your exposed private parts. jungkook mimics your position, only this time sort of manspreading. he's so horny too. you could see it from his pajama pants and they weren't even tight into his legs. eyes lidded and so dark, you don't think you've ever seen him like this but.. it was quite a sight. he was so damn attractive, fuck.

"take off your pants." you command and he does as you say.

once he reveals his dick, he's so hard it inmediately jumps back into his stomach. prominent and faded veins around it but they aren't much, just a few ones. the right amount. his tip being of an angry pretty red, you can't believe even his dick is so fucking delicious to look at. he just got it all, doesn't he?

the moment you delicately grab his dick, he stops you. "wh-"

"I want you to kiss me while you masturbate on top of me."

"huh?" your body astonished.

"just get on top of me and grind my dick with your pretty pussy, yeah?" he croaked very hotly.

he doesn't need to ask you twice.. your pussy clenches at the thought of feeling his bare dick and all that's on your mind is him right now.. not believing of the day for you to be doing this but look at you now, about to extend your juices along his length.

jungkook angled his head resting against the bed headboard as he lays down. - you seductively feel bold enough to crawl towards him with both of his legs forming a straight line. he motions his hands behind of his neck, all while a very devilish smirk plastered on his very tempting lips.

just how much more hot can this man get?

the moment you straddle his waist, both of your hands run through his abs and firm pectorals. you give him a few kisses. enjoying the way he sighed closing his eyes. you took your time to feel him whole, those gym schedules were doing their glorious work. - you kiss his neck, bite his earlobe, tease him a little, have fun a little. until your lips finally land on top of his lips. very nicely, very warm..

and damn it was a mess. not only down there but your feelings too.. just how much do you actually like him? those were your current thoughts.

placing your hands at both sides of his neck, your hips finally lowers into his length.

gasping in between kisses the moment your walls wrap around his tip ㅡ he feels so big, so thick, so rich.. you suddenly are in need of his warm touch so you take both of his arms, putting it back at the side of your legs to see what he'll do about it.

slowly swaying your hips back and forth, your pussy coated his dick so well.. it was messy, but so hot.. just something about teasing him getting inside but not entirely..

promptly grasping each side of your hips, jungkook takes his time into palming your ass. you're making so much sensual noises.. his heart couldn't stop beating. his breathing only getting heavier along with yours. he searches back into your lips. giving you a lingering kiss as he squeezed your body so nicely. he can't stop his emotions of wanting to tell you his feelings and so,

"I like you so fucking much y/n.." he finally confesses against your lips. his hips only twitching for the way your pussy slided against him. he was getting desperate just as much as you.

"fuck." It's all you say while lowering your head into his shoulder, slightly biting it and moaning about it because you didn't know him confessing to you like this could get you this horny. - maybe it was because of the fact of him feeling the same way as you.

"gosh, I want you like crazy. I'm so ffucking sorry." he whimpers, pressing down your ass right now.

but his apology is not welcomed because you want him to know how badly you also want him and like him. - you aren't stupid to like, not know that this is the perfect opportunity to confess your feelings so with nothing else to lose, you make it better to let him know just as much.

grinding slowly but eagerly into him, you unattach your face off his shoulder just so you could give him a very loving piercing look, breathing into his lips as you both lips are slightly parted. your face remains so close to him, chest almost touching his as your fingers tangles at the top of his head.

"don't be. I like you too, jeon." you reveal, panting against his lips.

jungkook felt his face froze for a few seconds, "you do?"

"eung." you moan against his neck, kissing all around it. "it's been 4 months now." very lost feeling the thick skin of his dick.

"can you fuck me now? I want you very badly..." you moan. oscillating your hips, coating more of his dick with your arousal as you're looking at him very sensually with a bite to your lower lip into a grin.

and jungkook tries to process this new information from entering his brain. he doesn't have other choice than to push it away for now.. - deciding he'll do the second thing he has been wanting to do for years. the first one being already done.

"I'll fuck you good." he smirks.

It's all he says before he's already hovering on top of you, dick in hand teasing your walls, he slowly enters. gasping at the same time, he let's you take your time to adjust while he tastes your lips and it's just - your lips were already so addicting to him.

once he moves, he marks a slow pace feeling you whole. he feels so full inside of you.. - jungkook's eyes doesn't leave yours as time progresses. fucking you hard, he takes both of your hands guiding them at the side of your head. lacing his fingers together with yours and the moment he does, something inmediately shifted with just the delicate change of synchronizing both your fingers.

suddenly, jungkook started fucking you in a different way. it was no longer hard but deep, sensual.. very overwhelming as he started kissing your boobs, feeling your body up, biting you here and there.. - you decide you wanted him close and so your legs naturally fondle around his waist. his breathing now burning your neck, you were getting closer with how heavy his body feels against yours and so, when you finally cum, it doesn't take longer as soon as he follows you up.

breathing between each others bodies, the only thing that can be felt right now was the same old soft sound of the air conditioner and your very delighted heartbeats.

and suddenly, after taking a very well deserved cold shower, an already sleeping jungkook lays on this shared bed and all you can think about is.. once tomorrow comes, how different things going to be?

"why didn't you tell me and waited for four months?" jungkook insisted. "you could've told me."

"It isn't so easy.. you know?" you scoff at him. "we have been friends for so long, it was almost impossible for me to ever think you felt something for me too.."

"wasn't I obvious?"

"obvious?" you laugh. "you didn't even gave me hints!" defending yourself. "four months is okay, I could've spent a lifetime and you still wouldn't know."

he rolls his eyes. "why do you think my relationships always ended so quick y/n?"

"..why?" curiosity filling your eyes.

"because of you!" he says as if that was something extremely obvious for like.. giving you hints.

you narrow your eyes. "do.. you really think that's a good hint?"

"yeah!"

you burst into laugh. "please, I just thought you were bad at relationships" you fake cry. "even though wondered a lot about why they kept coming back after a break up.."

"well, now you know why." he laughs.

"shut up, that ain't even everything about you."

"oh so there's more?" he teased.

"maybe."

..and you're glad that with jungkook's bright personality, everything seemed to be okay.

if anybody were to ask you about why you were so scared into confessing your feelings.. you don't know. but one thing you do know is..

that once that time comes, as long as you trust your feelings and let things flow, it'll automatically become your perfect timing.

so, trust that. your own timing.

4K notes · View notes

queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

When Pride Married Prejudice

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: in the beginning, your mother delivers disturbing news, but perhaps, not all is as it seems.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, small angst, 150% filler, small background, author breaks the fourth wall once but go with it - i promise it works. author is also given free rein of her imagination and this came out...hmm... ❗️major season one, episode seven spoilers

"What?" You asked with a beg over the sounds of the crashing waves on the cliffside your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, had lead you out to stand on. She had just delivered devastating news with a sympathetic gaze, making you beg her again, "Say it's not true, Mother, please, no, no. Th-This isn't... Mum, how could this happen?"

"I am truly sorry, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra sighed, nodding at you as her hands caressed both your cheeks to sweep stray tears as they fell. Her forehead met yours, making her whisper, "But while I could not stop the entire proposal, I was able to bargain for leeway."

"What does that mean?" You pulled back to look into her lavender eyes. They were full of sadness and regret.

"You will remain at Dragonstone with your family, so I might continue to teach you - and so you do not have to interrupt your other studies. But..." She sighed deeply, blinking a few times to clear her thoughts.

"But?"

"They want you married before you turn ten-and-eight."

"No," you blanched, shaking your head in refusal to free yourself of her comforting hold, "they cannot make me marry him. Mother, please, do not let this happen."

"I could only barter for us a few years yet, my love."

"This is the payment they demand?"

"Better this, my sweet dove, then that of blinding your brother," she countered with a frown. "The Queen was unwilling to barter at first, but the King thought it a rightful proposal."

"And who, might I ask, offered my hand to Aemond Targaryen for payment over a childish squabble - that, yes, did maim the boy, but that's not... It's not like... Oh, Gods, yes, okay, when I say it out loud, I suppose I can understand the reasoning. Then why does this still feel so wrong, Mother?"

She frowned and reached for you, pulling you in closer to hold. You clung to her in fright, allowing yourself a moment of rare vulnerability as you stood alone; the only sounds around you, that, of the temperamental sea. She spoke softly in your ear, "I am truly so very sorry, my sweet girl. I am." Her hand pet the back of your head, but her grip remained strong. "But there is honor in fulfilling one's duty. I wanted very different things for you, but fate is funny at times."

You tightened your hold on her. "Tell me the truth, Mother, what's happened?"

She sighed and laid a long, solemn kiss to the top of your head. "You are of an age now that you will understand." She gave a soft pinch to your chin, "And have always been much too mature for your age."

You chuckled softly, "I often think there's much you don't know about me. I am not the perfect child you've tried to mold me into."

"Oh, I know everything, my girl," she grinned, making you feel heated from embarrassment. "You were truly restless as a child, it was hard to keep you within the castle walls. But might I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"Ser Harwin was always looking after you," she chuckled. "He would take extra shifts in the night to patrol the city just to ensure you were safe. But what he reported back always made my heart swell with genuine pride."

"Might I tell you a secret?" She nodded and let one hand hold your upper arm and the other to caress an unruly strand of hair back behind your ear. "I always wondered if one day, you would name me your heir... So, when I could not sleep, I liked to linger around the city. I liked knowing the people, thinking, if I were to ever govern them, I'd better know them best."

"See?" She nodded. "Always far too mature for your age. Yet the matter of succession with us has differed..." You braced yourself. "You are my eldest child, and my only girl," she spoke fondly. "And when my Father named me his heir, going against decades of tradition, I always promised myself that I would not do the same to my daughter unless I had no choice. I would never make her endure what I was forced to. Yet, you were still young when Jace was born, and your Father and I had a conversation. Should the matter come up publicly, you were always to be heir to Dragonstone, and that was the end of the matter. When Luke was born... Things shifted again, but only just. You were still my heir to our home, but now, Jace is to be my heir after I take the Throne, and then Luke is to succeed his father's birthright to Driftmark."

"And now? With Joffrey?"

"Much will be discussed later," she promised. "But I have declared to the King that you are to inherit our home on Dragonstone, and there is no change in that. He approved, but..."

"But what?"

"He also approved of your hand being offered," she swallowed thickly.

"You would tell me in truth what has happened?" You nodded, holding onto her waist to keep yourselves anchored. She nodded, sighing deeply before starting her tale.

And yet, Dear Reader, to fully understand, we need to go back.

Your hand was held tightly in your father's ever since he received news of his beloved sister, Laena Velaryon, passing away due to complications from childbirth. In an effort to avoid being sliced open and bleeding out to death, Laena had risen from her bloody birthing bed, and hobbled outside to beg her dragon, Vhagar, to let her meet her end through dragon fire.

Neither your Mother, nor Father, the Lord Laenor, knew you had snuck into the study and read the scroll sent to them by your Great Uncle Daemon - who gave an honest recount of events.

Now, he and his two twin daughters, your cousins, Rhaena and Baela, were flying from across the Narrow Sea to lay the charred bones of Laena to rest on her ancestral home. And because Laena was a Velaryon before she took the name Targaryen, she was to be launched into the sea by means of an intricately carved coffin.

She'd rest with other Velaryon's at the bottom of the raging waters.

Laenor stood stoically as his Uncle Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, proceeding over the funeral service as your entire family - both Velaryon and Targaryen - had gathered to pay their respects. Laena's coffin, which was carved to encapsulate her ethereal beauty, was set to a launching-cliff, and ropes were thread around to push and plunge her into the crashing waves beneath.

However, as Vaemond spoke clearly above them all, he was offering dirty, hardened looks to your Mother as she held your younger brothers around the shoulders. For a moment, you thought it looked as if they were shielding their mother, and you, who had inherited the Velaryon-Targaryen trademark features, stood between them and your father; creating a visual divide, unknowingly.

But you didn't think that way.

Your only concern right now was being there for your sweet, honorable Father, as he grieved silently with tears sliding down his cheeks. His hand was tight, and you knew he drew strength from your presence.

Daemon stood across the way, somewhat beside Vaemond, and could observe those around him as he stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Vaemond's words were veiled with threat, head turning to stare directly at your mother, "Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true." King Viserys even recognized the tone; sparing a look to his daughter, who pulled her sons closer. "And ours must never run thin."

And then, oddly, Daemon started to chuckle.

Oh, one could chalk it up to hysteria of a grieving husband, but you knew better. You were a sponge in the courts and listened to everything said; forming your own opinions and often needing to sort through what you'd heard to form something of a mixed-truth.

You knew of the rumors surrounding your Great Uncle and his niece, your Mother, Rhaenyra... And this moment, where he literally giggled to himself, was in an effort to get the attention off of your Mother - and shift those beady eyes who offered her judgement onto himself.

You knew half-truths, mostly content to observe and just listen. It served you well enough - now, a perfect moment to see through Daemon's hysteria. He was offered nothing but silent, dirty glares - most of which came from your grandparents, the Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; who stood, comforting Daemon's children while still grieving their own lost daughter.

Two young girls who had lost their mother and were watching her about to be laid to rest... And their Father laughs?

While Velaryon blood ran thick with salt, Targaryen blood was hot with fire - and the devastating need to protect one another. In those moments, Daemon felt the burning, pressing need to protect Rhaenyra over comforting his own daughters - something you'd come to grow used to.

The ropes were tightened, and your Father's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug; something you returned with tight arms. He needed you, and you were there for him.

Salt was thrown over the coffin as it was edged over the cliff and Vaemond gave the final words of service. Just before Laena was plunged over the edge, he spoke, "From the sea we came. To the sea, we shall return."

The day had passed sluggishly and after a meal, you found yourself still with your father - but watching him sadly wade in the waters lapping at the rocky shoreline of the island. Dragons flew above you all, and once or twice, you saw your great emerald beast circling the island; playfully soaring around other (smaller) dragons.

"Daddy?" You called from the shoreline, feeling your nerves spike the longer you stood there. The sun was moving into position to sink and knew the hours grew later. "Daddy? Maybe we should go in now? 'S getting a bit cold - the waters are freezing! Daddy! Come in, please!"

He did not respond, he just stood there; waist-deep in the tide with you watching on the shoreline. Your fingers twisted together in nervousness, feet shifting in the weighty sand.

"Father! Please, come inside with me?" You tried again, but to no avail. He had waded out there after the funeral's dinner, and while everyone gathered on the stone courtyard for drinks and mingling, your father had fancied a walk. For an hour now, he's been standing in the water.

Your head looked up towards where you knew the courtyard was, and caught sight of your grandsire glaring down at your father. He frowned when he caught your eye, then nodded, waving for you to come up. You nodded in return, looking to your father once more.

"Daddy, I have to go in, it's getting late," you tried. "I do not wish to leave you, come with me, please."

"Go on, my sweet darling," Laenor finally croaked - but did not turn.

You sighed with defeat and turned for the archway, hustling up the stone stairs, and just as you reached the top, Ser Qarl was rushing towards you. "Princess," he muttered with a nod, making you smile.

"He will not come in, even for me," you spoke softly, "good luck. Might have to force him out."

"Of course, thank you, Princess," He nodded and darted past you, letting you enter the courtyard finally. There were respectful nods from those who attended the funeral; most offering words of condolences before you caught the eye of the King.

Approaching the two men, you bowed with respect and laid a hand to your Uncle Daemon's arm. "I mean no intrusion, Your Grace, my Prince," you nodded to them both, "and apologize for the interruption I pose, I only mean to extend my condolences to you, Uncle. How sorry I am for your Lady wife, and for this loss you feel."

He nodded, letting his free hand pat over your own. "Thank you, my gentle niece."

"My Prince," you nodded, "Your Grace."

As you took your leave, you heard Viserys offering Daemon to return to King's Landing - to court, or other. You did not hear the rest, finding your mother in the crowd and making a beeline for her through a slew of distant family and members of court offering their words of sorrow.

"Sweet girl," she sighed when she embraced you. "Are you all right? Where is your Father?"

"I could not get him to come in with me," you admitted with shame. "He prefers to stand in the waters, I think it makes him feel close to Laena... Like they're both together again, if only in the tide."

She sighed, petting over your head, "You shoulder too much of your Father's grief, my sweet girl."

"It is never more than I can handle, Mother," you assured. "My skin has grown thick and there is little else to be whispered that can faze me now. My Father needs me, and I am happy to fulfill that duty."

Truth was, once upon a time when you lived in King's Landing, your older cousin, Aegon, started to publicly tease you for being a "Daddy's Girl," and let that come churn-up negative connotations. Rumors grew and festered because of your complexion, where your skin was shades lighter than Laenor's and had bright white hair - while your brothers were pasty-skinned with dark hair.

Aegon liked to tease you for your close relationship and others joined in, thinking it got under your skin. Thinking it was something to laugh about when your Father started to train you beyond what others thought "acceptable". He was your biggest supporter, and helped you push yourself to new limits with horse riding, sword fighting, archery, even just a bit of spear throwing. Laenor and Coryls even once took you on an adventure at sea, where you learned the 'ropes' of sailing and how to fish "properly". You never let the snide comments and vile words taint your view of your "Daddy" because you knew the truth.

Plus, you could just say to Aegon, "You wouldn't know a Father's love even if it slapped you in the face." That shut him up every time.

Rhaenyra smiled at you and gently caressed your cheek, but movement behind your shoulder caught her attention. When you turned to stand at her side with her arm around your waist, you noticed your Uncle Daemon surging past everyone - but stopped when Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who had a public distaste for the Rogue Prince, stopped him to mutter something. You imagine it was condolences, but you were too far to hear it.

When Daemon managed some comment and then escaped down stone stairs, you mother looked around cautiously. "Mother," you warned through the corner of your mouth. "I would not, now is not the time."

"Hush now, my girl, come with me," she sighed, taking your hand, and leading you towards your brothers. When you reached them, she stooped to speak to them, "Your sister is in charge, do as she says, but I want you all to go to bed."

"But, Mother - "

She cut Jace off, "Go to bed."

With a meaningful look to you, you understood and gave her a reassuring nod with a squeeze to her hand; often thinking your minds were connected by some string - making nonverbal communication essential between you. You often found that was what you searched for in a person, first. How their body spoke, despite the words their mouths form.

"Come on, let's say goodnight," you coaxed your brothers, turning to your grandmother and cousins first. You knelt before them, offering, "My sweet cousins, I cannot say how sorry I truly am for this loss. But should you need it, I am here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin," Rhaena whispered, leaning forward to hug you.

"I'm only a few doors down," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You bid Baela a goodnight as well, letting your brothers step up as you helped your grandmother to her feet. She smiled at you and pet over a lock of hair. "We're going to bed, Grandmother, I will see you in the morning, yes?"

She nodded, sparing a glance to the kids before taking you a few steps from them. She sighed, "How's Laenor?"

You frowned, "He would not come in from the sea, Grandmother. Not even for me..."

"He always had a soft spot for you," she sighed, "surely, if you can't get him in, he'll have to be moved."

You nodded, "I did try."

"You did incredible," she praised, taking both cheeks in hand. "I have heard nothing but songs of how you have been the support your father needs. Thank you for being there."

"It is the least I can do after all he's done for me," you whispered. "I only wish I could take his pain. It is a weight that I fear he is buckling under slowly."

Rhaenys sighed and nodded. "I fear for it, too, my sweet. All right, well," she sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "You get some sleep, some well-deserved rest. You've had a day."

"We all have," you whispered, taking her hands in yours, "and Grandmother? I-I want to tell you that I am sorry for you loss. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

She sighed and nodded, squeezing your hands. "You have always been the sweetest girl - and I am so proud to be your Grandmother. I love you, thank you for your words."

Your eyes shut and let her lean in to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too," you promised, smiling at her when your eyes opened to her softened gaze. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she nodded, letting go of you so you could take your little brothers under your arms.

"Grandfather," you spoke to Corlys as you approached. "I hate to interrupt, but we are off to bed and wish to say goodnight."

He gave you all a smile and gentle hugs, speaking softly, "Goodnight, my dears. I'll see you in the morning." Finding no other family members that you cared enough to speak to, you lead your brothers into the Driftmark castle.

You nodded to those you passed, easily navigating the boys to their rooms and did not leave until they were changed and in bed properly.

"Sister?" Luke whimpered.

"Yes, my sweet?" You paused to turn back to him, single candle in your hand and one on his bedside table.

"I-Is Ser Harwin truly gone?"

You sighed, pausing to sit on his bed and pet some hair off his forehead. "I'm afraid so, sweet boy. But Mother speaks true, the Strongs are not our kin and we are needed here. But that does not mean you cannot mourn him, Luke. He was a gallant knight and truly felt part of our family - though he was not our blood."

He nodded, "Could we say prayers for him?"

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll say one for him tonight, too, all right?"

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you lean in to peck his forehead.

"I love you," you promised, letting a finger push the button of his nose.

"I love you, too," he nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet boy," You whispered, blowing out his bedside candle and parting ways with your own single candle in a holder. You shut their door and moved for your own room, but just before you could prepare yourself for bed, you heard a strangled roar from your opened windows.

It could've been any dragon, but something felt familiar about this sound.

Something felt wrong and you were quick to change into a pair of trousers, a tunic, and boots; rushing off from your room with the intention of checking on your dear, sweet Kasta. She wasn't by any means the largest around but she showed no sign to stop growing - making her rival a few older dragons already. You worried she was being challenged, and easily snuck from the castle walls.

However, you gasped when you rounded a cliffside and almost ran straight into someone.

"You!"

"Aemond! Gods!" You hissed, glancing around and pushing him towards a small alcove of the cliffs in case of any patrolling guards. "What're you doing out at this hour? You should be in bed!"

"What're you doing out? You should be in bed, too," He retorted quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, "I have reason - "

"Maybe I do, too."

You hummed, eyeing him a moment. "What if we agreed to go about our business - never seeing each other, hey?"

He considered it before nodding. "Deal. I didn't see you, you didn't see me."

"Exactly," you chuckled to your 'uncle', though you were 18 months older than him. It was strange, indeed. "Whatever you're doing, just be careful, Aemond."

He nodded, "Yeah. You, too, Y/N."

You both snuck away in opposite directions - where you made for the mouth of the Dragon Pit, and Aemond, in the direction of open sand dunes. You were curious and considered following him, but you were distracted by wanting to check on Kasta more.

After sneaking beneath the Pit, you could not locate your great beast and didn't know if you felt relief or not. So, you spent the better part of an hour searching for the emerald green beast, sighing with relief when she was located at last. Only after you had to scale a fucking cliff, but she was worth it.

"Kasta," you panted in High Valyrian upon approach, the lazy dragon lifting her head from the sandy nest she'd made. "What're you doing, my girl? Hey?" You chuckled lightly, hearing her whine lowly. You sat at her head, giving it a loving stroke. "It is warm in there?" She lipped at your hands, making you wonder, "You okay? I heard something and worried it was you - that you might've been in trouble?"

She growled lightly, lifting her head in interest when the distinct beating of wings was heard - along with a voice shouting in exhilaration. You lifted your head to spy Vhagar circling the island, curiosity peaking; but also assuring you that it was not your dragon that you heard before.

"I thought Vhagar had no rider?" You questioned Kasta, but the dragon lifted her head to stare into your eyes - giving a knowing look. "I see," you whispered.

There was a shuddering quake to the ground, and you knew somewhere nearby, a dragon landed. When your own dragon gave a soft snarl, you felt something on the back of your neck stand on end. She left her head fall back down as you stood.

Unknown to you, your siblings and cousins had searched for you in your rooms before deciding to confront Vhagar's newest rider by themselves. Yet, unknown to them, you were expertly scaling down the cliffside to rush for the Dragon Pit.

Yet, you were still too late.

Aemond had Luke by the throat - all the kids bloodied and bruised to some capacity - and with a large, jagged rock in a raised hand above his head, Aemond was threatening, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards!"

"Aemond! NO!" You raged, rushing to the scene out of pure panic from seeing your younger siblings, cousins, and uncle all bearing marks of a fight.

"My father's still alive!" Luke struggled in Aemond's grip, sobbing.

"So, he doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond snipped at Jace with a sneer, and to your shock, Jace then brandished a dagger.

"NO!" You finally made it to them; first yanking the two girls further back for safety, but it left time for your brothers to attack. "JACE!" You screamed with Baela, trying to keep them back as the boys were so intertwined in a fight, you could not intercede them. And with a dagger in play, you did not risk being an accidental casualty.

Aemond had thrown back Luke and wacked Jace in the head with the rock - knocking both to the floor in whimpering pain.

"All right, that's enough, hey, hey, no more - no fucking more," you stepped in, hands held in peace. "No, you've all made your points - Aemond, please," you begged when your uncle rose the rock above his hand again, smirking in taunt, with the intention of bashing Jace's head in. "Aemond - think for a moment, do not do this," you tried to reach for him, but it was too late. Jace threw a handful of sand to Aemond's face, blinding him a moment, and leaving time for Luke to pick up the forgotten dagger. "NO, LUKE, DON'T!"

But it was far too late.

Luke swung his brother's dagger upward and sliced through Aemond's face - both boys screaming. One in exhilaration and the other in unfiltered pain.

"NO!" You screamed again, reaching Luke first and making him drop the dagger by wrangling his wrist in your hand; your adrenaline pumping so harshly that you didn't realize when the blade sliced through the skin of your palm. You turned quickly, only vaguely hearing the Knight's Guards arriving. "Aemond, Aemond," you begged, taking hold of the moaning and groaning Prince. "Oh, let me see, let me see, c'mon, lad, 's all right, let me have a look," you hushed, huddling over him for privacy and coaxing his hand away. "Gods be good," you hissed, snapping his hand back in place and using your own to add pressure. Both of your hands bloodied within seconds. "Hold pressure, hold the pressure," you told him softly, looking up to see the White Cloaks. "L-Lord Commander, the Prince Aemond needs a Maester at once."

"Let me see," he knelt.

"No, no, it needs pressure for the bleeding," you told him, keeping firm hold on your distant uncle. "Come, help me get him to his feet."

"What happened?" He demanded, doing as you bid.

"I do not know, I arrived too late," You covered, helping Aemond but turning to walk at his back to keep hold over his hand, over the sliced eye he was basically holding in socket.

It was pure chaos from then on, and once you were all gathered in the throne room, the Maester took over.

"Y/N!? Aemond!? Oh, my Gods! What has happened!?" Alicent demanded as she rushed into the room; Viserys limping with his cane in hand not far behind her.

"In a moment, Your Grace," you pleaded, the boy sitting with your hands still holding in injury.

"I need to see the wound, Princess," the Maester frowned.

"All right," you agreed with him, and then looked to your uncle. "Easy, easy, easy, it's gonna gush a little," you whispered, your bloodied hand peeling Aemond's with your own to give sight to the full injury.

You could've thrown up from the sight, but only stepped away as more members of court arrived on scene and the Maester was swooping in.

Turning to Alicent, you explained, "In truth, Your Grace, I do not know much - other than the boy has been maimed. I read it's important to hold pressure to injury before a professional can take over, so, I only helped the Prince do that," you showed your bloodied hands.

"Dear girl," Viserys took your one hand, "you're bleeding on your own, I can see the cut."

"Oh, i-it's just a small cut, Your Grace," you nodded swiftly.

"How did you come by it?" Viserys demanded. His voice then lowered as he bowed his head to tell you privately, "You alone have always told your Grandfather the truth, do not let that change now."

You gulped but held your head up to tell him quietly, his withered hand still holding your wrist, "When I disarmed Lucerys, Your Grace."

"Why were you not in bed?" Alicent asked.

"In truth, I heard a dragon roar, and it sounded so familiar, I worried it was my dragon, Kasta. She's larger than some and still grows, I worried she was being challenged and then feared she was hurt. I was only out of bed, Your Grace, to check on Kasta, I swear it."

Viserys' eyes flashed to gaze heatedly over the others gathered from after the fight - but otherwise, just sighed. He nodded at you, "You're not at fault for worrying. Go on. Clean your hands, dear girl, let someone bind them."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, nodding with a small smile, "Grandfather."

He smiled briefly in return and patted your shoulder as you turned with dismissal, a handmaiden stepping up to help you wash your hands of blood in a basin and then examine the 'wound'. "It is shallow, Princess," she informed with a nod of her head. "It will heal, but I will bind it to help protect it. Perhaps avoid a sword in this time."

You smiled mutely and nodded, letting her work as the room was stewing in anger and tension as more and more members of the court showed up.

You waited patiently for your mother, letting your anxiety fester to new heights as you began to understand, as the eldest present to the scuffle, you'd be expected to recount events. But you didn't know all of the situation, only what the children had tried to tell you in a jumbled rush on your way there. But they didn't get far as the guards couldn't stand their squabbling, telling them to silence themselves until the King asked for explanation.

As the Maester worked, Viserys was demanding answers of the Lord Commander Westerling, and his Guards; who were not watching the Princes, and therefore, assumed fault for letting everything get to this point. By extension, as second in command with the Queen's Guard, Ser Criston Cole stood under interrogation, as well.

And the King was beyond angry; making you gently flinch when his voice turned hateful towards his guards.

Your hands were wrapped, and you moved along the edge of the crowd to then take a seat on the stone stairs that lead to the throne room to take a moment and think about what you witnessed. You needed time to absorb it all, to just think; to digest.

From beside the light of the hearth, Alicent, watching the Maester work on stitching Aemond's wound closed, asked, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?"

He paused a moment, the room turning towards the Maester and Prince for the answer; and your head lifted to listen. Your brothers stood beside one another without any cleaning to their wounds - simply because they were still on trial for this entire ordeal.

The Maester answered, "The flesh will heal, I'd wager because the Princess Y/N acted quickly to hold pressure." Eyes turned to you as you felt tears of embarrassment and anxiety fill your eyes, bowing your head to avoid their gazes. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Both of Aemond's parents looked genuinely distraught as you finally stood to near your brothers; taking each of them under your arms. They noted the bandages on your hand, but did not get to comment as the Queen was rounding on her eldest son, Aegon, to demand, "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon asked, gasping when his mother's hand clapped against his cheek to whip his head to the side. "Ow!" He yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!" Alicent hissed, teeth bared; her anger tangible.

The doors above you clanged open, and Corlys charged through them, demanding, "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Baela? Rhaena!" Rhaenys gasped, following her husband down the stairs. "What happened? What happened?" She asked, taking the girls instantly into her arms.

Corlys looked around with a fierce gaze, standing before you lot as you tightened your hold on the boys. Not a moment later, your mother was finally opening the doors - looking spooked by the news she received. "Jace?" She looked around - and when she located you three, she was shouting, "Luke!"

You stepped back to let your mother kneel before the boys; and felt a hand smooth around your shoulders. Looking up, Corlys brought you into his side for a tight hug. Your bandaged hand laid on his stomach, making him take it up and examine it with a tight jaw.

"Show me, show me," your mother rushed to your little brother, pulling Luke's hands from his face and revealing his own injury. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Baela shouted, and then, the over-lapping voices were too great and many to make out. Yet, bits and parts met your ears as Uncle Daemon arrived on scene, and chose to lean on the door with crossed arms instead of rush for his injured daughters. You did not speak, Corlys and you stood silently and listened.

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," Viserys demanded, but the children still shrilly argued.

"He was going to kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys tried again.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent joined the efforts.

"He called us - "

But Viserys roared over everyone, cutting Jace off, "SILENCE!"

The room echoed with the aftermath of ringing voices; everyone shying into themselves, and making your father's father tighten his hold around your shoulders. Behind you, your brother whispered to your mother, "He called us bastards."

Rhaenyra stood in thought and kept the bloody boys behind her, sharing a small look with you as her eyes skated over your bandage. But nothing could be said as her hands came to wring together as Viserys called, "Aemond..." His cane struck the stone with each step he took, "I will have the truth of what happened... Now."

"What else is there to hear?" Alicent interjected. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Rhaenyra swiftly defended - but even she sounded shaken.

"Accident," Alicent repeated, Corlys pulling you back a step to let your mother be seen. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

You wanted to correct her that it was Jace's dagger and Luke only picked it up when her son meant to bash in Jace's head - but now wasn't the time, because your mother was snarling in defense, "It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." You nodded in agreement, and Viserys saw the motion. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" Viserys questioned.

It was silent before Rhaenyra responded, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" The King asked.

"He called us bastards," Jace spoke up, making the room go still. This was the confrontation everyone was waiting on...

"Y/N?" Viserys asked, making you tense up.

"What?" Rhaenyra turned to you. "You were involved?"

"I only arrived at the end," you shook your head. "I do not know what was said or done in full," you begged to the King to understand through your words, and it seemed, your other Grandfather did by how he shifted slightly in front of you. "Though, yes, the word 'bastard' was hurled as insult, Your Grace..."

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," your mother swept back in, making you shudder a breath. "This is the highest of treasons..." Her words settled over everyone. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond had turned in his seat to glare at your mother, his older sister; making the King look down at him. But it was the Queen who asked the Princess, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye - possibly his life, should your daughter not of been there!"

Viserys looked again to Aemond, asking, "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent tried to save. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond..." Viserys prodded. "I asked you a question."

To save her son from answering, Alicent asked, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys agreed, eyes looking to your mother.

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... Could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk," You mother answered.

"Entertaining his younger squires, I would venture," the Queen snipped, making some in the court smirk and snicker as the insult registered.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," you pushed away from Corlys to face Alicent and the King, but your gaze was set on the redheaded woman, "because I understand you are distraught from your son's injury, but do not mistake that for giving you leave to openly insult my father, or add fuel to such allegations. This is not the training yard, Your Grace, leaving no room for bluster. Mind your manners."

"Come here, girl, and hush yourself," Corlys sighed, pulling you back to his side. He sighed as Viserys chose to ignore your comment, which made the Queen stiffen her spine and avoid your heated gaze.

"Aemond... Look at me," Viserys directed to his son, making the One-Eyed Prince meet his father's angered, hardened eyes. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

You didn't see the Prince's eyes cut over to his mother, but saw the King straighten his spine to look at his wife - and knew.

It was as if a collective breath was held as the King was then told by his son, "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon repeated quietly, looking truly shell-shocked to be thrown into the mix. You sighed gently.

The King now turned his sights on his eldest son, growling, "And you, boy?" He stalked up to the taller kid. "Where did you hear such calumnies?" But when his son did not answer, nor meet his gaze, the King shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

With a tremble to his tone, Aegon spoke, "We know, Father." He met his father's gaze, "Everyone knows... Just look at them," his lip curled, "and then look at her. She is true-born, that cannot be disputed."

Your chin lifted as your glare turned deadly, daring anyone to say more as the King was silently surveying the room. But he chose not to pursue this further, and snapped, "This interminable infighting must cease!" His cane punctuated his words. "All of you! We are family!" He only glanced at Aemond, perhaps finding the injury too gnarly to look at longer; turning his gaze to the room again. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

But nobody spoke as the King's words did not feel truly fair. Perhaps, the others were going to wait for him to leave to 'handle' this situation, but before he could, Alicent was speaking, "That is insufficient." The King turned to hear her words. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken!" Alicent refused her husband's words.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys growled.

"There is a debt to be paid," she decided, and the room went still. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Heads turned to look at your mother and brothers, and you broke away to then stand at your mother's side and kept Lucerys behind you. The crowd muttered with discomfort as the King approached the Queen, "My dear wife..."

"He is your son, Viserys," She begged through her tears. "Your blood."

"Do not," Viserys warned, "allow your temper to guide your judgement."

That was supposed to be that, but chaos still rained. She spoke defiantly, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" Luke gasped, and she kept him back and between you.

"Alicent," Viserys tried.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son," Alicent sneered.

"You will do not such thing," Rhaenyra defended and your hands tightened on your brother.

"Stay your hand," Viserys demanded.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent refused with a shout, making it known she was desperate for action. And eyes turned for Cole, knowing he was nothing better than her leashed dog.

"As your Protector, my Queen," Cole refused - a smart decision.

"Alicent, this matter... Is finished," The King leered fiercely. "Do you understand?" It was quiet as the woman did not respond, everyone watching as Viserys turned from the room; but paused to address, "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons," he then directed at Alicent, sneering, "should have it removed."

"Thank you, Father," Your mother spoke softly from her place, something making the hair on your neck stand on end. You did not turn as your mother did, lowering herself to speak to her sons - you watched the Queen.

And thankfully, you did.

You watched her stride for Viserys and yank a dagger from his belt and turn. "Mother!" You gasped, stepping in front of her protectively as the Queen charged.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed.

"Stay with the King!" Westerling demanded of Cole as he followed Alicent. "HOLD YOUR APPROACH!"

"My girl!" Rhaenyra pushed you out of the way in time to step forward and take hold of either of Alicent's wrists. It was chaos as they engaged; everyone trying to space out and move from the way as the King's Guards were tangled amongst each other.

Luke screamed shrilly in fear as your mother took on Alicent. You wanted to turn for the boys and huddle them close, but Corlys was back at your side, and together, you both stood as pillars in front of them while Princess and Queen struggled against one another.

"Stay your hand, Cole!" Westerling demanded of the disobedient knight; making Daemon push off his post to intercept the man.

"You've gone too far!" Your mother struggled with Alicent.

"I?" The Queen repeated breathlessly. "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please!"

"Alicent! Let her go!" Viserys demanded.

"Mother!" You worried, wondering if you should step in. Would you be reprimanded for cutting down the Queen? You eyed the sword at your Grandsire's hip - leaving it open for you to take.

Yet, you dare not.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" Alicent spoke tearfully still. "It's trampled under your pretty foot, again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent!" Otto, the Queen's father, called from the end of the hall.

"And now you take my son's eye," she told your mother, "and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Your mother countered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She whispered, "But now they see you as you are."

Alicent shouted in anger; the women pushing away from each other and blade sliced through flesh. Corlys and you both caught your mother when she was flung back, but the sounds of trickling blood pattering onto the floor drew your attention.

"Mum," you worried when her wrist was sliced open to let blood drip freely down her hand, through her fingers; pooling to the stone floor beneath you. "Gods," you whispered, looking up in shock, muttering for those who did not see, "you cut her."

"Darling," your mother hushed, but you were grabbing at her wrist to try to hold pressure - like you were trained to do.

It was silent besides that as everyone waited for the next move to be made. Nobody did until Prince Aemond stepped into the circle; earning the attention of those lingering.

"Do not mourn me, Mother," the Prince spoke softly, looking at Alicent. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... But I gained a dragon."

Vhagar had a new rider.

"This proceeding is at an end," Viserys decided, giving everyone a stern look. Cole wrangled free and Daemon stalked forward to crowd you closer to your mother; Luke coming up to hold your waist as you were holding the wound as tight as possible.

Aemond moved to hug his mother in comfort, something you were doing in your own way. Jace took the rear, and stood with Daemon and Corlys, giving Alicent a first look at the family that would bring ruin to her own. But your mother, too, got a good look at the family who would bring your own doom.

"Could we please see to this?" You asked, nodding at the blood that seeped, again, from between your fingers.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. "Perhaps in our rooms."

"Let's go," you pleaded, offering the Hightower Queen one more glare before turning with your mother to keep the pressure on her wound.

"I sought an audience early this morning," your mother explained softly, "before the King and Queen were to depart for King's Landing. And I know it is feeling unfair, my girl, and I do not want to see you go, but the tension can not fester beyond this. Vengeance is a powerful weapon, and I would not see my family harmed for something as petty as this. My hope is that with Viserys around, they will warm up to you, and you will be safe."

"So, after you sent Jace, Luke, and I away this morning, you and Father discussed, what? Selling me off?"

"I know it hurts," she relented, but you sighed.

"No, no, I am only being jealous."

"Of what, sweet girl?"

"Perhaps of not having a cock of my own, so that I might have some say in these matters. Or maybe I am merely jealous of the idea of leaving you while the boys stay. Yet, at least, I will have some time with you yet before I am to marry - not many Ladies can say they have that luxury."

She took a sobering breath, "I knew you'd understand. But for all it can be worth, I am sorry."

You nodded, sighing, "For our family's honor, and for Luke's full vision, I will marry Prince Aemond when the time comes..."

"My girl," she breathed with relief, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment, she pulled back to sniffle; and just over your heads, three of the royal dragons took flight - with Vhagar swooping low to the waters before following the King's ship.

You both paused to stare after them.

"Do you trust them, Mother?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "I trust my father, but the Hightower claws are dug deep." You both breathed for a moment. "You will be a single spot of Targaryen Black in a sea of Hightower Green, my love. Our House words must not be forgotten..."

Your chin lifted, knowing in heart, you would always be a Targaryen Dragon more than a Velaryon Sea Horse - telling her gently, "Fire and Blood..."

"When the time comes," Rhaenyra sighed, "I can only pray I leave you with dragon scales instead of skin - so that their green flames do not burn you, my sweet girl."

You smirked gently at her, "Mother, fire - whether Green or not, cannot kill a dragon. Though I know I've salt in my veins, too, it is the blood of Old Valyria, and fire will be my ally."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned to pull you in closer with a kiss to your head. "I know it is sudden news, but we still have years with each other. Much will change, but I will never leave you feeling unprepared." Movement, again, caught her eye over your shoulder; making her sniffle and sober up. "Go on, go now. Find your brothers for me, please."

You agreed, and after a kiss to her cheek, left her be; passing your silent Great Uncle Daemon along the way with only a head nod of acknowledgement.

Time on Dragonstone was never the same. Days after laying your Aunt Laena to rest, you lost your own father, Lord Laenor, to a petty quarrel he had with his lover, Qarl. The lad was never found, apparently somewhere lost to the Stepstones, but the anger never dissipated. Your mother had welcomed the Knight into the family, and he turned blade on your father?

In Laenor's father's hall?

The devastating blow was hardest on you, who could not grieve far enough. You internalized a lot of it, but your brother's tried to help you shoulder it all - yet this was a path you walked alone. Seemingly only days after that, on your ancestral home, your mother then married her Uncle Daemon, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena were now your step-sisters.

They lived with you all on Dragonstone and your mother took your education very seriously. Professors came into port to be guests of the castle, dedicating hours upon hours a day to tutor you in a broad arrangement of subjects.

History, philosophy, reading, philanthropy, writing, specialized tutors to broaden your Valyrian, a whole class on just diction - forcing you to learn new words; first-aid training, and even drawing.

Your step-father also took up your training after your beloved father had passed. Daemon recommended you work your anger and grief out through the training yard, and you took that advice to heart. He posed as a challenger in damn-near everything, and by the Gods, you tried not to feel competitive, but it sharpened your wit and instincts. Daemon knew what he was doing, and yet, never showed an ounce of 'loving warmth', only stoic respect.

Your mother taught you what she could about being both Lady and wife - taking meals privately with you to go into more expressive details. Questions you had, she answered; and as you grew older, you wondered deeper - and she often answered with red, flushed cheeks. Yet your mother kept her promise and would not let you go off to King's Landing unprepared.

You read books. Wrote letters, kept journals. Learned from experience, learned from reading; did what you could to understand as much as possible, never quenching your thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps, subconsciously, you wondered if this would create more distance between now and your marriage - but your 18th nameday was creeping up, and you were out of options.

Three months before, your summons arrived.

Your mother tried to deliver the news softly, but tears broke her waterline; and you understood that she meant to say goodbye. Apparently, by Queen Alicent's hand-written letter, you were to marry the Prince before the week's end, and it was already midweek.

Aemond did not wish for a big wedding, but your family insisted on something. Viserys had called upon the royal dressers, and all festivities would be covered. All you had to do was show up, and yet, it felt like that was the hardest chore. Your mother had sniffled as she pet your hair off your shoulders, nodding, "It's time, my girl."

Daemon opted not to attend the wedding and after a bit of persuasion, your mother and brothers decided to stay on Dragonstone with him. You were to travel alone because you were to hit the ground running, and you were beyond nervous.

Your mother helped pack your things - sending servants and maids away to let you two have moments of privacy. She gave you last second advice, promising that when you need it, she was always there for you. Dragonstone wasn't far by dragonback and there were always ravens to send - but she warned you about the Hightowers more than likely intercepting letters.

She advised you to write in code.

Promised she loved you.

Swore to you that marriage wasn't always all so bad; and before you knew it, you were standing with Kasta's packed saddle - facing your family for the final time.

"Well," you breathed, nodding at them all, "I wish to say that I will miss you all, and thank you for the incredible years."

"Good luck, sister," Jace nodded.

The night before, the boys had snuck into your room for the last time and let you hold them; tears of sadness weeping into their dark brown locks. You smiled at him, "Thank you, brother. I will send a raven when I am settled, and... Well, you know."

"When you're married," Luke teased, giggling lightly.

"Hush," you mother chided gently, but smiled at the boy, glancing at you. "Go hug your sister goodbye, love."

Luke frowned deeply and rushed for your waist - though, no longer being a small child, he was still a young lad; and you could wrap your arms around him tightly. You kissed the top of his head and sighed, "I'll miss you with my heart, Luke. I promise to write you, you can practice writing me back if you want."

"But, sister," he worried, pulling back only so to hush, "what if the nightmares come back?"

You smiled at him, "I left you a present on your bed. I hope that helps you through the nights. Let it be a comfort." It was a red and black stuffed dragon toy, something you prayed would comfort him in your absence.

He nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Do not go," he begged gently, holding your skirts.

"I'd stay if I could, but this is for the best," you assured, never having the heart to tell him that your marriage arrangement was made some years ago, and now, as you were a woman, it was time to 'pay up' to save him from being blinded. He didn't need to know the truth.

Jace pulled Luke back but instantly stepped up in his place, instead. He sighed into your neck; much taller than the last time you remembered, and letting yourself loose a few tears. "Do not let them change you, sister. Please, be safe," Jace rushed in your ear, tightening his hug.

"I will," you cried, giving him a squeeze. "Be there for Mother... She'll need you now."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away.

"Be good," you chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he moved back. Baela and Rhaena stepped up to hug you goodbye, having grown fond of their older 'sister' during the time you had together. You kissed their foreheads, bid them well, and again, promised you were only a raven away.

Daemon was next, and he did offer a hug (shockingly). You squeezed into his embrace, and when you pulled back, he wished, "Good luck in the city, niece. Remember the leech will feed, even when fat. My brother's blinded by..." He sighed. "Nevermind. It's not your responsibility. Just do not let him forget his family loves him."

"I'll be sure to be there for him, Uncle."

He nodded, "Then - good luck. Marriage is mostly political, so, play your part with caution in mind."

"Your advice has always been appreciated," you nodded. "And thank you - for all the lessons you gave these past years."

"What a student I had," he smirked, giving you a final nod as you moved on to your mother.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You'll write, won't you?" Her hands reached, as they always did, to pet over the silver locks that spilled down your shoulders.

"Of course," you promised softly. "You will not be rid of me so easily."

"I should hope not," she chuckled, but held her tears at bay.

"Say it now, Mum, and I will stay," you promised in a whisper. "You need me, and I will stay - "

"No," she sighed, moving to hold your cheeks. "You are no longer responsible for me. I would not let you go if I thought it was feeding you to the wolves... Though I wish for you to stay, there is a duty to be performed, my sweet girl."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I'll just miss you terribly. Who will I go to for advice?"

"You'll understand who to trust, but keep in mind that you might write in a journal. Let it act as if it's me, and write, my girl. Hide it away, burn it even, but do not let yourself feel so isolated."

"A Black Dragon in an Emerald Mine," you snickered softly, making her grin. "I will not disappoint you, Mother."

"You never do," she promised. "Be careful, and do not trust anyone. You're in the snake's garden now, and their bite is fierce."

You nodded, hands over hers to hold your cheeks. "I wish you'd be there."

"I do, too," she promised. "But you are my strongest girl, you will endure this with grace."

You nodded, leaning in to hug her one last time. She sniffled into your neck, but after a moment, you had to giggle, "Mum, you've got to let me go. Mumma, c'mon, now."

She groaned and released you, "All right, fine. Go on. I love you - so much. Do not forget that."

You climbed onto Kasta's mighty back; needing something of a rope ladder to get on her properly. With another wave, your family called their love and luck; hearing Kasta roar in departure before surging forward, spreading her wings, and then leaping off the cliffside. You held on tightly as she cut through the air, your family all watching as Kasta roared once more but otherwise, did not turn back.

You cried during the whole flight; truly afraid of what you were to encounter when you landed. Alicent and the Hightowers knew of your arrival, and you wondered why she insisted on such a swift wedding.

Last you knew, your fiancé had both concurred the largest dragon in the world but also lost his left eye.

Perhaps there was a rush so you could not back out. But you had honor, and if your hand in marriage is what it took to heal the rift between your families, to soothe the wound Lucerys inflicted, then so be it. There was honor in completing one's duty.

You prayed, through tears, it was enough.

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

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