#i couldn't find any family tags in ao3

[strangersteddierthings]

The Response

Part Two of The Interview [Part One] [Ao3]

With no exact time given by Robin, Eddie's left to kill time. He drags himself from the YouTube spiral to try and track down Steve on social media. After two hours, he concludes that either Steve has his (and official Corroded Coffin's) socials blocked, or Steve just doesn't have any. He's a bit baffled that people can even find Steve to send hate mail to him.

He shoots a text to Gareth. Can you find Steve on any socials?

He gets an instant reply.

DO NOT CONTACT!!!

WAIT FOR RESPONSE

DONOT MAKE THISS WORSE MUNSON

Eddie frowns down at his phone but doesn't argue. He probably would make it worse. He sends back 'k' and looks back to the laptop. Watches it auto-refresh but Robin's feed hasn't changed.

God, what will Steve have to say?

It's mostly true, that Eddie hasn't thought about Steve in years. That's been deliberate. Eddie was so furious back then. Robin wasn't wrong about him venting his feelings into a song, but how was he supposed to know Hey Steve would be the song the catch the ear of the people? And yeah, the lyrics are very unflattering.

A lot of their first songs were filled with rage. The whole first album is just their collective high school experiences. Songs about growing up in Hawkins and how shit that was for them, a song about Eddie's complicated feelings towards his dad, songs about dungeons and dragons disguised as fantasy ballads, things like that. And, of course, Hey Steve.

He can admit that years ago he reevaluated the lyrics and found it to be more harsh than was warranted. But he figured there was no point worrying about that. People exaggerate in songs all the time. The song is out, people still plead for it to be played during encore performances. Eddie hadn't thought it was hurting anyone to play it.

Hey Steve had taken Eddie less than two days to write. He did almost nothing for those two days except write. Fuck. He was still just a dumb kid when he wrote it, barely graduated high school. And the reason for writing it...

Eddie had know Steve wasn't out to his parents when he'd asked Steve to essentially runaway with him. Steve had worried about things like money, and living situations, and getting food. It had all sounded like excuses to Eddie back then. Like Steve was picking the safety of Hawkins and his parents' house over going out into the world to be with Eddie freely.

They'd fought about it. The worst fight they'd ever had. Yet, here Eddie is, a decade later and unable to recall anything that was actually said. Just a summary of that conversation exists in his mind, now. Steve wanting to wait. To save more money now that his hours at the grocery store would be changing from part time to full with him no longer being in school and able to work the morning shifts. Wait to get his car fully transferred to his name from his parents.

All things that adult Eddie can now see as reasonable. Jesus Fucking Christ. He remembers he'd given Steve some sort of ultimatum. He was leaving on the last Grey Hound from Hawkins to Indy. Steve could meet him at the bus stop or stay, but Eddie was going, with or without him.

Steve had shouted back. He knows they just got louder and nastier until Steve finally told him that he would be going without him, then, because they were over. Even as angry as Eddie had been, he'd held out hope. But that last bus left Hawkins with Eddie on it and no sign of Steve in sight.

So Eddie did what he did best. Channeled that hurt into anger and wrote a song. Never in a million years did he think that, in the very first bar they played at in Indy, they'd meet a man who wanted to take a chance with them and get them a demo. All they needed to do was get from Indy to LA. Eddie had a van and the motivation. The next year of his life was too busy for him to even think, much less worry about Steve and his breakup.

Well, that was a lie. He thought about it constantly and shoved the thoughts aside as quickly as they came. Easier to do when he had no way to check up on Steve. He left Hawkins with no laptop and a pay-per-text flip phone he'd bought at a gas station. Wayne tried his best to provide for Eddie, and that meant they'd had one cell phone between the two, and Eddie had insisted that Wayne keep it.

By the time he got a laptop and internet, Steve had blocked him on Facebook and Twitter. That was the conclusion Eddie had come to when he finally worked up the nerve to swallow his pride and apologize and couldn't find Steve on either platform. Another thing that had filled Eddie with anger and hurt. Steve had broken up with him and then made sure Eddie couldn't reach back out.

Now he wonders, did Steve block him, or did Steve delete his socials to stop the hate mail?

Eddie feels nauseous.

Fuck!

What's worse is that, before the fight, Eddie had been so sure he was in love with Steve. But how can he say that with how quickly he dropped him? With how he's acted ever since? He could justify it to himself when he was still freshly broken up with and hurting but that faded away as fame took over.

Hard to be sad about not having a boyfriend when there were plenty of people lining up to be with him.

He pulls himself from his head to look at the laptop. A new tweet shows on Robin's screen and he scrambled to turn off the auto-refresher.

It's a short tweet, and Eddie sees she's changed her name as well.

Clicking the link takes him to a YouTube video.

It starts with the camera slightly jiggling, presumably from someone hitting record. It's been set up in a recording studio. A stool in front of a mic that's suspended from the ceiling is the only thing in the frame.

"Alright, dingus, last chance to change your mind about this," Robin's voice is picked up from off screen.

"You can't talk me out of this," says a male voice, and without any thought about it, Eddie's hand flings out and slaps the space bar, pausing the video. His heart is pounding, and he has to take a few deep breaths. That was Steve's voice. Of course, it was Steve's voice, it's his statement video, but hearing it again. Hearing it spoken softly but determined.

Swallowing feels difficult. Eddie's last memory of Steve's voice was screaming. This is... this is the Steve he never thought he'd hear again, and hasn't realized how much he desperately wanted to. With shaking hands, he presses play again.

Steve steps into frame, takes a seat on the stool. He looks in the direction of the camera, and Eddie has to pause again, to take him in. His hair is longer than it was in high school, the ends of it touching his shoulders. He's got it pulled up in a half updo, keeping the hair out of his face. His face is familiar and yet so different. He certainly looks older but not in a bad way. The biggest difference is his nose; it's not as straight as it once was, like it's been broken and healed wrong. His strong, square face is as handsome as it ever was, perhaps more so now. Eddie's eyes are drawn to the two moles on his cheek; his eyes have always been drawn there. It was his favorite place to kiss Steve.

He's wearing light wash jeans and a deep blue Henley. And fuck if it doesn't make him look good.

Eddie unpauses again, and waits to hear the retribution he deserves.

"This good, Robin?"

"Yeah, you're perfectly in frame."

"Good. Uhh, hi. I'm Steve. Robin told me that there was a lot of fuss regarding a certain Corroded Coffin song, and that people wanted to hear from me. Which is wild 'cause like, I'm just some guy and I don't really have much to say-" Steve is saying, with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Steve!" Robin interrupts him, "I just had to help you move because someone threw a brick through your window! What do-"

"Okay! I get it! But that's not Corroded Coffin's fault. They do that whole anti-bullying thing! It's not like they don't address harassment and bullying. I-" Steve cuts off, seeming to remember he's on camera. His face turns pink. "We can argue this later. Uhh, anyway. There is something I want to say to Eddie Munson, so I hope he's watching."

He makes a 'give it to me' gesture and Robin enters frame, handing him an acoustic guitar. "I thought I'd answer using the one thing Eddie understands best. Music. So, uh, I wrote this song with Robin's help. Lyrics are mine but the melody is Robin. The song doesn't have a title but, uh, okay. Here it goes."

And then, Steve starts to sing, looking down at the guitar for correct finger placement more than singing into the mic but it picks him up well regardless.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me? Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it-" Eddie is sitting down, and still he feels the floor fall out from under him.

"-Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute Darling, I'd go through it again, ah, ah."

Eddie doesn't hear the rest of the song because of the blood pounding in his ears. This can't be- it doesn't mean- after all this time? After everything that's happened, everything Eddie let happen, unintentionally or not.

His phone buzzes against his leg. He ignores it in favor of restarting the video and listening to the video from the start. He listens to the whole song and it ends without anything else. Once Steve's strummed the last chord, he just stands up, walks to the camera and the video ends.

He restarts the video again, and again, and again. Hears Steve sing How could you think I'd scare so easily and I would do it again if I could hold you for a minute and though I know my heart would break I'd tell them put me back in it.

It's through the tenth, or eleventh, playback that his phone buzzes again and he fumbles to answer blindly, unable to pull his eyes away from Steve on the screen of his laptop.

"Gare- It's not- what did I do Gare? Everything I thought Steve would have to say never came close to what he just sang. I can't- I don't know what to do," Eddie sobs into the phone.

There's a pause of silence before what is very much not Gareth's voice says, "Well, dammit Munson. I was calling to rip you a new one but you're already crying."

It takes Eddie a moment to place the voice, "Robin?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Robin says. "I think Steve's let you off easily, but I also know I kick a hornet's nest with my interview so I think we should work on getting this cleared up, both publicly and privately."

"How did you get my num-"

"Gareth. Keep up, Munson. I'd like us to be able to call off each other's fans. Your PR team and whoever you employee to do that anti-bullying campaign have done a pretty good job so far in telling people to back off, politely. Helps that Jeff has been on top of this from the beginning. Honestly, I think the best decision you've ever made in your life was making Jeff the front man of your band and not yourself. He's much more pleasant to talk to, and so good with people."

"Robin!" Eddie has to shout because Robin keeps saying words and they don't make sense. "What?"

He hears a sign from the other end of the phone. "You are annoying. You know that, Munson? I'll work with Gareth to get this done. I think we should be seen together, publicly. Maybe getting a coffee. So everyone knows we've made up, or whatever it is Gareth and I decide is happening. We should also meet up privately. There's a lot to talk about."

"I'm so confused."

"Nothing new. Now, when are you free to get on a plane to Pendleton, Oregon?"

"Pendleton?"

"Munson!" Robin snaps, "we just established that you live in a perpetual state of confusion. Instead of questioning me, how about you answer my questions. Now, when are you free?"

"Anytime."

"Smart answer. Get your ass to Pendleton by the morning of the twenty-third. I'll work with Gareth for all the other concerns. He's easier to deal with."

"Can I ask one follow up question at least!?"

"You just did but I'll allow one more before I hang up."

"Why Pendleton?"

"It's the nearest airport to our destination. I am not having a private conversation with you in California. I don't want to be caught speaking to you until Gareth and I have a chance to work out the details."

And then Robin hangs up.

Eddie leans forward and restarts the video on his laptop before looking up plane tickets. Fixing things with Robin might be the first step in ever getting try and, he doesn't know, apologize to Steve? Maybe even have a conversation one day.

He doesn't deserve that chance, he thinks, but he's a bad enough person to want it anyway.

#steddie #my fic #the interview #the song steve sings is Francesca by Hozier #i dont do taglists so i linked to ao3 where u can subscribe and get updates #i feel like eddies an unreliable narrator so im adding that tag on ao3 #the boy has got NO CLUE what is happening at any point in time ever #hes just a ball of guilt and regret #also i didn't clarify in the fic because i couldn't find a good way to fit it in #but gareth is not an active CC member‚ he's the PR manager #he used to be in the band but quit to finish college and be a family man #Jeff is the front man so he does the interviews/public appearances/etc #Eddie used to but like rockstar life hit him hard and he had to let someone else take that role

[wwinterwitch]

right person, all the wrong times - anthony bridgerton

summary: you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader word count: 7.3K tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, angst and fluff, period-typical topics (marriage is everything, gender roles, all that stuff), daphne being match maker as always, kissing, it gets briefly suggestive like once, if i skipped anything please let me know. note: i started this show two days ago and i'm already halfway through season 2. i couldn't hold myself from writing whatever this is and i thought i'll share since it's the longest fic i've ever written. english is not my first language so writing in a way that resembles the show was a whole challenge for me!

a reblog and/or comment really helps me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

all masterlists | read on ao3

You and Anthony have been best friends for years now. Even when he's a few years older than you, the two of you became inseparable shortly after knowing one another. No one seems to know or understand you quite like he does, and you've become the person he always turns to when he needs someone.

It happened just a few months after you were introduced into society. You were lucky to bump into him that night in Ms. Danbury's ballroom, and after repeated apologies and quick introductions, you stayed with him for the rest of the event.

Your families were excited to see the two of you talking, already picturing the moment when he shows up to your house and asks for your hand in marriage. However, as time passed, it was evident for everyone that nothing was ever going to happen.

And as embarrassing as it is to admit, you were just as disappointed to realize Anthony considered you to be just a friend. From day one, you were absolutely captivated by him, and you truly thought he was as interested as you were. Unfortunately, it seems as though your feelings have never been –and never will be– reciprocated.

Of course, you never let that stop you from trying to find in others what you so effortlessly found in Anthony from the moment you laid eyes on him. It hasn't been easy, but you continue to look for that special someone.

Despite everyone knowing about your proximity to the Viscount, a fair share of suitors were always there available for you. Some move past the mere privilege of dancing with you if they prove to be interesting enough, but none of them have made it far enough.

Perhaps the search would be easier if you weren't deeply in love with your best friend, but there's no way you'll ever be able to control how you feel. You can't control the butterflies in your stomach when you notice him approaching you, or how it seems as though everyone around disappears when you two are together.

Anthony doesn't contribute to making your situation any easier. His friendship is one of the greatest gifts you've ever received, but it has caused you a great deal of pain and confusion. Even when he's nothing but your friend– even when he has confided in you many times that marriage is the last thing on his mind, you can't help but notice certain things. Certain gestures, certain stares...he has surely given you reasons to believe your feelings might be reciprocated.

One of the many things he does that inevitably lifts your hopes up is the fact that he absolutely despises every possible suitor you've ever had. Whether he claims to know them and they're the worst person imaginable, or he starts speculating based on his own prejudices, it seems as though no man is worthy of you in Anthony's eyes. You've always wondered why he's so adamant about that claim.

"There you are!" Daphne excitedly greeted you one evening at yet another social gathering. "I was afraid I'd miss the chance to spend even a moment with you tonight, considering how busy you seem to be with all your suitors," she smiles, quickly glancing across the room.

"Well, I could say the same thing. I've seen you dance for most of the night," you remark. "I bet your brother is furious."

"Oh, believe me, he is! But I'm not the only one he's concerned about," her smile only grows after her insinuation. It's no secret that Daphne has always hoped for you to officially join their family, as she's convinced her brother is ridiculously in love with you. "I was only able to escape from him because he couldn't stop telling Benedict just how awful the men you were dancing or talking to are."

"He does have that habit, yes. Poor Benedict," you joke, turning around to spot the two brothers still talking.

Before Daphne could say a thing, a man approached the two of you. As you laid eyes on him, you recognized him as the first gentleman you had a dance with tonight. Both of you smiled at him as he extended his hand your way. "May I have another dance with you, my lady?"

You look at Daphne, who quickly takes a step back to let you know you can go. He gently grabs your hand once you've accepted his invitation, guiding you to the dance floor.

Mr. Demrick is a fine gentleman. He's been nothing but kind, charming and attentive, not to mention he's ridiculously handsome. This isn't the first evening you two have crossed paths, having the honor of dancing a few times before. He seems to have a strong interest in you. Your Mama has expressed many times that it's a matter of time before he's asking for your hand.

You do, however, notice a big flaw in this seemingly perfect man. He's no Anthony Bridgerton.

And speaking of, as you're dancing with Mr. Demrick's hand on your back and the other gently holding one of your own, you can't help but notice Anthony exactly where he once was. He's already looking your way and even from a distance you notice he's as stiff as ever, arms crossed, muttering things to Benedict.

It leaves you to wonder once again if he's being protective over his friend or if there's a deeper meaning to his apparent disgust for all the men that have ever shown interest in you.

After that night, Mr. Demrick's interest in you was more evident than ever. All Daphne could talk about with Lady Bridgerton and your Mama during supper the next day was the different bouquet of flowers he sent you and how breathtakingly beautiful they were.

"Needless to say, I'm very happy for you," Daphne seems to be finished with her talk about the flowers, turning to look at you from across the table. "You two make a very lovely match."

"No doubt you'll be very happy with such a nice and handsome gentleman for a husband," Lady Bridgerton agrees.

Everyone quickly turns to look at Anthony when he lets out a quick chuckle, looking down at his food and pretending he was barely listening.

"Something wrong, Anthony?" Lady Bridgerton asks shortly after with a rather serious tone.

He finally looks up, smiling at his mother. "Not at all. Please, continue with your...delightful chat."

You glared at him and despite you trying to ignore it, something deep within you made it impossible not to say something else regarding Mr. Demrick just to upset Anthony further. "He has invited my family to a picnic to meet his own," you say, noticing the way your best friend immediately turns to look at you with a horrified expression.

"We're really looking forward to that," your mother chimes in, trying to keep the conversation going after Anthony's interruption.

"Cheers to that!" Eloise exclaimed ironically, and you noticed she was looking directly at her eldest brother. "A man brave enough to pursue the heart of a lady is always a reason to celebrate, right?"

Now it was Colin and Benedict the ones who couldn't hold back their laughter after noticing their brother's reaction to that comment.

"What's so funny?" Hyacinth asks, looking impossibly confused.

Eloise's comment evidently made everything a lot worse. Little Gregory joins his sister in their inquiry to know what was going on, until Lady Bridgerton ordered them to stay quiet.

You didn't like El's insinuation one bit, as it does nothing to help with your delusions, but at least you were appreciative of the fact that she was willing to be with you on this one despite her disgust towards the whole idea of marriage and the position a woman is put in because of it. Perhaps she's willing to overlook that detail for the sake of upsetting one of her siblings.

As soon as dinner was over, Anthony offered to accompany you and your mother outside to your carriage. You didn't protest, and quickly calmed Daphne and Lady Bridgertons worries after they started apologizing fervently for his behavior during the evening.

Anthony immediately knew you were upset. It was evident in the way you walked in complete silence without acknowledging he was there next to you.

"Can I have a word with you before you leave?" Anthony asks as soon as the three of you are outside the Bridgerton home.

"Is it okay? If you're too tired we can leave right away."

"It's perfectly fine, dear. I'll wait in the carriage," your Mama replies. "Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, but there's no need," she quickly added when Anthony offered his arm to help her walk down the steps of the entrance. "Please reiterate my gratitude to my dear Violet for having us today."

"Of course," he nodded, returning your Mama's smile. Even when he behaves rather poorly, your mother absolutely adores him. It warms your heart to see how good they get along.

Your Mama walks to the carriage, leaving you and Anthony alone. "I apologize for my behavior tonight."

"I don't think your apologies are sincere."

"I don't know what else do you expect, if I'm being honest," he replies, and immediately knows he has to say something because of your reaction to that comment. "That man is not a good match for you. He's not on your level, and I'm quite certain that he won't be able to make you happy."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because I know you. And I know when someone is not right for you."

You scoffed. "No one ever seems to be good enough for me."

Anthony nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"Can't you just be happy for me? Or at least pretend that you are?" you ask, exasperated. It's one thing that he doesn't reciprocate your feelings, but to stand here and claim to be your best friend when he acts like this is something entirely different. Something you can't and won't stand for. "I don't understand why you have to try to ruin every chance I get to find someone."

"Because," he says sternly, as if it was obvious. But is it really that obvious? Is it obvious to you, or even to him?

A dim light of hope shines through in the depths of your heart, knowing very well how dangerous that has been in the past. "Because what?"

He stood there in front of you, looking rather troubled. You notice the way he hesitates and for a moment you almost could've sworn he wanted to take a step closer to you.

But that never happened, and instead all you got was a "because you're my best friend, and I care about you," from him. The same thing you've heard over and over. That godforsaken phrase that has shattered your heart into million pieces over the years.

You try to hide your disappointment, looking up at him with a stern glance. "If I'm truly your best friend, you'd support my decisions instead of brutally questioning them like you always do."

With that said, you didn't wait for any sort of answer as you quickly walked towards your carriage, barely acknowledging your driver and your mother as you headed back home.

Anthony watches as you walk away, once again feeling like a complete fool for not saying something else. For not daring to take that extra step and reveal the real reason why he won't accept anyone else as your husband. It's quite simple, really. The real reason is that he wants to be the one you marry.

But he didn't say anything yet again, and all that's left for him to do is go back inside his house to listen to Eloise and Daphne calling him a fool while the rest agree with them. He doesn't say much about their claims, as they couldn't possibly be more true.

This is exactly what he deserves for acting so cowardly. He gets shamed by his siblings for not doing something about his feelings while you go home, probably thinking about that absurd picnic with Mr. Demrick until you go to sleep.

Next day, you try to forget all about Anthony Bridgerton and focus on your date with Mr. Demrick. Your families were sitting around all together while he asked if you would like to take a walk with him.

He's lovely. Offering his arm for you, complimenting you every chance he gets, making you laugh with his endless anecdotes and quick remarks. He's everything you should need, yet your mind wanders back to your best friend. You can't help it. All you want is for him to be the one kissing your hand and telling you you're the most captivating sight of all.

Your Mama could barely hold her excitement when she read what Lady Whistledown had to say about you and Mr. Demrick after the families were seen spending time together. "The union of the season", she called it. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, as both of you come from wealthy and respected families. It's evident everyone takes a great interest in the possible union.

Still, you were very much intimidated by it, as all eyes will be on you until there's news about an engagement.

And just as you predicted, every lady turned to look at you as you went to visit the modist for a new dress for the next ball. You must look absolutely perfect to earn the approval of everyone and capture Mr. Demrick's heart for good.

At that point, the realization finally started to settle. You're soon becoming a wife, moving to your own home and starting a family. And all of that with a man that you respect and care for, but are incapable of loving.

But perhaps this arrangement will make your feelings for Anthony become nothing but a memory. A memory you won't even care to think about when you have such a wonderful husband by your side.

Days passed and Mr. Demrick continued to send all sorts of gifts to your house. You made the choice of inviting him over so the two of you could spend more time together before the next ball. He was sitting on a couch with your mother while you played the piano for them.

"That was certainly a very beautiful performance," he says once you're done playing. "And you said you composed that yourself?"

"Indeed. I like spending my days playing the piano," you smile brightly.

The entire reunion was quickly ruined when someone burst inside the room. You turn around in your seat to find Anthony standing there, barging in completely unannounced and unexpectedly. It was unclear to you why you felt the need to stand up from your seat to greet him but you did, feeling your heart rapidly beating in your chest at the sight of him.

Oh, how badly you've missed him.

"What are you doing here, Anthony?" you ask, immediately remembering your soon-to-be fiancée and your mother are also in the room. "I'm afraid I'm with a guest right now. Whatever it is, it'll have to wait, my lord."

You never call him that, ever. It was evident by his reaction that he absolutely hated the fact that you refer to him as such.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to disrupt, but I believe it's an urgent matter."

"My lord, I–"

"I must insist," he quickly cuts you off, looking rather desperate.

You try to come up with something to say, knowing you should stand your ground and make him leave, but you were so happy to be in his presence again that the feelings completely clouded your judgment.

"No worries, my lady," you hear Mr. Demrick say, standing up from his seat and sending you a reassuring smile. "I'm sure whatever Lord Bridgerton is here for requires your immediate attention, given his insistence," he added shortly after, giving Anthony a not so friendly look. "I'm sure we can visit the gardens while we wait?"

Your mother nodded after his question. "Of course. That should be more than enough time for Lord Bridgerton to communicate his urgent matter."

Neither Mr. Demrick nor your mother were pleased by Anthony's presence, but you couldn't thank them enough from sparing you this one time. You know this man like no one else does, and you're certain that he wouldn't take a no for an answer and that would've made the situation a lot worse.

"Perfect," Mr. Demrick says before gesturing for your mother to lead the way. Before he leaves the room, he gives Anthony one last look before turning his attention back to you. "Perhaps we should discuss where you'd like your new piano to be in our future home once I'm back. I'd love for my wife to continue doing what she enjoys, especially when she's so extraordinary at it."

You smile after his comment, trying your best not to look at Anthony until Mr. Demrick is officially gone because you can imagine his features are clearly expressing his thoughts regarding that last comment. Once both of them are out of sight, you finally look at him.

"What is wrong with you?" you snapped almost immediately. "I'm glad Mr. Demrick is a patient and understanding man! He could've easily decided to leave the very instant you walked through that door demanding to have a word with me."

"I think he's captivated enough, my dear. I doubt you'll ever get rid of him," he replies, evidently disgusted by the thought of him.

"I don't intend to get rid of him. And do not call me that again."

"Why not? I've always called you that."

"That was before I met Mr. Demrick. Now, it is completely inappropriate."

"Oh, please. It's not like you're already his wife."

"But I will be soon," you point out. He's quiet after that, which gives you room to continue talking. "You must understand that a married woman cannot have other men calling her such things."

"So am I supposed to start addressing you like you're nothing but a stranger? Or perhaps you'd like me to already start calling you Mrs. Demrick? Is that how things will go? You marry this insufferable man and I have to just accept the fact that I no longer have my best friend?"

"I don't know what else you want me to say," you mutter, feeling like you could cry any minute now. "This was going to happen sooner or later."

"It was never supposed to be this way," he sighs, and your soul aches for him when you notice the way he's looking at you. Defeated, exhausted, disappointed, frustrated. You've never seen this particular mixture of emotions reflected in his eyes before.

"And how exactly it was supposed to be?"

Anthony was quiet, too quiet for your liking. You see his hesitation once again and you brace yourself to hear yet another confirmation of the fact that you're nothing but a friend. It doesn't matter that he glances at you from across the room like he can't help himself. It doesn't matter that all the Bridgerton siblings have made insinuations about you and Anthony's relationship. It's all in your head, because you're nothing but a friend.

In a surprising turn of events, you watch as he takes a few steps closer to you. He's cautious of every move, not wanting to scare you– or himself. The beat of your heart speeds up and your hands shake slightly when he's finally in front of you.

You look up at him like a deer coming face to face with a hunter, but in this case you're unable to run away for your life. He's dangerously close to you, gently moving his hand up to touch your face.

The second his fingers brush against your cheek, a shiver travels down your spine and you can't help but close your eyes because his touch is absolutely heavenly. Your breath hitches in the back of your throat when his digits trace down your neck until his hand settles there, holding you with his fingers behind your ear and his thumb still caressing the skin of your face.

"It should go like this," he whispers, and you finally open your eyes to see him looking at you with such adoration, you were certain your legs could betray you any second now and completely give in, causing you to fall straight to the ground.

He leans slightly closer after seconds of just contemplating you, and even though you closed your eyes again, feeling his nose brushing against yours, you're able to snap out of your trance before he could actually kiss you.

"It's not right..." you're able to say, pulling back from him but not nearly enough. He's still very much holding you.

"It is, my dear. I can tell you wish for this as badly as I do."

"Please, Anthony..." you try, but your body betrays you when your hand is resting on his bicep.

"I've always adored the way my name sounds when it's you the one calling me," he confesses, and your stomach fills with butterflies.

You realize he's leaning closer again, but before he can do so you manage to gather all traces of self-control that were almost stripped from you to move back, setting free of his touch.

Anthony stands there, absolutely confused and heartbroken, and is right then when you can't keep your tears in any longer.

"I'm afraid it is too late," you mutter. This has got to be the most painful thing you'll ever have to do. "I'm getting engaged soon."

"But you're not anyone's yet. There's still time if you haven't accepted any proposals."

"Please, don't make this any harder than it should be," you sob, wiping your tears away.

"Darling–"

"Believe me, no one would want this more than me," you interrupted. "You have no idea how many times I've found myself fantasizing about this very moment. For you to say all of this, to be yours forever..." Tears continue to roll down your cheeks and the sight is too much for Anthony to endure, as his own eyes are starting to fill with tears as well. "But it is not possible anymore. I'm sorry, I really am. I won't ask you to understand or accept my decision, but I'd appreciate that you can at least respect it."

"I won't. I refuse to let you marry someone else when we both know we belong together."

"Anthony, Mr. Demrick–"

"You still can't even call your future husband by his own name?"

You sigh, frustrated. "Charlie will become my husband. I don't doubt that he'll be an excellent companion, and that you'll find someone else in time. Soon enough, we'll be nothing but a memory."

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, and your heart sinks when you notice his voice breaking slightly.

You take a few seconds to answer. Of course that's not what you want. You want Anthony to be your husband. You'll always want him and him only. But it's already too late for any of that.

Feeling more heartbroken than ever before, you have to look back at Anthony and fight the urge to run to his arms. "Yes. And I also want you to leave."

Anthony was barely keeping it together, not wanting to cry in front of you. He's once again taking a few steps closer to you, but stops at a reasonable distance to grab your hand to kiss it. "Very well, my lady," he says with a quick bow of his head. "I apologize for wasting so much of your time. Let me assure you, I'll never bother you again."

He let your hand go and immediately turned to the door to leave. As soon as you no longer hear his footsteps, you fall to your knees and allow yourself to cry, feeling like the sorrows from this conversation will haunt you for the rest of your days.

Knowing Mr. Demrick and your mother could be here any minute, you decided to stand up from the ground as soon as you could to lock yourself in your room, where you could be away from everyone for a while until you feel ready to go downstairs and pretend you're content with this life that you've chosen for yourself today.

You really know you shouldn't, as you've played a part just as big as his in the downfall of everything you could've had together, but you can't help it as you curse Anthony for taking so long. You curse him for deciding to do something about his affection for you when it's far too late. And most importantly, you curse him because despite knowing it's over, you are certain that there's nothing you can do to ever get over your feelings for him.

As soon as you realize you're being unfair by putting all the blame on him, you also curse yourself for being as blind and coward as he was. And you curse life itself while you're at it, because you feel like making everyone and everything responsible for not being able to live the life that you wanted.

―

It's been a few days after the last time you and Anthony spoke. Just days, but it has felt like years and years without him. He hasn't reached out to you, and you couldn't deny that not having him around was absolute torture. There was no greater pain than this.

But you were hopeful that you could see him again at tonight's ball. It was all you could think about as you were getting ready.

"You look lovely, sister," the youngest of your family says, watching as one of the maids is finishing with your hair. "I can't wait to join all of you next season!"

"Thank you, my dearest," you smile at her. "I cannot wait for that either. Perhaps I can help you choose your dress and do your hair for your first ball."

"Yes, please!"

Your youngest sister stayed in your room with you until it was time for everyone to leave. Your father waited by the door while your mother put all of your siblings in line to check their appearance and make sure everyone was looking flawless.

Like the Bridgertons, your family was also quite large. Your older sister is already married so she no longer lives with you, but your parents still have a handful of children to take care of. Your two older brothers haven't married yet and neither have you. There's also your little sister, who's debuting next season, and your baby brother who's barely ten years old.

To this day, you have no idea how they were able to handle the chaos that six children can bring. For that, you admire them deeply.

Once your mother made sure everything was in order, you and your brothers followed her and your father to the carriage. They start a conversation, but you're barely paying any attention, as Anthony is keeping your head occupied again.

Eventually, you reach the residence where the ball's taking place and the five of you make your way inside. As all of you are standing outside the doors of the hall where the event is taking place, you feel a hand reaching out to grab yours. You turn around to look at your mother staring at you with a sympathetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, Mama," you say out of nowhere, though it's practically the only thing you've been able to say to her lately.

"You made the right choice, dear," she reassures you. "Are you ready?"

You nod, inhaling deeply before your mother lets go of you, standing with your father as they wait for you to take the first step. As soon as all of you are entering the room, you notice everyone staring your way, their eyes still filled with expectancy and excitement.

They still believe you're going to marry Mr. Demrick.

You quickly scan the room as you walk down the stairs, the familiar feeling in your stomach appearing when you spot Anthony along with his siblings, his eyes never once leaving you. Despite everything that has happened, he still looks at you like you're the only person in that room.

Your parents go off one way to mingle with other parents attending the event while your siblings scatter around the ballroom to greet their friends and find possible matches.

Having a chance to talk to Anthony was the only reason you decided to attend. Still, you didn't know how and when it'd be okay for you to approach him. Things didn't end on the best of terms, so it's normal for you to have your doubts.

Instead of immediately approaching him, you walk around the room, never losing sight of him. You couldn't help but smile to yourself the first time you catch him looking around the room, unsuccessful to locate you.

"I was hoping to see you tonight," you hear Daphne's voice next to you, sending you back to reality. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Thank you, so do you."

Your friend smiles at you, briefly looking to where you previously were. "Are you looking for someone?"

"No, not at all," you immediately shake your head, imitating her smile.

"I apologize for what I'm about to say. I don't believe it is the time nor place, but I cannot hold myself back," she says with obvious concern as her smile is replaced with a frown. "My brother told me everything that happened the other day. I don't think I'll ever be able to express how sorry I am."

"Oh, Daphne, that's really not necessary..."

"But I think it is. As ashamed as this makes me, I'm afraid I was the one responsible for his actions."

"What do you mean?"

"I couldn't help but notice the way you two look at each other, or the way you smile when you're together. Believe me, I've never seen my dear brother so infatuated with anyone else before. To see you slip away from him and him doing nothing about it was not only painful, but it angered me enough to intervene," she explains. "After much convincing to do, I finally made him realize he needed to do something about his feelings. Evidently, I stood out of line and got myself involved in something I never should have, and for that I'm terribly sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong. I know you had good intentions. There's absolutely nothing to forgive."

Daphne reaches out for your hands, relief evident in her features. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to talk to me again. You had all the right to do so, but I'm happy to see I was mistaken."

"I would never do such a thing."

She nodded, glad to know you two are still friends. "Well, with that situation out of the way, allow me to say I'm still very happy about you and Mr. Demrick. My love for my brother won't change the fact that I support your decision entirely."

You debated whether or not to say something, but the hesitation quickly slipped your mind when you looked at Daphne. She's been a great friend, you know there's nothing wrong with confessing this news to her.

She looks a bit confused when you grab her arm to guide her to a corner of the room, as far away from other people as possible. "I appreciate your words, but I'm afraid Mr. Demrick and I are no longer courting."

"Really? Did my imprudence make him change his mind?" she asks, worried she was to blame for this.

"Not at all. He actually proposed to me that very same evening."

"And...you said no?"

"I couldn't marry him, Daphne," you sighed. You'll never forgive yourself from breaking a good man's heart in the way you did with him, but deep down you knew it was the right thing to do. "I couldn't doom him to spend the rest of his life with a woman that doesn't love him the way he deserves."

"I don't judge you for it. My Mama has always taught us that marriage should be formed out of love. It's the only way a union like this can work," you friend offers, immediately wanting to show her support.

"If anything, my dear friend, I should be thanking you for your intervention," you quickly add. "If you never had that chat with your brother, I would've been engaged to a different man by now."

"I...Oh my, are you–?"

"I was as much of a fool as him. I could've said something a long time ago and yet I remained silent. And when he went to my house to give us a chance, I was once again deciding not to do a thing about my feelings. It was only when he left that I realized I made a terrible mistake."

Daphne is once again reaching for your hands, looking more excited than ever after your words. "You have no idea how pleased I am to hear you say all of this."

"You don't think it's too late, do you? I came here to talk to him, after all."

"No, no, not at all! He was devastated when he came back, I've never seen him like that in my life. We got to talk a little– and it's probably best if he's the one who confesses his true feelings in detail to you personally, but there's no doubt in my mind that from everything he said to me, he's deeply, madly and truly in love with you."

"I assure you I love him just as much."

"I don't doubt it either. And I think I speak for all my family when I say there's no one else we would like to be Anthony's wife but you."

"That makes me so happy to hear," you say with obvious excitement. Even Daphne looked like she could start crying any second. "Should I go talk to him now?"

"Please, I'm sure you can't wait any longer! He's over there, with Benedict and Colin."

"I shall tell you how it goes then."

"It'll go wonderful," she assures you, giving you one last smile before she allows you to leave.

Every second of that walk towards Anthony felt like centuries. Your mind spins with all the possible scenarios and everything you're going to say to him, but by the time you're in front of the three siblings your mind is completely blank.

"Gentlemen," was all you could say. The three of them immediately greet you with a quick bow. You notice Benedict and Colin exchanging looks, while Anthony's eyes are fixated on you. "I'd like to have a word with you– alone, if that's okay."

"Of course, my lady," was all he said.

"Oh my, you could cut the tension with a knife," Colin says suddenly. Anthony is so focused on you he barely acknowledges his comment.

"Shush, brother!" Benedict quickly warns, lightly pushing his little brother so he would start walking. "Excuse us," he smiled your way, starting to follow Colin.

You and Anthony are finally alone, but the people around you are still bothering you. "Is it okay if we go outside for a walk?"

"If it's okay with you," he says, a bit confused at first since you two had apparently agreed that you must keep your distance.

Anthony follows you to the gardens in complete silence. The music and chatter could still be heard. You were glad to realize it was only the two of you outside.

"What is it that you wanted to say to me?" he immediately asks, starting to walk next to you.

"I wanted to apologize for everything that happened."

"No need. Like you said, you made your choice and I'll have to respect it."

"It was the wrong choice. I see that now."

He was a bit surprised to hear that, but agreed with you nonetheless. "I'm afraid I can't say otherwise. At least I hope you find comfort in the fact that Mr. Demrick will be a fine husband, as you so fervently claim."

The two of you have reached a part of the garden that surrounds the two of you with large hedges decorated with beautiful flowers. It was then that you stopped walking and turned to look at him, knowing no one would be able to see or interrupt you here.

"I wanted to let you know that Mr. Demrick proposed and I said no," you blurted out simply, not wanting to keep it from him any longer.

"Why?" was all he could say.

"Because," you say, and this time it was painfully obvious.

Anthony couldn't believe your revelation at first, which would explain why he didn't move from his spot at first. As the realization of it all starts to sink in, he immediately walks closer to you and grabs your face with his hands. This time, you let him touch you as your hands move up to place them above his own.

"You're not marrying him?" he asks, barely above a whisper, still not entirely believing it. He really thought he had lost you forever.

You shake your head, unable to hold back your smile any longer. "There's only one man I'd like to marry."

Anthony smiles wider than ever after your comment and he's not able to control himself any longer, immediately closing the space between the two of you as he kisses you.

His kiss is everything you expected and more. So gentle, yet so passionate. It makes you feel like you're the most delicate thing in the entire world, but he must take a taste, so he does eagerly, yet carefully.

The moment doesn't last as much as you expected as he's abruptly pulling away. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have done that."

He takes a step back but he's gladly surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck to stop him. "Don't," you immediately say, "I want you close."

"I really shouldn't, my dear," he insisted, but you can tell it takes everything in him not to kiss you again at that very same moment.

"Is that so?" you tease him, inching just enough. "So you won't continue to kiss me? Not even if I'm so clearly desperate for you to do so?"

He's really trying to remind himself to be a gentleman. "I don't...it's not appropriate."

"Alright, them. It's perfectly fine, Mr. Bridgerton," you promptly agree, moving back from him entirely as you start walking away from him. "Perhaps we should go back then, before anyone notices our absence."

You're barely able to turn around to face him before he's one again in front of you, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss.

This time, the kiss is anything but gentle. His tongue explores your mouth with a hunger completely unknown to you as his hands explore your body. The hand previously holding the back of your neck trails your collarbone before it explores further down, cupping one of your breasts while the other holds you close to his body, resting dangerously close to your ass.

His lips move down to your jaw until they settle on the skin of your neck. You close your eyes as you enjoy the way he explores you, a few moans escaping past your lips that only seem to encourage him further.

"Anthony," you whisper into the darkness of the night, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while he kisses all over your neck.

"You're such a delight, my love," he mutters against your skin. "You drive me absolutely mad."

He moves back to your lips now, your mind clouded with desire for him and making it impossible for you to think of anything else other than how badly you need him to continue to touch you and kiss you. You could never get tired of this.

But much to your disappointment, he's pulling away from you again shortly after. His forehead rests against yours as both of you are gasping for air. You open your eyes when he's no longer leaning against you, just to catch him looking down at you with a smile.

"You're so beautiful," he comments, one of his fingers tracing your lower lip. "I could kiss these lips all day if I could."

"And I'd have no complaints about that."

He chuckles after your comment before taking a second to contemplate your beauty under the moonlight. "I deeply regret wasting so much time we could've spent as husband and wife."

"We have many years to make amends for that."

"Is that so?" he asks with a smile, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you close.

"Well, that is if you ask for my hand."

"We'll go back to the ball and I'll talk to your father right away."

You fake to be offended by his comment. "Without asking for my opinion on the matter, Lord Bridgerton?"

"Forgive me, how rude of me," he follows along with your theatrics, but you immediately notice the shift in his eyes before he continues. They look softer than ever and shine as bright as all the stars in the sky combined. And you feel warm, at peace, so loved by the man standing before you. "My dearest, from the moment I met you, I knew we were destined to be together. You not only captivated me with your beauty, but with everything that you are. And as I started to know you, you kept proving me right. I saw it in the way you'd stay practicing your music for hours with such intent and passion. I saw it in the way you care so deeply about the ones fortunate enough to have you in their lives. I saw it in the way my mother instantly adored you, and how Hyacinth wouldn't stop asking me to invite you over so she could play with you. There's no doubt in my mind that you are the one for me."

You were completely speechless, absolutely mesmerized by his words. He takes a moment to gently wipe a few tears falling down your cheeks. He has always said to you how he's terrible at things like this, yet here he is proving himself wrong.

"If all previous words hold any room for confusion, allow me to clear it all right away. I've been yours from the moment we met and I couldn't possibly be more in love with you. And there's nothing that would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you," he continues, finally taking a step back to grab both of your hands as he kneels in front of you. "Would you make me the honor of accepting me as your husband?"

You couldn't stop smiling at that point, immediately nodding after his question. "Yes. Now and forever, it'll always be yes."

Anthony kisses both of your hands before standing up to pull you in for a hug. "It pleases me to hear you accept. For a moment, I feared the tears were a bad sign."

You laugh at his little joke before breaking the hug. "Perhaps we should get back. I'm afraid we've been gone for quite a while now."

"That shouldn't be much of a problem now that we're engaged. I shall ask to have a word with your father as soon as we get back– and ask my mother for her ring."

"Is it okay if I inform Daphne?"

"I have absolutely no objections if you decide to announce the news to every person inside that ballroom, my love. Let everyone know you'll be the next Viscountess. Nothing would make me happier."

He offers his arm and you immediately accept it, starting to walk back to the ball with him– your future husband. At that very moment, you've sworn you've never been happier.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x fem!reader #bridgerton tv show #anthony bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton fic

[nerdburritos]

You Taste Like The Sun

Summary: You've been invited to attend the annual noble's ball, hosted by no other than Lord Astarion Ancunìn himself. While you father was busy hunting possible husbands for you, the Lord himself couldn't keep his eyes off you. You had no idea that by the end of the night, you'd be engaged to your host - if it wasn't for one tiny detail: you've never even been kissed before. Maybe Lord Ancunìn could help you with that?

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader | Astarion/f!Tav rating: mature tags/warnings: kissing, fluff, arranged marriage word count: 2.6k read on ao3: You Taste Like The Sun

a/n: english isn't my first language so please excuse any spelling mistakes or grammatical errors!

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The ballroom was absolutely packed with noble people but what did you expect? The annual ball hosted by Lord Ancunìn was not to be missed, it was considered a huge honour to be invited at all. It was your first time attending this year, you father dragged you along with him in hopes of finally finding a possible husband for you, even though that was the last thing you wanted. You enjoyed your freedom, loved your studies and had no need for a man in your life. "They're like children!" your mother once said, but she'd been smiling while looking at your father. They were in love, you've never been, it's a feeling you've yet to experience. Most people your age with your social status were usually married to someone of equal status, love or not, before ending up alone but you've always needed something more - a real connection, trust and at least the possibility of love. The so called "suitors" your family had in mind offered none of that. You sighed, sorting out your beautiful ball gown, before you picked up another flute of champagne, making your way across the room to greet some more pople, have some small talk - it'd be considered rude not to. Before you could reach Lady Belgamour at the end of the room you felt something, or rather someone, bump into you, spilling the champagne all over your expensive dress, you mother would be furious.

"Forgive me, my Lady, how terribly rude of me!" a dark, husky voice immediatley apologized, an arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. You looked up, it was your host, Lord Ancunìn. He was dressed in a white doublet with gold ebroidery as well as matching slacks which complimented his pale skin tone and white-greyish hair fabously. He almost looked like an angel, if it wasn't for the red eyes. A fallen angel, maybe. Your host took out a silk handkerchief, proceeding to try and clean your delicate dress and you blushed at his attention. He was an incredibly attractive man, a bachelor nontheless, the whole city was after him - young women, old women, married women, hells - even men! He pocketed his handekrchief, making eye contact with you once again. "I'm sorry about your dress, I'll cover the expense for the dry cleaner, of course." Gods, he relly had some stellar manners.

"O-oh Lord Ancunìn, this is not necessary, I did not watch where I was going, it was entirely my fault..." You studdered - of course you'd embarrass yourself in front of the most powerful and attractive man in the city.

"Nonsense, I'll take care of it. Now, I don't think we've been formerly introduced yet, I'm Lord Astarion Ancunìn and you are?" You qucikly introduced youself, bowing slightly as you've been taught, he was a Lord after all, and Astarion gently took your hand, placing a sweet kiss on top of it. "A pleasure, my Lady. I've been wondering when you would finally grace us with your presence, you father is keeping you sheltered but I can hardly blame him with a daughter as beautiful as you." Your face turned beet red at his honeyed words, which Astarion seemed to enjoy, he was quite the sweet talker. The attentions of men were not unfamiliar to you but none of them had a way with words like Astarion did. The Lord offered his arm. "May I have this dance, my Lady?" You could see your father from the distance, looking quite happy about your current situation with the Lord, he probably got his hopes up already. You linked your arm with Astarion's and followed him to the dancefloor, where he immediately settled one hand on your waist, pushing you closer to him and began to flawlessy lead you through a Waltz. He was an exceptional dancer and your heart raced being so close to him. He smelled faintly of bergamot and rosemary,a really nice and sexy combination. Truth to be told, he was everything you could wish for - handsome, polite, a great dancer and true gentleman but something inside you told you that there was more to thim that just that but what was it? Maybe he might be a freak in the sheets? You certainly hoped so and giggled. Astarion lowered his gaze, smiking slightly.

"Are my dance skills so terribly amusing?" he joked, twirling you around the dancefloor playfully, catching you in his arms again as the other guests applauded with delight. 

"Oh no, my Lord." you laughed as he spun you around. "I'm simply enjoying myself."

"I am glad to hear that such a stunning Lady is enjoying my company, I do feel very honoured." And there was that damned blush on your face again. You could simply not deal with open and honest compliments from handsome and succesful men like him apparently. But maybe it wasn't even the compliments, maybe it was just him...and he was so aware of it. A smug smirk was gracing his lips. Maybe he had a thing of riling innocent little things like you up? It didn't really matter now, did it? The Waltz came to a stop, Astarion now bowing in front of you. "It was a pleasure, my Lady. How about a stroll in the gardens to cool down a bit?" He offered his arm again with a soft smile.

"But your other guests..."

"Can very well deal without me. Please, allow me." Astarion guided you out of the ballroom into the lavish gardens, one hand around you waist once again but still keeping a respectful distance. The gardens were beautiful, decorated with more fairy lights than you could count, creating an almost magical environment with all the differend kinds of flowers blooming at this time of the year.

"What a beautiful garden." You complimented, attempting to make small talk. You were feeling quite nervous in his presence, hoping you wouldn't embarrass yourself again. Normally, you'd not give a single shit about the opinion of a man but Astarion was different somehow, even though you just met him. He was different than all of them and not just because he was richer than all of the Lords combined but because his efforts with you seemend honest, almost genuine. Or maybe it was all a very practiced act, a façade, you weren't quite sure but wasn't it all? In a world full of arranged marriages, a façade was all they could offer. 

"Thank you." He seemed quite happy with your compliment. "So, do you like flowers?" You nodded enthusiastically and started to ramble about your passion for gardening (which was unbecoming for a Lady, your maid has said) and favorite kinds of flowers. Astarion seemd intrigued - he actually listened and nodded at the right times before picking up a tiny flower, tucking it into your hair. "Beautiful." he whispered and you weren't quite sure if he meant the flower or you. You wandered further into the gardens, the noise from the palace nearly dying down and reached a small lake. "So, you father told me you're exceeing expectations in your studies?"

"Oh dear." you laughed. "My father can't help but praise me, apparently." Astarion laughed.

"It's all he does at our annual meetings. He's quite proud, you know." A warm feeling settled in your stomach, making your family proud was one of the most important things for you. You father has been working so hard after all. "And I can't blame him I mean, by the God's, look at you." he whispered. 

"I...uh...what?" you studdered, now that was really not ladylike at all, you maid would scowl you for that.

"You're breathtaking." Astarion admitted. The High Lord himself admitted that you, you of all people, were breathtaking. You had no idea how to deal with that information.

"Oh, my Lord. There are far prettier creatures out there than me." You chuckled but telling the truth. You didn't think of yourself as beautiful or smart or anything else, you were normal, average even. Your lack of self-esteem usually really bothered your mother but it was the truth after all, wasn't it?

"No." he shook his head. "They all just pretend to be." Astarion snarled. "They pretend to be pretty, while throwing on all the make up they possess. You are naturally beautiful. The way your freckles shine in the moonlight is spectacular." he whispered, taking a few steps closer to you. "You are an exceptional dancer, none of them could even compare and you have manners, you behave like a Lady while still having quite some spite..." You whole body went rigid. Shit.

"My Lord, if any of my actions have offended you..." Astarion waved you off immediately.

"Not at all, my dear. I did quite enjoy it, actually. I have no use for a wife who just serves and lives to obey, where is the fun in that? While I appreciate your perfect manners, I do hope you have a few naughty sides." He smirked while you let his words sink in. No use for a wife? Wife? Wife. Wife! Oh Gods...

"W-wife, my Lord?" you asked carefully, staring in disbelief as he pulled you closer to him.

"Why, of course. That's why you're here, isn't it? I'm sure you're aware that you father is searching for a husband for you." You huffed, of course he was, that's why he dragged you along in the first place. "Trust me, a few of his candidates shouldn't even be up for discussion, vile creatures, like they deserve you..." he snapped. "But I'm quite sad he didn't consider me." Astarion pouted palyfully, trying to ease the tension. You weren't sure if your family was in huge trouble because your father never considered him or if he was just playing with you.

"Lord Ancunìn, I am sure my father meant no harm!" you quickly explained. "We are far below your status, surely you would never consider the daughter of a simple-" He shut you up by placing a finger on your mouth.

"Don't tell me what I want." He stated calmly, pulling you flush agsinst him. "I guess your father would be more than pleased with me as your future husband." You had no idea what to say. This was not the way you imagined the night would go. "Or you could go on and marry one of the other fools if you so please." You quickly shook your head. No, never, worst nightmare. Astarion was the perfect choice, your parents would be over the moon, surely. "Well, then it's settled."

"Why do you even need a wife?" You quickly blurted out, immediately regeretting your choice of words but you couldn't help but wonder. Had he ulterior moves?

"Well, first of all it grants me, and you family, a certain political immunity. Two Lords combining forces and families is something to be considered across the realms, an alliance would be helpful for both sides and to be frank? Society expects a marriage from both of us. So why not work together, hm?" he smirked. "I don't want to marry the next decent girl. My wife should be educated in all kinds of things, well read, strong political knowledge, perfectly mannered and kind while still being herself. I don't want a doll who obeys all my commands - I want a partner, an advisor. I can see you filling that position more than anyone." That was good enough for you. You knew that if you didn't take him up for his offer, you father would quickly find someone else - someone worse. There was no better match than Lord Astarion Ancunìn, you basically won the jackpot. 

"Very well, I agree." Astarion smirked. 

"In that case, let's seal the deal as any lovers would." he commented playfully and leaned closer, tilting his head towards yours...oh my God, he was going to kiss you. You quickly put some distance between him and yourself, Astarion took a few steps back.

"Excuse me. I meant no harm, I assure you." he quickly apologized. Yes, the Lord had quite the reptutation amongst the noble women (apparently he was an exeptional lover, quite selfless) but he seemed really distraught by your refusal. Not hurt but angry at himself. Ugh, it's not like you didn't want to kiss him, there was just a tiny issue...

"I've never been kissed." you quickly blurted out, blushing with embarrasment as you stared at the ground, your heels seeming quite interesting all of a sudden. Astarion froze, then he smirked and closed the distance between you two once again. He quickly placed a gentle, warm hand on your cheek, grasping your chin with other hand, lifting our face up to meet his gaze.

"That's what this is about?" he asked gently, you nodded. Well, it's not like you had the chance to practice a lot without a proper partner. "I didn't mean to pressure you." You nodded, feeling relived. So he did care about consent - good. "I just thought a beautiful Lady like you had thousands of opportunities..." you gasped, he smirked.

"What kind of Lady do you take me for? A common harlot?" Astarion laughed, and what a beautiful sound it was. 

"Oh no, my love, absolutely not but men are vile creatures so please do forgive me." You chuckled, still in his arms as he gazed down at you almost lovingly. "Sooooo, about that kiss..."

"You scoundrel!" You giggled as you playfully pushed him, he seemed to enjoy teasing you. "But I guess I can indulge you? It might not be good..." you warned, your heart already racing, you'd probably make a fool out of yourself in a few seconds. He had all this experience and you didn't...

"Nonsense!" he took your face in both hands, gently stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and placed a gentle but long peck on your lips - nothing more. A sweet, gentle kiss without any intentions but full of adoration and respect. You gasped as he pulled back, the Lord looking quite smug already. "How was that?" Astarion asked as you touched your lips. 

"Really nice." you admitted. Nice? It felt incredible. His lips were so soft, the pressure was perfect, this man made your knees weak. You wanted more. 

You leaned forward slightly, placing another gentle kiss to his lips as he gave you a reassuring smile and pulled you closer to him, not allowing you to part, keeping your lips pressed together. He let out a husky chuckle against your lips as he finally took a tiny step back. You already missed the feeling of his lips pressed against yours, he was addicting.

"Want some more?" Astarion whispered and you eagerly nodded. This little..tryst in the depths of his garden was highly uncalled for but you didn't even care anymore. He pressed a series of quick pecks on your lips, making you gasp before catching your bottom lip between his and sucking. You moaned, he immediately turned the innocent pecks into a full-blown open mouth kiss as you mimicked his actions, kissing him deeply for a few seconds before you felt something warm and wet enter your mouth. His tongue. You froze but Astarion rubbed small circles into your lower back, helping you relax as you let his tongue enter your mouth. It felt weird but somehow good. Gods, you couldnt believe this. This morning you were just an ordinary woman and now, not even 12 hours later, you were engaged and snogging Lord Ancunìn. You felt Astarion move, he pressed you against a nearby tree, caging you in with his strong arms as he continued to kiss you sensually. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and he let out a gentle moan, which turned you on tremendously. You parted, both gasping for air.

"You taste wonderful, my love." he murmured before leaning in again, brushing his lips softly against yours. "I can't help myself but get lost in you."

You blushed at his sweet words, maybe this whole marriage thing wouldn't end so bad after all?

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion romance #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #ascended astarion #vampire

[explorevenus]

something permanent, pt. 3 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors ! u know the drill! dni or i will call ur mom

find part 1 here ♡

find part 2 here ♡

find part 4 here ♡

reminder: this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon, kidnapping, manipulation, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, noncon, stockholm syndrome

word count - 6.9k (nice)

description -  despite every alarm bell going off within her, darling attempts an escape. leon does not take kindly to it, and darling grapples with conflicting emotions. oh, and, those six weeks are up.

description/tags -  yandere!leon kennedy, dark!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, pet names (doll, princess, sweetheart, etc.), forced daddy kink, forced breeding, gaslighting if u squint, degradation, isolation, stockholm syndrome, noncon (kind of dubcon tho if we’re being honest), reader gets restrained, leon is honestly rly mean in this one for a min but he gets better i promise, reader is traumatized, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

a/n - first of all. THANK U FOR 700 FOLLOWERS. WHAT. THAT’S INSANE. i’m so glad everyone is liking this series and wants to see it continue-- the engagement has been so inspiring and i don’t think i’ve made this much quick progress with my writing in like. months. so thank u ;w; �� that being said, as always, my ask box is always open for discussion on this series, i love hearing everyone’s ideas/thoughts/interpretations ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

taglist - @dollrxst​ @ifeelikeflying​ @nexyswrites​ @idekman111​ @starcrossedreaders​ @litepowee​ @tosuckmyweenis​ @cosmicerror83​ @pb-n-aj​ @myeowza​ @honeysoakedbandages​​​

fic below the cut !! thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ♡

- venus ♡

As soon as you heard the front door shut behind him, you switched back to the news channel just to see the faces of your loved ones, if anything else. They took turns speaking of how much they missed you, how worried they were, what they wouldn't give just to know you're unharmed. You could hardly imagine what they must be thinking. They probably thought you were already dead. Perhaps you may as well have been.

The newscaster droned on about different ways to reach out with any information on your whereabouts and how to support your loved ones as they work to locate you. You wondered if Leon already knew about your friends and family telling your story to the media. With their contact information out there now, you found yourself worrying more about their safety than yours.

Eventually that portion of the broadcast came to an end and transitioned to coverage about a local event you couldn't care less about. You turned the TV off, laying flat on your back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling in silence. What were you supposed to do?

Sadly, the answer wasn't simple-- if you tried and failed to escape, you would be putting yourself in danger by landing yourself back out of Leon's good graces. If you tried and succeeded, you would potentially be putting the heat on your loved ones, whose homes would inevitably be the first place he'd look after your own. You weren't sure he'd be as forgiving with them as he would be with you. After all, he loathed the idea of hurting you... physically. He didn't seem to care much about the mental aspect.

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage with anxiety. The room was beginning to feel as if the walls were closing in around you and in that moment, your panic made your decision for you.

You had to at least try.

Chest heaving with panicked breaths, you sprang up from your place on the bed and began tearing through the room in search of something to get the door open with. Your hands were trembling as you ripped your way through every drawer, every shelf in the closet, even beneath the bed. Finding the bedroom void of anything useful, you made your way to the bathroom and administered the same treatment.

Throwing open the cabinet, you nearly cried with joy as your eyes landed on a pair of tweezers. They were a bit high up in the cabinet, so you crawled up on the countertop so you could reach them. You snatched them up, nearly dropping them with how badly your hands were shaking, before rushing back into the bedroom and to the door.

Dropping to your knees, you slotted the flat end of the tweezers into one of the screws on the doorknob. Your weak arms twisted, and after some resistance, the screw began to turn.

"Yes!" You laughed to yourself, dropping the tweezers to the floor in excitement. Quickly, you picked them back up and continued removing the screws from the doorknob.

Once the final one was gone, dropping to the floor beside you, you tugged with all the strength in your body.

Nothing.

Your chest tightened. Trying not to panic even further than you already were, you took a deep breath and gave it another pull and still, nothing. Then you realized the lock itself was the culprit. If you were going to get out this way, you'd have to take the entire door off. If you were going to do that, you'd need something to stand on so you could reach all of the hinges.

Pushing one of the bedside tables over to the door, you climbed atop the wood and put the tweezers to work again.

One hinge off.

Two.

Now you were on your knees, tongue poked out in concentration as you twisted off the final three screws. You felt electric, never having been closer to making it out. The final screw dropped to the floor in front of you and you held your breath as you supported the door with one hand, gently pulling it out of the doorway. It was heavy, your arms shook as you moved it out of the way and propped it up against the wall.

You took a minute to bask in the sight of the hallway before you. The house was dark and vacant. You had nothing but time and solace to figure out the other half of your escape.

You weren't sure where Leon was keeping your shoes-- he insisted you didn't need them anymore since you weren't supposed to be going anywhere-- so you padded your feet with two thick pairs of socks, slipped a plain black hoodie on over your sweater and bolted down the hallway. You nearly slipped descending the stairs, catching yourself by the wall in the nick of time, heading straight for the sliding glass door. 

Shockingly, you didn't even have to take that one out of its mechanism, let alone break it-- the lock lever was right there in front of you. You almost didn't take the opportunity, worried that it was suspiciously too easy, but at the same time it would be a shame to pass something like that up. Shakily, you flipped the lever, heartbeat slamming in your ears at the clean sound of the click, and as you slid the door open in front of you, you were so relieved you nearly vomited.

Warily, you stepped one foot out into the backyard, and then another. The sun felt incredible. There was a slight breeze going that carried some of the heat off of your skin. You hadn't realized how much you missed the smell of car exhaust and fragrant spring trees until this exact moment.

Now, if you could just find your way to a main road, you could properly discern where in the city you were and therefore, how far you were from your apartment.

Little did you know you were correct in assuming your escape, despite the effort, was far too easy to be real. Through his work for the government-- which you knew nothing about-- Leon knew a thing or two about surveillance. How else would he be able to keep tabs on the search for his "missing" darling and make sure those pesky little posters with your face on them stayed in the trash where they belonged?

He was halfway through typing up a report in his office when his phone pinged with a notification.

Motion alert: Movement detected at back door

Leon stiffened, opening the notification to be met with the image of his nightmares-- live camera footage of his darling, dressed in all black, attempting to climb the tall wooden fence in the backyard.

He was quick to abandon the task at hand-- mission reports were not nearly as important to him as you were-- and he wasted no time grabbing his keys and storming out of his office. Leon made a quick comment to one of his coworkers that there was an emergency requiring his attention and he needed to leave before rushing toward the parking garage with large strides. 

Now it was his heart hammering away in his ears. He couldn't stand the thought of making it home too late to stop you. He couldn't stand the thought of you hurting yourself climbing the fence. More than anything, he couldn't grasp why you would do this. You had been so sweet to him lately and he was sure you were finally coming out of your shell and accepting the fact that the two of you were made for each other, that you were made for him and him only. 

But you hadn't. You were lying to him each and every day. It was this realization that halted his sadness in its tracks and filled him with a level of white-hot anger he hadn't experienced in a long, long time.

Leon broke every speed limit imaginable on his way back to the house. It was a negligent price to pay to ensure you stayed where you were meant to. His hardened eyes switched constantly between the security camera footage and the road in front of him, any regard for the safety of himself or others gone with the wind. He watched as you came back outside with a dining room chair to place in front of the fence. All he could see was red.

He came tearing down the street, barely giving the car enough time to come to a complete stop as he threw it in park, yanked the keys out of the ignition and exited in nearly one motion.

Your heart sank into your stomach at the sound of a car door slamming shut. You froze in your tracks.

It's just the neighbors. It's just the neighbors. It's just the neighbors, you tried reassuring yourself, planting the dining room chair in the squishy grass right up against the fence.

But then you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door swinging open so hard it banged into the wall.

Oh god. Oh fuck.

Hurriedly, you climbed atop the dining room chair, knees wobbling, trying so hard to convince yourself you were just imagining the heavy, nearing footsteps behind you. Body numb with adrenaline, you gripped the top of the fence and hoisted yourself up, planting one foot against the rough wood to help push yourself up and over when a strong hand closed around your other ankle with a vice grip, yanking you down from where you stood.

You screamed as you fell to the cold, hard ground, hoping someone would hear you, but Leon was quick to scoop you up against his chest and clamp his hand over your mouth.

"Where do you think you're going, doll?" He asked, not one bit of sympathy in his tone. He was squeezing your body so tightly in his arms that it genuinely hurt. You almost worried he would crush your bones.

You were thrashing in his hold, kicking your legs out wildly in a futile attempt to throw him off his balance, but you knew it was useless. You wanted to answer him, to tell him some stupid lie about how you just wanted some fresh air, but there was no point now, not that you even could given his hand was over your mouth. He was already angry with you, the angriest he'd ever been in fact, and to that point you had no idea what you were in for.

Leon dragged you back into the house, not even reacting to the way you struggled in his arms, and as he stepped through the doorway you couldn't help but wish you'd savored the time spent outdoors a little more, because there was no way he was ever going to give you that chance again.

He released his hold on your mouth to reach for something you couldn't see-- you were less concerned about whatever it was than you were about saving your own ass.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy, I'm so sorry--"

He scoffed. "No, you're not," Leon replied coldly, tone laced not just with anger but with hurt. "Y'know, sweetheart, I thought we had something really special. Did you not promise to behave yourself for me this morning? You were acting so strange, I knew you were up to something, and still, I found it within myself to trust your word that you would do right by me. Yet, here we are."

You wailed, gasping for breath, "I-I know, daddy, I'm sorry, I swear, I'm so sorry-"

He simply covered up your mouth again as he began to ascend the stairs, freezing in his tracks as he looked down the hallway to see his bedroom door off its hinges. Leon's muscles stiffened, cranking even tighter around you-- you could hardly breathe.

"Just look at what a mess you made, you ungrateful brat," He spoke through his teeth, shaking with fury. "Did it ever cross your empty little brain that I keep you here for your own good? That I might be protecting you from all the awful, evil people of this world who just want to hurt you? God, if you're going to keep acting like an animal, I should really start keeping you on a leash."

There was little time to dwell on the plentiful irony within that statement. He continued to charge down the hallway, tossing you unceremoniously onto the bed as soon as he set foot into the wrecked bedroom. You tried to scramble away from him and back toward the door, but he wasn't having it-- now acutely aware of your inclination to escape, he simply snatched up your wrists in one hand and pinned you back down to the bed.

He pulled something from his back pocket, and you weren't sure what it was at first until you felt cool metal against your wrists and heard an unmistakable click. You froze in horror, looking up just in time to watch him finish fastening your handcuffs and locking you to the bedframe.

"D-Daddy please, please don't do this, I-I'm sorry--"

Enraged, he punched the wall right above your head to silence you and you could have sworn you heard it crack.

"No, you're not, but you will be," He nearly growled, taking a step back so he could gesture to the state of the room. "If I had known you were going to destroy our home and rip a door off just to do the one thing I asked you not to do, I would have tied you to this bed a long fucking time ago. Do you even hear me when I speak to you?"

You were crying so hard you couldn't see, knees drawn up to your chest as the cold metal cuffs bit into your skin.

"Answer me!" Leon demanded.

"Y-Yes, I hear you, I-I'm so--"

"Sorry?" He finished your sentence in a mocking tone. "Bullshit. This requires far more than an apology and you know it, don't you princess? That's why you're so scared. Brave enough to break the rules but too afraid to face the consequences... It's pathetic, really."

Your lip quivered as you tried and failed to control your breathing. You couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said earlier, about making you sorry. You couldn't possibly imagine what he meant by that.

The more you thought about it, the more you became frustrated-- in a dizzyingly short amount of time that frustration began clouding over your distress. You weren't sure how much longer you could put up with this before he'd break you. Pleading with him didn't work, begging for his forgiveness didn't work, and hell, playing by his rules didn't always work either. Suddenly you were no longer crying because you were scared, you were crying because you were pissed.

"You wanna talk about what's pathetic, Leon?" You shouted through your tears, glaring straight up at him, speaking his name with the highest volume of venom you could muster. "You're just a fucking loser who couldn't land a girlfriend like a normal person, and you're taking it out on me. If you have to shackle me to your bed just to get me to stay with you, it's not too hard to see why no one else ever wanted you."

You could see his jaw clench. Leon leaned down to your level, faces so close together you could feel the heat of his heavy breaths as he gripped your chin harshly, forcing you to remain at attention.

"I know what you watched on the news this morning," He said, voice so low with anger it might have chilled you to the bone if you weren't so completely fuming. "This is why I keep you here, sweetheart, because those horrible people just say whatever they can to get into your head and turn you against me when all I've ever done is protect you. They must be so miserable."

Now it was your jaw clenching. You almost laughed.

"It took a lot less than that newscast to turn me against you," You scoffed, trying to ignore how sore your arms were already becoming from being tied up above your head. "You took me away from everything I've ever known, stripped me of my identity and my freedom just so you could live out your delusional fantasy. You're sick in the head, Leon, and I don't want to play your game anymore. You don't need me and you sure as hell don't need a family, you need to be in prison. You need professional fucking help."

He... grinned?

He grinned.

His eyes hardened over in a way you'd never seen before and although you resisted showing it, it made you so nervous you could have puked right then and there.

"That's where you're wrong, baby," He bit back condescendingly. "I don't need you telling me what I need when you're the one who's been led so far astray. It's not me that needs saving, it's you, and I have every intention of filling up that pretty little head of yours with what's right, what's real. One of these days, you'll be thanking me."

Your rage consumed you completely-- in a split second decision, you spat in his face, speaking through gritted teeth, "Fuck you."

Ever so slowly, he raised a hand to his face to wipe off the saliva, not breaking eye contact with you for a second. He collected your spit on his fingers, staring you down in silence for a moment as if he were expecting you to backtrack and apologize, but you didn't. 

"You don't mean that," He spoke as he pried your mouth open with the hand that held your jaw and shoved his spit-soaked fingers inside. "Poor, dumb little baby. You don't even know what you're saying anymore, and I'm the delusional one?"

You tried to bite his fingers but his hold on your jaw was strong.

"No biting," Leon demanded. "Try it again and I'll pry every last tooth out of your bratty mouth."

Well... you couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but you decided you'd rather not test him. All you could bring yourself to do was reminisce about how nice the sunshine felt on your cheeks, how pleasant the breeze felt in your hair, the rough wooden fence on your soft palms as he held his fingers in your mouth until you'd adequately sucked them clean, swallowing hesitantly. Only then did he withdraw from you, hands shaking in manic fury as he pulled up the calendar on his phone and shoved it in your face, showing you an event he had entered that was coming up in three days.

It was simply marked, six weeks.

You couldn't help it-- you shuddered, trying as you might to will yourself to just keep thinking about the sun and the breeze and that fence, all so painfully close but so far away.

You couldn't sleep.

You laid wide awake, arms still bound to the bedframe by the metal cuffs that were biting into your wrists, staring at what you could only assume was the ceiling as the lights were off and Leon was asleep beside you. He'd only let you out of your restraints to use the bathroom, after which he'd force you right back into place, locked up tight every time.

It was the night before the big day, the six week mark. Leon hadn't returned to work since you'd attempted your escape and you could only imagine what excuse he'd pulled to get out of it. He did mention he held a good amount of power in his workplace, so you were certain none of his subordinates felt any reason to question his word anyway.

He'd removed anything even remotely capable of being used to hurt yourself or facilitating your escape from the room. No TV, no tweezers, no razors, no belts, no medicine in the cabinets. He'd put safety covers on all of the outlets and replaced the digital alarm clock with an analog one-- no radio, either. If your family was still out there pleading for answers, you would have no way of knowing.

Exactly as he'd planned.

The worst part-- which you never thought you'd catch yourself thinking-- was that he was practically ignoring you. He'd hardly said a word to you or looked in your direction since you'd tried to escape. He would pipe up every now and then in select situations, seemingly only to scold you. You'd tried to get back at him with another hunger strike, which he didn't take kindly to. You'd yelled and kicked at him and begged him to uncuff you, to which he would just grumble that you were being ridiculous and needed to calm down or he'd never let you out until you could prove to him you deserved it. Other than that, silence. Complete and total deafening silence.

Shamefully, you craved his attention. You didn't realize just how nice it felt until he'd withheld it from you entirely.

You nudged his sleeping form with your knee, speaking out in a sweet, sad voice, "Daddy?"

Leon shuffled a bit beside you, putting a hand on your knee to stop your prodding. "What?" He asked, voice gravelly with sleep.

"I can't sleep," You whispered.

Despite how wrong you knew it was, you hoped he would feel sorry for you. You hoped he would let you out of your restraints so he could properly pull you into his arms and rub your back until you'd finally slip away into a dream. Part of you hoped he might at least stay awake and talk to you for a while.

But he didn't.

"Count sheep," He dismissed you, rolling over to go back to sleep.

The analog clock ticked.

Now it was Leon shaking you awake.

You groaned, trying (and failing) to bury your head into the pillow while restrained on your back.

"Get up," He said sternly.

"Leon, please, I just fell asleep not that long ago--"

"That's too bad," He yanked at your restraints to shock you into consciousness. "I know what you need to do to regain my trust."

That statement alone was enough to get you to pry your tired eyes open and look at him. Morning light had flooded into the room. He was already dressed and sat at the edge of the bed, looking at you expectantly.

"And what would that be?" You asked.

Leon reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key, unlocking your cuffs. Your arms were dead and fell heavily to the bed on either side of you as you let out a breath of relief-- your limbs throbbed and tingled as the feeling returned. Still, he wasted no time taking ahold of you, pushing a pen into your dominant hand and a notebook into your other.

"You're going to write to your family, and you're going to tell them to quit looking for you."

Your mouth went dry. "W-What? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," He answered you. "If you want to convince me that you're really trying to get better and behave for me, that's what you need to do."

Sleep deprivation and discomfort left your brain foggy-- you tried to think through what you were going to do, but as much as you wanted to tell him to fuck off, you weren't sure you could stand another length of time being cuffed, and you really weren't sure you could handle him continuing his vow of silence with you. You swallowed thickly.

"O-Okay," The agreement fell from your lips before you could stop it. "That's it?"

He crossed his arms. "It's a start. I need to know you're committed to this, to me."

"And what do I get in return?" You asked.

Leon scoffed. "A sliver of my trust back. Don't get greedy on me, now, princess."

You stared down at the book of blank pages in your lap. You wondered if it was worth it, if they'd believe whatever bullshit you'd churn out on that paper, if they would really give up. If Leon would really start to trust you again.

Finally, you clicked the pen and began writing with your dead, heavy hand.

Hey, it's me. Ever since I left my job, my apartment, everything, I've felt so free. Lonely, sometimes, but free. Please don't make this harder than it needs to be. Maybe some day we'll see each other again, but I need to do what's best for me now. Even if it hurts.

Never think that I don't think about you all the time. Only always do I miss you. This is just a better place for me, where I am now. So don't worry about me. After some time has passed I may write again just to let you know I'm okay. Freedom has never tasted so sweet. Even if it kills me sometimes.

Leave every worry you have about me behind. Every last one. Of course I still love you and I understand how you all must be feeling, but even so, I need you to stop looking for me. Now, please, leave me in peace.

You looked over every last shaky word with pride. You hoped Leon wouldn't read into it too closely as you handed it off to him. It wasn't particularly a cleverly coded message, in fact it was rather rudimentary, but all you could do was hope they would read between the lines and Leon wouldn't.

The first letter of every sentence spelled out your true message: HELPME NOTSAFE LEON

You hoped it would be enough to point them in the right direction, if they even noticed it at all.

"Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Leon asked, folding up the page neatly and tucking it away in his pocket as he quickly reached for the notebook and pen-- he couldn't risk you turning around and hurting yourself with either one of those items. "I'll send this off to them soon, but today is just about us. You know what today is, don't you princess?"

Panicked tingles washed over you. You nodded stiffly. "S-Six weeks," You mumbled.

"That's right," He smiled softly, cupping your cheek. "Such a smart girl. Our kids are going ivy league, I can already feel it."

You flashed him an incredibly weak smile, but said nothing.

"That being said, I think you know what else you need to do to gain my trust back, don't you?" He asked, resting a hand on your thigh, looking down at you with a smug look on his face, like he'd won.

Of course you knew what he wanted, you were just hoping you weren't correct in your assumption.

You shook your head. "What?"

He chuckled pitifully, like he just couldn't begin to imagine how empty your head must be, how easily molded with such a lack of intelligence. It made your skin crawl. Finally, he answered with exactly the words you were terrified of hearing.

"Relax and let me put a baby in you," He said softly. "You know that."

"Right," You nodded, casting your gaze down to your hands, feeling your heart begin to pound-- there was no getting out of this. After what you'd just been through over the past three days, you couldn't bear the idea of making him angrier. The fight left you for now and you shrank into yourself.

His hand traveled a bit further up your thigh, fingertips squishing softly into the meat of your flesh. "You are going to give me a baby, right, doll?" Leon asked, face unreadable, but you weren't stupid, you knew this was a test. He hadn't exactly made a habit of asking you for your opinion on anything.

With a quiet, measured breath, you willed yourself to return his gaze, looking straight into his cobalt eyes as you forced a much more convincing smile than the last one.

"Yeah, of course," You spoke through your teeth. "...Daddy."

Leon visibly softened at that. At the end of the day, it pained him to punish you and he couldn't possibly stay mad at that face. He still felt you had a lot to atone for, but that didn't matter to him in that moment. All he could think about was feeling your cunt wrapped around him again after such a dreary six weeks, pumping you full of his cum until neither of you could take it anymore, until it leaked out of you, until there was no possible way you weren't knocked up.

The blonde shifted on the bed, kissing up the length of your leg until he rested his chin on your hip. "Good answer, princess," He mused. "We're gonna be so happy. I promise. You're gonna be the prettiest mama in the world."

You looked up at the ceiling, body going numb with fear. There was no way you could handle bearing and birthing and raising your captor's child, being tied to him for a minimum of 18 more years, having to explain to a child why mommy isn't allowed outside of the house.

As you pondered your future, Leon was busying himself with your body-- he was already growing hard just feeling your warm, soft skin beneath his hands, breathing in your scent, dragging his lips along your navel just to savor you. He'd so terribly missed experiencing your body this way. As hard as it was for him to hold off, he wanted to make this moment as special for you as it was for him.

With your contraception gone and your wounds healed, this would be his first real try at getting you pregnant, the first real chance his seed might take. Leon could hardly contain his excitement.

His fingertips tickled over your electric skin as he reached for your panties, pulling them slowly down your legs. Parting you by your thighs, he looked at your pussy with stars in his eyes, as if he'd never seen something so beautiful. All you could do was lay there and wait for him to get on with it.

You thought of the sun on your skin. Leon drew a finger up the length of your cunt, settling between your legs so he could bury his face in you, nose bumping your clit softly as he began to lap at your folds. You thought of the breeze in your hair. He gripped your thighs on either side of his head, pressing one down to the bed to pry you further open as his tongue flicked at your jewel, coaxing desire unto you. You thought of the soft grass beneath your socks. He groaned into you with satisfaction, sending vibrations through your lower half. You thought of the sound of birds. Two fingers prodded at your entrance.

Suddenly you stiffened, tears rimming your eyes-- all you could think of was the incident, vivid memories of the throbbing pain and the blood and the look on his face flooding back to you, filling your mind and body with a sour feeling.

You tensed, squirming in his hold.

"D-Daddy," You stuttered. "I-I don't want fingers this time... please."

It took him a second to will himself to pull away from you, looking up at you through his lashes with spit and slick glistening over his reddened lips. "Are you sure, sweetheart? I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded. "It's just... I'm scared."

"Scared of what, baby?" He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as he continued to idly circle your clit with his thumb.

Your lip quivered, tears leaking from your eyes and dripping down the sides of your face. You looked back up to the ceiling, afraid to show him how rattled you were. "I can't stop thinking about it."

When a few seconds passed and he hadn't moved or answered you, you dared a peek down at him-- at first he looked a bit confused, like he was trying to search his brain for whatever "it" was, and then it dawned on him and his eyes rounded with guilt.

"Oh, sweetheart... no, no, that'll never happen again," He rambled out, voice dripping with concern. "I promise. It's over now, you're all healed up. You're better now, princess."

"I-I know," You said, trying desperately to conceal your tears, bringing a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. "I'm just scared. I can't stop thinking about it."

Leon frowned. Your attempts not to alert him that you were crying were in vain, he definitely noticed, and it shattered his heart. He pressed a soft kiss to your clit in place of his thumb. "You just need me to remind you how good it feels, huh? Don't be scared, okay? I've got you. I'm right here."

His words hardly quelled the ice cold fear that ripped through your body like a shockwave. You weren't sure how exactly that was the solution he'd landed on, but you'd given up on trying to understand his way of thinking by now. Whether you meant to or not, your body remained stiff as he resumed his ministrations, tongue dancing over your jewel, fingers pushing deeper and deeper into you, slowly, as if that would make you feel better.

You kept your hand over your mouth to silence your cries, desperately trying to keep a handle on your breathing while every fight or flight response in your body was pounding the alarm. Your eyes screwed shut as he began to drag in and out, pads of his fingers brushing over your sweet spot. You were paralyzed with fear, viscerally uncomfortable, and ashamed that you were enjoying this.

Sucking particularly hard at your puffy clit, Leon delighted in your reaction as you whimpered, completely unbothered by your tears. As far as Leon was concerned, you were in need of a good fuck to set you back on the right path and he had every intention of giving that to you, and more. He was more interested in fucking all that brattiness out of you than anything else.

Your face burned hot with shame and tears as you felt a quick peak rising deep in your stomach, wishing he wasn't so fucking good at this. Everything in you screamed to push him away, but something louder begged you to stay put and relax.

Oddly enough, that "something" had a voice that sounded a lot like Leon.

Unable to hold back anymore, you began to sob as your release gushed over Leon's face and fingers, wishing you would just die while he dragged out your orgasm, praising you quietly.

"That's it, good girl. Good fuckin' girl," He grunted into your pussy, lapping up every last drop of you. "Feels good, doesn't it, baby?"

You couldn't breathe well enough to answer him. Before you could stop yourself, you found your free hand grasping down at him, reaching desperately for his hand. He granted you that with enthusiasm, squeezing your palm lovingly.

"Oh, sweetheart... you're alright. Just breathe for me, pretty girl, I'm right here," Leon cooed, withdrawing his fingers from inside you but again, continuing to toy with your clit just to keep you stimulated and pliant. "You did so good for me. I'm so proud of you."

You clutched his hand like you would die if he let go, all the while he peppered your stomach with kisses as he rose to meet your gaze, pulling your hand away from your mouth so he could plant his lips there. Sighing into his kiss, you tangled your arms around him and cried into his mouth, too absorbed by him to notice he was unbuckling his belt with his free hand.

Leon pulled away from you just long enough to undress, gifting you another kiss before rutting his hard cock against your folds impatiently.

"Fuck, you feel so good... You have no idea how badly I missed fucking you."

"I-I missed you too," You cried, but you weren't referring to the six-weeks-no-sex thing. Just hours ago he was three days deep into ignoring you completely, and now he was giving you everything you'd wished for.

The tension in your muscles released and you went dumb, letting your head fall back as you submitted to the feeling of him, the head of his cock brushing over your clit, the pearly precum that leaked from him slicking your already wet cunt even further.

With a shudder he sank into you, watching your face in awe as your jaw dropped at the dull sting of his cock stretching you out. You whined softly, clenching around him, drawing a lustful sound from him that you weren't sure you'd ever heard before, but it certainly did something to you. His hips bumped into yours as he impatiently thrusted into you down to the hilt, dropping his head down to suck and nip at your throat.

"So fucking tight," Leon grunted right into your ear. You clutched at his strong shoulders, your body temperature rising at the praise and the second knock at your hips as his hips pushed forward again. "God, you were made for me, princess."

He stayed still for a moment just to bask in the sensation of your gummy walls clenching impatiently around him, begging to draw his cock further inside than he could possibly go. It wasn't long before he couldn't help himself anymore, planting one hand beside your head and the other firmly on your hip as he began railing into you.

You were babbling out broken cries, nails digging into his shoulder blades hard enough to draw blood, but you had a feeling he wouldn't mind. The bedframe was bumping into the wall with increased volume, sending bits of drywall from the hole he'd punched earlier flittering down into your hair.

Leon's thick cock was passing over all of the most sensitive parts of you, stirring up the need inside you so quickly that you almost felt dizzy. You were holding on to him for dear life, slinging a leg over his hip to draw him in as closely to you as possible. His skin was rosy and warm, littered with beauty marks and the occasional scar here and there. You wondered if he'd tell you where they came from some day.

Some day. You shook off the thought, trying to stay in the moment. It was just easier that way.

"H-Harder," You pleaded, taking your lip between your teeth.

His face lit up, curling his fingers into your skin with a bruising force as he picked up the pace and pounded into you, reaching deeper than either of you thought was possible-- the swollen head of his cock was bumping into your already sensitive cervix, pulsing a pain through you that made you squirm and see stars. Oddly, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"So good," You shivered, letting your shaking hands slide up to tug at his hair. "I-I'm close again, Leon, I'm close--"

With a hum he slowed down again, watching with amusement as you griped at the loss of the sensation. "That's not what you're supposed to call me, is it, sweet girl?" He taunted you. "Already fucked stupid, aren't you? Not a single fucking thought behind those eyes."

"Daddy, please," You relented. "Wanna cum. Wan' it so bad, please..."

He made a show of pondering for a second, ultimately deciding your apology would do, just this once. Tonight was meant to be special and he was sick of punishing you by now. Hiking your leg up over his shoulder, Leon thrusted into you twice as hard as before, if that was even possible, making you cry out with bliss.

You were already close, but Leon really wanted to make sure he got you there. Sneaking a hand between the two of you, rubbing achingly slow circles into your clit. Your eyesight blurred as you yanked at his hair, twitching around you as not one but two orgasms crashed over you almost painfully, one after the other soaking his cock and the sheets with your release.

Desperately in need of a break, you writhed in his arms and tried to push him off of you, but he wasn't budging.

"Nuh-uh, none of that," Leon chided, gripping your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head. "Take it, baby, just take it. Gonna put a fuckin' baby in you, make you mine."

Your tears returned with a quickness as your limbs twitched with overstimulation, wondering just how much more he had in him. Funny enough, now you were begging him to slow down again. He wouldn't, though. He was far too close to his own release but terrifyingly good at not showing it.

Just when you thought you were genuinely going to pass out, his pace stuttered and he pulled you further into him by your hip, hands still pinned above your head as he stuffed himself as deeply inside of you as he could physically manage, and you felt the unmistakable warmth within you as his seed flooded your cunt.

Leon continued to fuck his cum into you with a few more lazy thrusts, catching his breath as he leaned over you with a smile. He let go of your wrists and cupped your chin.

"That's it, sweetheart. Y'feel that?"

You nodded, dizzy, arms latching around him once more.

"Good. I'm gonna make sure you're pregnant in no time, I promise," He chuckled breathlessly, brushing his lips over your forehead. "Just gotta make sure it takes."

Leon pulled slowly out of you, watching as a pool of pearly white cum seeped out of your hole and puddled on the sheets. He was quick to swipe it up with his finger, pushing it deeply back into you. After all, he couldn't stand the thought of a single drop going to waste.

part 4 ♡

#venustext #sintext #yandere!leon kennedy #something permanent #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader

[underdark-dreams]

[Poll results]

A smut piece for Rolan that became a 7k word fic. I don't know what it is about him--I just need him to be happy. 🖤 For anyone else who feels the same!

In Amber

Rolan can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He only knows he wants things with her to be different. A series of encounters between Rolan and the person who is teaching his black heart how to hope.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Explicit Sexual Content, Mild Hurt/Comfort | Word Count: 7,033 [Read on AO3]

The beloved hero of the Grove has saved them all from the Shadow Curse, apparently.

Word spreads fast, and it's all Rolan hears the Harpers talking about in their rush to take final leave of Last Light Inn. Nearly all had gone to Moonrise Towers with the Druid, but a small group stayed behind with Isobel in case the fight turned to the worst.

Rolan was the first one packed. With the shadows lifting, all he wants to do is travel the road to Baldur's Gate and finally reach his destiny. Leave this hollow place behind him.

At last they are finally moving in the right direction again--the three of them along with Lakrissa and Alfira, led by the Harper rangers.

He glances at Cal and Lia walking beside him. They're in the middle of chatting about the first things they want to do when they reach the lower city. Rolan can't seem to stop checking that they’re still there–as if he might look to find them gone once more.

He hasn't seen their savior since the night she brought his siblings back to him. That made twice now that she'd saved all three of their lives. Few things bristled against his nature more than owing a debt that couldn't be repaid. Rolan didn't like the feeling of being under anyone's thumb.

She wouldn't even accept a reward for saving his brother and sister's lives, just waved him away with a smile on her lips. The memory frustrated him endlessly. He couldn't understand why she took such an interest in helping him and his family. He was even beginning to consider that goodness of heart might really exist…at least when it came to hers.

Half of his mind felt tormented by her inscrutable kindness. The other half thought he'd very much like to kiss her.

Before he could brush away the alarming idea, the Harpers in front threw up a cheer. Rolan looked around to see the commotion.

She and her companions were covered in more blood than he'd seen on them yet, but they were still standing as they led their small army down the path from Moonrise Towers. 

His eyes light automatically to her face–it shines with a radiant smile, but Rolan recognizes the way her shoulders slump under her armor. He is flooded with relief. At least she's alive. 

Their groups converge on the road outside the tower. Everything is a jumble of cheers and shouts as the Harpers jostle forward to reunite with their comrades; a man he's never met claps Rolan’s shoulder hard enough to make him wince.

"Go on, then," says Lia beside him. She's following his gaze knowingly. "While you've got a chance."

He only manages to throw his sister a scowl before she trots away. Is it that obvious?

He decides to take her advice after all. She was right that this could very well be the final time their paths converged. Baldur's Gate was a large city, and whatever grand adventures their savior would face next, he doubted they would involve spending much time browsing magical emporiums.

She gave him a little wave as he approached, the kind one might give an old friend. It pricked his conscience. He'd thanked her for saving Cal and Lia, true, but his mind tossed up all the countless other times he'd been needlessly unpleasant toward her. 

"Seems we owe you thanks yet again," he said, hoping it came off sincere. 

She shook her head wryly. "I've never done any of it alone, you know that. Every one of these people fought like hells in there." 

Standing close, his nose was hit by the thick tang of blood that coated on her armor. How much of it was hers?

"You should go to see Isobel," Rolan insisted. He'd drag her straight to the cleric himself, if she'd let him.

"Do I look that bad?" She was teasing, but there was a strain to it. "As long as I make it to my bedroll in the next hour, I'll be fine. You're sweet to worry, though."

"Stop saying things like that," Rolan snapped, unable to contain himself. "You're so nice, and I'm just a bastard."

Her eyes widened at him, taken aback. "I don't think you're a bastard."

Rolan looked down at his hands. "That's what makes you so nice," he said. He had to get to the point. "Look…I know I haven't been the easiest person to get along with. I've been rude and awful, ever since the Grove, and you didn't deserve it. So." He straightened up properly. "I'm sorry for that."

It's far less eloquent than he'd rehearsed, but she seems to understand the sentiment.

"Don’t worry about it," she tells him. "You feel responsibility for the people you love. That can make anyone forget themselves for a while." 

"I suppose," is all he can manage to say. How well she seems to speak what's in his mind.

Her Githyanki companion approaches with a clear intention to speak with her, and Rolan turns away, not wanting to intrude on the company of her true friends.

"Rolan, wait–" 

The flutter in his stomach humiliates him. Will he ever get used to her saying his name?

She rummages in the pack at her waist. "Almost forgot. I found something–well, stole, but it doesn't matter now." 

A fist is held out to him, closed around something. 

Uncertain what to expect, Rolan offers his hand. Her fingers graze softly against his as they deposit something small and hard. He looks down at his palm.

"A rock," he says, deadpan.

"Not just any rock, it's a topaz."

Rolan blinks at her. "And…what am I supposed to do with this, exactly?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Keep it, or don't. It just made me think of you. Matches your eyes." The admission brought a flush of pink to her cheeks. 

He felt his heart skip at the sight, followed by a jolt of fear–as if she might be able to see the hope blooming inside his chest.

He turns away with a tut. "Absurd."

She gave only a satisfied laugh before taking her leave. Once she'd retreated out of sight, he tucked the gem securely into the folds of his robe.

-

Rolan has long abandoned the fantasy that he is his master's apprentice. 

Whipping boy would be a more accurate job description. Perhaps test subject. He is trapped in an impossible game that he can never win, and his highest purpose is to be the canvas where Lorroakan paints his next magical experiment. 

His mind shudders at the way the red wizard's eyes rest on him during "lessons": casually devoid of all concern or care. No matter how hard Rolan concentrates, no matter what he answers, it won't be good enough. And then the pain will follow. 

The mindless Constructs are worth far more to his master than he is. 

There was a time when someone made Rolan feel like he could deserve more, but that time is gone now. All he can hope is to learn enough, train hard enough, and one day claw his way through to something better.

Today, however, will offer the chance of a reprieve. He's been sent to deliver a message on foot across the lower city. Weeks ago he would've seen the task as an insult. Now he wonders whether it might take all morning, if he's lucky. 

If he often feels like a drowning man, these moments of escape are like a sweet gasp of air. He walks with his face tilted up to soak in the sun's warmth. 

The marks of abuse that paint his features have long stopped troubling him. An occasional passerby might stare at the bruises, but since the Absolute army's march, most Baldurians give Tieflings a wide enough berth not to notice. One wearing fine robes is no different to them.

As he passes the bridge to the Counting House, his eyes land on her figure. He stops short in surprise, earning himself a rude remark about clumsy devils from the woman behind him.

Rolan would recognize her face in any crowd. She stood on the bridge in the middle of some kind of confrontation between two women; one of them a beggar, by the state of her, the other finely dressed.

As he watches he very clearly sees her invite the rich one to "piss off", to the woman's indignation.

An affectionate chuckle escapes him. Then he winces, hand rising to the cracked skin on his lip. He tastes a drop of blood.

Swift panic grips his chest. She can't fucking see him like this, not once–more broken and pathetic than ever. Not after how many times she's already played rescuer to him. He cringes in shame at the thought.

At least she hasn't found him trapped behind his desk, there's a chance he can slip away unnoticed yet–

"Rolan?" 

He missed his moment by a hair. It's unfortunate that hearing her voice after all this time freezes him straight to the cobblestones, or he might consider dashing away like a coward.

"I thought that was you! I'd recognize those horns anywhere." 

Resigned, he turns back toward her. But he keeps his face cast down toward the pavement.

"What do you want?" He asks stiffly.

"Hello to you too," she laughs, and he stifles the impulse to watch her do so. "It's been a while. Cal and Lia, they're good?"

"Thanks to you," he concedes. No thanks to me.

"I'm glad to hear it." He watches her boots step closer, tentative. "Everything okay with you?"

She can never just leave him alone, can she. Why does she insist on caring when so many others don't bother?

"Fine, busy with my studies," Rolan deflects. "I've got to get back to the Sundries."

There's a tight pause, and then her voice grows firm. "Look at me."

He curses himself for being unable to disregard her, and for his eyes wanting to take her in despite everything. Slowly, he raises his head to meet her gaze.

Her face is somehow lovelier than he remembered. As he watches, it shatters in shock. He can see her eyes flit from mark to mark as if taking inventory.

"Who did this to you?" She whispers, aghast.

He turns away, unable to hold her gaze. "Believe me, it's nothing that can be helped."

"Rolan–" Her hand extends toward his jaw.

If the thought of her touch thrills him, the thought of being touched by her with pity is unbearable.

"I don't need your help," he spits, slapping the hand away with his own. "And I certainly don't need your damned sympathy!"

The shock and hurt on her face are the last things Rolan sees before he turns on his heel.

-

The archwizard was not pleased with his late return. That night, Rolan comes home with a large fresh bloom of purple over his left eye.

Lia's already limited patience snaps. She flies into his face with angry tears and threats that she'll march straight into Lorroakan's tower herself with shortsword in hand. Cal stands between them, pleading for peace, eyes wide and sad.

"Enough," Rolan orders them both. "Don't you see we're nothing but hellspawn refugees to these people? My position is the only thing keeping us under this roof, the only thing." 

He doesn't stop Lia as she storms out–she didn’t take her sword with her. The door rattles on its hinges as it slams behind her. He pushes wordlessly past Cal to his room, and collapses in a heap against his bed pillows.

His face aches enough that he knows sleep won’t come easy tonight. One hand reaches into the robe at his chest, and he slowly pulls out the small amber stone. His fingers turn it over and over as he closes his eyes once more to escape into imagining.

In some other world, he could've been the one powerful enough to save and protect her. Even be the person who makes her smile. 

He would not be the pathetic, broken man that he is. He could feel worthy to return her tender touches with his own, drawing her close to him instead of pushing her away. Feel her lips on his own…her hands circling his shoulders… 

Rolan rouses himself to stare down at the topaz shining in his palm. He feels his rotten heart crumple. 

He can't remember what made him this way. Bitter, insufferable. He doesn't like the man he is. He wants to be different–he wants things with her to be different. 

The stone grows warm in his fist as he clenches it. She crept deep into his heart a long, long time ago. He'll probably never get the chance to tell her, so he might as well admit it to himself.

And even if he did see her again–what chance did he have that she might feel the same? None. She single-handedly managed to improve every part of his life that she touched. What could he possibly offer her?

In this world, precious little.

-

Lorroakan of Ramazith lay dead on the ground. 

Rolan felt a numb hatred as he stood over his former master, eyes frozen wide in the final shock of death. Months from now the expression might have given him cause to laugh. Today, Rolan can only stare mutely.

One more sick megalomaniac who possessed more power than Rolan could have dreamed of wielding…brought down by his insane, insatiable lust for more. Always always more. For what? In the end, he was just another corpse.

It was she who dispatched him, of course. Why wouldn't it be? 

After all this time, it was perfectly inevitable that she and her friends would be the ones to fly in and deliver him from yet another tragic end. He felt like he was stuck on a wheel going around and around. He couldn't escape her, either in reality or in his own mind.

Rolan comes to himself and looks down at his robes. Blood splatters his front and soaks up to his elbows; a crust of frost coats his boots, from whose spell he can't remember. All at once an overwhelming tiredness soaks into his bones.

The dream of destiny that had carried him here…had it ever existed, really?

He decides to slip away while she's distracted, speaking urgently to one of her companions. Her plans probably extend far outside this room and beyond, but this is where his path reaches a bloody dead end.

He allows himself one last look at her profile before stepping quietly to the portal. He wants only a bath and the release of sleep.

His feet drag along the streets of the lower city as they carry his body home, ignoring any frightened stares at the state of his clothes. Silent as he can, he slips through the front door and down the hall to his room. Cal and Lia's voices carry from the kitchen. He'll face their questions when he wakes. 

In the end, exhaustion and relief overtake him. There will be no more lessons. He falls to bed in a heap and drifts off, still wearing his master's blood on his hands.

-

In retrospect: letting Lia discover him face-down in his bed covered in dried blood was not the smartest decision Rolan had ever made. 

After he'd groggily yelled himself hoarse enough to stop her screams, a sharp pang of conscience drove through him like ice. During the time he thought the two of them were lost to the Shadowlands, he wanted nothing more than to drink himself to an early death.

He never wanted either of them to feel that emptiness. For once, he let Lia hold him tight without protest.

With a few days' rest, and some of Cal's better efforts in the kitchen to date, Rolan's spirits had rallied sufficiently that he felt well enough to leave the house. Even to attempt a cautious return to his place of employment. 

To his surprise and distinct confusion, no one at Sorcerous Sundries had a thing to say about Lorroakan's disappearance, or about any possible employee involvement. 

If anything, the mood around the shop was noticeably lighter. He even caught Tolna humming a soft little tune to her bookshelves. “The tomes never respected him, you know,” she whispered to Rolan.

And once he got over the bizarre sight of Lorroakan's projection, hovering with a vacant smile behind his former desk, he found a perverse humor in it. Who was the fucking errand boy now?

Most of all, Rolan found himself free to finally do what he came to this place for: study magic. He had no archmage master, but he was intelligent, and he now had free access to all of the tomes in the tower library that Lorroakan had enjoyed dangling under his nose.

These days he preferred to spend his days alone in the upstairs, absorbed in theory and practice. His skills grew, and so did his confidence in himself.

If he also felt drawn to the spot because it was the last place he'd seen her…well, he was far too late on that score. He could've finally confessed the feelings that had long been bursting through his chest. 

Instead he had slunk away in silence, too scared to stand in front of her and admit how misguided he'd been all this time. She must think very little of him. She probably didn't think of him at all.

Who knew if she was even still in Baldur's Gate? He searched every face he encountered on the streets, hoping for an answer. It had become a reflex.

At the end of another day, he trudged alone across the twilight square. His hands ached from practicing the gestures for elemental conjurement over and over. One of the Steel Watchers clomped mindlessly past, looking about like Rolan felt. 

The thought of going home filled him with weariness. Cal and Lia's cheerful bickering always annoyed him, in an affectionate way. But tonight, he truly felt he might not be up to it. 

He felt sad. Lonely.

Glancing up, he found that his legs had carried him to the steps of the Elfsong. A drink…that would soothe his sorrows for an hour or two, at least.

The doors swung open to usher a wave of stimulation over his senses. Warm firelight, the smell of roasting venison, tables packed with conversation and clinking glasses. 

He was grateful that many others seemed to have had the same idea this particular night. It made it easier to slip through the crowded taproom unnoticed, catching meaningless slices of gossip and flirtatious banter on his way to the bar.

The surly bartender didn't look overjoyed to be serving a Tiefling. He took Rolan's gold without comment, however, and left him alone with his wine.

As the alcohol spread a welcome relaxation through his limbs, Rolan passed the time by idly watching the groups around him. 

A halfling sat alone with shoulders slumped, staring down his tankard as if he wished to drown in it. Across the way, a large bearded man was leaning across the table in open pursuit of his female companion. Clearly getting nowhere, from her expression. But he looked far too drunk to notice.

In front of the great hall fireplace, a pale elf sat in conversation with a pretty dark-haired young woman. 

Rolan's brow furrowed; he knew those two. His eyes quickly scanned over the room's faces until he found her.

She was removed a ways from her usual traveling companions, seated at a small table in the far corner. He watched her swirl the cup in her hand idly. Her eyes followed the liquid’s pattern, but the look behind them was leagues away.

For the first time in days, Rolan felt his heavy heart lift. She was exactly the person he wanted to be with tonight. Even if it was just sharing a drink.

This was it, he told himself. He had to speak with her or he'd regret it the rest of his life.

But first–he knocked back a very large mouthful.

His heart pounded in his ears as he drew closer to her. With each step he expected she might look up, piercing him with those eyes that visited most of his dreams. But she remained transfixed by the wine even when he drew up beside her table.

Improvising, he cleared his throat. "Hello."

She glanced up at him in pleasant surprise. "Oh!"

They stared at each other for an awkward silence. Then, somehow, he found himself laughing with her.

"Sorry, it's so strange. I was just thinking about you," she said, her face brightening.

The fact that he occupied any space in her brain would consume him later, but he shoved it aside for the moment.

"Mind if I join you?"

She patted the chair next to her. As he sat, he wondered if the spot had been a tactical choice on her part. Their table had a view of the whole room and both exits, yet the wall behind offered a sense of privacy. 

"You're not drinking with your friends tonight," Rolan observed.

"Just taking a little break. We're celebrating another family reunion," she explained, gesturing her glass toward the group around the blazing hearth. 

Rolan looked back over his shoulder. He recognized the one-eyed young man with curling horns, but not the older one whose hand was clasped on his shoulder. Quite clearly father and son to anyone with eyes.

"I'm glad for them," Rolan said. To his surprise, he found he truly meant it. The Absolute had ripped apart so many families in so many ways, including his, leaving the lower streets flooded with the hopeless and broken and displaced. He counted himself and his siblings incredibly lucky, and it heartened him to see another happy scene among so much misery.

“You know–” She eyed him curiously. "I was hoping I’d see you. You ran off before we could talk that day."

He looked down at his drink. "I know. I've regretted it since then. At the time, it was just…a lot to take in."

Her eyes narrowed, but not at him. "I hope you don't mind me saying, but that man can burn in Avernus for all I care. For what he did to you. For what he tried to do to Aylin."

Rolan recalled the runic circle in Lorroakan's library, the one whose mysterious power had at first awed and enthralled him. And then he'd seen the aasimar with the shining wings, and watched the demented hunger in Lorroakan's eyes, and the horrible realization had run through him like a sickness.

"Lorroakan was a monster," he agreed. "I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Or even found the strength to open my own eyes."

He felt a hand rest on his forearm.

"I saw what you went through to get here,” she said. “It’s natural that you thought you had to see it all through, no matter what.” 

Rolan said nothing for a while, just let her kindness soothe into his chest like a balm.

“On the bright side,” he added suddenly, “He did keep an excellent library. I’ve learned more from one of his books than I ever did from him.”

“That’s because you’re a proper talented wizard,” she laughed. “And he was an idiot.”

“A dead idiot.”

“To that,” she said with a lift of her cup, and they both drank. He noticed she used her free hand, not moving the one that laid on his arm.

When he caught her eye after, she was watching him with a smile. "You look so well, Rolan."

He knew what she meant. The last time she saw him, his face had been dappled in marks and bruises from Lorroakan's brutal instruction, with more that she couldn't see under his robes.

Now, the last mark across his cheekbone had faded almost to nothing. He hoped it would take the memories of the meaningless pain he'd endured along with it.

"Thank you," he said simply. "So do you."

He meant it; he realized now that he'd only ever seen her dressed for combat. Tonight she wore soft hide pants tucked into her hunting boots, a linen shirt half unlaced at her collarbones. It softened her. Close beside him and bathed in firelight, she set his heart racing again.

Perhaps it was her closeness or her touch that gave him the courage, or perhaps it was just the wine. He shifted his arm slightly to capture her hand in his.

"No one else has ever shown me the kindness you have. Not even Cal and Lia, though I do love them." 

She watched him speak in silence, and he gazed back at her, as if the answers to everything might be found in her face. 

"I don't understand you,” he said earnestly. “Why you've kept giving me chances. You've been so much more generous with me than I deserve. I've insulted you, yelled at you, I've been an absolute unbearable prick–"

Before he could think, she leaned in to silence him with her lips.

The kiss lasted forever and only a second all at once. Rolan closed his eyes, breathing in the faint smell of lavender on her skin.

Before he was anywhere near ready, she gently pulled away.

"Because," she murmured, "you're a good man, Rolan. And I like you." Her words, the lingering taste of her on his lips, they made his head spin. He felt like he was watching the door to a new world swing open before his eyes.

Before anything else, Rolan had to kiss her again. He released her hand to smooth the hair back from her face, watching the way she tilted into his touch, and gently guided her toward him.

It was deeper this time; he tasted the heady wine on her mouth, her breath a soft tickle against his cheek. As his fingers tangled her hair, he felt her hand wind sweetly over his shoulder, holding on to him.

A wet stripe flashed across his lips. His mouth gasped open in surprise, allowing her tongue to softly meet his, then draw slowly over his pointed teeth. 

The unexpected sensations brought his mind back to reality, and to the fact that they were in a public place. With effort, he wrenched himself out of the kiss. They breathed against each other for a moment. 

"I've got a room upstairs," she murmured. "If you want to?" Her cheeks were flushed from firelight and wine, and possibly even from him.

Whether or not he wanted to was no question: her words sent a fervent rush of blood to his groin. But first, he mustered enough control to hold her back from him for a moment. Her lips were parted in question.

"I adore you," he said. "I think I have for a long time. It's–very important to me that you know that. Before anything else." Even if the anything else was a dream that had kept him awake more nights than he could count.

Her soft hand cupped his cheek; he thought he might combust if she didn't say something. "Thank Gods," she laughed breathily. "I swore you hated me for a while there."

"I had no idea what to do with my feelings for you, I was a fucking idiot." It was all tumbling out of him now. He opened his mouth to continue, but her fingertips went to his lips.

 "Rolan–" Her voice was full of relief, and he was charmed to see the blush across her face deepen. "I feel the same way. I really, really like you."

His rotten heart could have flipped with joy. 

“Now.” She cocked her head askance, and he felt her fingers twine with his. "Make it up to me?"

Yes. Please, please, yes. He nodded in a daze, reeling like he'd sustained a blow to the head. All he could feel was the elation and anxiety swirling around and around in his stomach as he followed her toward the staircase, let her lead him by the hand like a lovesick idiot.

As they passed her companions he pointedly averted his eyes; he couldn't afford to lose any of the nerve building inside him. He'd need every bit of it in a moment.

The dark staircase seemed to ascend forever. Part of him wanted it to–he was no virgin, but the hand she held tight was shaking with anxiety. He wanted to make this perfect.

Overthinking proved pointless. The moment the heavy door closed behind them, he found himself pinned against it with a thud by the length of her body.

His involuntary groan was lost in their kiss. She was everywhere around him at once: hands pinning his shoulders back against the wood, hips grinding into his thigh with no pretense, her tongue pressing against his lips and slipping past his teeth to taste him. She moaned against his mouth, and the sound reverberated from his head to his feet.

His erection was practically instantaneous. He hooked his thumbs over her hip bones, sharp nails finding purchase in her pants, and rolled himself against the yielding softness between her legs. 

Whatever release the pressure provided multiplied it tenfold. Desire coursed through him, burning in his veins hotter than he thought possible. 

The maneuver brought an approving hum from her throat, however. Encouraged, he ground her into him again, and again, as slowly as his body could be convinced to go.

Her hands released his shoulders to rake upward through his hair, pulling his face toward her.

Pulling him deeper into the room, he realized. He stumbled slightly against something; tasting her lips was infinitely more important than breaking the kiss to look where he was going. He trusted her lead, impatient to reach whatever destination she had in mind so he could freely explore her.

Their connected bodies bumped up against the edge of something soft. She pulled away, and his immediate disappointment rapidly turned around as he felt her fingers fumbling with the clasps of his robe. He guided her hands, struggling at the same time to kick off one boot and then the other. 

As his robes pooled on the floor, her palms pressed him away for a moment.

Rolan stood frozen and panting in his trousers. She licked her kiss-swollen lips as she looked over his bare shoulders, his chest. When her eyes reached the obvious hardness straining in his pants, she let out a delicious sound.

Rolan's hands grabbed for her of their own volition. They slipped under the hem of her shirt, against the bare skin of her waist, and wrenched the garment up over her head in one motion.

To look at her directly was almost too much–he felt love and desire churning together inside of him. "Beautiful," was all he could say.

He buried his face in her shoulder instead, fang-like teeth brushing over her skin as he left a trail of kisses along the curve of her neck. She let out a gasp when his hand gently stroked her breast.

"You're so warm," she murmured into his hair. To him, she was pleasantly cool; he shivered when her fingers traced the small set of ridges that ran from his collarbone to his sternum.

But he needed more of her. He hooked both thumbs over her waistband and tugged ineffectually. She quickly took over, shucking them off with a shimmying motion.

The sight of her bare, for him, was almost enough to make Rolan come then and there. He reached out to her hips to steady himself. She was so much more divine than anything his paltry imagination could have conjured.

Through his blazing arousal, he was barely aware of the hands unlacing his pants until she tugged them down to finally let his cock spring free.

A sigh of relief escaped him. He watched her take him in, her eyes half-lidded with arousal. 

"You're incredible," she whispered. Then her arms slid around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.

He tried to concentrate on her mouth, but the way his cock brushed and nudged against her skin every time she moved was taking over his brain.

With a motion of her hips, she captured his length between her thighs and rocked forward and back, sliding her dripping wet center over his cock. The revelation of her own state of desire sent his mind spiraling with want.

Rolan let out what could only be called a whimper. He clutched her to him, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth as firmly as he dared, as if she might suddenly disappear and leave him in an aching pile.

She made a pleased sound, then gave his shoulders a push. With his pants still around his thighs, he lost his balance–knees buckled as he fell backwards onto the mattress behind them.

He propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see her kneel on the floor in front of him. Her two hands pushed his knees apart, as far as the straining fabric would allow–

Rolan tried and failed to breathe normally, heart pounding in his ears. It felt like time was slowing to a crawl. Her eyes glanced from his face to the stiff erection between them. A droplet of moisture shone at its tip.

"Can I–?" She was asking him for permission, hands poised on his thighs, her expression heady with arousal.

"Anything," Rolan swore, and he meant it. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted to him right now. Before he could prepare himself, her mouth closed wetly around his tip. 

Truly, nothing could have readied him. He let out a gasp–his head dropped back as his hips rose involuntarily to seek more of her soft, cool mouth. 

He had scarcely adjusted before she took him in further, sliding her tongue down along his length to his very base–then slowly, achingly slowly, back up again.

He heard the rip of fabric as his nails gripped the bedding. He gathered the will to raise his head up to look.

Rolan was mesmerized by the sight of her lips wrapped around taught red skin, his length disappearing into her mouth and returning wet with saliva. She was working him over almost reverently slow, eyes closed as if tasting him.

Tasting herself on him. His cock twitched inside her mouth at the realization. She glanced up at him, releasing him from her lips with a soft, wet pop.

He could have groaned at the loss of her. Instead, he used the moment to work off his constraining pants and toss them away. Before she could reach for him again, Rolan pulled her up and onto his lap.

Her knees sank into the bed on either side as she straddled him, but she kept herself hovering well above him without contact. He pushed aside the ache between his legs to focus on more important things.

He leaned forward to press a soft kiss between her breasts, allowed his mouth to explore. She sighed with pleasure as he alternately licked and kissed across each curve, then drew sharp breath as his teeth sucked at the soft flesh under one breast. 

Her hands, at first resting on his shoulders, flew to grab two fistfuls of his hair. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine.

Rolan pulled away for a moment for admire the purple mark blooming on her breast. He glanced up as though looking for approval. She gave it, tugging his hair to tilt his face into a waiting kiss.

Ever so carefully…mindful of his fingertips, he placed the flat of his palm on the heat between her legs.

“Rolan–” she gasped, breaking away. 

The sound of his own name had never been dearer to him. He was run through with a thrill, and a fervent desire to do whatever it took to make her say it again.

  He massaged gentle circles into her, the base of his palm pressing against her clit in slow rhythm. Her wetness coated him with each stroke. She quaked under his touch, eyelashes fluttering, and his other arm circled her back to support her. He felt her lean against him without a second thought. Trusting completely.

“I can’t believe I have you,” he heard his voice say, perhaps to himself. 

As he spoke he felt the core of her tightening under his hand. Abruptly, her fingers closed around his wrist to still his ministrations. He froze, immediately afraid he had scratched her somehow. But her face shone with nothing but desire for him.

"On your back," she directed.

Rolan nearly pinched his tail under himself in his haste to obey. He swept his legs out from between hers and stretched out as she climbed over to straddle him. 

Now they were finally here, she wasted no time leaving space between them. Her hips rolled down onto him and drew the wet folds of her center across his tip. His entire length throbbed at the blessed return of her touch, the head of his cock burning against her. 

Smoothly, simply, she lowered herself onto him.

The shuddering exhale from his lips met against her moan of relief. Rolan willed himself to keep his eyes on hers, even as her inviting walls gripped him, even as he practically felt his pupils dilate with want. Her features relaxed into a state of pure, unadulterated satisfaction.

Then she started to move her hips.

She pushed her palms against his chest for leverage, riding his cock at a steady pace that felt entirely too slow. Whatever will he had to follow her lead was immediately tested; he was overcome with the need to touch her everywhere at once. 

Care forgotten, he gripped the soft flesh of her back with his fingertips. She cried out softly as his nails dragged from her shoulders to the base of her hips, but he felt her walls clench around him in response. His tail curled up and around her waist of its own volition, holding her as she took him in further with each bounce of her hips.

She gasped and fell over him, hands braced on either side. She was already losing control. He felt his own release closing in, used the new angle of her hips to thrust up into her. 

“Oh, Gods, yes–” Her mouth dropped open. She moved her hips back with each of his thrusts to take him more deeply. 

Rolan thought he might shatter apart. Waves of searing desire swept harder and harder through him. She took him so perfectly, his cock almost painfully gripped by her tightening walls, so wet and lush and sweet and for him–

A hand flew up to the back of her neck to grasp and to pull her down so he could taste her as he came. Lips crashed together frantically as the pace of their bodies started coming apart at the seams. 

In one bright concentrated moment, she shook and trembled violently into him as she grasped for whatever part of him she could reach. He managed one last stuttering thrust before his climax was ripped from him by her own, spilling inside of her clenching center, hurling him outside himself and into the wide Astral plane.

They shuddered against each others' bodies as white-hot waves receded outward farther and farther. Her head dropped to his shoulder as though she'd lost all muscle control. 

He felt her slowing breaths fan out across his chest, and he rested a hand on the back of her head to keep her there.

-

As Rolan stared up at the wood-paneled ceiling above them, something cold dripped down at the base of him. He realized he was still inside of her. He swung his free arm over the side of the bed–still woozy enough from his climax that he nearly slid head-first to the floor–and snatched up his rumpled robes to clean them both.

She rolled off him then and cuddled up on her side to watch him. He mirrored her pose, adjusting against the pillows to make a spot for his horns. One of her fingers found the point of his ear and began tracing.

“How do you feel?” She asked. 

Rolan sighed deeply. “Happy.” He could cast around for another dozen words, but he’d rather take her in. He smoothed a hand up and down along the curve of her side.

“So do I.” She leaned over to spread light kisses along his lips, then his jaw and cheek. His tail brushed against her leg in an idle caress. 

She glanced down. “I didn’t actually know about…that.”

“Am I your first Tiefling?” He teased, though the thought genuinely pleased him.

“First and last,” she replied. The words were instantly locked away in his chest. 

She gave a little shiver then, tucking her body against his warmth. He dug the covers up over themselves and wrapped her up tight with his arms and legs. The simple feeling of holding her brought him a deep sense of calm.

“I love this, Rolan.” Her lips moved against the hollow at the base of his neck. “I wish I could take tonight and carry it with me everywhere.”

Something sparked in him at her words. He opened his eyes and reluctantly released her to feel around the floor at the floor for his stained robe.

"What are you doing over there?" She lifted her head curiously to peer over the bedside. 

"Just need to find something." He rummaged through his layers of discarded clothing before finally, his knuckle grazed something hard.

He slid back up under the covers beside her. She propped herself up against him, resting a palm on his chest with an expectant look.

He held out his thumb and index finger. Between them, an amber stone glinted in the dim light.

Her mouth fell open in recognition. For one second, he was afraid she might cry.

Then she buried her head in the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms tight around him. "I knew you were a darling all along." 

#blowjobs and self esteem #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #i can't be trusted with this man apparently

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em - returning to your roots

Masterlist - part fifteen

Summary: Spider's decision leads to a brother and a sister's worst argument yet. Some things come to a head.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 20k+ (I am so sorry 🙏)

Overall warnings: mentions of torture, trauma/ptsd, vomit, slight body horror, canon-compliant, mature language, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, rushed, time skips, fluff, angst, major character death, child endangerment, etc.

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings @tojisleftarm @andyfromku @ivysully @lightandshadow31 @jamie-poopoo @brittney69

A/N: Here it is... the ultimate Spider appreciation chapter. I couldn't afford to split this chapter into two parts like I did last time... so if you think some things aren't rendering on Tumblr, please please please click the link to the ao3 version. Enjoy!

Kayla would be the first to admit that she wasn't good at making her kelku feel like a home. Still a soldier at heart, she retained the mindset to keep her quarters clean, organized, and empty of any clutter. The only thing she owned was the weapons with the safety on, cleaned, and tucked away from sight, along with the little necessities she first packed for her trip to the reef, such as the hammocks that are always packed away every morning after a night of rest. As for Spider, all he had was the breathing mask on his face, the loincloth he wore, and the few packages of human rations Kayla and Jake had found for him in a drifting harpoon boat after their battle with the Sky People. 

So, needless to say, the marui pod Kayla was so graciously given by the clan leaders of the Metkayina looked more like what the Sky People would call a bachelor pad back home. At least, that's what first came to mind when Kayla took one look at her new home and decided something needed to change. She had a new place of residence and she even had a teenager living under her roof, a teenager who barely had anything growing up that he could proudly call his. Kayla decided that she needed to make this place look and feel more like a safe space Spider could come to when he needed to get away from the world, which is how Spider found her hours later.

"What's that supposed to be?"

Kayla looked up to spot the teenager in the entryway, staring oddly behind his mask at the object she was trying to put on the far opposite wall of the pod. She looked between him and the large branch which she had spent dedicated time to cutting and molding into a flat surface, before her ears lowered in embarrassment, "Uh... a bookshelf?"

Setting the long wooden board down on the ground for Spider to get a better look, Kayla huffed in exertion and decided she would have to find an easier way to hang up the makeshift piece of furniture she had created. 

Spider's expression only grew more confused as he looked at the warped plank of wood before stating the obvious, "You don't own any books."

"Yeah..." Defeat was already evident in her voice, already aware she had spent hours of wasted time on this project but had stubbornly hoped it would pull through. She stared longingly at the wood piece, ears still drooping with shame, "But I was hoping that putting other stuff on it would liven the place up. I guess it's not as homey looking without any books."

"Wait, what?" He cranes his neck up to look at her, puzzled as he crosses his arms over his chest, the knife cut barely even a scar now, "What are you trying to make it look like?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, now staring down at the makeshift shelf as if it had offended her. She was mentally kicking at it and herself for not succeeding in one stupid little piece of home decor. Realizing that Spider was still oddly watching whatever was happening to her face as she had these thoughts, she decided to straighten her back and head toward the exit, motioning the kid to follow her.

"You know what? You and I are always out of the house anyway. It doesn't need to be fancy. Let's go. I'm thinking of taking you kids out exploring."

Spider takes a moment to watch her leave before glancing back at the 'shelf.' Squinting his eyes, he shrugs and turns to follow her outside, "Cool, sounds like fun."

~~~~~~~~~

Kayla brought Spider to Jake first and asked about taking the kids out into the jungle, expressing how she wanted to show them the waterfall she had previously mentioned to her brother. Before he could reply, Jake was interrupted by Tsireya, who just so happened to be stopping by to see Lo'ak and Kiri. The reef girl expressed her excitement and claimed she knew the spot Kayla had mentioned and how she would love to go with. Of course, Kayla wasn't about to say no to sweet Tsireya, and that made Jake cave in and agree to let his children go with them. 

He watched the group leave with a small smile before getting back to work on strengthening a newly woven sheath for his hunting knife. He wasn't left alone for long as Neytiri had come home from a morning hunting trip she flew around the island. 

She had been silent at first, before looking around and asked, "Ma Jake. Where are the children?"

"They're exploring out in the jungle with Kayla," immediately, he felt the tension in the air, peering up to spot his mate looking fearful, her eyes glossed over in a way that made his gut hurt with guilt. He realized he should've waited until she got home to discuss whether or not she would be okay with letting their children venture out after everything they've been through, but he was hoping this would be a good step forward for all of them.

"They'll be fine, baby," he encouraged softly, "It's just like what we do on date night. It's not like I left them alone."

"I do not like the idea of them being so far away from the village."

"I promise it will be no different than when Kayla watches them at home. She's bringing them to a well-known spot to take a load off and have fun. Tsireya mentioned that she knew the place so it's not like anyone would get lost. They're in good hands."

Neytiri sucks in and lets out a shaking breath but eventually closed her eyes and nodded once in solemn agreement. Jake wanted to feel relief that she wasn't up in arms about this, but he couldn't find it within himself to feel that way. He knew exactly where she was coming from, where her thought process was. He couldn't blame her for being worried, the two of them both thinking the same thing as heavy, grieving silence filled the air. Jake immediately reached out to grasp Neytiri's hand and she clutched tightly onto him.

"Jake-- Devil Dog, do you copy? Jake?"

The sound of the long-range radio abruptly breaking the silence brings both Jake and Neytiri's ears and tails to perk up in alertness, and their eyes immediately harden to ones resembling warriors. Recognizing the voice patching through, Jake reaches for the radio and presses the device close to his lips,

"Dirty Falcon, I read you. What's going on, Norm?"

"Jake, we have a situation."

~~~~~~~~~

It ended up feeling like a school field trip as Kayla found herself with not only Spider and her nieces and nephew, but the other reef children they claimed as their friends. Once Tsireya had been invited, so were Ao'nung and Rotxo, making Kayla the single chaperone of six Na'vi children and one human.

At first, everyone could tell both the suspicious and curious nature the two reef boys felt upon being officially introduced to Spider, but at least they were civil, and they even looked surprised when Spider greeted them in perfect, proper Na'vi. It also helped that both Tsireya and Kiri were adamant about making Ao'nung and Rotxo converse with Spider, determined to make them all friends. 

Rotxo didn't appear to mind Spider at all, being the more curious one and asking the human teenager obnoxious questions that got Spider to laugh. Ao'nung, however, was a different story. He kept his distance and ignored Spider entirely, only nodding once in greeting the human boy and sticking close to the other kids he knew better. Even though the chief's son wasn't hostile toward Spider, Kayla still kept a close eye on him anyway. Tsireya and Kiri were good mediators of the group and took the lead as they traveled further and further into the jungle. Tuk was a breath of fresh air for everyone, constantly laughing and running circles around the group with excitement as they ventured further toward the center of the island, ready for a new change in scenery. 

It was Lo'ak who appeared to be the most estranged out of all of them. He had been quiet the whole way to the waterfall and only spoke when spoken to, faintly smiling whenever it was Tsireya who addressed him. However, Lo'ak was acting more closed off than usual and strayed away from the group as they walked. Kayla made sure to keep an eye on her nephew as well, knowing that his situation at home wasn't the most ideal. Lo'ak was purposely spending time out of his family's marui as of late, either seeking Spider out and hiding away in Kayla's hut with his childhood friend, or he tried blending in with the reef children and was constantly hunting or helping out with chores around the village. He was practically doing anything to keep him away from his family and especially his father, only returning to the Sully marui to sleep and eat.

Kayla noticed how Jake didn't address this as a problem, which is why she was keeping an eye on her nephew. Even though Jake claims to finally See Lo'ak, he is still treating his son much like before. If Kayla was anyone else, she'd leave it the hell alone, but she wasn't. And if she needed to be harsher to her brother about it, then by Eywa, she was gonna do it. She'd do anything for these kids, and that even surprised her to admit that.

It was easy for her to reach out to the children. Her nieces and nephews gave their hugs and trust to her willingly, without trepidation, almost immediately upon meeting her for the first time. Maybe because of that, it was easier for Kayla to accept their hugs and trust when she confidently knew they thrive on receiving touch as well as giving it. Even children who weren't as familiar with her, like the reef children, gravitated toward Kayla, either because she was unique-looking as an avatar, or she was just more laid-back and unserious compared to most adults they knew. For Spider, it was a healthy mixture of both.

For adult humans and Na'vi, it's different. Mature and aware of how the world works, Kayla would rather try to shield the children from the horror of life for just a little while longer if no other adult was going to do it. 

The waterfall was tall and led down into a quiet, beautiful lagoon. Animals scattered from their water hole when the Na'vi children appeared, and Tuk laughed as they ran away. Immediately, the reef children encouraged the others about what to do by shoving one another to get to the water first, jumping high, and splashing into the lagoon. Spider and the Sully kids laughed and soon followed, even climbing up to the very top of the waterfall to jump down from once Kayla was confident that the water was deep enough to do so. 

Kayla watched the kids play in the water while also exploring the waterfall herself, venturing into and standing in the small alcove hidden behind it. Curious, she whoops and lets her voice echo off the walls of the small cave, and the sound rang in her ears. She smiled as an idea struck her, heading back out of the alcove and rejoining the children. None of them appeared to notice anything until she approached them, first going to Little Tuk and pointing out the waterfall.

"Go behind there and scream and laugh as loud as you can. Come back and see if your sister heard you or not."

Tuk giggled excitedly at what she assumed was a game her aunt had in mind and ran toward the waterfall. The teenagers look between Kayla and Tuk curiously but don't mention anything as they watch the youngest child of their group disappear behind the waterfall. It took a few minutes, but Tuk reemerged, out of breath and grinning as she skipped over to her sister, "Kiri! Kiri! Did you hear me?" 

"No, I didn't," Kiri smiled encouragingly at her sister before taking a glance at her aunt.

Kayla smiles, tilting her head toward the waterfall, "You next, Kiri."

"Yes! You next!" Tuk drags Kiri out of the water by the hand, "I'll come with you! Let's try to scream as loud as we can, and if anyone out here can hear us, then we win!"

The Sully girls go behind the waterfall while the rest of the teenagers stare questionably at Kayla. She only shrugs, flashing a smile of understanding at each of them, "You kids have been through a lot lately... I thought maybe you'd like a place to scream out your frustrations without anyone hearing you. Only if you want, but I think you need to let some things out."

When Kiri and Tuk return, the other teenagers glance at each other with knowing expressions. Spider whispered Kayla's intentions to Kiri when she still looked confused, and in response, a grateful look took over Kiri's face as she nodded at her aunt.

Tuk was none the wiser as she ran up to Kayla, "I wanna do it again!"

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

"Will you come with me, Auntie?"

"Of course."

After that, one by one, each of the teenagers decided to slip away while the others were playing in the lagoon to have a few minutes alone behind the waterfall. When each of them returned, they appeared relaxed, lighter than before, and acting their age. Kayla internally pats herself on the back, calling it a success, especially when Ao'nung had loosened up and shared a short conversation with Spider.

If anyone noticed Lo'ak's eyes were puffy and red when he returned from behind the waterfall, they didn't mention it. They only smiled because he was smiling again.

They must have been there for hours, but eventually, Kayla called it a day and everyone was much too tired to argue. On the way back as they trekked through the jungle, Spider kept close to Kayla's side, instinctively keeping a watchful eye out as they walked through the trees, in case something decided to try and grab at the weakest link in the group which at the moment was Kayla with a sleeping Tuk on her back, making her slower than the teenagers. Something caught his eye while they walked, and it was Kayla's songcord swinging in the wind from side to side each time her leg moved forward. He noticed the cord was longer than he had last seen it, the end now sporting a wooden bead and a shell soon after.

"That's new," he simply states. 

Her ear flicks in his direction, and he watches as she looks down to see what he is referring to. Sunlight was right above her, casting a shadow over her face, but even Spider could catch a sudden shift in her expression. If he had blinked, he would have missed the shift. It was there one moment and gone the next, but he noticed a smile on her face, full of fondness, before she shook herself out of it relaxed her expression, and replied, "Yes."

The shift was all he needed to know, "Who gave it to you?"

She squinted her eyes curiously as she looked down at him, "What made you think it was given to me?"

"Answering a question with a question. Isn't that what you soldiers call 'deflecting?'" He smirked.

He didn't expect her to laugh, but he felt secretly pleased with himself when she did, "Touché, kiddo."

~~~~~~~~~

As they reach the village, the reef kids realize what time it is and decide to depart, needing to return home to their families. Kayla and the Sully children thanked them for their company and the fun day before waving them off and returning to their own marui.

Only, it wasn't much of a warm welcome. Upon entering the home, Kayla immediately noticed Neytiri's absence... and the murder set in Jake's eyes.

He huddled near the radio, waiting for the rest of his family to return home as he tried to figure out how he was going to break the news to them. In the meantime, Jake had sent Neytiri away to let out her rage and grief. He knew it wouldn't have been a good idea if she had stayed for this conversation. When Kayla and the children entered the kelku, Jake's murderous gaze immediately greeted Kayla. She froze when she was the first target of that glare, and once the teenagers saw Jake, they froze in the doorway as well, immediately scared with their backs straight.

Kayla kept still as she watched Jake's eyes. She only relaxed a little as she came to the conclusion that Jake's anger wasn't directed at anyone in particular, but he looked vengeful and was aging beyond his years. He looked like a broken man, a father who lost it all. He looked so grim with his eyes nearly staring up at Kayla through his forehead. She knew that whatever happened... it wasn't good.

She sets down Tuk and quietly asks Kiri to take her. She walks up to Jake and keeps her voice down in case he wants this kept between them, "What's wrong?"

His eyes flicked to the kids standing around behind his sister, all of them looking confused and worried other than the bleary-eyed Tuk. He glances back at Kayla and deeply sighs through his nose before deciding to keep his voice at a normal, steady tone. He thought the kids deserved to know, too, 

"Norm just called. They intercepted some RDA radio chatter. Quaritch is alive."

No one dared bat an eye as the news sank in, frozen in place and staring at Jake as if he had murdered a puppy right in front of their eyes. The air turned rigid and eery all around Kayla, the air sucked out from her lungs as though a bucket of ice water ran down her back. She swallowed thickly, trying to react as neutrally as possible... hoping that out of all the times Jake could possibly read her like an open book, this wasn't one of those times. 

Kiri's voice was the first thing that rang out, "Spider?"

Kayla's spell is broken and she immediately unfreezes, whipping around in search of the human boy in question. She finds him instantly as he reacts fast to Kiri's question, pulling away from the group and backing up toward the door. Spider looked frightened and ashamed, his breath irregular as he took one hand and grabbed the opposite elbow, eyes wildly flicking between everyone in the room, Kiri, Lo'ak, and Jake most of all. He looked cornered, despite the doorway now being directly behind as he would not stop backing away. He looked absolutely horrified, and the guilt only ate him alive when his two best friends stared at him with worry and confusion, unaware of the damage he had done.

"I-- I'm sorry."

Jake's eyebrows furrow and his tail twitched, "What--"

"It's not your fault. Spider," Kayla consciously places herself between Jake and Spider, finally finding her voice in the growing tension of the room. Spider turned his body and gazed to the doorway, ready to bolt as Kayla found herself raising her voice, "Look at me--"

The order makes his back stiffen and Kayla internally lashes at herself for ordering him around so formally like a soldier when that wasn't her intention. Slowly, however, Spider finally peered back up at her, and she tried to soften her gaze and voice, "Don't." 

Jake finally rose to his feet, his presence right behind his sister and making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, "Kayla, what are you-?"

"It's my fault."

All eyes return to Spider, and he forces himself to stay still, the smallest one in the room. He keeps his eyes on Jake, trying to relay what he is trying to explain with just one look. Jake analyzed him, eyes slowly squinting in confusion until Spider could see something click behind those dull, yellow eyes. He saw the denial set in first, then the bargaining, then the anger... and then it stayed that way. Jake's eyes begin to harden, and Kayla is suddenly very aware of the raging volcano slowly starting to brew behind her but she refuses to look back. Goosebumps ran down her back and every instinct told her to run, but she kept her feet planted and her eyes on Spider, trying to talk him down from his ledge with just one look.

Lo'ak is the first to ask. He wasn't known for being observant, but as Tsireya had claimed, he was a quick learner. Lo'ak looked between his father and his friend and realized that something had happened. Something unforgivable. Despite possibly already knowing what it was, Lo'ak had to ask... in case he was wrong, "Spider... what did you do?"

Kayla felt a large hand completely envelope around the circumference of her arm and she winced when that hand gripped on tightly and spun her around. She bites back the yelp that nearly escaped her lips as she's being stared down by the enraged Toruk Makto.

"You knew?" Jake accused in a low, deep voice.

She couldn't help it. Her eyes widen in fear, for once, of her brother. As much as she wanted to lie to prevent him from glaring at her like that... she couldn't afford for that rage to turn onto Spider. She rolls her lips, her voice raspy and betraying her bravery, "I... Yes, I knew."

Something snaps in place inside Jake's eyes, a harsh growl eliciting from the back of his throat, "Come here." 

His grip only tightened further around Kayla's arm as he dragged her out of the marui, away from the children who now shook in fear of their father and for their aunt. Kayla wished she hadn't just been paraded around in front of them like that... secretly afraid as though she had angered her own father.

He pulls her out and harshly shoves her in front of him to confront her. Kayla immediately tries to bargain and plead her case before he could get any bright ideas, "But-- you don't understand--"

"Yeah? Enlighten me then," he snarled.

"You can't just ask a kid to leave his own father to die-!"

"You're not his mother, Kayla!" Jake finally roared, the volcano bubbling over.

"I don't care!" Kayla roared back as her fear gave way to anger. Suddenly the volcano was met with an unforgivable tsunami, "He's just a kid! All of them are just kids! You can't expect them to fall in line and be your perfect little soldiers for a war that YOU started!"

Jake seethed and pushed back, "He's old enough to know that he's responsible for his actions."

"Maybe, but even grown-ass adults refuse to admit their faults, present company included," the intended lashing hit dead-on, earning Kayla a wince from her brother. She didn't want to claim that victory over him, however, as the tightening viper in her chest began to unravel, "You say I'm not Spider's mom, and you're right. But you're not his father. Hell, you barely even father your own kids, so why should you father a kid who's not even related to you?"

"Don't you start--"

"You're a good dad to your daughters. Fine. I'll give you that. But you're too hard on Lo'ak, now more than ever. He just lost his brother for fuck's sake, Jake. You of all people know what that feels like!" She screeched.

"Lo'ak is the older brother now. He needs to learn to be responsible for his sisters."

"Oh, like how you were such a great, responsible brother after Tommy died?"

Even Jake's anger gave way to a slight feeling of discomfort and maybe even fear as Kayla suddenly began to laugh in such an unhinged manner, the maniacal grin she gave him sent chills down his spine, "Really? We're adding lying to the list now? Did you treat Lo'ak like a failure because he's reckless or because he's just like you? 'Cause, that's what I see. He's just like you, Jake, and that terrifies you because you know he'll screw up again and again. Just like you."

She took a step forward and Jake took a step back. He wished he hadn't, as his fear only made Kayla smile more, "So tell him that. Tell him the truth. Tell him how Tommy was the golden son, not you. You were never the golden son, not even when you became a marine and lost your legs for your dedicated service. Tell him how you were always the disappointment. Tell him how low you got in life when your brother was murdered and how you abandoned your sister when things got too hard."

Jake tried to regain the upper hand, needing to get this conversation back on track, "This isn't about me or Lo'ak. This is about Spider--"

"I wasn't finished," his jaw clamps shut when his sister's eyes bore into his, the viper in her chest now baring its venomous fangs, "You left me to die on that god-awful planet. From my experience, I know that Lo'ak and Spider would never even think of doing that to someone, let alone their own sisters. I believe Spider saved his father for the sake of being kind, compassionate, and merciful—three traits I doubt he inherited from the sperm donor. Spider is no savage. His doesn't kill as needlessly as you once did."

"He spared a monster's life--"

"Can you blame him? After what Neytiri had recently put that kid through?" Jake's ears lowered at the mention of his wife, and while Kayla wanted to be proud of her brother for always wanting to defend the woman he loved, she couldn't abide by that. She continued before Jake could even try, "Quaritch tried to save Spider from your wife. Can you honestly blame a child for saving the life of someone who was actually looking out for them for once in their young life? Yes, Spider may be young but he's also good. He wouldn't just let someone die, no matter how terrible and not if he could help it. That wouldn't make him any better than Quaritch."

"Kayla, I don't think you're hearing what I'm trying to say. Spider saved the man who promised he'd come after me and kill my whole family if I didn't kill him!"

Kayla's physical fangs made an appearance as she placed the blame entirely on a third party, "Then maybe you should've done a better job at killing him! I was there, Jake! I heard him loud and clear."

She finally closed the distance, prodding an angry finger into the center of Jake's chest as she seethes out, "You don't get to tell me how to parent. You don't even know how to parent, so you don't get to tell me when and where I can protect Spider. You can't even protect him from your own wife, so why should I trust that you have his best interest at heart?"

Moving around him, she definitely shoulder checks him on the way back into the marui, unaware of the wince that briefly succumbed his face, but he didn't react apart from that. He didn't even turn around. He only listened to the sound of her stomping feet, growing further and further away from him.

Kayla was on a mission as she sped back to the marui, only stopping her charge when Spider cut off her path, the human teen storming away as both Kiri and Lo'ak were seen exiting the kelku to chase after him, "Spider, wait!"

Kayla panics a little inside when Spider doesn't even react to his friends calling out for him. She reached out and gently grabbed his shoulder before he escaped too far, "Heyheyhey-- Spider? What's wrong--"

"Just leave me alone!" He screams and Kayla's instant reaction is to let go of his shoulder as if she had injured him. She took a step back like she had been shocked, frozen as she caught a glimpse of his face through his breathing mask, seeing the obvious red cheeks and angry tears uncontrollably slipping down his young face. 

Kayla tried her best to relax, regain her patience, and hide her anger toward her brother so Spider wouldn't misunderstand. Breathing deeply, in and out, she tried to speak in her best, soothing voice, "... Okay."

At first, Spider looked shocked before it immediately melts into anger and frustration, his teeth seething out his aggravation as he glared at her, "Shit-- Why do you have to be so understanding?!"

"I just-- I want to help you, kiddo--"

"Just leave me alone! Please!"

He had raced off without ever giving himself the satisfaction of seeing Kayla's expression crumble into defeat. Kiri approached her aunt at this moment, briefly grabbing her hand as she moved to follow her oldest friend, "I got this, Auntie. Spider, wait!"

Kiri continues to chase after the human teen, while Kayla helplessly watches them both eventually disappear into the center of the village, beyond her sight. 

Spider wasn't expecting Kiri to continue following him. He thought he'd lose her in the village, but by the time he reached the edge of the jungle and moved further in, he knew his attempt to escape detection was futile. Eventually, he caves in and waits for his friend to catch up, all the while he tries to calm down, his conflicted emotions fueling his panicked, harsh breathing.

"Please, Kiri, just go--"

"Sucks for you, Monkey Boy, 'cause I'm not going anywhere," Kiri immediately starts off when she finally caught up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "We just got you back--"

Spider huffs in disinterest, "After how long? Weeks? Months? Why couldn't-- Why didn't--"

Kiri could see Spider struggle with his next words. She could tell how angry, betrayed, and confused he was trying to express, and eventually, she figured out what he was trying to say and managed to voice his questions for him, "Why did we run instead of going to look for you?"

He didn't say anything, just trying to catch his breath. His silence was answering enough for the Na'vi girl as she continued, "I wanted to. Badly. But Dad believed you would be safer as long as you were away from us. And if we left, you would be even safer."

"That's bullshit." He glowered, still seething behind his mask.

Kiri's ears lower, a sentiment she felt in regard to Spider's statement. She had once thought the same when her father relayed that same excuse to her when he first told her that it was impossible to save Spider and that they were leaving the Omatikaya.  

She nods in agreement, "... Only a little. Dad thought that if we took off, then you couldn't tell the Sky People where we were."

The betrayal wins over control of Spider's expression, staring up at her with such pain and disbelief, "I would never--"

"I know. I know," she was quick to reassure while taking another step closer. She managed to pull him further toward her until her arms were fully wrapped around him, her chin resting on the top of his head. She lowered her voice to something soft and soothing, "I wish we tried harder, Spider. I really do, and I'm so sorry."

She moves her hand up to gently grasp the back of his head, "But Kayla didn't give up. No, she stayed in the forest and kept looking for you, even after we had left for the ocean. She was so determined to find you, especially after she earned her ikran. Dad said that she even wanted to go after you, alone, when they heard you were sited at reef villages in the south."

Silence followed and if he currently wasn't standing stone-stiff in her arms, Kiri would've thought he had fallen asleep. The sounds of the flora and fauna around them were calming all of Kiri's senses, and she tried to bleed that feeling into Spider, gently tightening her grip around him.

Finally, Spider caves in, his shoulders slouching in defeat until he finally allows himself to lean into his best friend's embrace. His thoughts sounded far away as he spoke, "I... I wish she found me sooner."

The words haunt Kiri, her mind trying to wrap around everything that those words could possibly mean. She squeezes him a little tighter as she mumbles into his hair, "Spider... what did they do to you?"

Silence filled the air once more until he managed to settle on one word, "Nothing."

Kiri pulled away and Spider winced thinking he had upset her. But she doesn't move very far, only so that she can meet his eyes, her hands resting on both of his shoulders, "War orphans stick together, remember? You're my brother, Spider. You may not be able to see it, but I wholeheartedly believe that. You can tell me no living being will ever know."

He wanted to tell her everything. So badly it almost felt like it could burst out of his chest at any moment. He wanted to share certain parts he initially left out when he tried catching her and Lo'ak up on everything he had seen while captured. He wanted to explain why he has nightmares, and why he's afraid of waking up in a cold, sterile room. He wanted to tell Kiri that he saved Quaritch for more than just pity or kindness. How the man, no matter how terrible, saved Spider's life more than once, or at least saved the boy from unimaginable pain and torture.

The thought of those white lab coats immediately sends Spider's mind into a spiral. That awful, bright, and blinding machine, spinning rapidly around his head, his eyes forced open to watch as he began to feel the blood drip down his nose... his memories forcefully being ripped away from him...

The only thing that stops his nightmares from continuing is the thought of Quaritch, the man who stopped that machine from eating away at the boy's mind.

Spider wanted to tell Kiri everything... but the fear of her not being able to understand was much stronger, "I... I can't... I'm sorry."

She squeezed his shoulders reassuringly, "Don't be."

"No, Kiri--" He corrected himself, letting out a shaking breath, "I'm sorry for letting Quaritch go. Neteyam-- Quaritch-- He held a knife to your throat."

"And my mother held a knife to yours. We're even."

It was meant to be a joke, but it quickly fell flat on her tongue once his posture changed right before the last of the sentence even left her lips. He bristled like a scared cat, eyes hard with a flat tone of voice that made Kiri instantly regret her words, "That's not funny."

"You're right. I'm sorry..."

He pulled away despite the hurt expression on her face. He pointedly avoids looking her in the eyes, "I think I need some space... please..."

"Okay. Just... whatever you decide to do, at least tell us first... Please?"

"Yeah... okay..."

~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, Spider finds himself alone for the first time in who knows how long, sitting comfortably up on a large branch while watching day turn into night over the entire island. He's met with the familiar silence he often found himself in back at home in the Hallelujah Mountains, but lately, he hadn't been familiar with the concept. It was likely that the last time he was by himself was when he found Quaritch at the bottom of the ocean and lifted him up to the surface. Ever since then, he was always in the company of someone else, either Kayla or the Sullys.

He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, if he was being honest with himself. He wasn't sure if it was because of his time spent with the Recoms, but it almost felt as though everyone in this village was keeping a close eye on him, even the Sullys, people he knew he used to trust with every fiber of his being... but now that trust has been questioned. 

He wasn't blind. He noticed how on edge Kayla always appeared when he and Neytiri were in the same room. 

He didn't want to believe he was a hostage, especially not with his childhood friends and companions... but it honestly didn't feel that different compared to when he was with the Deja Blue Squad. Spider didn't want to make a comparison, but much like the Sullys, Quaritch never let him out of his sight.

So, he took this breath of freedom to his full advantage, climbing from tree to tree, swinging from branch to branch until his arms and legs ached. He felt alive again, even laughing to himself. When he finally sat down to watch darkness slowly encompass the island and the bioluminescence come to life, he was able to finally breathe his own air, even if it was only through his mask. A moment of freedom, to be himself without walking on eggshells around everyone he was with. Then again, he knows it's not real freedom knowing that no matter where he went, he was stuck on this island with the Sullys, and maybe they knew that, too, which is why they're letting him believe he's alone, even if only for the night.

The paranoia was going to eat him alive, he was sure of it. The fact that he could no longer blindly trust the family he's always desperately wanted to be a part of was killing him. And now that they knew he spared Quaritch's life... he felt as though he could never let his guard down around them ever again. 

Apart from Kayla. Spider felt safe enough around her to believe she'd understand, and she did. She didn't fault him for his choice when he initially told her. Kayla was the only one who didn't truly understand the full extent of Spider's parentage, even though she had been told, but since she wasn't ever hurt by Quaritch the way everyone else who lived on Pandora before her was, she didn't have that pain that kept her from fully accepting Spider. 

Not that it was any excuse to neglect a child for the sins of their father. Spider knew that. He knew it was wrong, the way he had been treated, but up until recently, he couldn't fault anyone for it... or maybe he just never let himself believe he could on the off chance everyone would fully accept him one day. 

Hearing Kiri talk about how Kayla never gave up on him, how she searched for him relentlessly even when she had no reason to, made Spider feel both relieved and guilty. Relieved that there was at least someone out there who pitied him enough to know that he didn't deserve this and needed to be rescued, but guilty that she had to be the one to do so. She wasn't family to him. She had no ties to Spider and no reason to care for his safety and well-being, but she did, nevertheless. He wasn't sure how to feel about an adult who didn't have any familial relations to him all of a sudden give a damn about him, mainly because he didn't want it to be out of pity. 

Kayla clearly wasn't his mother. Spider had a picture of his mother taped to the ceiling above his bunk when he was living with his foster family for years. He knew his mother's face and he knew her name. Kayla wasn't Paz Socorro, back from the dead. 

... But he would be lying to himself if he didn't think about it. He had wondered a time or two if Paz were alive, would she be like Kayla? Worse? Better? He didn't know when he started comparing his mother to Kayla, but once he realized that he was, he was ashamed of himself and forced himself to stop. Spider didn't have a mother anymore. He wished he did, and that's why he knew he was allowing Kayla to look out for him a little too much.

In the eyes of the Na'vi, he could be considered an adult... but he wasn't Na'vi, as much as it pained him to admit it. He was human, and from what he's learned, kids his age barely had to worry about anything past schoolwork and who was going to take them to prom... whatever that was. He heard Kayla mention a prom once but wasn't fully listening. Whatever it was, it made Norm and Jake laugh, reminiscing their old human lives back on Earth for a little bit.

Kayla was a firm reminder that Spider was a human child and should be able to act as such. She's been trying to drill that into all their heads, adults and children alike. She wasn't exactly hiding it as she continued to berate how Jake parents his children and how he makes them grow up too quickly. Spider admired her for that... but almost despised it whenever she came to his defense because he knew he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve to be treated or coddled like a kid... not after what he did.

He didn't deserve to be loved and cared for.

He sucked in a sharp breath, horrified by his own thoughts. Suddenly he was too scared to be left alone, and so he raced through the jungle and back to the direction of the village. 

It was late, so he thought if he snuck into Kayla's kelku, she would be asleep and he wouldn't have to try and explain himself. The thought of her catching him after he snuck out was both terrifying and... strangely domestic. He actually felt himself smile at the idea of Kayla berating and lecturing him for sneaking out and not coming back until the late hours of the night.

But that didn't happen. Instead, when Spider walked into the marui he'd been calling home for a little while now, Kayla was nowhere to be seen. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed. To ignore his conflicted emotions, he took the time to fish out his rations when his stomach rumbled in protest. He takes a deep breath as he switches his breathing mask out for the cannula nose tubes that are always stashed inside the exo-pack for emergencies, slowly breathing back out and in through his nose once he feels the familiar tickling feeling of oxygen run through his nostrils. 

He eats his dinner in silence, looking around the marui to find that Kayla's failed project of a "bookshelf" is still lying there, looking pathetic. His chewing slowed as he remembered how embarrassed and frustrated she looked when she wasn't able to make this pod feel "homey." He had been confused by her attempt to make this place feel more comfortable and home-like, and now, after everything Kiri told him, Spider wondered if Kayla was trying to do all this for him? For his sake?

It was suddenly hard to swallow his food and Spider relinquished the idea of eating, setting his rations aside and brushing his hands together. Something settles in his mind, determined and unrelenting. He forced himself not to overthink as he marched over to the sad excuse for a plank of wood and lifted it up, inspecting it. No, he wasn't known for putting together furniture that didn't come with instructions, but he wasn't thinking about it anyway. He was pretty sure the shelf was a lost cause and he could show Kayla how to properly decorate a Na'vi home tomorrow. But for now, he fetched his knife and began to carve out a small shape into the wood.

He had been crouched over his small project when Kayla had finally returned home, exhausted and after nearly spending all night worrying herself sick over the kid she placed in her care. She stopped in the entryway, however, when she recognized the small human painted in blue stripes, casually working on something in his hands whilst he rested on the heels of his feet, as if he had never left. Spider looked up at her entrance, and when Kayla peered down, she noticed his knife in one hand and a small, rounded bead in the other.

Sighing in relief, she stepped forward and knelt beside the teen, reaching out to gently hold the back of his head but stopped once she reminded herself not to do so. She pulled her hand back and Spider watched her carefully, trying not to appear cautious or worse, appear as though he wanted Kayla to reach out and comfort him.

"Spider..." She eyes him down with a careful inspection until she's satisfied that he's not physically hurt, "Are you okay?"

He nodded because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to lie properly if he spoke up.

Kayla relents after that, leaning back and breathing out another sigh. He goes back to work on his bead once he realizes she won't be asking any further questions. She watched him work instead, now curious once he successfully finished the bead and was now moving on to adding it to a familiar piece he kept on his loincloth.

"Is that your songcord?" She asked.

Spider nodded again, "Yeah."

"It's beautiful. What's the significance behind the new one?" She indicated to the new bead.

Spider paused, trying to figure out how to answer without actually giving it away. He briefly found himself glancing back over at the bookshelf he left in the corner of the room, the one Kayla had tried to make with her bare hands, the one she was trying to use to make Spider feel more at home, the one that now had a chuck missing because Spider wanted to commemorate it onto his songcord. Finally, he answered what he knew would be vague, but it was still the truth, 

"Safety." 

He bowed his head in shame, following up with a soft mutter under his voice, "I'm sorry."

With his songcord forgotten, she somehow knew he was talking about the events that transpired today and she immediately reassured him, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Spider."

"Yes, I do. I was such a jerk. Like you said-- you're only trying to help me. But I keep getting you in trouble with Jake--"

"Nope," she immediately shut that thought process down, anger blooming inside her, but not because of the teenager in front of her. She made sure her reassurance was heard loud and clear, firm and confident, "You're not. What Jake and I have going on has absolutely nothing to do with you, kid."

He carefully peered up at her, "... Family differences?"

She snorts dryly, "That's putting it lightly."

"Still. It's a little annoying that you won't accept an apology from me. You're a bit too understanding."

Kayla smirked, "Tough."

"I'm almost convinced I could get away with murder in front of you."

"I mean-- If it's necessary..." he's startled into laughing and Kayla smiles at the sight. She finally gains the courage to reach over and pat his knee, "I'm only human. To be human is to be flawed."

His laughter dies down, but the humor remains. He flashes a fox-like grin, his voice teasing, "Sucks for you humans, doesn't it?"

Kayla laughed through her nose as she feigned a stern, motherlike voice, "Okay, smartass, go to your room."

"This is my room!"

~~~~~~~~~

Kayla wasn't sure if Neytiri had been told that Spider saved Quaritch, but just in case, Kayla made sure that Spider was nowhere near the Na'vi woman and none the wiser so he could enjoy a good fishing lesson with the Sully kids and Tsireya.

Well, the Sully kids minus Lo'ak. Jake decided it would be a good idea for his son to join the adults in this discussion, much to Kayla's distaste. She wasn't sure if Jake was just being petty and rubbing it in her face, or if he genuinely believed that Lo'ak was grown up now and needed to be a part of this instead of being outside and hanging around other Na'vi his age. 

Nevertheless, as Kayla stands near Lo'ak in their family marui, Neytiri tries discussing what measures they'll need to take to send Spider home and Jake silently listens. Kayla made the smart choice to keep Spider away from the kelku today as Neytiri was nearly ready to go out on a tirade... hence why Kayla stood close to the door. Neytiri wanted to scream and curse when she initially discovered who was responsible for Quaritch's life, and then she proceeded to ramble about sending Spider back to the Forest, whether to leave him with the Omatikaya or have the Sky People deal with him.  Whichever option they choose, Neytiri follows up with the comment that Spider couldn't stay here anyway because he will run out of much-needed resources soon.

While Kayla knows that Neytiri is just trying to get rid of him, the Na'vi woman makes an excellent point. Spider needs human food, medicine, and of course other supplies such as spare masks, none of which are provided here and are limited to what she had stashed away in her own marui.

"What if they capture Spider again?" Jake tried to reason with his wife, though it wasn't for the same reason as Kayla, which angered his sister, "Now that he's been to this village, he'll know where to lead the Sky People for the next assault because they're not going to stop just because we took out the Recoms."

Kayla snarled, her arms tightening around her chest as she glared at Jake, "Spider didn't give away the Omatikaya and he's not going to give away the Metkayina."

"Of course, he would!" Neytiri hissed back, pointing an accusatory finger at Kayla before Jake could retaliate, "He's the reason my son was--"

"No, Mom. It was me," all eyes turned to Lo'ak and the poor boy looked as though he was holding back tears. His voice shook as he forced himself to continue, "I convinced Neteyam to stay and help me save Spider. If... If Neteyam didn't come with me, it would've been me instead. I had the gun. It should've been me."

Kayla carefully turned back to catch Jake and Neytiri's reaction, and she was not disappointed. Both of Lo'ak's parents appeared horrified, staring down at their son as if he said the most horrific thing imaginable. 

Lo'ak lowered his gaze, not wanting to read into what their expressions meant, whether his parents were horrified that he got his brother killed or if they were horrified that he would blame himself and wish the roles were reversed. Either way, he couldn't stand being in that room for a second longer, sheepishly tilting his head toward the exit as he peered up at Kayla, "Auntie... can I talk with you outside for a minute?"

She nods and doesn't spare a second glance at Jake and Neytiri as she follows her nephew out of the marui. She thought they were just going to step right outside the home, but didn't question it when Lo'ak decided to lead her further away.

Once they were walking along the beach, Kayla decided to be the first to address why he brought her here, "What's up, kiddo?"

"I... wanted to thank you for what you said to my dad yesterday. You stood up for me."

Kayla stopped in her tracks, dread prickling down her body, "You heard that?"

Lo'ak weakly chuckles, "You weren't exactly quiet. I didn't mean to snoop, I swear."

She paused to think about this before realization hit her, remembering how Spider stormed out the second she returned from her argument with Jake, "Was Spider listening, too?"

The Na'vi teen's ears lowered as shame crossed his features, nodding with hesitancy, "Spider... he was pissed at me."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't angry at him."

Even that statement shocked her, tilting her head down to him, "You're not?"

"No, I..." Lo'ak exhaled slowly, guilt wracking through his mind while forcing himself to speak, "I want to hate him... I want to be angry at him for letting that monster live."

"But you're not."

"No. I'm not."

"Why?"

"I don't know," when she appeared unimpressed by that answer, he simply shook his head, "I'm serious. I don't."

She watches her nephew for a moment, his mannerisms as he looks down at his feet to hide away from the world. Slowly, she opened her mouth, "I might know. Because you already lost one brother and you can't afford to lose another."

Lo'ak's head shoots up in her direction, yellow eyes wide with eyebrows scrunching together. Kayla watched as his face began to crumble and shatter before she took a step forward and gathered the boy in her arms, shushing him softly as Lo'ak's body was wracked with soft, silent sobs.

He held on tightly to her, his voice so quiet and small, "I want to wake up, Auntie. This all feels like a bad dream; something I can't wake from. It hurts all the time and it won't stop. It should've been me... I wanted it to be me..."

"Lo'ak-- hey... hey. No," she softly comforts, her heart breaking at the state of her nephew, scared of what he was saying about himself but trying to be supportive, "Don't say that. You don't mean it."

"But I do! I convinced him to come with me to save Spider! He would still be here if it weren't for me!"

"Do you regret it?"

His cries stutter for a moment, shocked by the question as he tilts his head up, "What?"

"Do you regret saving Spider?"

"N-No."

She pushes back the stray braids he kept on one side of his head, "Even though he saved the man who was behind your brother's death?"

"I don't get it. Why are you trying to make me angry?"

"I'm not, I swear," she shook her head as her eyes started to warm and blur, the sight of her nephew so broken and grieving was a harsh reminder of the other nephew she lost, "I'm just saying... if you don't regret it, then I'd say it was worth it, and I'm sure Neteyam would, too. The fact that you would rather trade places with Neteyam than regret saving Spider tells me you don't blame Spider for what happened."

Her words both shattered and mended his heart, his cries slowing down with silent tears still running down his face. He squeezed her waist before letting go, stepping back to wipe his eyes, his breathing still shaking as he nodded, "Spider's my brother, too."

Kayla smiled gently even as her own tears slipped down her cheeks undetected, "Do you think Neteyam felt the same?"

"I think so. I just... wish nothing happened the way it did. One of the last things I said to 'Teyam before everything went to shit was how determined I was to save Payakan because he's my brother. Neteyam probably hated me for that..."

"He didn't. I'm sure of it."

Lo'ak huffed quietly, taking one hand and clasping it over his opposite elbow, "You don't understand..."

"How come?"

"Because you've never lost a brother."

Kayla's eyes widen, feeling as though she had just been slapped in the face, "Lo'ak... has your father never told you anything about your Uncle Tom?"

"N... No?"

She had never, not once, ever felt the kind of rage that just rolled in her gut, rumbling like a cornered animal. Kayla would later pat herself on the back for how quickly she had managed to shift her face into a clean slate before Lo'ak even noticed the shift in her eyes. Instead, she keeps her voice leveled, "You should ask him. Because I can tell you right now... he and I know exactly how you feel."

Either Lo'ak didn't catch onto what she was saying, or he was wise not to venture further into that viper nest. While his sobs had vanished, one stray tear still managed to slip past his detection, "Brothers forever. We should have been brothers forever..."

"Lo'ak, look at me," he does so, barely blinking when she reaches down to wipe away the tear. She managed a smile, one that showed her age as she expressed what she's known for a very long time, "The word 'forever' is not meant for people. People can't live forever. 'You know what does live forever? Memories. Stories. Songs. Those last forever, just as long as there's someone who will remember them. You and Neteyam will always be brothers, forever, even when you're no longer around, as long as there are still people here who remember you. Okay?"

~~~~~~~~~

The communal meal that night was lively and honestly, it was something the Sullys needed. For the time being, they kept the newest sign of danger to themselves and Kayla hoped that it wouldn't eventually bite them in the back. She knew eventually she and Jake would have to tell Ronal and Tonowari about Quartich-- then again, she could just have Jake do it. She technically didn't need to get herself involved as her brother could speak for all of them, but somehow, she had become the spokesperson between her brother's family and the clan leaders of the Metkayina. Kayla didn't volunteer or even detested it, but one day it just happened and she's been playing along ever since. So now that the responsibility fell onto her, she had been thinking of when would be a good time to speak to Ronal and Tonowari. 

Now would definitely not suffice as Kayla spots the clan leaders across the way, toward the head of the line of Na'vi eating amongst each other. Ronal and Tonowari were speaking to an elder, all serious and respectful, until Tsireya and Ao'nung joined them. Both leaders spot their children at the same time before gently dismissing the elder and moving to converse with their son and daughter, likely to hear about how their day went. Kayla watched openly, knowing that neither of the clan leaders could see her from her spot. It was a bit cowardly to watch them when she knew she wouldn't be caught, but she allowed herself to be selfish in this moment.

That is, until Jake interrupted her. He hadn't noticed what his sister was distracted by as he moved to sit beside her with his plate of food in hand. Once he's crouched next to her, the spell is broken and Kayla is suddenly aware of his presence and pointedly only staring down at her meal laid out in front of her. 

Jake takes a moment to settle in before speaking at a low level, "Whatever you said to Lo'ak... thank you. He looked more lively than before."

She hummed, unimpressed, "Believe me, he would've looked better if it was you."

"Yeah, well... according to you, I don't say the right things."

"As a brother, sure," she shrugged, uncaring and a bit too brutal with her words. She didn't have the energy to put a filter on it, "But you can't afford to be like that when you're a father. Unless you're trying to be like our old man."

"... That was low."

Her ears pinned back against her skull, pausing the small wooden cup of water she held to her lips before taking a sip and lowering it back down, "Yeah, I guess it was. You... never told your kids about Tommy."

Jake winced, and suddenly he was aware of the storm beginning to brew as if electricity was radiating off his sister's skin. He could feel the charge and resisted the urge to move away, "... No, I haven't."

"Are you going to now?" Her question wasn't curious or sarcastic. It was surprisingly calm, but perhaps that's what made it all the more terrifying, "They might open up to you if they knew you lost a brother once, too."

Jake found himself opening his mouth despite knowing it was a bad idea. Grace always did call him a jarhead for this, among other things, "I thought you'd be angry that I never talk about him."

"Oh, believe me, I'm furious," she eyed him up with malice in her eyes, a fire that couldn't be doused by any ocean as her own voice dropped low into something quiet yet venomous, "No one gets to defile my big brother's memory like that. No one. How would you feel if Lo'ak decided to never mention Neteyam again? How do you think his sisters would feel?"

Jake watched her face with what could be described as guilt, "You're right..."

And there they were again. At a stalemate. For a moment, things looked as though everything would get better between siblings. Now, it was back to square one. Kayla thought she could move on from what she felt regarding her brother, but when she's always so close to forgiving him, something always reels her back. Kayla was sure he was tired of this as much as she was, but neither one has been able to find equal footing, no matter how hard they tried to mend what's been broken.

Instead of trying to mend it even further, Kayla spoke as if she was resigned to it, "I'm sorry it's come to this."

He didn't need to ask. He knew what she meant, and he nodded in agreement, "Me, too. I was out of line the other day."

"You were scared. It's hard to blame you..." She shrugged, "Quaritch is still out there. He's your demon as much as Ardmore is mine."

Jake processed that for a moment, staring off into space before letting out a long sigh through his nose, "Well, the good news is we have the element of surprise. Quaritch doesn't know about you."

He didn't miss the way her tail rose to alertness or the way her ears suddenly moved to attention. She even looked guilty, eyebrows scrunched together as she cringed, trying to hide her face behind her drink as she spoke,

"Jake... Quaritch knew who I was."

He was just as alert now, "What?"

"On the ship, when we were fighting, he found out who I was."

"How?"

She reached for her collar, gently grasping the chain around her neck before lifting it up into the air, letting her dog tags slip out from underneath her crop top. They glimmer faintly in the firelight as Jake reads her name from the tags loud and clear in his head. 

"You were wearing them?"

"Old habits die hard."

Jake couldn't argue with that. He knows he was just as guilty about old habits. His hand rose to rub his eyes when he felt the muscles in his brows twitch from stress, "... I guess we're all going to have to be careful then."

"That's an understatement."

~~~~~~~~~

Another nightmare. Another night of trying to convince himself he was safe. Spider doesn't like the fact that Kayla is always so willing to talk to him about it, even though he knows that she's just doing her best. He knows he'll eventually have to talk about it, but for now, he'll continue to wake from his nightmares and refuse to talk about them when Kayla asks about them at the moment. 

This particular night was bad, worse than the rest, and by morning, Spider was definitely short with his tone and his patience. He kept to himself, not willing to talk or indulge anyone by proxy. Kayla decided that further irritating him wouldn't be a good solution, so she offered to leave while he stayed in the marui, stewing with his ill temper.

Kiri must have tried to draw him out because a short while after trying to talk to Spider, she found her aunt in the shallow water of the reef and helped her with the net she was throwing out while she shared her concern, 

"He was tortured... wasn't he?"

Kayla glanced at Kiri out of the corner of her eye, wishing she could lie to her. The only reason she didn't was because Kiri already looked confident that she knew the answer. As young as she was, she had already been through so much-- she wasn't naive about the world, which hurt to admit.

Kayla returned to her task, taking a deep breath, "Yes, I'm pretty sure he was. But he hasn't said anything to me."

"Not to mention what my mom did to him..."

It honestly shocked Kayla that it took this long to have this conversation with Kiri. She had secretly dreaded this moment that would eventually have to happen with her niece, knowing that it would be hard to comfort her while also trying to explain her mother's actions as neutral as possible, despite her own opinion, "That woman who held a knife to Spider's throat... that wasn't your mother, sweetheart."

"You haven't spoken to her very much." Kiri simply states.

Kayla's lips drew a thin line, "No."

Not only that, but Kayla had been actively avoiding Neytiri, only tolerating the other woman's presence if she knew Spider would be forced into the same vicinity as her. Kayla knew it wasn't entirely Neytiri's fault and it wasn't fair to blame all of Spider's trauma on her, but it was easier.

Kiri accepted her aunt's short reply before quietly admitting out loud, "I was scared."

"Of your mom?"

"Yes, but mostly for Spider. For years, I tried to convince myself that my mom loved Spider in her own way, and I tried to convince Spider, too. But then she held a knife--" She winced, lightly hitting the palm of her hand against her forehead, "I feel so stupid--"

"You're not stupid, Kiri," Kayla quickly reached out to take her niece's hand, drawing it away from her face, "You're an optimist. That doesn't make you stupid. Listen. Your parents love you. They'll do anything for you."

"Yeah," the thought of all those dead bodies, the fire, the explosions, the sinking of the ship, and of course, the fear in Spider's eyes, "That's what scares me."

"It is a scary thought... but I understand how they feel. I mean-- I know I'd do anything for you kids now, as cheesy as it sounds."

"It's not cheesy," Kiri faintly smiles, "You're family, Auntie. We know you only want what's best for us."

"Yeah?" She huffs in amusement, "Someone should tell your father that."

"Would... Would you have done the same thing? If you were in my mother's place?"

Kayla peered up at the sky, a little thrown off by the question but wasn't at all surprised that Kiri was curious. She had never thought about it before if she was in her brother's position. If she was in Neytiri's position.

"I'm not sure I can imagine being in your mom's place, sweetheart. I can't imagine what it's like to lose a son. It's possible Neytiri wasn't entirely aware of her actions. Or she was. Who knows? I just know one thing. If it were me, Spider would've never been in harm's way to begin with, I promise you that."

Kiri tilts her head up and watches the sky with her aunt, not entirely at peace, but content, "I think I can live with that answer."

~~~~~~~~~

Another nightmare and Spider couldn't take it anymore. He needed to tell someone something, and if it wasn't about what he endured within Bridgehead, then it could at least be something useful. After all, while the Recoms were learning how to be a Na'vi from him, Spider had been learning a thing or two from the Sky People as well.

He searched and found Jake and Kayla on top of the large mangrove trees, attending to their ikran, not wanting their banshees to feel neglected and unloved while they lived their new lives on the water. Everyone with eyes can see that the older Sully siblings are at odd ends with each other, but that's nothing new to Spider and the family. It wasn't any different from when Kayla first arrived on Pandora, so... even though it wasn't anything new, it was a little concerning that she and Jake were still at odds with one another. Although, maybe they were trying to get past it as they tasked themselves with the ikran.

Kayla smiled to herself while running a single hand down Thena's snout before she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Looking up, her alertness melts into an open-minded smile once she realizes who it is, "Hey, Spider."

Jake looks up at Spider's name and nods in a short greeting before the boy steps closer, hesitant, "I... have to tell you guys something. I know why the Sky People are back. I know why they're here and I know what they're after."

Despite their disagreements, Jake and Kayla are still very much the first generation of Sullys on Pandora as they both turn to look at each other at the same time, then proceed to do the same as they look back at Spider.

"We already know they want to take this world as their own," Kayla replied.

Spider simply shook his head, "It's more than that."

Jake's eyebrows furrow, "They're not mining again?"

"No. Worse. They're hunting tulkun with a purpose. Not just to piss off the Na'vi. There's uh... a liquid substance found in the brain matter of tulkun called Amrita. Apparently, it completely stops human aging in its tracks."

"What?" Jake frowned. 

"It's worth millions of dollars. They told me that Amrita is what's paying for RDA's whole operation on Pandora. The military, the city, the labor force..."

Jake stares off at the distance, deep in thought with a grim expression on his face. Kayla doesn't appear phased by the news, unsurprised by the Sky People's motives. When Jake turns to her, she voices her resigned thoughts, "I told you. Earth was dying by the time I left. Things must have gotten even worse since then if they were getting this desperate."

Jake watches her carefully before nodding in agreement, "The olo'eyktan and the tsahik should know about this."

"I'll talk to them," Kayla volunteers before Jake could even move. She pulls away from her ikran and moves to the human boy, an arm out to guide him forward, "Spider."

The teen followed her lead without question, and Jake couldn't avoid the wary, cautious glances both his sister and the boy managed to glance back at him before they went back to the direction of the village. He's left alone to his thoughts and his attention-seeking ikran.

When they reach the chief's marui, Kayla insists on speaking her piece first, telling both Ronal and Tonowari about who Quaritch is and why he is dangerous being left alive, then she lets Spider talk as he explains why the Sky People were after the tulkun. Both clan leaders listen to both of them intently, and when Spider mentioned witnessing the death of a familiar tulkun and her calf, Ronal's hand instinctively rests on her pregnant belly, horror slowly dawning on her face.

"My Spirit Sister and her baby were murdered... for this?"

Spider's eyes widen, unaware that the tulkun he witnessed being butchered was actually the tsahik's Spirit Sister. Guilt rattles in his chest at the thought of Ronal's distress, unaware of Tonowari's large hand gently encompassing his small shoulder until the olo'eyktan spoke,

"You have done well to bring this to our attention, boy," Tonowari spoke gently, waiting until Spider peered up at him before he gracefully nodded once down at him, "Irayo."

Spider nodded back, unable to think of anything else to say other than an apology when he saw how broken the once stern tsahik looked, "I'm sorry I couldn't do more."

He says this while looking up at Ronal, whose ears pin back as she tries to contain her composure. She almost couldn't stand the pitied look the tawtute boy graced her and she had to look away. With whatever Ronal didn't say, Kayla made up for by placing her hand on Spider's other shoulder, opposite of Tonowari's,

"You did what you could, Spider," she gently consoled.

"She is right," Tonowari adds, much to Spider's surprise and Kayla's gratification, "You would have endangered yourself if you had tried putting a stop to the murder of Ro'a. You are small and have no weapons."

Spider didn't take the chief's observation of his size to heart, still caught up on the name Tonowari called the murdered tulkun. Spider didn't know her name, and somehow that made him feel worse. 

Kayla saw the look on his face and thought he was hung up on the idea of not having any weapons, "Something that I promise we will fix. Soon."

Spider simply nodded, still distracted by the memory Ro'a and her calf while absently muttering, "I miss my bow."

"We'll make a new one," Kayla squeezed his shoulder, "A better one, okay? Why don't you head back home? I'll meet you there."

He looks up at her, then Tonowari, then Ronal. He must have seen something curious as he tilted his head ever so slightly to one side. Spider looked as though he wanted to ask a question, but instead, he just nodded in agreement and moved out of Kayla and Tonowari's space, walking out of the marui while only occasionally looking back over his shoulder.

Kayla watched him leave, a little wary that she was sending him alone through the village until she couldn't see him anymore before turning back to the clan leaders. She doesn't appear phased about the fact that Ronal and Tonowari were already expectedly looking at her as she rolled her lips, 

"The other reef villages should be told the reason behind the tulkun hunting."

Tonowari bows his head once in solidarity, "I will send word."

Kayla nods and makes a step out of the pod, but she froze with one foot still in. Hesitant, she turns back to the pair, not making eye contact as she opens her mouth, "I need to bring Spider home soon. Back to the forest. He's defenseless and he needs supplies in order to survive on the reef... should he be allowed to stay here."

When she hesitantly glanced up through her eyelashes, she was met with an untelling expression on both of their faces. Ronal is the first to answer, taking a deep breath, "... Do you vouch for the boy?"

"I do."

They exchange a look that Kayla is too exhausted to decipher before Tonowari speaks as he turns back in her direction, "He's a good child. Loyal and brave. If he wants to stay here, he will need to learn our ways."

She feels a tightness in her muscles that she didn't know was there begin to deflate and relax, her lungs expanding more than usual. Her faint smile grew more, gratitude evident in her eyes, "Copy that."

Ronal purses her lips to refrain from smiling back, "Let me know when you intend to leave. I will be sure to provide any provisions you need."

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~

A few days flew by with not much to call home about. There was still a live mine of an aura around Neytiri, so everyone purposely kept Spider away from her. Instead, the Sully children would go to Kayla's marui to visit with him or to take him away for lessons or explorations. Spider was delighted to learn he would be taught more about the Metkayina's way of life after Kayla explained Tonowari and Ronal's acceptance of him. He didn't want to get his hopes up, knowing it sounded too good to be true, but he didn't want to let the clan leaders down, let alone Kayla, so he didn't say anything and eagerly followed Tsireya and the Sully children to any lessons they were just as eager to teach him.

Kayla tried her best not to chaperone these lessons, knowing that being a helicopter... guardian wasn't what Spider needed. So, she'd see him off every day to wherever his friends had planned for him and leave them to it, at least comforted by the fact that the Sully children wouldn't let anything happen to Spider, and Tsireya and the other reef children were starting to feel the same way.

That afternoon, she found herself running her thumb over her songcord, sitting down to finally come up with the lyrics to tell her life story. She struggled and didn't get very far by the time Tuk pranced up to her kelku.

"Hey, Auntie? Max is on the radio. He's asking for you."

Kayla smiles and gets up, placing a hand on her youngest niece's head, "Thank you, sweetness. Is your dad around?"

"He's out fishing with mom and the olo'eyktan."

"Alright. The other kids are just down the beach. Go on ahead and I'll see you later."

Tuk runs off excitedly while Kayla makes for the Sully marui. She finds herself alone when she gets there and she crouches down in front of the long-distance radio, pressing it to her lips, "This is Desert Fox, you have the green light."

"Hey, Kayla, it's Max."

"Hey, Max. Everything alright?"

"Everything's fine except for, uh... except for one thing. You haven't broken your link in a while and your body's vitals are... well, I don't feel comfortable with how low they are.  You need to come back, and I don't mean just breaking the link and waking up. I need you to bring the avatar back so I can get a proper assessment of both bodies."

She taps her finger against the talking piece as she chooses her words before responding, "Did Norm put you up to this? Normally, he's the one to call."

"Right now, Norm is... pissed off, to say the least. He figured I would have a more level head when talking to you."

"I understand," she sighs heavily, a headache already forming at the idea of having to face Norm's wrath, "I need to bring Spider back anyway. Tell Norm we'll be there tomorrow at about 1600."

"Copy that. Over and out."

~~~~~~~~~

When Tuk had mentioned Max's call to her father, Jake couldn't afford to wait to hear from Kayla about it and went looking for her, concern at the front of his mind. He finds her in her marui and stands in the doorway with hesitance when he notices the bags full of necessities on the floor in front of him. Kayla looked up as she was neatly placing Spider's rations in an easily accessible pouch, to which Jake's ears fell,

"Are you... packing?"

She nods, "Max had called while you were out. He says I've been away too long. I'll take Thena and fly back in the morning."

"Oh... are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I gotta go back. I shouldn't have stayed away from my human form for this long, you know that. I'll take Spider with me." 

When Jake flinches and looks as though he wants to argue she immediately adds, "He needs to recuperate and Norm and the others need to see him. They've been so worried, Jake. You need to share the boy with the people who actually raised him."

"No, it's fine. I understand that part. It's just... with Quaritch out there... and now that he knows who you are... it doesn't feel right. He'll have every reason to take both you and Spider."

"I can take care of Spider and myself. I've handled worse than Quaritch, and he wouldn't harm Spider. I'll bring him back, but for the time being, he needs to go home and I need to stretch my human legs."

"So you will come back?"

There's a hesitance in his voice, a small hopeful tone that makes Kayla look away out of awkwardness, "Jake..."

"Right," he corrects himself with a nod, "Don't talk about it."

"No. Do talk about it. But not to me," she managed a small glare in his direction, "I'll come back and I better hear that you and Lo'ak talked."

"About what exactly?"

"Jesus Christ-- Anything, Jake," she snarls out of frustration, staring up at the ceiling as if begging Eywa to clean her brother's ears, "Everything. And make sure he knows that he's not just a replacement."

His eyebrows furrow as a growing need to defend himself begins to form, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean... when exactly did you first start to See Lo'ak? Before or after his brother's death?" Jake's eyes slowly widened as his sister's words bore a hole in his chest. Kayla makes sure her disapproval shows as she continues, "He might not think your parenting is genuine at the moment because you're probably just nurturing Neteyam through him."

"Shit. Okay. I'll talk to him... Are we good?" He motions a finger between the two of them.

"We're getting there," she answered simply, not in the mood to open up another can of worms before she had to leave. She didn't want to say how long it might take for her to finally see eye-to-eye with Jake, but she wanted to. Not enjoying the silence that lingered after her short reply, she took a steady breath in and out of her nose, gaining the courage to look up at him, "Do you... want me to tell everyone about Neteyam?"

His eyes widen a fraction more before he averts his gaze, the broken expression almost unbearable for his sister to see as he stares off at the wall beside him, "If... If you could. I understand if you don't want to."

"It's fine. Leave it to me."

~~~~~~~~~

Thena wasn't overjoyed by all the weight she would have to carry over the ocean, and she showed her distaste by gently nibbling Kayla's shin as her rider was strapping the bags of supplies onto her back.

"Ah," Kayla hissed as she moves her leg out of her ikran's reach, batting her softly with the end of her tail, "Frickin' drama queen. You're going home so quit complaining."

The banshee squawked in retaliation, shaking her neck before huffing loudly through her nostrils as Kayla would say-- dramatically. The ikran was resting on the beach of the village with a small crowd of Metkayina standing around to see Kayla and Spider off, their friends and family included. 

Jake was on the other side of Thena, pulling and testing out the saddle, harness, and straps to ensure a safe flight, "Remember to take more frequent stops on the way back. She's not used to carrying so much for such a long distance."

"You got it."

"Still got your compass?"

"Check," she expresses as she indicates to the mentioned object, resting against her leg at the end of her songcord.

"Alright. Fly safe. Have Norm radio us when you get there."

He makes a step toward Kayla, then stops, his hands hesitating at his side before he just decides on firmly nodding. It almost looked as though he was going in to hug her, but decided against it when her shoulders hunched up at the idea. The siblings awkwardly stare at one another before Kayla walks around him and mutters, "See you later."

"Yeah..."

She moves to join Spider where he stands in the sand, his arms folded in front of him as he cautiously watches the Sully children out of the corner of his eye. Kayla peers over at her nieces and nephew, and can see how downtrodden they look, watching both her and Spider. 

She offers them an encouraging smile before standing before the human teen. Kayla pinches the bottom of Spider's mask where his chin would be, making him look up at her as she gently whispered, "Hey. We'll be coming back sooner than later. I promise it won't be long. So chin up and go tell them that you'll see them soon. You don't have to say goodbye."

Slowly, he nods and walks away, toward Lo'ak, Tuk, and Kiri. Kayla watched as the siblings all surrounded Spider in a warm, tight hug before she heard the sand moving behind her. Turning around, she was met with Ronal and Tonowari approaching her, and she courteously greeted them by pressing her fingers to her forehead and lowering her hand down in their direction.

Tonowari mimics the motion to her as well with his free hand, his other one gripping his tall harpoon. The olo'eyktan kept a straight face, though Kayla was getting better at reading his eyes, those light blue orbs with specks of green. While he appeared to stand tall and proud over his people, his eyes told a different story, at least to Kayla. She could see a small hesitance in his gaze, trying to remain strong as he solemnly addressed her,

"Safe travels, Makayla te Suli tsmuke te Toruk Makto. Your home here will anxiously await your return."

Kayla bows her head respectfully, forcing down any color threatening to spread up her face. Her eyes dart to the woman standing next to him, catching Ronal's green orbs with specks of gold. The tsahik kept her face firm and blank, though her eyes briefly glanced Kayla up and down in a way that sent the avatar woman down a tunnel of yearning. Ronal's gaze alone was almost enough for Kayla to change her mind and decide to stay on the island for another week.

She quickly regained her words when her mind stuttered, her lips feeling dry as she spoke quietly, "Thank you, ma olo'eyktan. Ma tsahik."

It took a lot of willpower not to step back as Ronal boldly stepped into Kayla's space, grasping the avatar woman's hand in both of her larger ones. Kayla retained eye contact with the tsahik, trying not to crumble under the heat radiating off of the other woman's body, or at the very least, try not to visibly show how both of the clan leaders' presence affected her. 

Ronal didn't even blink at this violation of unspoken space between them, lowering her voice for only Kayla to hear, "Eywa ngahu."

Kayla did her best to swallow her nerves and smiled ever so slightly once the words translated into her head. Almost regretfully, she finally steps away from Ronal, gently pulling her hand out of hers and swiftly turning her back to walk toward her ikran. Even as she walked away, Kayla could feel two pairs of eyes on her, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up, but in a more... exciting and promising way. Not like the discomfort she once felt when the clan leaders had first laid eyes on her.

Spider had already finished talking to the Sully children and patiently waited for Kayla beside Thena... but at a safe distance since the ikran was eyeing him a little funny. He wasn't entirely watching Kayla as she approached him, his eyes distractedly flicking between her and the clan leaders watching her depart. He doesn't say a word as Kayla encourages him to climb onto the banshee. He does so, while repeatedly looking back curiously at Ronal and Tonowari. Kayla followed him up onto her ikran's back as she reached her tswin out to form tsaheylu with her loyal steed. Kayla looks around the crowd one last time, from her brother and his family to the clan leaders who had accepted her into their village. She looked away and got comfortable on the saddle, making sure Spider was hanging onto Thena's neck from where he was situated in front of Kayla before ordering in her head for the ikran to take flight.

~~~~~~~~~

By the time the island of Awa'atlu disappeared behind them, Kayla and Spider silently prepared for their long journey ahead. They had to find rock cliffs all throughout the flight so that Thena could rest, more times than when Kayla first flew her out over the ocean, but neither avatar nor human complained, taking the breaks to stretch their legs before they would eventually have to hop onto Thena's back once more.

It was getting dark by the time they began to glide over vast trees and floating mountains, but the world of Pandora was just as bright at night as it was during the day, if not more beautiful, so Thena had no problems as she flew up higher into the Hallelujah Mountains, already knowing her way home.

Even though the mountain appeared inconspicuous, Kayla knew they were at the right spot. She heard a horn blow before she even noticed a single Na'vi, but once the horn had sounded, a chorus of yips and cheers gave away the High Camp's position. A cave was spotted along with torches beginning to light up to beckon her in the right direction, so Kayla grasped Spider's shoulder and instructed Thena toward the cave where she had begun to make out shapes of Na'vi waving her in. 

Thena quickly lands the moment the landing zone is cleared, too tired to continue carrying all that weight for a second longer. Spider got off first before Kayla followed suit, breaking the tsaheylu and immediately tending to her ikran, running her hands up and down the beast's neck as thanks while supplying the banshee with plenty of raw meat. The floor of the cave felt cold and familiar beneath Kayla's feet as she looked around at yet another familiar growing crowd as they swarmed around her and Spider. The Omatikaya are all chatting around one another as they stare the two newcomers down, but they appear more relaxed and even happier to see them than ever before.

In the back of the crowd, Kayla caught an accent that wasn't Na'vi, "Look! It's Spider!"

And like dominos, other voices reacted as they drew closer, gently pushing the Na'vi out of the way to get to the human teenager who now perked up at the sound of familiar voices,

"Spider!"

"You're okay!"

"Good to see you, kid!"

"We're so glad you're safe!"

The allied humans, scientists, military, and everyone in between, with smiling faces covered in breathing masks, surround Spider to inspect him and hug him. He faintly smiles at all the familiar faces, adults he had known his whole life, greeting him like he was visiting for the holidays, marveling at how much he's changed.

One of the humans broke away from the group when she spotted the familiar avatar woman beside Spider, a young woman with dark, curly hair as she waved up to the avatar in question, "Kayla!"

"Hey, Jocelyn," Kayla's smile widened into a genuine joy to see her friend, "How's everything?"

"Doing well. It's so good to see you!"

"Makayla Sully!"

"Shit," Kayla mutters when she hears that familiar voice behind her, sounding pissed off. She sheepishly spins around and smiles as if she had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar, "Hi, Norm."

"'Hi, Norm.'" The man in question scoffs mockingly in his avatar form. For someone so lanky and overall nice, Norm Spellman can come off as terrifying when he's pissed, yellow eyes narrowing onto Kayla, "'Hi, Norm?' What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Listen, Norm, before you chew me out..." Kayla cuts off the tirade he no doubt had for her, hand out to stop him while looking around, "There's something I need to do first."

Norm nearly opened his mouth to protest, but then he looked down at Spider and noticed a grave expression on the teenager's face. Spider's gaze meets Norm and shakes his head, all the while Kayla continues looking around the crowd until she finally spots who she is looking for.

Amidst the chaos of everyone greeting Kayla and Spider, she hadn't seen Mo'at approaching until now, and whatever expression Kayla had on her face made the older Na'vi woman very cautious upon walking up to Kayla.

"Ma tsahik," Kayla bowed her hand to her respectfully, despite the grave expression on her face. It felt wrong to call her that. It felt like she was disrespecting Ronal somehow by calling Mo'at that, despite everything the Omatikaya woman had done for her.

"What has happened, Makaylasully?" Mo'at doesn't bother greeting, not once she saw something terrible flash in Kayla's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Mo'at... I wish I wasn't the one to tell you this."

~~~~~~~~~

Mo'at's cries of anguish could be heard all throughout camp, shaking the very foundation of their stronghold, and once word spread throughout the clan, more cries rang out, mourning over the loss of who was once their future olo'eyktan, who was still a child, echoing off the cave walls. 

The Omatikaya had all flown off to the Tree of Souls to mourn Neteyam, while Norm and the other humans attended to Spider and Kayla.

Along with the heaviness in her heart, Kayla felt almost ill when she opened her eyes and was met with the soft-glowing ceiling of her link gurney for the first time in-- god, how long did she stay in her avatar form? Weeks? Months? It's all beginning to bleed together for her now. She waited until the gurney's lid hissed and opened before she removed the censor cage keeping her body in place, taking her time sitting up. 

Which she immediately regrets as her arms threaten to give out when they push her torso up into a sitting position, cold and shaking. She wasn't able to restrain the weak groan she let out as her eyes strained and a headache formed right away, her vision dotted and dizzy. When looking down at her feet dangling off the side of the link bay, the woozy feeling in her stomach makes itself known, and suddenly her mouth begins to fill with saliva.

'Shit!'

Kayla leans further over the side of the gurney and vomits all over the floor around her, continuously gagging until her stomach contents are emptied. She spits and gasps for air, now suddenly aware that someone is standing beside her, holding her hair out of her face-- when did her hair get so long?

"Dumbass," Norm mutters, now human and now keeping Kayla's hair up as she continues to dry heave. He's still pissed at her, but it's somehow lessened from both the news of Neteyam and the state Kayla was currently in. 

She had to agree with him when she felt her body begin to shake and a thin sheet of cold sweat started to form on her skin. Eventually, she's unable to vomit anything else out and just gasps for air, tears running down her face from how forceful that episode took over her body. 

It takes a few minutes, but once she's calm, Norm helps her stand on her own two feet. He hands her an oversized zip-up hoodie, and when she questionably looks at it, he explains, "You're a mess, Kayla. If you don't want to freak Spider out, you need to wear that."

Once she catches her reflection on a nearby surface, she finally understands why. She's horrified by what she sees.

For one, she wasn't ready to see a human female with pale skin, a pointed nose, and light eyes staring back at her, nor the lighter shade of hair compared to the dark, braided locks she had on her blue-skinned avatar. Her human hair was greasy, knotted, and had grown down her back, unlike the kept hair she used to have cut to her shoulders when she first arrived on Pandora. What was more terrifying with how much weight she had lost. Her pants were loose around her waist and her muscle shirt was now baggy, her arms definitely less toned than she remembered. While she had always been pale, she now looked too pale, almost sickly.

By the time she was able to process her appearance, Norm had cleaned up the mess. When he was done throwing away the soiled rags and washing his hands, Kayla finally snapped out of it and zipped the baggy hoodie up over her form, quickly brushing her hair out with her fingers and pinning it up in a tight ponytail. Once she's straightened herself out and is fine with walking on her weakened legs, Norm gives her a disappointed look but says nothing, leading her out of the lab and down the hallway. He stands off to the side of the small medical room the human rebels made as the doors slide open, letting Kayla in first before himself.

Spider and Max look up from whatever conversation is interrupted by Norm and Kayla's entrance. Spider was sitting up on the slab meant for "patients" while Max was asking him concerned questions, questions that Spider wasn't all too happy talking about and was remaining closed off for the time being. He was thankful he didn't have to wear a breathing mask at least.

"Hey, Max," Kayla croaked before quickly clearing her throat and smiling to mask the hoarse tone in her voice.

"Good to see you, Kayla," Max smiled warmly, though she didn't miss the way his eyes shined with concern behind his glasses. Her vitals must not be the only thing he's worried about now.

Kayla quickly looks away and expertly ignores the tension in the room as she approaches Spider, "Hey. How 'you doing?"

"Alright." He responded robotically, eyes squinting at her human form once more and a little cautious about what he saw. 

She remembers that he always preferred her avatar over her human form and huffs with amusement, shrugging in her baggy hoodie which made her look so small, "Yeah, I know. I look weird."

"You're not the weirdest-looking human I've met."

She snorts, "Charming."

"But you look different from usual," Spider's eyes scanned her face knowingly, "You look sick."

Guilt rumbles in her gut, realizing she couldn't exactly hide anything from Spider, the ever-observant kid. She feigns a smile of reassurance, "I just need a bit of sun. It's exhaustion from being stuck in that can for too long."

Norm scowled as he moved to join the group forming around Spider's spot on the cold slab. He wasn't impressed with Kayla trying to lie to the kid and playing off the fact that she was vomiting all her internal organs out mere moments ago, "That 'can' is the exact reason why you look miserable Kayla. That weeks-long stretch of neuro-link that you just pulled was stupid and unhealthy. You should've come back the second after you guys defeated the Sky People. I should've pulled your plug the second I realized you hadn't come back in weeks. You shouldn't be separate from your body for that long or you'll start to deteriorate in that gurney," he reaches out and shoves his pointer finger into her forehead to make sure she got the picture, "This body needs to eat, drink, and move just as much as your avatar or you'll eventually wither."

"Okay. I'm sorry," she bats his finger out of her face, sighing in defeat, "I promise I won't stay away that long again."

"Yeah, and just to make up for your stupidity, I recommend staying here for three weeks."

"What?" Spider exhales, eyes widening in distraught.

Kayla's eyebrows shoot up, "Three weeks?"

"Until the both of you are properly evaluated, rested, and healthy again, you're not going anywhere," Norm sternly ordered, glaring between the woman and teenager. Kayla seems to understand that this is the consequence of her actions and nods in hesitant agreement, while Spider, on the other hand, appears a little defiant. 

"But... I want to go back." Spider found himself saying, even shocking himself when he did so.

All eyes turn to him and Kayla is the first to open her mouth, eyes shining with sympathy, "Spider--"

"Hold on, you wanna go back to the reef?" Norm speaks up, his grim expression replaced with a surprised reaction as he stares owlishly at the boy, "Why would you? Jake and his family will come back in time, won't they?"

He turns his attention to Kayla, who shrugs, "As far as I know, they plan on staying in Awa'atlu."

"Do you?" He asked.

"Yes."

"But... Spider--" Norm cracks his neck from the number of times he's looked between Kayla and the teen in question, "You'll be the only human."

Kayla frowns at the implication that Spider would be alone, "I'll keep him safe."

"It's not about that, Kayla," Norm shook his head, "I trust you. We all trust you. It's just... the islands are hundreds of miles away and he's human. The seawater is low on the pH scale and can be acidic if a human is exposed for too long. He can get chemical burns."

Doubt clouds her eyes as she stops to think about this, realizing that she has never thought about it before. She cautiously peers over at the other scientist in the room, "... Max, is this true?"

Max was watching the interaction silently up until this point, and while he shared the same concerns as Norm, he was more optimistic in his explanation, "Only if the pH scale is super low and only if Spider doesn't immediately take precautions after getting out of the water. The Metkayina's tsahik likely has something to treat him with. It's also very likely that the kid is immune to most potentially dangerous Pandoran elements after the amount of exposure over the years. He's got tougher skin than even you do. He might be fine."

"He's still not immune to Pandoran air," Norm counteracts while sternly looking between the other two adults in the room, "He needs his oxygen mask on at all times and has to have several spares on hand should something happen, you know that. He can't eat Pandoran food, and he doesn't have a kuru. He's unable to connect to the land, water, and animals unless he's with a Na'vi at all times."

"And he will be," Kayla confidently replies.

"Does he want that?"

Kayla's eyes narrow back at Spellman, "Ask him yourself."

All eyes return to Spider, and while he doesn't like it when people talk about him as if he's not in the room, he hates when all the attention is turned onto him even more. He lowered his eyes to watch his lap as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world, all the while admitting under his breath, "I want to go back. Kiri, Lo'ak, and Tuk need me. And I need them. Kayla wants to go back, too. She wants to stay with her brother's family."

A thought crosses his mind and his lips turn up into a smirk. He raises his head and knowingly grins at the woman in question as he jokes, "It doesn't hurt that the olo'eyktan and the tsahik show an interest in her." 

The room deafens with silence, Kayla's jaw nearly falling to the floor in shock by Spider's boldness. Both Norm and Max glance between the two and each other, interest and surprise forming on both of their faces.

Max voices his interest with a faint, equally teasing smile as he glances over at the only woman in the room, "Oh, really?"

Kayla was trying to figure out when and where Spider made such an assumption, her eyes never leaving his until she realized he did this on purpose to get the attention off of him. Finally finding her words, she screwed up her face and playfully snarled at the teen, "Boy, shut up. That's not true."

"No?" Spider's grin only widens, "So gifting beads and shells for your songcord isn't a form of interest? Or taking you out on a date?"

"It wasn't a date. And I never said Ronal gave me that seashell."

The smugness practically radiated off of Spider as he raised a single, knowing eyebrow, "I never implied Ronal was the one who gave you the seashell."

Realizing she had been caught, she felt heat spreading over her face as she frowned, "Has anyone ever told you you're too smart for your own good?"

Spider laughed as Norm's eyes widened further, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the right words to describe where his head was at. Instead, he shakes his finger at Kayla before looking back at the teen in front of him, "Okay, we're gonna put a lid on that conversation for just a minute. Spider, you're welcome to choose where you stay, but don't choose on anyone else's behalf but your own."

The amusement falls from Spider's face, looking away to avoid Norm and Max. He was glad he got a choice, but the fact that Norm appeared so hesitant made the teen feel a little angry and betrayed, remembering all the times he didn't have a choice and when he was captured, "Kayla kept looking for me. She actually tried. Where were you?"

Norm's face falls, "We did try, Spider. We really did."

"But we're just a small group of scientists," Max adds, his voice quiet and soothing.

At first, Kayla could tell that Spider didn't look all that convinced, so she came to her friends' aid, "It's true, kiddo. They tried to help me find you. Norm went out searching with me whenever he could after I earned Thena."

Only when he got Kayla's reassurance did Spider relent the anger and betrayal he felt, glancing between the two men he'd known all his life, "Okay, fine. But I know I'll be safe as long as Kayla is there. She's always had my back."

When he spared a glance over in her direction, Kayla looked surprised and touched, a smile threatening to take over her face as her eyes sparkled at him. Spider looked away, but internally he felt himself smile as well. 

~~~~~~~~~

A couple of days go by and Max and Jocelyn are tag-teaming to run as many tests as humanly possible to make sure Kayla, her avatar, and Spider are healthy and able to make the long journey back out over the ocean. 

Kayla got the diagnosis that she expected. Her human form was weak from the little use of movement, eating, and drinking. Norm was never going to let her live this down as he continued to berate her throughout the duration of her stay. She was given strict instructions to follow a proper diet and exercise, practically forbidden near a link bay until she regained a healthy weight. 

Spider, all things considered, is a picture of health. That is... until he mentioned the vivid nightmares he had been having during one of Max's assessments of him. When asked if he wanted Kayla in on this conversation, the teenager caved and accepted, realizing he would rather tell the woman who had his back than the scientists surrounding him. Kayla was summoned and Spider finally talked about the torture he went through at Bridgehead, mentioning the machine they forced him into called a NeuroSect scanner. He described what the scanner did to him, how it spun quickly around his head with blinding lights, making him dizzy and scared. It felt as though it was probing his mind, collecting brain data while Ardmore questioned him about Jake's location. He described how his head throbbed to the point his nose began to bleed, then Quaritch turned the machine off and Spider blacked out for a split second, his eyes having rolled to the back of his head.

Kayla kept her expression neutral, but on the inside, she felt as though she could scream at the top of her lungs, wanting nothing more than to stomp back into Bridgehead and throttle Ardmore until the bitch's own eyes rolled back and her nose bled. See how she liked it.  

But instead of giving in to her anger, Kayla gently thanked Spider for trusting her to know this, and he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes as he sheepishly asked, "Just... don't ever tell Kiri, okay?"

After the vivid description of Spider's torture, Max confirmed that the nightmares were probably a lasting symptom of what his brain went through. Once Max had Spider confirm that he wasn't suffering from any more nosebleeds or migraines, Max was relieved as he stated that he should be fine. When Spider asked about the nightmares, Max assured him that with time, they'd go away, and that visibly got Spider to relax.

~~~~~~~~~

The conversation that Kayla was dreading had finally come up one night when Norm had her accompany him over to the edge of High Camp, overlooking the vast drop below them, accentuated by large waterfalls. With both of them wearing breathing masks and carrying lab equipment, Norm instructed her on how to take a sample off of a plant near the edge of the cliff, watching proudly as Kayla didn't even bat an eye as she crouched over the cliff, hovering over the plant in question. He remembered her first day at High Camp and how she was nervous to even be near the edge, knowing there was nothing below to catch her. 

As they worked, Norm nonchalantly asked, "So. Tonowari and Ronal have been giving you gifts, huh?"

Kayla groaned, lowering and shaking her head in defiance, "Spider is exaggerating. They brought me to the Spirit Tree so I could visit Neteyam and gave me a shell to add to my songcord."

"Kayla. That's no ordinary gift," Norm scoffed, amused at how naive she sounded, "Na'vi are gifted songcord beads or items when they succeed their Iknimaya or if another Na'vi was trying to court them, otherwise, they collect those items themselves or their parents do before they're old enough."

She stayed silent for a moment, continuing with her task of taking samples of the alien plant. She didn't dare look up to meet her friend's gaze as she finally spoke, "I'm trying not to think about it."

"Why? 'Cause it's too good to be true?"

"No, because I'm not-- I... I'm not..."

"If you're about to say 'not worthy', I'm going to dropkick you off this cliff." Norm threatened with a frown, arms crossed in front of him as he faintly glared down at her.

Kayla finally looked up then, a small smile visible on her lips as she tried not to laugh, "Threatening people is my love language, stay off my territory," she offhandedly commented before she looked out over the vast view of the forest below the floating mountains, her mind as far away as the ocean she couldn't even see but knows it's there, waiting for her, "Even if Ronal and Tonowari were interested, it's a bad idea. What would their people think of their leaders if they shacked up to someone like me? And it's not just their people. What about their kids? Ao'nung and Tsireya are around the same age as Kiri and Lo'ak, not to mention they have a baby sibling on the way. Norm, look at me, do I look like I know anything about children?"

He squints at her as if she grew a second head, "Is that a trick question?"

"Infants," she further reiterates, standing up to semi-meet his height, "Do I look like I know anything about infants? I was the baby of my own family. Even after my parents died, Tommy and Jake raised me. I have never learned how to be a caregiver."

"That's the dumbest thing I have ever heard."

She scoffed at how quick he was to reply, rolling her eyes, "Oh, and you hear a lot of dumb stuff in your profession?"

"Kayla, I was working alongside your brother years before you ever showed up. Your brother was the dumbest thing in the world next to the large group of scientists he surrounded himself with. Up until now, I thought he was gonna die still claiming that title."

She deadpanned at his teasing expression, "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?"

"At least Jake wasn't afraid of getting with a Na'vi. What's stopping you from one-upping him and getting with two?" She snorts at the joke, looking away again as he continues, "And so what if they have kids? You're clearly great with children-- don't deny it," she clamps her mouth shut nearly a second after she opens it. 

Norm carried on, "It's not like every first-time parent goes in knowing exactly what they're doing. Who knows. You might have your own kid at this rate."

She squinted her eyes with suspicion as she slowly turned her head back in his direction, "If you're talking about Spider--"

"I'm not this time. I mean, obviously, Spider looks up to you as his guardian, but I was talking about you having your own rugrat with Tonowari and Ronal if you so wish."

Kayla's eyes briefly widen behind the glass of her mask before the shock quickly disappears. Norm felt his whole body grow cold when his friend reacted negatively to the statement, her eyes hardening to something grim and impassive as she crossed her arms and looked back out over the wide open sky,

"It's not possible."

Norm's concern was heard in his voice when she didn't look back at him, "Why not?"

"Because Ardmore made sure that was never a problem," Kayla robotically answered, having memorized what she had been told back at Bridgehead until it was engraved into her mind, "My avatar form was sterilized when they created her in a lab. Ardmore had always been thorough and checked off everything on her potential threat list and she made sure that this was one less thing to worry about."

She didn't see the way Norm's face dropped, eyes widening in horror as the news sunk in. He looked as though he had just been punched in the gut, watching Kayla as she already looked so... defeated, as she had already taken the time to accept this fact about herself. Norm was starting to wonder if she was ever going to tell anyone about this or if she was going to take it to her grave. Either way, he didn't want to squander the trust she had in him if he was truly the first one to know about her secret. He wanted to feel honored that she told him at all, but it didn't exactly feel like a secret worth being proud of.

"Oh. Oh, Kayla--"

"Don't," she sternly replied as she turned back to him with fire in her eyes, "Don't you dare pity me. I knew about it this whole time and I didn't care, so don't pity me when this was a choice that I made."

"Did you though? Did you make that choice or did Ardmore make it for you?" He was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. 

"... At the time I didn't care. Kids weren't a priority for me. I came to Pandora to help Ardmore with her little experiment and in return, I could find Jake's remains to bring them back to Earth. That was it. I didn't want kids."

He caught onto her words and stated bluntly, "You keep using the past tense."

Kayla's eyes lower beneath her mask, "... I don't need a child."

"But you want one?"

"I already have one," she finally declares, now a small smile on her face when she comes to terms with it herself, "I have Spider. I have Lo'ak and the girls."

"... You can have Ao'nung and Tsireya, too. And someday, maybe even Ronal's baby."

She appeared to ponder this for a moment before sighing, "Nevertheless... I have more than enough. I have more family now than I thought I'd ever have back on Earth."

~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks went by a lot faster than both Kayla and Spider could anticipate, and once Max gave Kayla the all-clear to link back to her avatar, both she and the teen she was in charge of were starting to get excited to return to Awa'atlu. 

While she had been spending so much time on being healthy and gaining weight, Kayla felt as though she completely neglected some people around High Camp. Apart from Jocelyn, Kayla never got to catch up with Txe'la and Meui and how the three of them have been. Once back in her avatar, she didn't want to miss any more chances and took the two Na'vi men back out hunting like the good old days, and even managed to convince Tarsem to go with them when he was free from olo'eyktan duties. 

While hunting, the Omatikaya men were catching Kayla up to speed on recent events. Apparently, there's a resistance camp full of humans who had come to Pandora in the second wave of the Sky People invasion. There was an avatar and even Na'vi living among them, one of whom came to visit the Omatikaya. Tarsem spoke of a Na'vi who was originally born from the Sarentu clan, a clan known for their stories and democracy but had since been wiped out by the Sky People. However, a small handful of Sarentu survived and grew up, now fighting to protect Pandora from the same people who murdered their families. 

The Sarentu Tarsem spoke of sounded brave and determined to protect their home, jumping from clan to clan to ensure their alliance. The Sarentu's words moved Tarsem when he spoke to them, explaining to Kayla the importance of seeing a clan believed to be extinct suddenly return to bring the clans together. Kayla was amazed by the story, faintly thinking in the back of her mind how she would have to tell Jake about this.

Another individual Kayla felt as though she was neglecting was Mo'at. After everything the Omatikaya tsahik has done for her, Kayla wished she could somehow return the favor. She had started by mourning Neteyam with the older woman, knowing that the grief was fresh in Mo'at's mind and she shouldn't be left alone with it. Kayla did her best to tell Mo'at how everyone was back across the ocean and how they were thriving among the Metkayina. Once Mo'at was told how Neytiri was struggling, she stomped down her grief and got to work, half listening to Kayla's stories as she worked on her project.

Spider was waiting outside the lab for Kayla when she returned from visiting with the tsahik, the teen casually lying across one of its support beams as she approached, swinging one leg off the edge of it. He kept his face blank while staring down at the avatar form he was far more familiar with than the human one, 

"How's Mo'at?"

"A little better," Kayla sighed heavily, "Though she's been working tirelessly on a shawl for Neytiri so that I could bring it back to the island with me." 

"A mourning shawl?"

"Not exactly. She knows Neytiri already has one but she wanted something specifically for her daughter... a gift from one grieving mother to another." Kayla didn't miss the way Spider ducked his head at her words, avoiding eye contact, "What's wrong?"

Spider slowly sat up, watching his legs swing down over the side of the support beam as he hesitantly muttered, "I... I know I shouldn't... but I miss Neteyam."

Her heart squeezed painfully at those words, sad to see this child so conflicted over the loss of someone so young, "Why shouldn't you miss him?"

"Because I don't deserve it, especially after I let the one responsible for his death get away."

"Spider, we've been over this--"

"I know. But-- still."

She sighed, looking around before deciding to pull herself up onto the beam and sitting down beside the teen, looking up at the cave's ceiling, "You know... for at least the first week without 'Teyam... I felt the same way."

Spider turned his head to look up at her, "Really? Why?"

"Because I wasn't his parent... or his sibling... I was the estranged aunt who only entered his life a year prior. I wasn't extremely close to him as maybe you and Lo'ak were... so I felt as though I didn't have the right to miss him."

Pain passes through Spider's face as he lowers his head again, "... Neteyam and I weren't close."

"No?"

"I mean... when we were younger, sure, but we haven't been for a while. That's why I didn't feel as though I had the right to mourn him."

"Can I... ask why?" She questioned carefully.

"I want to say it was because he was starting to learn all the responsibilities of olo'eyktan, but I know I would be kidding myself. I think he started to distance himself because he wanted his parents to be proud of him."

Kayla caught the hidden meaning immediately, forcing down a wave of rage, "His mother, you mean."

"... Yes."

"I'm sorry, kiddo," she spoke softly, her hand rising to move a dread out of his face, but immediately placed her hand back down before she gave into that impulse, "If it's any consolation... I know he still cared about you."

She didn't miss the way his chin quivered underneath his mask, his eyes stubbornly staring dead ahead as his vision blurred, "It's not."

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~

Rations, masks, mouthwash...

Kayla was going over the list Max gave her several times over, making sure she had all of these essentials for Spider packed and strapped to Thena's back. There were human drinks, food, medicine, and so much more that even she guiltily forgot about. She was ashamed to think she was ready to let Spider stay in Awa'atlu when the kid actually needed a lot more than the bare essentials she managed to scrounge up for him.

Double-checking her harness and straps, Kayla gently places a hand over Thena's nose before stepping away, joining the crowd that wishes to see her and Spider off. Spider stood beside Max as Mo'at was handing him down some healing properties.

"Koaktutra," the tsahik placed a small wooden cup covered in a matching lid in Spider's hands.

Max noticed Kayla's confusion so he elaborates, "Goblin Thistle. Antibiotic balm."

Mo'at nodded to Max's explanation then handed another small mixture to Spider, "Pxorna'."

"Episoth," Max explained, "It's got amazing skin rejuvenation properties, and I think it'll help Spider when he goes into the water."

He takes the mixture from Spider and holds it up to the teenager's face, "As long as you remember to slather yourself in this stuff every night after a long day of swimming, it should help prevent skin cancer and chemical burns. These salves have proven to be safe for human use, I promise. If I happen to visit the island again and I don't see any changes to your skin, then maybe we'll be able to cut the episoth back to once a week and eventually even less so if your skin grows immunity to the pH levels. Until then, every night, bud. 'You got it?"

Spider huffs and rolls his eyes, "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

"Good. And just in case--" Max then holds up a remedy of his own, a small plastic yellow tube that makes Kayla snort with amusement at the sight of it. Sunscreen. 

Spider's upper lip twitched at the sight of the tube and half glared at Max, "Seriously?"

"Humor me."

"Fine."

Kayla laughs at their antics and takes the remedies from them, bringing the supplies over to Thena and safely packing them away in their bags. Mo'at takes a moment to place a gentle, withered hand on top of Spider's head and they both exchange a warm smile.

Norm, in his avatar, approached Kayla to help her out and hugged her when they were all set, "I am going to give you a week before I start calling and nagging at you to break your link again, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kayla huffed as she pulled away, unaware of the knowing smile Norm bore as he looked between her and Spider, clearly thinking how similar they already were in words and mannerisms.

"And-- tell Jake everything's okay here. Tell him not to worry."

Kayla smiled then and nods, "Of course. I'll see you in a week."

She moves to say goodbye to Mo'at, the two women gripping each other's arms in departure as they silently speak to one another. Kayla then fistbumps Max and waves to everyone else before gently knocking her knuckle against the glass of Spider's mask, 

"You ready?"

"Yeah." Spider grins.

"Alright. Then let's go home."

A/N: I… don't think I have anything to say. I mean, it's a lot all in one chapter so I'm sure there's plenty to say but I can't think of anything ;) stay tuned for more soon!

#tsamsiyu ta'em fic #atwow fic #atwow fanfic #atwow fics #atwow fanfiction #atwow fandom #atwow #ronal x oc #ronal x oc x tonowari #tonowari x oc #tonowari x oc x ronal #ronal x tonowari x oc #ronal x tonowari #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x ronal x oc #tonowari #ronal avatar #ronal #tonowari avatar #avatar tonowari #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar #james cameron avatar #james cameron #spider socorro #miles spider socorro #spider miles socorro #spider atwow

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Spider-Man

if you wanna be my lover (you gotta get with my friends) by mindshelter

MJ still remembers Ned’s initial disbelief when Peter—infamous for missing class back in sophomore year, suspended for two weeks freshman year—finished his bit of the group write-up four days early. The work was perfect, and so was Ned's chemistry grade. After that it was Peter this, Peter that, Peter parted the Red Sea, it’s true, MJ, I was there; I saw it. MJ, hey, are you listening?

Then Ned says, “We should invite Peter to join AcaDec.”

or; peter isn’t rock bottom on midtown’s social ladder; he’s underground. friendless, rumoured to get into street fights. ned declares him bestie material anyway, and mj catches feelings.

she also meets tony stark(?) in foodtown, of all places, and makes a spider-man(??) sighting.

M!ik

law of insomnia by thewunderkind

אנחנו נפגשים שוב” "I'm sorry, I do not understand," And then Iruma lowers himself, getting on his knees and bowing until his forehead meets the ground.

Or the one wherein they're soulmates and only Alice is aware of what is happening.

DC

how's it go again? by timdrakesuperspy

Tim Drake's universe is falling apart. He's surprised when he doesn't fall with it, due only to Mr. Mxyzptlk's misplaced feeling of debt. He's even more surprised when the imp crash-land him in the middle of the Wayne family's dinner.

OR: After Tim fails to bring back enough proof that Bruce isn't dead, his life sucks. So of course the universe falls apart. So of course a nosy interdimensional imp decides to intervene and send Tim to a universe unnervingly off from his.

the back corner booth by destiny919

"Hey, Hood," Rhys says seriously. "I've got something for you, but it's a little outside your usual service range."

Jason raises his eyebrows under the helmet. He never gets kids from outside the Alley, if only because they have no way of meeting one of his liaisons, or any reason to trust the Red Hood. "How far outside?"

Rhys smirks. "Not too far. Just Bristol."

Jason really, really hopes his appalled expression is coming through the helmet.

SVSSS

to find an intended (a bit unintentionally) by nyoomerr

It takes about five minutes after they first meet for Shen Yuan to start flirting with Luo Binghe. Aggressively, too, in a way that even some of Luo Binghe’s most frequent bed partners wouldn’t dare to. It’s shocking and infuriating and, unfortunately, Luo Binghe finds himself charmed.

Too bad Shen Yuan doesn’t actually know that his actions come off as demon-flirting in the first place.

Clone Wars

an ill-advised gift by S_C_G

The Senate tries their hand at some regime change in the Mandalore sector.

It doesn't go well.

The Senate tries their hand at sending a gift to better relations and buy some time.

They couldn't have made a worse choice.

Or, the Senate gives the Mand'alor a child. This, quite predictably, backfires.

let me lie with you by MadMothMadame

The War is over. With the Sith conspiracy uncovered, and Sepratists suing for peace, Obi-Wan knew things would not be the same as they were before. Some changes would be for the worse, but when he thought about Cody, and all they had the potential to become now that rank and the weight of war no longer had to stand between them-

Well, some change could only be for the better.

He should have known better.

#i thought i uploaded this WEEKS ago #my bad everyone #at least i posted it before 2024 #happy new years ig #weekly fic round up #my posts #fic recs #svsss recs #sw recs #marvel recs #m!ik recs #dc recs

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 10

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 |-| Chapter 11

AO3

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 3.5k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

The room was silent, nothing but the sound of calm, steady breathing piercing the air, a single beam of sunlight stretching through a gap in the curtains, snaking across the bedsheets in a thin, golden ribbon. Frankie was sat up, hunched forward slightly, picking at a frayed edge of the blanket as she stared blankly down at the foot of the bed. Laid back against the pillows, Rosie watched her intently, his thumb rubbing slow, gentle circles against the skin of her back, poking up beneath the hem of her shirt.

The second floor of the village pub consisted entirely of various bedrooms, a makeshift bed and breakfast, intended to make money out of the encroaching military population. With the Nissen huts so strictly segregated, the place had become a popular haunt for anyone hoping for a little 'alone time'. They came often. He liked to sleep beside her the night before a mission - to hold her close for what could always be the last time, to sit and talk somewhere entirely alone. Rosie did his best to avoid thinking about what else might have taken place in this bed - for now, it was simply their refuge.

Twenty-five missions. It was an impressive credential, a staggering achievement considering the almost impossible odds every pilot faced when he took off each day. And with it came the ultimate prize - a ticket home. Any man among them would give a limb for the chance - to never have to go up again, to truly live a life back home with their family.

It felt almost criminal not to want it.

But how could he? How could he burn for home the way the others did, when she wouldn't be there? When twenty-five missions meant being an ocean apart from the woman next to him, twenty-five missions was a death sentence.

"I want you to do it," Frankie croaked, her voice strained and quiet. His palm flattened against her back, and with a sigh she lay back, hair fanning out against the pillow.

"What do you mean?" He asked, brow furrowed.

Her head lolled to the side, meeting his gaze. "When you make twenty-five. I want you to go home."

"... What?" Rosie swore he felt his stomach sink, nausea bubbling in his chest as it burrowed deep into his gut.

Frankie shrugged, the sheets rustling with the movement. "You deserve to see your family, Rosie. You deserve not to live in a place that smells like oil and shit, especially after everything you've done."

A deep frown tugged at his expression as he shifted, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at her face. There was nothing in her eyes but utter, uncompromising sincerity. "W-..." He paused a moment, waiting for his mind to stop racing long enough to form a sentence. "What about you?"

She smiled, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, and he couldn't help but lean into it, revelling in the feeling of warmth. "I'll catch you up when I'm done."

Rosie let out a huff of almost-laughter, flashing a disbelieving grin as he fought to fathom what she was saying. "Are you serious?"

A self-satisfied smirk had wormed its way across her face. "Why not?"

"You'd seriously come to America for me?"

"Well, I have always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty," Frankie teased, cutting herself off with a laugh as he fell forward, lips hastily colliding with hers, one hand finding her waist, the other clasping the back of her neck. Her arms snaked around his neck the way they always did, holding his head in place as she reciprocated the kiss, smiling against his lips.

He'd wanted to marry her then. It wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to him, nowhere near in fact, but he wasn't sure it had ever felt so strong. If he asked he knew she'd say no - she'd say they needed more time, that they needed to wait until this was all over. He understood. If something went wrong, if he didn't come back, he didn't want her to carry his name like a badge of un-belonging for the rest of her life. If he could give her anything in death, he wanted it to be a clean break.

The kiss ended, and she was beaming at him, combing a hand through his ungelled curls as he pressed his forehead against hers. She would have given anything to just stay there, tucked beneath the blankets, feeling his breath against her cheek. Every time he climbed into that cockpit, his plane disappearing into the clouds over the horizon, it was like she was preparing for his death already, readying her mind for the news if he ever didn't make it home. Each return was a momentary relief, but it never lasted long. This was the last hurdle, the last bridge to cross before he was home safe, and she could put that constant, nagging fear aside.

A hurried knock came hammering against the door, and a groan escaped Rosie's throat burying his face in the crook of her neck, the weight of his body preventing Frankie from being able to move. She let out a grunt, shoving at his shoulders. "Get up!" She chuckled, and he reluctantly rolled over, pushing himself up off the bed with a huff.

The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he padded over to the door, prying it open only a few inches, his shoulders blocking the gap in the doorway and shielding Frankie from the view of whoever was outside. Pappy was already in uniform, foot tapping irritably against the floor as he answered. "Just checking, you do actually plan to fly your twenty-fifth, right?" He asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a minute, just lemme get dressed," Rosie nodded, waving a hand of dismissal. Pappy didn't move, clearly waiting for him, and he began to frown as Rosie didn't move out of the doorway.

"Mornin', Frankie!" He called over Rosie's shoulder into the room behind him.

"Hey, Pappy!" Her voice rang out in return, and Rosie sighed, ignoring his friend's smirk as he closed the door on him.

"Y'know, it definitely would've looked weirder if you were just up here on your own," Frankie pointed out as Rosie began hurrying to grab his uniform and put it on. "That'd raise some questions."

It was later in the day than he'd thought, and he almost tugged his trousers on backwards in an attempt to get dressed as fast as possible, stuffing all of his belongings blindly into a bag as he raced to make his mission. Frankie was only half ready by the time he was done, and he pulled her attention away from the tying of her boot by capturing her lips in a quick goodbye kiss.

"Alright, I gotta go. I love you, I'll see you later."

His hand was already on the doorknob by the time he realised it. Turning his head, she was staring back at him. He'd never said those words before. In a million different ways he had made it abundantly clear that it was true, but this was the first time he'd truly looked her in the eye and said it.

"Yeah?" Frankie grinned.

"Oh, you have no idea," Rosie beamed, slipping out into the hall. Pappy was still waiting, a confused look contorting his expression as he noticed the red flush that filled his face. Making a beeline for the stairs, his copilot was close behind, the question lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"Are you... ok?"

Rosie reached the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look up at him, slightly out of breath. "Told my girl I love her. First time."

"Oh! Congrats?"

"Thanks, Pap," He nodded, clapping him on the shoulder, unable to tear away his grin.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been over an hour since the planes departed, and George and Frankie were sitting in the field that ran alongside the airstrip, propped up on their elbows as they lounged in the grass, sharing a bag of peanuts between them. The sun hung high and bright that day, and sunglasses rested on the bridges of their noses despite the slight chill in the air.

"So he told you he loved you," George nodded. "But you guys have been a thing for a while now, was that seriously the first time?"

"Nah. First time he'll remember, though - he says it a lot when he's drunk, but he's shy when he's sober."

She chuckled, red lips curling up in a smile. "Yunno, I always thought that guy was a bit of a weirdo, but you make me like him."

Frankie laughed, shaking her head. "God, you're a terrible person."

George gasped, head lolling to the side to look over at her friend. "Speaking of - you know Brenda? Red Cross Brenda? Well, apparently she-"

Before she got the chance to finish her sentence, Ken came bounding up, grinning like a lost puppy returned to its owner. "Heya!" He chirped, crouching down before the pair. It had become customary for the young mechanic to invade their conversations whenever he wasn't busy, eager for some company outside of his other sprightly, male colleagues. "What's goin' on?"

"Boooo!" George thundered at his intrusion, reaching for a fistful of peanuts and throwing them at him, a few pinging against his forehead.

"God, who invited you?" Frankie cried, her voice overlapping with George's. "Get your own friends!"

The hostilities were all in jest, the way a sister might poke fun at a brother, and neither woman objected as Lemmons wormed his way in between them, lifting their belongings out of the way to clear a space for him on the grass. Hands folded behind his head, he peered up at them, squinting in the sun. "So... what happened with Brenda?"

"Nuh-uh," George shook her head. "If you wanted to know you should've shown up on time. Those are the rules."

"There's rules now?"

"Obviously, we're not imbeciles," Frankie shrugged. "Get with the program or get fucked, Kenny."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, Ken, how's Fonda?" She asked, her voice taking on a singsong lilt, a teasing smirk curling her lip.

He let out a groan, folding his arms over his head so they couldn't see the red flush that had overtaken his face. "...She's good," After he wallowed in embarrassment for a moment, an indignant expression overtook him, and he bolted upright. "Hey, at least I'm married!"

"Yeah, at nineteen, 'cause that's normal," George snorted, fending him off as he tried to whack her over the head.

"I'm just sayin'! Frankie and Rosie gotta hurry it up a little, I think."

Frankie scoffed, throwing up her hands in surrender. "I... Actually, no, fuck off, I'm not going there with you - I'm sorry that I'm waiting to properly get to know the guy before I get hitched, ok?"

"Oh, she knows the guy, alright," George muttered, and Ken snorted a laugh, the pair letting out yelps as a fistful of peanuts collided with their heads.

"I'm content with my choices!" Frankie declared loudly, and the three of them stewed in silence for a moment before collectively descending into laughter, the sight of a dozen missed peanuts scattered in the grass only adding to the inexplicable hilarity.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was as if they'd almost forgotten what they were waiting for by the time the sound of faraway plane engines began to split the air, a familiar thrumming sound that sent an involuntary jolt of panic through Frankie whenever she heard it, her heart immediately pounding out of her chest as she leapt up, accidentally sticking a foot into the empty bag of nuts as she scrambled to her feet. She'd never felt quite like it, an equal mix of terror and elation flooding through her - fear that it might not be Rosie flying one of the returning buses, but delight at what it meant if he was.

Half of Thorpe Abbotts seemed to have turned up for his return, and Frankie almost burst into tears the moment 'Rosie's Riveters' came into view, George's whooping ringing in her ears as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, jumping up and down in ecstatic celebration. It took a moment for the gravity of their situation to dawn on her, but when it did she couldn't stop grinning, her cheeks beginning to ache. Rosie was going home. He was safe.

The moment he left the plane, he was swarmed, a dozen hands lifting him up off the tarmac, hauling him up onto the men's shoulders as the barrage of cheers and applause filled his ears. But the second he had slipped through that door, his eyes had found her, standing at the back of the crowd, clapping along, her shoulder leant up against George's. Their gazes met, and she rolled her eyes teasingly - he could almost hear her voice in his head, jokingly begging him to stay humble as he was carried aloft through the crowd.

They were cheering his name, shaking his hand and patting him on the back as he passed, but as soon as his feet touched the tarmac, none of it mattered. The second he was on solid ground again, he was making a beeline towards Frankie, brow raised in question. They were too far apart, too bracketed by ear-splitting cheers for him to simply ask 'Can I kiss you?', but she could always tell. With a smirk and a nod, permission was granted, and the moment they collided his lips were on hers, hands cupping her cheeks, her eyelashes fluttering against his skin. A second, somehow ever more raucous cheer erupted, and he could feel her smiling into the kiss as her hands found his collar, pressing against his jaw. In that moment, even through the cacophony of whoops and yells, she was the only person in the world to him.

The kiss broke, but his hands stayed firmly planted on either side of her face, their foreheads pressed against each other, eyes locked. "Hi," Frankie beamed, speaking so softly that only he could hear.

"Hello."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie had never been quite so much at the centre of attention than she was that night. It was as if the moment Rosie had kissed her in front of everyone on the tarmac, it became her party as well as his, a celebration of just making it, of still having the person you loved at the end of the day. She'd showered three times that afternoon, desperately trying to scrub away the lingering smell of her work, and George had even made her put on lipstick. But Frankie couldn't deny it - she looked fucking good.

The band was in full swing, to such an extent that she had to yell over the incessant ring of trumpets just to order a drink, but as the night rolled on she never once felt Rosie's hand leave her - a gentle palm against her waist or back wherever they went, a quiet reminder that he was home safe, that they were going to be ok. Bailey had an arm around her shoulder, and her head tilted back as she laughed at one of Pappy's jokes, and for once they seemed to feel free - free to simply be each other's friends without having to worry about losing one another.

"So I said to her, I said "Hey Betty, you're gonna wanna paint those ceilings your favourite colour, 'cause you'll be seein' a lot of 'em when I get home," Bailey joked, and she let out a groan as the others laughed, gently slapping his shoulder with the back of her palm. Across the circle they had formed, Croz went digging in his pocket for a cigarette, and she reached out, holding up her lighter for him as he nodded his thanks.

Rosie's hands on her shoulders caught her attention as he slipped around behind her. "I'm gettin' another drink - you need anythin', honey?"

"No, I'm good," She nodded, raising her half-finished beer as proof as he stepped away towards the bar. Turning back to the others, she found Pappy grinning at her, sipping smugly at his whiskey. "Oh, shut up - what're you, twelve?"

"So you've been keeping it under wraps since Christmas?" Crosby asked, raising a brow in alarm as Bailey guffawed.

"Oh, yeah, 'keepin' it under wraps'," He chuckled. "Jesus, we could all tell from the day he got back," The other members of Rosie's flight crew began to laugh, nodding in agreement.

"Well, what can I say? I'm just that great," Frankie grinned, squeezing Bailey's arm as she shuffled past him, moving to follow Rosie towards the bar.

She hadn't had a chance to thank Kidd yet for giving her Bucky's jacket, and was already poised to speak as she approached, a warm smile curling her lip. But then she heard his words.

"Brass is upping the end-of-tour requirements from twenty-five to thirty missions."

Her stomach sank. Not just for the poor pilots, for every man who had been so goddamn close to getting to go home. But because she knew in that moment that Rosie wasn't done. Even if he hadn't realised it yet, even if the decision to stay hadn't yet crossed his mind, she knew him well enough. He wouldn't leave because he couldn't - couldn't give it up and take the easy way out when so many other, less experienced men had to die as a result of this decision. She loved him for it, but maybe she hated him a little too.

Frankie hadn't realised she'd stopped dead in her tracks until Kidd spotted her, his brow furrowing. Rosie turned to follow his gaze, eyes softening the moment they landed on her. "Frankie-"

Her glass went down on the bar with a thud, her desire to drink suddenly evaporated. "Thanks for the jacket, Jack," She nodded, forcing a smile. "That was really nice of you."

Before Rosie got the chance to reach out to her, she had walked away, brushing past them both as she forced her way through the crowd, the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears drowning out the sound of the music. She had begun searching for George without even realising it, spotting her familiar golden curls among a crowd of Red Cross volunteers. Making a move towards her, George turned immediately on her arrival, brow drawing with concern.

"Can we go?"

"Yeah," George accepted without hesitation, casting aside her drink as she shouldered her way towards the door, clearing a path for Frankie to trail along behind.

She hadn't realised quite how tightly she'd been holding her breath until they stepped outside, the cold air hitting her like a wall as she let it out in a gasp, running a hand through her hair as she marched around to the side of the building, sitting down on the nearest bench she could find. The wood creaked as George sat down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her knee and waiting quietly for her to speak.

"I have washed... so much blood out of those planes," Frankie said, her voice uneven, letting out a long, shaky exhale as she spoke. "Before I got this job I didn't really understand how much blood a person could have. Sometimes when they get hit by shrapnel, it tears the leather on the seats, n' the blood soaks into the stuffing. It's really hard to get it out then - usually I just have to seal the hole and leave it in there. But then it's like... whoever gets in that plane next just has to sit on that blood, like there's this permanent reminder that someone died there, but I'm the only one who knows it's there."

"Frankie... what happened? D'you want me to get Rosie?"

"No," She spoke hurriedly, shaking her head. "No, I don't-... I can't talk to him right now."

George turned sideways in her seat to properly look at her, raising a hand to swipe the hair away from her face. "Why? Did he do something?"

Frankie took a deep breath, finally meeting George's gaze, her eyes red and filled with tears. "He's going back up, George."

"What? Did he tell you that?"

"They've upped the number of missions the new guys have to do to be allowed to leave. Rosie's in the clear, but... we both know he won't take it now."

She sniffed, raising a hand to wipe away the tear that trailed down her cheek, and George pulled her forward into a hug, cheek pressed against her scalp as she rubbed her back.

"I'm so tired, George," Frankie croaked, her voice scarcely loud enough to hear.

"I know," She whispered. "... I know."

#masters of the air #masters of the air oc #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #pappy lewis #harry crosby #jack kidd #oc: frankie #oc: george #fic | i'm your man

[starfirette]

All Mine

⭐️reposting this because it didn't show up in the tags

⭐️ Jace Herondale x Fem! Brightlaw Reader

⭐️masterlist | here are your warnings: 17+ + PiV + fluffy smut + marking and possessive-ness + birth control runes

⭐️book/movie Jace??? Idk. I imagine movie Jace as Jace when I'm reading, which I'm doing rn, I'm rereading city of bones. I'm going to post the next three chapters of EWW to my ao3 this weekend, and maybe I'll get a good update out! Like a real one. Thanks everyone for being patient and bearing with me being a totally emotional spaz

Jace's room was usually clean. The immaculate space could only be described as that of belonging to a monk or a pastor, or any man who lived in quiet humbility. Typically the place was spotless: routinely dusted and the hardwood floors always swept--perhaps that was a trait he had picked up from Mayrse...she was a rather strong advocate for the neat freak movement, so perhaps something about being raised by her in his later years of childhood had rubbed off.

His stack of piano music books, and a few other personal belongings, tended to be neatly set on his dresser, the one with the huge mirror (the same one he probably spent forty minutes gazing into every morning).

But now the room was trashed. It had everything to do with the way Jace had dragged you around it. He'd tossed you on every possible surface and possessed your body. Books spilled across the edge as your hands buckled to find something to grip onto as Jace hoisted his hips hard against yours, filling you up with this long cock.

By now, it had been hours, and you were both on the bed.

His thumbs pressed hard into the flesh of your ass as he guided your hips back and forth, shushing you as he grinned like a fallen Angel.

"You like this cock, baby?" Jace asked, his curly golden hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. The flushed features of his sharp cheekbones and the flickering golden hue fading in and out of his crisp blue eyes reminded you of his angelic heritage.

"Come on, angel, answer me," Jace hissed as he tipped your face up. His long fingers pressed beneath your chin, and his eyes glittered gold with brief hunger as he examined the splotchy marks he'd littered on your throat.

"I do like it," you stammered out, still trying to hump his hips as fast and hard as you could. His cock was angled just right so it rubbed the spongy spot inside of you. Your clit was erect and pounding with rushing blood, beating fast like another pulse in your body.

"I like it, I like it," you whined, sounding pathetic and not at all like a Shadowhunter. What would your parabatai say if they knew just how cockdumb you'd become, and for Jace Herondale of all people. He easily was the most arrogant of all Shadowhunters.

"Yeah, I know you like it," Jace chuckled as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hands, the cool metal of his family rings, both the Wayland and the Herondale sigils passing over your flushed face. The coldness of the rings eased the sweat as Jace maneuvered his thumb to tickle your clitoris just lightly. It made your vision blur and you couldn't help but cry out.

"You own this cock, don't you?" Jace purred as he lazed back, his voice deep with pleasure as you cried in rumbling ecstasy. Your body was trembling all over and Jace caught you as you pushed forward, slumping over as you gave up on using your own hips to hump his dick.

Jace wrapped his arms around you. He had gotten bulkier, more muscular, since the last battle in Alicante against Jonathan's army; he'd found temporary peace in his excercising with Alec, as well as his clear mind. Heavenly Fire flooded his veins, making the apples of his cheeks rosy with rush and fever.

You groaned into the crook of Jace's neck as he held you together. Without his arms you might very well fall apart; come completely undone as Jace split you in half, releasing your shadowy soul and laying it to rest in the City of Bones.

"Daughter of The Brightlaws" your slated tombstone would read. "Killed by a Herondale cock."

Well, it'd be an interesting sight.

Jace's hips and thighs smacked up as he leaned back into the headboard of the large, Institute bed. He cradled you in his arms and softly groaned as he fucked into you. Your teeth sank over the Star shaped mark on his shoulder as his skin wettly slapped into yours.

"Gotta suck something to keep quiet?" Jace chuckled as your lips suckled onto the mark. "That's fucking hot. That's right, suck. Like it's my cock, okay?"

Your lips cramped as tears dropped down your cheeks. Your upteenth orgasm was stirring inside of you, churning like cream into sugar. It was a sweeter feeling than any cake batter or cookie dough; a stronger and hotter feeling than any fine whiskey or vodka you'd ever tasted.

Jace hissed as your teeth nipped his collar bone. The skin was blotched red and purple and it stained the Star mark on his shoulder.

You shuddered violently as cum spilled outside of you. It was leaking down your thighs, coating Jace's pelvis; it was a salty mix of the both of you: it was the last of the Herondales and Brightlaws, and it was being wasted on sloppy, sloppy sex; what would the consul say? How would the Clave react if they knew your left shoulder blade was coated with a birth control rune, courtesy of Clary Fairchild.

The sound of Jace's cock plunging in and out through the sticky flood of semen was erotic on its own. It lubricated your pounding clit so that even the lightest touch made you flinch in the best of ways.

"Cum on it again, okay, Angel? I can't get enough of the feeling. Aw, baby, don't cry," Jace chuckled as he used a thumb to wipe away the tears that settled on your cheeks. "I'm going to take such good care of you. Don't you know how much I love you?"

The creaking of the bed crescendoed into a slamming against the walls. No doubt the other residents were hearing all of this, and no doubt would they guffaw and joke about it during breakfast the next day.

"I love you," Jace said, his voice breathless as he held your hips down firmly. His cock was twitching and pounding as it hammered inside of you. His thighs were thick and full with muscle as they flexed to keep himself from collapsing into the mattress. His entire body burned with tire but he couldn't stop. He needed one more, one more burst of ecstasy with you. "I will love you until I die. And if there's a life after that? I'll love you then. Can't let my Angel be all alone...need to keep her company."

Your jaw went slack as drool dripped from your lips, sticking to the Herondale star as you emitted mindless sounds into his golden skin. "I love you, Jace," you said between hiccuping moans.

"And my cock?"

You couldn't help but laugh between the thrusts. "Even your cock, baby."

Jace firmly smacked you on the ass as he made a little noise of praise. "That's right. You love it. You love it, you own it; you milk it so good. Your wet pussy hugs me just right. Raziel made you for me."

His blue eyes flared with golden flame; the heavenly fire was forcing its way out of hiding, making his hands warm as the groped across your body. "You're all mine."

#jace wayland x reader #jace herondale x reader #jace lightwood x reader #jace morgenstern x reader #jace wayland imagine #jace herondale imagine #jace lightwood imagine #jace morgenstern imagine #jamie Campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #starfirette writes #jamie campbell bower imagine #the mortal instruments x reader #the mortal instruments imagine #shadowhunters x reader #shadowhunters imagine #please work this time #18+ content

[lostinforestbound]

I actually wrote this fic back in January, before ever making a tumblr! I had the idea for a while and I wanted to get it out there even if no one would see it, and now it's at over 100 kudos! Never would I have ever thought the fic would be seen this much, and I'm grateful that people like it! This is also an exploration of Rolan's insecurity and guilt being part of Cal and Lia's lives. Enjoy the tumblr version!

Rolan/GN!Tav

Look Away for a Minute

Rolan is frustrated by how his mind constantly clings to the past. It refuses to move on, and he should be over it by now...right? OR A nightmare tortures Rolan in the night, but Tav is there to help him through it.

Word Count: 3k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Nightmare sequence, Mentions of abuse, Mentions of vomiting, Rolan's POV

The crushing pressure of hands around Rolan's throat is too much, cutting off his airway so he couldn’t breathe, and so tight that it could snap his neck in any moment. His sharp nails desperately scrape at the wrists positioned there, trying to find a breath that will never come, his tail lashing out from under him. He wants to fight harder, kick until his bones crack, scream until his voice is gone, bite until his jaw locks and breaks his teeth, but an unrelenting fear paralyzes him in place.

He can’t see the face above him through unfocused eyes; it's cast in an unnatural shadow with cruel blue irises staring down at him. It's unblinking, watching him struggle with a lack of reaction as his throat goes dry as sand, the urge to cough rising in need.

Lorroakan.

Rolan rasps, his nails- his claws leaving angry red welts across Lorroakan's forearms. He didn’t know the answer. What was the gods damned answer? Was it something about divination runes? The creation of the Weave? Or was it the Spellplague in the Year of Blue Fire? N-No, no, it had to be about the Nightsong, the relic that he so aggressively sought after. He can still fix this! He can correct himself and apologize. He'll grovel if he has to, knock his own pride down a few pegs to be more convincing and pathetic, just as his mentor wants him to be. He can do better, he has to do better, for Cal and Lia. After what they've both been through for him, for this damn apprenticeship he wanted so badly, it is the least he can do for them. He will-

“What is this, hm?”

Another face appears above him, one he should be so familiar with but it faded so much over time. It's been so many years since he looked at her portrait, one that was gifted to him by Cal when he was welcomed into their little family; he couldn't bear to look at it again, not after her funeral. Her eyes are just as vicious as Lorroakan’s, but she is someone Rolan fears much more. It makes his blood run cold, body shaking as if he was dunked in the frozen waters of Neverwinter.

“You were the sweetest child, but I see who you are now: A manipulator, and a thief.”

Please, no-

“You stole my family, little one. You stole them away for me. Did you wait idly for me to die in order to take them for yourself?”

The moment he tries to tear his eyes away, a new set of hands forces his head still with a grip on his face, maintaining the eye contact. He chokes still, desperate tears filling his eyes as his struggle intensifies. The tiefling couldn't even give her the courtesy of pleading for mercy, or to apologize, he just wanted to run away; after all, he is a coward. One who couldn't even look at a portrait of the person he thought of as his own mother.

These hands have delicate fingers but are just as tight, enough to bruise his fragile jaw; when did he get so small? “Little Rolan, a greedy child. I gave you my home, I fed you warm meals, and I gave you a bed; was that not enough for you? A selfish boy you are! A pitiful thing. The one time I feed a stray, he comes back for more. He takes and takes and never stops. They don’t need you like you need them. They don’t even want you.“

He knows, he knows that uncomfortably well, but by the gods does he need them. He needs them so badly. If they were gone, he would have nothing else.

He feels himself grow limp as more unnerving words are whispered. Most of it he can’t even register anymore, but he knows one thing for sure.

“They would be better off without you burdening them.”

He wakes with a sharp gasp, sitting up with a disoriented mind with wide golden eyes. Instinctively, he digs his nails into his neck, but it takes him a long moment to realize that there is no hands there, no hands to choke him. He breathes in heavy to get air in his lungs, heart racing as he takes in the dark room around him. He’s in his bedroom. He’s not on the cold wood or even in his workspace inside the tower, where he used to be tutored. He’s alive. He's not suffocating. He’s not dying. He’s not dying. Everything is as it should be.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to breathe through his rising panic, but it's not working; every time he sucks air in, it's never enough. He either ends up coughing or barely breathing at all. Nothing and everything feels real at the same time, is he even in the room? The silence presses against his ears, making him feel so, so isolated in the worst way possible. Lorroakan is dead. He can’t hurt him anymore, so why does he still dream of him?

Why does he still dream of her?

“Rolan…” A sleepy voice mutters, before he feels steady arms wrap around his waist, pulling him into another body. He bristles momentarily, almost spiraling into panic once more until he realizes who it is that holds him.

It’s warm, and it’s secure.

It's Tav. It’s safe.

He lets out an exhausted, shaky sigh, leaning back into the hold. His skin glistens from the cold sweat he woke up to. When he lifts up his hands to try and hold theirs, he sees how much they shake; his fingers twitch uncontrollably, and he idly notices that there were small sparks of magic attempting to get conjured. The spell is unrecognizable with how unstable it looks, he can't tell which one it is. Mage Armor? Magic Missile? Thunderwave?-

He feels Tav leave gentle kisses on the back of his neck and across his shoulder blades, making his internal questions pause. “Are you alright?” They question softly, but they know the answer; they know him too well, but it seems they want to hear him say it anyways.

A deep breath echoes in the bedroom, and he squeezes his eyes shut once more as the energy fades from his hands. “No.”

“Do you wish to speak on it?”

“No.”

“For later then. Come here.” They murmur, pulling him to lay back down.

He relents, but he feels disgusting with all the sweat. Gods, why is he sweating so much, and why does he feel cold? The dream was over, it was done.

Tav did not seem to mind the fact he clings to them, turning and letting him hide his face in their neck. It was a little awkward with the horns, but they make it work with their chin resting on his head. He feels their hand start to scratch at his scalp, and the amount of relief that gives him is absolutely embarrassing. His tail curls around their leg to keep them close, and the comforting sensations almost make him want to cry. They peck the top of his head, nuzzling into his sweat damp hair.

He doesn’t deserve this. He really doesn’t.

He’s unsure how long they lay there, it was mostly him trying to calm his heart. He feels fingers gently trace the ridges on his skin, cautious in how they touch. They were sensitive, and the trailing warmth made him shiver. He knows they’re trying to distract him; It’s sweet of them, truly, but his depression grips his chest so deeply. Usually he can handle these on his own. He’s a confident man, and he knows he has Cal and Lia by his side. That they want to stay by his side. If they thought anything else, they wouldn't stay in this tower he took over after the death of his teacher.

But some days are like these, where he can barely move and thinks he deserves nothing after butting into a family that will never be his.

Tav shouldn’t have to deal with this, though they think otherwise, it seems. It isn’t the first time this happened, he's had night terrors that sent him in a panic so bad he vomited and he can't even remember what it was even about. It bewildered and embarrassed him, but Tav didn't even say anything about it, they only cleaned him and the mess up as if it was not a problem. It won’t be the last time this will occur, no matter how much he wants it to be. But that’s what Tav signed up for, happily. They wanted Rolan, with all of his flaws and night terrors.

They shift slightly, pulling Rolan's body on top of them so he can rest there, arms snaking around his waist. Holding him close, their grip was loose in case this wasn’t okay. But Rolan only lays limply against them, energy gone but unable to go back sleep.

He just sees eyes.

“-ght, Rolan?”

Oh, they’re calling him. He can’t force his tongue to work. It feels heavy in his mouth.

They push some hair away from his eyes before cupping his jaw. “My love,” He listens, but their voice is muffled when it tries to reach his ears, a constant ring blocking the sound. It’s so loud. So loud. So loud-

A part of him startles when they start rubbing at his ears. They’re particularly sensitive, they know this after nibbling on them at some point in an attempt to be playful, and it’s enough to make him whine at the touch.

“Rolan,” They murmur, kissing him right between the eyes. “Come back to me, lovely. You'll be okay; you're with me, yes?”

He wants to believe that, even just for a little bit.

He buries his face in their chest, wanting to lay there. To be held, to be comforted. Doesn’t he deserve that after all the bullshit he’s been through? After the torture, the pain, the loneliness?

No.

No he doesn’t, and the thought alone makes him want to drink until he's numb, just like at Last Light Inn, where he thought his siblings, his only family, were dead and gone. Or possibly being tortured at Moonrise Towers. He doesn't know which one was worse to think about, his imagination knowing no bounds in its creativity. What would they have done, if the True Souls decided to hurt them? Would they take their eyes and cut out their tongues like how they did with Asharak-

Before his mind could grow darker, thumbs continue stroking his pointy ears as Tav speaks, “What’s the difference between Transmutation and Evocation? I keep forgetting...” Tav quizzes, feigning innocence.

A foolish question, even a child could answer it…but it’s distracting.

“Transmutation will physically alter the form of an object, or fundamentally change something in its entirety. Evocation is damaging effects mostly used in combat, but will also be used to heal wounds, as you see with clerics.”

“And what is another school useful in combat?”

“Abjuration; it specializes in defense protocols but some spells can be useful in combat, like Counterspell.”

They hum at the response, pulling him up more to kiss his forehead, right between his devilish horns. “You’re so smart, Master Rolan.”

He lets out a stuttering breath. Gods, this night is awful. He feels awful, Tav shouldn't have to deal with this.

When they suddenly start to sit up, his already fragile heart dropped into his nauseated stomach. Did they get sick of him already? Are they going to leave? Will they-

“Let’s take a bath.”

This snaps him out of his raging thoughts, staring at their eyes. "It’s late,” He states after a long moment of contemplating.

“So? Who’s going to be knocking on our door telling us not to take a bath in our own home? It’s your tower,” They say, helping him sit up as well before smiling teasingly. “Let’s take a bath, I’m sure being all sweaty is grossing you out.”

He is reluctant, but doesn’t say no when they help him out of the bed. It felt as if his body refused to move. It’s tense and rigid, his tail curled around his own leg. He can't look at them, and he’s unsure if it’s out of shame or out of fear. Fear of what? Tav? No, no! That would be idiotic to fear them. They love him. He loves them. He loves them so much it hurts. If he could rip out his very soul and gift it to them, he would do so without a second thought.

Their hand holds his firmly, something to ground him into their reality, and they lead him towards their private bathing room, decorated in lovely tapestries with a variety of colors. Some have subtle designs and are more abstract, while others have vivid images of Tav's heroics of Baldur's Gate. It's a courtesy of some citizens that they were gifted, but he cannot tell yet if they even like them there or not; still, he hung them up high for display because...well, he is so proud of them, how could he not be? He certainly thinks some of them are tacky, and he voices that opinion often, and it always makes his love laugh. The sweet, delicate smell of lavender hits his senses after Tav fills their large basin with water, bubbles forming almost instantly.

He watches their movements, seeing them strip off their clothes and kicking them off the side before they approach him again. Their hands smooth over his forearms, and they peck his nose as they unlace his trousers, stripping him as well. He lets them, a feral instinct inside of him begging for the touch, begging for any form of love they’re willing to give. He wants all of it, and he’s selfish for it.

They lead him into the basin first, getting in themselves after he’s settled. They then gently turn him around so he could press his back against their chest. It would be easier to wash his hair this way.

Both of them exchange no words, they only bathe Rolan while they hum to themselves, as if this was normal. This isn’t normal. He doesn’t deserve to be pampered when he’s done absolutely nothing to earn it. But he’s also too weak to resist.

So he lets them run their fingers through his hair, their nails scratching his scalp and rubbing the soap in. He closes his eyes when requested, letting the warm wash over him. Even when his hair and body are clean from the cold sweat, Tav insists on massaging his shoulders, working out any knots he may have. Being the master of a tower is stressful, after all.

During this he zones out, the silence deafening him as his thoughts run rampant once more. He hears them speak to him but the phrases never form coherently. Flashes of the dream drag him down into a form of despair, boring into him like ice pick.

His eyes start to sting, but then his worst fear comes to life; he starts to weep. He’s cried very few times in his life, and even then, those few times they at least warranted tears. He was allowed to cry. But this? In front of Tav and over a gods damned dream?

It only gets worse, because the weeping turns into full blown sobs, body curling forward with his face almost touching the dirty water as he hugs himself tight. His body thinks it’s in danger, somehow, and he can’t pull himself together. Voices tell him he’s nothing and deserves nothing.

Tav soothes him, leaning over him and littering kisses across his shoulders. They say nothing, and he’s thankful for it. He can’t imagine trying to speak in this state, when he tries his words die on his tongue. It's as if like he’s choking all over again, and the urge to cough grows.

Eventually his sobs delude to into sniffles and barely silent whimpers. Tav still doesn’t speak, nuzzling into the soaked skin on the back of his neck. When he calms down, Tav helps him out of the basin after getting out themselves, drying him off and changing him into new night clothes, one that was clean and softer than the one he chose before. He felt pathetic not being able to change himself, but he had no will to do so.

“I’m sorry,” He hears himself croak out. “You should be sleeping.”

Gods, they shouldn't have to even deal with him. What he went through is only a fraction of what they've been through. They saved the entire Sword Coast, possibly the entire world from the Absolute, all while they had a damn tadpole in their heads threatening to turn them and their friends into illithids. Yet, they're doing so gods damn well in their lives, a greedy part of him thinking it's unfair. Why are they fine while he is not? How did they do it?

“There’s nothing to apologize for. You had a bad dream, it happens more often than you would think,” They say, tracing their lips against his cheek while he processes the implication of their statement. “We don’t have to talk about it now. Just know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Though he lacks the energy for it, his mind wants to kiss them so deeply a never let go. He wants to drown in them, in their scent, in their body- damn it all, why is he so needy? He hates- no, he loathes how needy he is, how fucking desperate he gets. It's pathetic; he is so utterly pathetic. Pitiful. Miserable.

When they pull him back to their shared bed and lay down once more, they let him get as close as he wants, and he is thankful for it. It ends up with arms around them tight, him burying his face into their neck while his tail curls around their thigh. He wants to be close tonight, a silent plea for them to let him know everything is okay.

So they indulge his wish, playing with his hair all the while. He probably won’t sleep much tonight, but that’s okay by them, they always preach. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, and they can and will live with that.

Healing is never linear, after all.

#rolan #bg3 rolan #bg3 fanfic #rolan x tav #rolan x reader #bg3 #Forest-Writes #holy rolan empire

[television-overload]

chance encounter

an X-Files Fanfic

Read on AO3

Summary: "Six months after becoming fugitives from the US government, Mulder and Scully have a chance encounter with someone that is very important to them."

Word Count: 6,556

Tag List (let me know if you want taken off or added!): @today-in-fic @agent-troi @baronessblixen @captainsolocide @cutemothman @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @mulderscully @perpetually-weirdening @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @slippinmickeys @teenie-xf @whovianderson

It was him.

There was no way to explain how he knew, but he did.

The little baby sitting in the puddle deep water at the end of the pool was William.

His hands, still chubby like they had been in his infancy, splashed excitedly, and Mulder could hear his squeals of delight over the sounds of the other children playing. An electric yellow swim shirt paired with a dinosaur-patterned bucket hat kept him shielded from the hot California sun, and he wore striped yellow and blue swimming trunks.

Mulder thought he'd never seen a swimsuit so small.

What were the odds that of all the places they could have traveled to, he was here?

They'd been on the road for 6 months, stopping at unremarkable motels and campgrounds all the way, never staying in one place for more than a few days at a time. It was a fluke they were even here at all.

Perhaps fate.

The hotel was certainly a step up from their usual accommodations, but Mulder had insisted. It was their anniversary, he said. Anniversary of what, Scully wasn't sure. The progression from coworkers to friends to lovers happened so gradually that it was hard to pin down a particularly important date for anything. But he wanted to celebrate, to find a brief reprieve from living in darkness, so they splurged a little on this modest, if slightly run-down, hotel by the ocean.

Where their son and his new family just happened to be vacationing.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about this possibility. In those nights where Scully was extra quiet, eager to fall asleep at the end of a long day, of course he'd lay awake and think, what if.

What if we found him? What if we saw our son again? What would we do?

The idea was so far-fetched that he hardly gave it any real consideration. His thoughts ranged from “steal him back, take him with us” to “pretend you never saw him and flee town.”

The urge to do the latter was strong. It was not safe here. They'd given him up for this very reason, what would be the point if their being here got him injured or worse? Was it really worth the risk to William? To Scully?

His next thought was 'Should I tell her?' Should he tell Scully he'd seen him? Would she want to see him too, even if from a distance?

The loss of their son had broken her heart. Broken his too, but not in the same way. She had spent months with him, almost a year, only to be forced to give him away with little time to prepare.

He knew she felt the loss like a phantom limb. Even all these months later, she still awoke with his name on her lips, panic written on her face as she looked around for him. It drove a stake through his heart every time, yet part of him felt he deserved it after leaving her to deal with it herself.

He watched the boy.

He'd only come out here to enjoy the sun, sit on one of the loungers for an hour or so while Scully took a nap in their room. It was a much more comfortable bed than they've had in a long time, though that wasn't saying much.

He hadn't bargained on having his whole world tipped upside down in the short time they were apart.

As stressful as it was, life on the road lended itself to relatively simple decisions. Fast food or canned? Motel or campground? Will you drive, or should I?

This was different.

Should he tell Scully?

The thought of keeping this from her made him feel sick. He couldn't do that.

Then again, would it hurt more to know? Ignorance is bliss, they say.

Mulder had never believed that, though.

The Truth, with a capital T, was the one thing that connected him and Scully. Though their beliefs and methods differed, they valued the Truth above all else. That was what drew them together. That was what propelled them forward, even now.

She had to know. She had to know her son was here, even if knowing might hurt.

She could make the decision for herself, whether she wanted to see him or get as far away from here as possible. It might be the last decision she makes as a mother, who would he be to keep that from her?

She might never forgive him.

Swallowing back emotion, Mulder stood to his feet, trying not to draw attention to himself as he made his retreat. His sunglasses thankfully hid the redness of his eyes, a small mercy in this endlessly unfair life.

He stole one last glance back at William. There was a chance this was the last time he'd ever see his son, his baby boy. If this was it, he'd treasure this moment for the rest of his life.

A woman dropped down beside William, showing him how to cup the water in his hands and throw it.

'A quick learner,' Mulder thought, watching as he gleefully tossed small handfuls of water in the air, giggling as it rained back down on him.

Okay. He could do this.

Find Scully. Tell Scully. Find Scully.

He rushed into the moldy-smelling hallway of the hotel, not bothering to take the elevator up to their floor. Instead, he took the stairs two at a time, finding himself out of breath by the time he reached the 4th floor.

He nodded politely at a passing family decked out in beach gear, not wanting to draw suspicion. Once they were gone, he gave a quick rhythmic knock on the door to let Scully know it was him, then slipped his key card into the slot to unlock it.

The room was still dark, the curtains drawn tight to block out the midday sun, and he could hear soft breaths coming from the lump on the bed.

His heart twisted involuntarily as it so often did when he looked at her.

“Scully,” he whispered, approaching the bed. “Honey, wake up.” He settled on the side of the bed, placing a gentle hand atop her shoulder and jostling her just so.

“Mm,” she hummed, curling into her pillow. A good nap, then. That was nice, at least.

He shook her again, saying her name a little louder. “Scully, you need to get up.”

This time her eyes opened, sensing the serious undertone to his words. He could tell she was waiting for bad news, for him to tell her they needed to leave again. Wanting to put her worries at ease, he tried to smile.

“What is it?” she asked, blinking at him in confusion.

“Uh—” he hadn't gotten this far in planning what to say. But she was waiting for him now, so he needed to say something quick. “Scully, I saw some people outside...”

“Government people?” she asked, sitting up suddenly, ready to start packing.

“No, not the government,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders soothingly. “Scully—it's William.”

He could see the moment his words hit her. She blinked, like she might think she was still dreaming, but she saw the truth in his eyes. Her expression shifted.

He wasn't sure what reaction he expected, but his first guess wouldn't have been anger.

“Did you know he would be here?” she asked, her voice laced with hurt and betrayal. “Mulder, I told you not to look into it! Why—Why would you...”

“I didn't know,” he promised, begging the tears in his eyes to keep from falling. He clasped her hands in his, pulling them from their grip on the fabric of his shirt. “Scully, I swear I didn't know. I was just out at the pool, and—”

“You're sure it's him?”

His heart broke looking at her. Equal parts hope and dread, she didn't deserve this.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.”

She let out a shuddering breath.

“What do you think about that coincidence, huh?” he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

She shook her head.

“Mulder, we can't see him. It's not safe, it's not—”

“I know.” He didn't like interrupting her, but he didn't want her worrying unnecessarily about things she shouldn't. They had enough of that already, these days. If she didn’t think it was a good idea, he’d be okay with that. “We can leave, if you want. I just thought you should know.”

Her blue eyes met his, brimming with unshed tears.

“Is—Is he…?”

“He's beautiful, Scully,” Mulder answered her unspoken question. “He looks happy.”

She choked out a sob, and he immediately enveloped her in his arms, holding onto her tightly. She clutched at him like a life raft, and he ran his hand over her back in comforting circles, murmuring soft words into her ear.

“What do you want to do?” Mulder asked, knowing that time was ticking, and the little family might not stay out there much longer.

Scully sniffed.

“We could—we could go see him,” she said uncertainly, looking at him to decipher his thoughts on the matter. “From a distance.”

Mulder nodded, then stood, helping her to her feet.

“I'm with you,” he reminded her, grasping her hands tightly in his. “It'll be okay.”

With an arm slung around her shoulders, he led her out the door, this time opting to take the elevator down to the ground floor. Scully seemed nervous, almost frightened, and he didn't blame her. He tried to picture how he would feel if their positions were switched, and he couldn't imagine that he'd take it very well. Eventually, they reached the glass doors leading out to the outdoor pool, pausing for a moment.

“They can't see us,” Scully warned, looking anxious and ready to bolt, but she was glued to his side and scarcely able to move without his guidance. He nodded and took her hand, leading her out to a couple chairs in the corner, hopefully obscured enough by the shadow of the fence that they wouldn’t be seen. That bright neon shirt was still there, easy to spot, and Mulder felt tears rising to his throat again. This was the first time they had all three been in the same vicinity since those first few days when he was born.

He squeezed her hand, checking one last time to make sure she was okay. She searched his eyes, trusting him wholeheartedly, and he was certain he had never loved her more.

“Over there,” he said in a low whisper. “With the little hat on.”

Scully followed his line of sight, gasping when her eyes settled on the playful baby in the water.

What followed next was a sob, and he quickly lost his battle with the tears that stubbornly refused to go away. He wrapped his arms around Scully, offering her what solace he could, while his own chin wobbled miserably.

She alternated between sneaking glances at her son and crying into his shirt collar, muttering “Mulder,” desperately as he rocked her back and forth, his hand smoothing out her hair for her comfort as much as his own.

He couldn’t watch anymore. Seeing her like that... it made it hard to stay strong, but he needed to be. For her. He closed his eyes, pleading with the universe never to give her this kind of pain ever again.

When he opened them again, his stomach dropped to the floor.

The woman he'd seen earlier was looking at them, her eyebrows pinched in concern.

He cursed under his breath, his arms tightening around Scully. She was in no state to leave. The best they could do was avoid eye contact and keep to themselves.

But it looked like that wouldn't be enough.

The woman, William's adoptive mother, whispered something to the man she was with, nodding in their direction. His concerned face matched hers, and he nodded. With a sickening lurch, Mulder realized she was getting out of the water, wrapping herself in a towel and heading toward them.

It was too late. They'd been made.

“Scully,” he said, alarm creeping into his voice. She only had a moment's warning before the woman was there, glancing down at them with a worried frown.

“Is she alright?” William's mother asked, empathy oozing from her.

Mulder hurried to compose himself, knowing Scully was a lost cause at this point. It would be on him to get them out of this.

“She's fine, sorry,” he managed to speak, wracking his brain for a believable excuse. Best to stick close to the truth. “We—We can't have children, so—” he nodded toward their son, hoping she could fill in the blanks.

Looking behind her at the boy in the water, her face eased into one of understanding.

“Oh, I know how that feels,” she said, smiling consolingly. “Our son over there is adopted. Every day we thank God for blessing us with him. He's our little miracle.”

Scully grips him tighter, barely restraining a mournful wail. His heart sinks, knowing this interaction isn't going well at all.

He presses a desperate kiss to her hair, wishing he'd never exposed her to this pain. Wishing they were alone in the confines of their hotel room or car so she could let it all out without arousing suspicion. Wishing this woman, as kind-hearted and friendly as she seemed to be, would leave them alone.

“Are you sure she's okay?” she asked Mulder, brows furrowing again.

His hand rubbed up and down Scully's shoulder, and he nodded. “She will be. This is—hard for her.”

“Okay,” the woman said, not sounding fully convinced. “Let me know if there's anything I can do. Like I said, I've been where she is.”

“Thank you,” Mulder choked out, eyes flitting about, looking for their escape.

Through the gate. Through the hotel. Down to the beach.

“Oh, sorry,” William's mother spoke, turning back instead of leaving. “I never introduced myself. My name is—”

“No!” Scully stopped her, looking suddenly panicked and alert.

The woman startled at the outburst, jumping back slightly.

“Mulder, we can't know,” Scully said, looking pleadingly at him. “We can't know anything, we can't!”

“It's okay,” he said softly, coaxing her back from the edges of a total breakdown. “It's okay.” He looked back up at William's mom, smiling an unconvincing smile. “I think we'd really better get going. It was nice talking to you,” he said as he helped Scully to her feet. “Come on, hon, back to our room.”

It was hard to move quickly with Scully desperately clinging to him, but it wasn't the first time they'd been in this position. Once they got back inside, he'd run her a nice warm bath and apologize over and over for everything he'd ever done to hurt her.

They just. Had to. Get. Through—

“Wait.”

He froze.

“You're—You're his parents, aren't you? The ones who gave him up?”

Ice water filled his veins. He could feel Scully shaking like a leaf under his arm.

“We really should be going—” he tried, refusing to turn back around.

Her voice was closer now. “You are. I—there's so many things I've wished I could ask you. At least let me thank you. Please.”

Against his better judgement, he risked a glance back.

“Mulder, we have to go,” Scully begged, now standing on her own and pulling him by the hand. His feet were rooted to the ground, unable to take a single step forward or back.

“Just wait a minute, Scully,” he said, his brain running a mile a minute to calculate the amount of danger each potential course of action held.

He met the woman's eyes, serious.

“Look, this is not easy for her. For us. Our situation right now is—” his eyes scanned around for anything out of place, “We—We really shouldn't be talking to you.”

The woman stepped closer still, a pleading expression on her face.

“It was a closed adoption, I know. But—”

“I'm sorry. We can't.”

Scully looked exhausted, frightened, and sick all at once. Every second they stood there chipped away at her, the anxiety sinking deeper and deeper into her skin.

“You're right about one thing,” Mulder conceded, glancing over at his son and drinking in his unconcerned, innocent features.

The next words nearly choked him with sorrow.

“He is a miracle.”

They were meant to be parting words, a reminder to this woman to never take what she has for granted, but before he could move, a hand landed on his forearm, effectively stopping him.

“We'll let you see him,” the woman offered desperately, near tears herself. “Please. Just a few moments.”

And with that on the table, Mulder was torn.

On the one hand, this woman had offered them something invaluable: a chance to say goodbye, something they hadn't been able to do properly the first time.

On the other hand, it would be selfish. To put their son and his new family in danger simply because they got caught in a moment of weakness... it was unfathomable. He couldn't be responsible for more suffering. He didn't think he could bear it.

“Please?” the woman said again, squeezing his arm.

He had a decision to make. Glancing once more at Scully's crumpled face, he caught sight of the slightest hint of hope. A barely-there gleam that he'd tear down earth and heaven for the chance to brighten.

His decision was made for him.

Cursing his lack of willpower, he turned suddenly to meet the woman's eyes.

“Not here,” he whispered sternly, pointing in her direction. “Give us half an hour, then come to room 409.”

“409,” the woman repeated, nodding. “We will.”

Mulder hardened his jaw, giving one final nod before collecting Scully and hurrying off into the building without another glance back.

“This is dangerous, Mulder,” Scully said worriedly as they passed through the hall, though he knew deep down she was relieved that she might get to see her son again. He only hoped that this risk would be worth it, that they'd be able to find some semblance of peace here and leave feeling less like a part of them was missing when all this was over.

As soon as they entered their room, Scully broke down.

“Oh my god, Mulder,” she gasped, crouching low to the ground and covering her face with her hands.

He immediately dropped to his knees to help her up, ushering her over to their bed.

“Did you see him? He's gotten so big.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, a mix of happy and sad, and though he'd known Scully and her nonverbal cues for so long, he still wasn't quite sure what she needed right now.

“Yeah, I saw him, Scully,” he answered, pulling her into his lap and rocking her gently.

“Do you think they'll really come?” she asked, hopeful, but hesitant.

“We need to be prepared in case they don't,” he answered realistically, thinking of an entire squad of police cars surrounding the hotel with their flashing lights and sirens. “I can pack up the toiletries, you got the suitcase?”

She nodded, grateful to have something physical to do.

Mulder checked his watch. Twenty-five minutes. If they didn't come in twenty-five minutes, it was time to get out of dodge.

“I love you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then her lips. “I love you, Scully.”

“I love you too,” she answered, breathing deeply to calm herself. Checking one last time to make sure she was okay, he nodded and released her, each to their own assignments to ensure they were ready to make a quick escape if need be.

As the minutes passed, they became restless. They watched the clock, counting down the seconds until they should have arrived.

Their cutoff time came and went. Mulder was about to call it and give the signal to run, already gathering bags and suitcases, but the subtle knock on their door stopped him in his tracks. He held up a finger to his lips, gesturing for Scully to stay quiet while he checked the peep hole.

The sight before him caused his shoulders to slump in relief.

“It's them?” Scully asked hopefully, reading his body language.

He gave a cautious smile back, then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

There they were, William’s adoptive parents.

And William.

It nearly took his breath away. 

This close. They were this close to him, after thinking they’d never see him again. He felt like a dehydrated man in a desert stumbling upon an oasis when he was sure he was going to die.

“Hi,” the woman said, looking more uncertain now that they weren’t out in the open. Her husband looked similarly guarded, but they were here, that was all that mattered.

“Uh, come in,” Mulder said, finding his voice.

He stepped aside to allow them entrance, and Scully immediately stood from her seat on the edge of the bed, wringing her hands in front of her.

“I promise we’re not here to take him,” he assured them, closing the door behind them. “As much as we wish we could.”

Once the door was secure, he went to stand by Scully, placing a hand on her back.

“We were just passing through, I couldn’t believe it when I saw him sitting there in the pool.”

The woman nodded, still a little tense, but wanting to believe him.

“Small world,” her husband said, standing protectively next to his wife and child.

Mulder nodded.

“Look, there’s not much information we can give you. For his safety and yours, this is the way it had to be.”

“I always wondered where he came from,” the woman said. “I thought maybe a teen mom, or someone who just couldn't take care of him, but, you—”

“He was always wanted,” Scully spoke, finally able to speak for herself. Her voice came out strained, gasping for air between words. “I prayed for him for so long.”

Mulder's hand found hers, giving it a squeeze to lend her some of his strength.

“He was our miracle.”

The woman looked down, saddened by this news.

“But you were right,” Scully continued, steadying her voice. “We couldn't take care of him. Our life—it isn't stable enough for a child right now. It might never be again. So, I gave him up.”

“Didn't you have a family member who could have taken him? A friend?” the man asked. “Why a closed adoption?”

Scully shook her head, looking down at her feet. How she had wished she could have sent William to live with Bill and Tara, maybe even Charlie. But it wouldn’t have been enough. It would have only endangered more people she cared about.

“That's something we can't disclose,” Mulder answered for her. “But someday, when he asks, I want him to know...” He breathed, summoning the strength to form the words. “I want him to know that we loved him... so much.” With each breath he took, tears filled his eyes, clogging his throat until he wasn't able to speak anymore.

They would always love him, for as long as they lived. Giving him up wasn't going to change that.

“Well,” William's new mom said through tear filled eyes. “I can't tell you how much it means to us to have him.” Scully bowed her head, nodding along with a steady stream of tears. “I promise to take good care of him. He'll be safe and happy with us.”

“Thank you,” Scully whispered, unable to look the man and woman in the eyes.

“We've been worried about him,” Mulder admitted, “hoping he was alright...” He checked in with Scully, reading her like he was so good at doing, before deciding it was safe to speak for them both. “I think, seeing that he is... is a huge weight lifted off our shoulders.”

Scully gave a nod in agreement, looking up at Mulder with something of a promise. A promise that they would be okay, eventually.

“I can't imagine what you must have gone through,” the woman said. “But we are so thankful. He—I don't suppose you want to know his name?”

“No,” Scully said quickly. “I—we can't. I couldn't handle the temptation.”

The temptation to track him down, just for the chance to see him again.  That was a dream that could never be.

“What did you call him?” the woman asked, and Mulder squeezed Scully's hand again, letting her know it was okay. It was a common enough name, there couldn’t be any harm in telling her the truth.

“William,” she answered. “His name was William.”

To hear it spoken aloud after all this time was a relief. It had been almost taboo the past six months, too painful a word to be uttered. But now, there was something freeing about letting his name hang in the air.

Letting go, Mulder realized. They had to let him go.

“Well...” the woman began again, smiling at them reassuringly. “William is such a bright and curious child. He loves building towers out of blocks and throwing things at it to knock it down. He—He has this stuffed fox he takes everywhere. They're practically inseparable. His first word was 'mama'. He likes watching baseball and hockey with his dad. He—He's everything we could have hoped for, and more. So, thank you. Thank you for making such a beautiful child for us to love.” Her eyes shone with happiness, the kind which Scully wondered if she’d ever felt. “I knew you had to be remarkable people, because he's a remarkable child.”

“And now we know where he gets those lips and that hair from,” the father added, lightening the mood as much as possible, under the circumstances. “He's covered in sunscreen, must be your genes,” he said, nodding at Scully with a smile. And wonder of wonders, she laughed, a sudden, unexpected thing, and leaned into Mulder's side.

“We should let you go,” Mulder said after a moment, hating that it had to be done. “We'll need to be heading out soon.”

“To where?”

“We can't tell you that.”

Will's adoptive father's eyes met those of his biological one, and a look of understanding passed between them.

Adjusting her hold on William, the woman spoke, glancing between them as she did.

“I wouldn't feel right if I didn't give you a moment with him.”

Scully's head snapped to attention.

“You've already sacrificed so much,” she continued, “And I trust you. You're doing what's best for—for William. I know you have his best interests at heart.”

Mulder wished, wished, wished he could honestly say it was in William's best interests to be with him and Scully... but it wasn't. The truth of their reality was such that it could never be. Not through any fault of their own as parents—but because of external forces working against them, desperate to tear them apart and leave them with nothing.

But they had failed.

Because what they had was more than nothing. They had each other. And though they would have to live with the knowledge that a part of them was missing, maybe after today they would be able to make peace with what they do have. To live life to the fullest given the circumstances they've been forced to survive in.

In truth, he hadn't felt this hopeful about the future since the moment Scully first placed his son in his arms. There was still a mountain of hardships to surmount, but it didn't seem quite as impossible as before. And it was all thanks to a chance encounter with their son, at the precise moment they needed him most.

“We'll leave you be,” Will's mother spoke, checking with her husband to make sure he agreed. “If you need us, we'll be downstairs having some coffee.”

Scully's brows slanted in worry. “You don't have to go, it's okay,” she said, wanting to stop them.

“You deserve some time alone,” the woman said kindly, shaking her head. “I can see how much you need it, dear.”

Scully's chin wobbled, dangerously close to another round of tears.

And then she was coming toward them, William perched on her hip. She deposited him right into Scully's disbelieving arms, and Mulder immediately felt his throat close, the sight one he'd seen almost every night in the most heart wrenching of his dreams.

This was what he'd hoped to come home to after his time in the desert. This was what kept him sane between bouts of torture in a prison cell. To see it now was equal parts fulfilling and painful.

“I can give you something, a guarantee we won't run off with him,” he choked out, working to free his wrist from his moderately expensive watch. William's dad reached a hand out and stopped him.

“We trust you,” he said with a sad smile. “We'll be back in an hour. Please, take all the time you need.”

And with that, they left the room.

As soon as they were gone, Scully's head dropped to rest against the strawberry blond locks of their son, and she let out a sob.

“William,” she breathed, pressing her lips to his head. He seemed unfazed, and part of Mulder wondered if he still remembered her. If deep down, he knew this was the woman who had once fed him from her own body, sung him to sleep in an off-tune melody, soothed him when he had nightmares...

It wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

The same couldn't be said for him, however.

“I can't believe this, Mulder,” Scully cried, her tears falling into his downy-soft hair. Mulder led her back to the bed, sitting beside her with their son on her lap. “Did you hear what they said? He's so much like you, watching sports on TV, knocking his blocks down... He'll be throwing pencils at the ceiling in no time.”

That brought a small smile to his face, and he leaned to his right to press a kiss to Scully's forehead, his hand falling into place on their son's back.

William leaned away, taking in the new faces with a curious tilt to his head.

“Hey, bud,” Mulder said, offering him a finger to hold. For all the time he'd spent thinking of what he'd say to his kid if given the chance, he was coming up short now that he was face-to-face with the reality. “I missed you so much,” he managed to say, “And look how much you've grown!”

William reached out, holding his hands up in front of him, and Mulder's heart leapt. Glancing at Scully for permission, he slid his hands under his arms, lifting him to his chest and nuzzling him close.

“Oh, Scully,” he said, beginning to cry again, feeling the weight of William on his chest, real and tangible. “Sometimes I thought it was all a dream. But we have a son.”

It was hard to think of him out in the world, when he was hardly more than an idea. But now—he had face to put to the name, a personality to remember. He had a son.

She nodded, watching them with a watery smile. He pulled back just to look at him again, to memorize those chubby cheeks and the way he smelled. The precise shape of his eyes, their color, still the same as his mother's.

“I'm so glad we stayed here, Mulder,” Scully whispered. “To think I tried to talk you out of it...”

“Fate was working its magic, Scully,” he said, cutting her off. “This was meant to be.”

For the next hour, they played on the floor together, using Mulder's keys as a toy to hold William's attention. He was walking now, and took turns toddling between them, excitedly holding the TV remote in one hand and squealing when they praised him for successfully making it without tripping or falling.

For a while, they could almost forget this wasn't real. That they weren’t on borrowed time, already risking things they shouldn't be for this blissful moment of being a family.

Mulder got to see Scully as a mother. She saw him as a father. Finally, they had the chance to step into those roles, feeling fulfilled in ways they never could have imagined. It went far beyond any truth that once lay hidden in the X-Files. Nothing in that office of theirs could have given them purpose like this. Only each other, and the life that was formed out of the love that was sparked right there in the basement of the Hoover building so many years ago.

Mulder had always wondered how it would sound to hear the words “da da da” come from a child's mouth, and to know they meant him. Though his babbling wasn't intentional, merely a repetition of the same syllables “da” and “ma” over and over again, he was soaking it in. Committing it to memory. Praying—because only something like this could drive a man like him to prayer—that his son would think about him. Would think about his mother. That he'd grow to know and understand and appreciate the heartache they suffered at giving him away.

That maybe he'd love them too, despite never knowing them.

And maybe.

Maybe.

One day, they'd see each other again.

It was getting late. Scully could tell it was past William's bedtime. She laid him on their bed, and laid down beside him on her stomach, content just to look at him and be near him for however much time they had left.

Mulder joined her on the other side, resting a hand on top of William's gently rising and falling belly.

“I love him more than I ever knew was possible,” he whispered, and noticed as Scully wiped away a tear.

“It hurts, knowing we have to say goodbye.”

Mulder nodded, reaching a hand over William to rub circles on Scully's back.

“But not as much as it hurt before.”

Mulder remembered how Scully screamed, when he first found her in that dirty, abandoned house in Georgia.

“Don't take my baby. Please don't take my baby.”

It was different now.

This time, it was on their own terms. Their curiosities were satisfied, the things they always would have wondered about.

Who he resembled more. What his voice sounded like. His smile and his laugh when he was happy. The way he scrunched his face when he wasn't.

But above all else: would he be okay?

And now that they knew without a doubt that he was? They could let him go.

As much as any parent could let go of a piece of their soul, their own flesh and blood.

He would always be a part of them. They would always wish things could have gone differently. But at least now, Mulder had had a chance to say goodbye. At least Scully wasn't being forced to leave him with little warning, worrying that she was abandoning him to an unknown fate.

A blanket of peace fell over this humble, outdated hotel room. And for the last few minutes they would spend as parents together, Mulder and Scully counted themselves lucky. For this time was a gift, far more than they could have ever hoped to receive.

The same knock from earlier sounded, and a heavy feeling settled in Mulder's chest. He dragged himself away from the bed, while Scully lifted the sleeping William into her arms and held him close.

“How did he do?” their son's mother asked, looking perfectly at ease in a way that calmed and reassured him.

“Great,” Mulder answered. “He—He's perfect.”

The time had come. Scully knew it too. They'd already stayed longer than they should have. He knew there was a long night of driving through pitch darkness ahead of them, and he really, really didn't want to go.

But he had to do what was right for his son. That was all he ever wanted to do, as a father. He just didn't want to be the one to break Scully's heart all over again.

“I guess this is it,” Scully said, sounding calmer than he would have expected. He knew her, though, and he could see the emotions brewing beneath the surface.

It would be a tearful night for both of them.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” she said to William's new mom, stepping fatefully toward her. But before she could pass him over, she paused, looking down at him for the last time in her own arms. “William?” she spoke, her voice strained. “Mommy loves you.”

“Daddy loves you too, baby boy,” Mulder said, never having referred to himself as such before, but wanting to know how it felt.

He cupped the sleeping child's head, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and then another, not able to convince himself that each would be the last.

“I'm so sorry, William. Be good for your mom and dad, okay?”

Scully leaned against him, her strength beginning to wane.

“Goodbye,” she said, kissing him desperately all over, playing with his socked foot and each of his tiny fingers. “I want to believe I will see you again someday.”

As they passed him over, together this time, William's new parents smiled tearfully.

“If—If he suddenly gains an interest in Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster,” Mulder began in a worried, cautionary tone, “just buy him some picture books. He'll be okay.”

Though it easily could have been a joke, no one laughed. In fact, the man and woman nodded, taking his advice to heart. He felt better knowing their son would be accepted, no matter who he grew up to be. The child of the FBI's most unwanted was sure to be a bit of a loner.

“And tell him he'll grow into his nose. Sort of,” he added, this time eliciting a small smile from Scully.

“I promise, we'll tell him every day how loved he is,” the woman vowed. “I'm glad we met you.”

“I'd call it a God-given miracle,” the man said, and he reached out a hand to Mulder to shake. “Stay safe,” he said, then catching sight of Scully's necklace. “We'll be praying for you.”

She nodded, unable to speak.

Mulder's arms suddenly felt empty. He could see Scully felt the same, wrapping hers around her own torso just for something to hold. He enveloped her in an embrace, holding tight to keep both her and himself from chasing after them.

“Bye,” the woman said over her shoulder, her worried eyes unwilling to turn away from the sad couple they'd met. She gave a small, consoling smile, and lifted William's pudgy hand to wave goodbye.

Mulder and Scully waved half-heartedly in return, smiling as genuinely as they could, and watched as they disappeared through the door.

Once they were gone, Scully turned into Mulder's chest and held tight. His cheek rested on top of her head, and they swayed, silent but for the sound of the ocean nearby.

“We're gonna be okay,” Scully said at last. “Mulder—”

She looked up at him, meeting his eyes with sincerity and love.

“We're gonna be okay.”

#x files #txf #xf fanfic #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #msr #msr fanfic #post-series #the truth #william mulder #jackson van de kamp #chance encounter

[acalfinthemuseum]

nightingale

Fandom: Succession Pairing: Roman Roy x F!Reader Length: 15.5k words AO3 Link: acalfinthemuseum This is my first time writing a fanfic ever so please be gentle, I just couldn't resist writing something about my favorite little chew toy, Roman Roy. There's a little bit of Spanish sprinkled in because I love anything that keeps a miscommunication trope running. Click the AO3 link or see the footnotes at the bottom for a translation. English might be my first language but I’m bad at both lmao Genre: Angst, Fluff, and Smut. Porn with Big feelings

Tags: weird power dynamics, spit kink, slight degradation (mutual), fingerfucking, mutual masturbation, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of familial abuse Summary: Your job as an assistant to New York’s most eligible fascist bachelor, Roman Roy, comes with a lot of challenges. You find it hard to leave him though when you see the way his family treats him, and that's the only reason why you stay. It has nothing to do with the way he makes your face heat up at times. You both have a gift for digging under each other's skin and it's only more amplified when he visits your home late one night.

You find yourself hunched over your kitchen table and feel your eyes glaze over the unfinished puzzle taking over two-thirds of the table’s surface. Your brow furrows in frustration as you stare at the jigsaw pieces over the rim of your mug; sipping the “sleepy time” tea that has failed you miserably. You avoid looking at your phone, knowing that it’d only frustrate you more if you saw the time tick away closer to 3 in the morning. Sleep has evaded you once again, nothing new. You had decided long ago that rather than try to beg your body to let you sleep, thrashing about pathetically on your bed, you’d ride it out. You’ve rebranded your chronic insomnia as just a little bit of “me time” where you try to do the hobbies that you say you enjoy to people during small talk. You can practically hear your brain cells fizzle out and you decide to step away from the puzzle and sprawl over the nearby couch. You close your eyes in hopes that you might finally drift off but that dreadful antsy feeling— that anxiety for a train that will never pull in— seeps back in. Your eyes snap back open and you let out a small groan as you peel yourself off of the couch, opting to pace around for a bit instead. This was actually the first time in a few weeks that you’ve had to confront this problem. Your job, an assistant to New York’s most eligible fascist bachelor, Roman Roy, could almost be considered a relief to this issue of yours. Almost.

Your boss had a nasty habit of making you work late and not just an hour or two of overtime. He’d like to call you up at night when you had finally settled in at home and he’d ask —tell— you to come running right back to the office. Any sign of rebuttal from you is met with a quirky threat of firing you, raking you over proverbial coals. And, like the sweet dumb lamb you are, you do go running back to help him with whatever menial tasks he’s given that evening; there you are, hunched over the boardroom table (much larger than your own kitchen table) looking through the papers that clearly didn’t interest Roman enough for him to actually move from his perch. At times you’d look up from your work to look at him as he leans far back on a rollie chair sipping at god knows what kind of alcohol from the overpriced crystal in his hand. Each time you see him you quietly hope that he’ll lean too far and eat shit. No one has heard your silent prayer yet. The work he gave you during those nights was never too difficult, which you were grateful for, but sometimes it was the ease of it that drove you insane. It left you feeling a little hollow, an insignificant gray decoration for his desk that hasn’t had any time to do things outside of his orbit, even if you wanted to. Your own friends have started begging you to leave, find a job where your boss didn't expect you to drop everything and run, but for some reason you won’t. It was painfully cliché to say, but you didn’t find Roman nearly that bad during those evenings. Every so often he said something you genuinely found funny and in exchange there were other not so rare moments where you managed to make him crack. He would always order too much of some type of ludicrously expensive food for himself and then guilt you into finishing what he couldn’t. Eventually you realized it was his way to keep the both of you from starving overnight. His leftovers were always conveniently your favorites, you found him even ordering things he normally hated. He also always made it a point to message you each time you headed back home. Caring enough to check that you were still alive was as low as a bar could be but you did emphasize flexibility in your resume and you were, shamefully, a little too eager to bend for him. You couldn’t bring yourself to fully hate him but it was even worse that you found yourself liking him a little.

You remember one night you were in his office and he had given you the task of forging his signature on months’ worth of papers— a mind numbing task that you were certain he had given to you as a form of entrapment. You finished up rather quickly that night. The clock hadn’t even reached 1am and as you stood up, hoping to leave, he added on another task: to proofread his latest speech for a shareholder meeting. If he had asked you at a reasonable hour you might’ve been intrigued at the idea of being trusted enough to edit your boss’s work. But that night you felt snappy and asked why he couldn’t just use some sort of AI software instead to polish whatever garbage he had frankensteined together. He shot back that the moment a new Alexa or Cortana came with a better pair of tits he’d happily fire you on the spot. You must have felt sentimental that night because the only response you could muster was a bitter “thanks ”. A smarter person would’ve heard something like that and quit, but a little part of you felt fuzzy when you saw him grin at his own joke. An even sadder part was almost curious to know what that meant about how he looked at you, the phrase “better” implying he looked at your chest often enough to develop an opinion of it. Did you want that? You shake your head free of the memory, You drag your hands across your face and groan, suddenly feeling a little pathetic thinking about your boss late at night. You take in a deep breath and step towards your kitchen table once more. The loud, grating buzzer at your apartment’s door causes you to flinch midstep, fuck! For a split second you flip through all of the possibilities of who it might be and how quickly you could hide in safety if your home intrusion nightmares prove true. You slowly step back into your kitchen and you jump at the sudden ring of your phone. Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Roman?” You answer curtly, any fear you may have felt is now blanketed by a layer of annoyance.

“Finally! I knew you were awake, now be a dear and open the door!”

“That’s you?? Why are you here? Go home.”

“Hmmm nah, nope. I’m good here. Now open up.”

“No???”

“ ‘kay, let me make it easier, open the door ooorrrr you’re fired.”

You feel your eyes threatening to roll back into your sockets as you head towards the door. You’re not particularly thrilled by the idea of him being in your home but you know he’d never leave without at least harassing your neighbors. Too tired to reason with him further, as is often the case, you do as he says and head to open the door for him. You crack the door open a smidge, blocking the opening with your body, he asked you to open the door —not to let him in. Your eyebrows raise in surprise as your gaze lands on a disheveled Roman, he raises one hand to wiggle his fingers in a hollow hello. You ignore the greeting and blurt out the first thing you notice.

“You look like shit.” Not the nicest thing you could say but you could live with that guilt.

“Aw, thanks.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you think the only reason I’m here is because I want something? That’s a little mean, I thought we were friends.”

Your mind slides the word friends back and forth, like floss between your ears.

“Are we?”

You let that question hang in the air, the idea of being considered Roman’s friend felt equal parts exciting and disappointing. Maybe he could tell you were hesitant. You didn’t like holding eye contact with Roman, it made you feel . .  odd. But your annoyance, coupled with the restless hum that’s kept you awake, seems to help take the edge off and you don’t look away. The lighting is crude and sterile in the halls of your apartment building, your cheap landlord is seemingly attached to the fluorescent’s hostile charms, but you can still trace out what’s different about him tonight. You were accustomed to seeing him lose a bit of his polish at these hours when at work. His stupid slicked down hair turns unruly, suit jackets and ties go missing and his sleeves roll up unevenly, wrinkling his pristinely starched shirts. You’ve caught yourself staring at this version of him once or twice. It’s painful to admit that you thought he looked good— you’d sooner bite off your tongue than use the actual word you had initially thought of when you saw him, attractive . But tonight he looks tired, the stark lights shadow his face harshly and, when he shifts slightly, you notice he’s hurt. A busted lip and a matching cut on his right cheek are undeniable. You feel your jaw clench tight and an icy feeling slides down your neck.

“Rome…..” You hesitate using that nickname, it feels foreign in your mouth. Something indecipherable flickers past his eyes. You had heard the name said numerous times between his family but you weren’t quite sure if familiarity was a requirement for it. You push through it and keep speaking. “…. what happened?”

The smug smile he wore when you first opened the door has been pulled into a frown. He thought he’d be able to fall back into a comfy rhythm when he got you to open the door but the look in your eyes makes him feel small and stupid for even considering being here. His eyes drop to his feet and voice gets a little quieter.

“Can I come in? Please?”

The tension in your jaw releases when you hear him say please. You suddenly feel guilty making him wait outside like a stranded animal. 

“Y-yeah, come on….”

You step aside to make room in the doorway for him. His shoulder brushes against yours as he steps inside and you bite your inner cheek at the rare touch, now’s no time for that. It was hard to push it down though, as big of a penchant as Roman had for draping himself over things, he rarely touched you. You had touchy bosses in the past so he was a welcome change, but sometimes it left you wondering if it meant something, like if he had a weird repulsion around you. Maybe that was for the best because you couldn't be certain that you'd pull away if he did lean in. You get a better look at him once you've closed the door and headed into the warm light of your kitchen and you feel a load of stones drop in your stomach. 

“Shit. You look bad.” You grimace looking at the cuts on his face. He lets out a small puff of air through his nose.

“Are you always this nice to your guests?” His face scrunches up as if offended but the hint of amusement in his voice relaxes you a bit.

“Only the ones that I’m friends with.” He can hear a teasing lilt in your voice. 

“Fuck off.” You see a small smile on his face and that warm fuzziness in your chest returns.

Hot coals sit heavy in your stomach though as you think of how it must hurt to smile like that with his face the way it is now. You roam around the kitchen to fix him a cup of water and some pain meds. You remember whiffing some type of malt liquor off of him when he brushed past you and then decide to pick out the dosage for him. You feel uninterested in helping damage his liver any further. You place the cup and pills on the countertop in front of him. 

“Take this.”

He picks up the cup and pills in either hand. His eyes narrow as he looks at the medicine in his palm and back up to you.

“You better not be trying to roofie me.”

“Only in your dreams, Roman….” Your reply sounds tired. Ah, there’s the annoying man you know and love, you think to yourself. 

“Clearly. Can’t even get you to admit that we’re friends, fuck .” His voice grows bristly and he looks back down at the pills in his hand.

“Why are you so bent over this?” Your face is furrowed with frustrated confusion.

He glares at the bargain brand ibuprofen in his open palm. A sour look grows on his face and he mutters under his breath.

“Yousaiditfirst.”

“What?”

Despite your one worded question, he leaves no space after what he said to elaborate. He swings the meds into his mouth and chugs all the water in his cup. You stare as he drinks, watching his throat gulp it all down. He takes in a sharp breath and sets his cup down on the countertop once he’s done. 

“You said it first.” He repeats it clearly.

 You give him a blank stare, cocking your head inquisitively, and if it were a different time and place he’d think you looked like a pretty bird. Roman grits his teeth and narrows his eyes at you, he knows that all things considered he shouldn’t be cold around you right now. It’s a dick move, but something about the genuine curiosity on your face as you blink at him makes him feel irritable. He knew when he hired you that people often deemed you to be a patient person, at least more so than the average person. And he had a wonderful knack for testing the nerves of anyone in a 15 ft radius. A perfect fit. He felt an initial sick glee at dragging you around everywhere, a shiny new stretch armstrong toy to entertain himself with. It made things easier that he actually enjoyed being around you; he thought you were funny, smart too, in a way that mattered. He had spent plenty of time around enough mouthbreathers to know the difference. You felt like a real person to him, a nice one, not some smarmy creep that plays all field but rather, someone who had a large capacity for kindness. And right now he feels like it’s coming back to bite him in the ass. You felt comfortable to him and that was an uncomfortable thought to have. He’s noticed that he’s always looking forward to being around you, to the point that whenever you’ve tried to leave him on late nights he feels offended. Wasn’t being around him enough for you like it was for him? He liked to bury that thought by reminding you, both of you, that he could ruin your life in minutes. You can’t go away, the only way this can end is if he makes you. He knows you’re smart and part of him tries to convince himself that that should be enough for you to already know how he feels and why he acts the way he does around you. It’s a half-boiled alibi that helps him feel better about being a shitty friend. Why did you come back to the office, why did you open the door, why did you answer your phone? It’s not his fault if you kept coming back after he gave you numerous outs, right? It’s incredibly manipulative of you to look so fucking sweet and make him feel guilty for being a constant shithead. Yep, your fault. Not his.

“You were the first one to say it. Remember? Amigo?? Your cousin???” His voice sounds like he tastes something bitter around the word amigo. You give him an empty blink and then it clicks.

“Oh.”

He was right. 

That night was such a shitshow, it’s no wonder that you had forgotten what you said. There were parts of it you wish that you could forget. It was while you were all still in Argestes, Roman and his siblings were set to speak on a panel together and address the controversy surrounding gross misconduct rampant in their company’s cruise line. In a twist no one could ever have predicted, Shiv and Kendall use it as a chance to stomp each other out, and then there’s Roman, with barely enough room to squeeze in a paltry line. You remember the dejected slump of his shoulders when they all walked back into the green room, you stood close by but didn’t speak, listening on as siblings and father bicker. You remember hearing Roman grilling into Shiv, the way she threw their dad overboard. He sounded vaguely content, like he was eager to have a chance to kick the dog rather than be kicked. The smugness was knocked out clean in one sudden strike. You blink, there’s the loud smack, a blur of Logan’s hand, and Roman keeling over, hand over his face. You feel cold, stuck in place watching it unfold. His siblings help him up, others focus on talking Logan down, pleading with him, and when you see blood you think you can feel your heart stop. You snap into movement, scrounging around the room for ice and a towel– a rag, anything that might help. Your head nervously sways around the room, looking at Roman and then back at your surroundings, each time you look at him it feels more urgent, you have to stop the bleeding. You look back and he’s making a beeline to leave. You need to stop the bleeding. You chase after him.

“Roman! Roman, wait! Rom—”

He groans loudly and turns on his heels, about to tell you to “fuck off” when you crash into him slightly from momentum. You mutter a few “sorry”s but don’t leave him any room to reply, your hands press a makeshift ice pack to his face. He tenses when you take his hand in yours, guiding it to hold the bundle in place. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

He doesn’t respond, he feels like he can’t. Maybe the slap was enough to bite his tongue off. But even if he could retaliate, he doesn’t want to, not now when your hands rest on his forearm; your grip is gentle as you guide him to the parking lot. He gets in when you open the car door and it’s not till you’ve driven off the property that he looks back at you and manages to mumble something.

“Where the fuck are you even going?”

“Not sure.” A dentist hopefully. Home, eventually.

You don’t look at him when you answer, eyes locked on the road ahead. He notices your knuckles growing white as you grip the wheel but he doesn’t say more, icing his wounds feels like a perfect excuse. You call up a distant cousin, one who, luckily enough, had opened up their own dental practice less than an hour away. It’s only till the third call that they answer, they had been getting ready for bed. You speak to them Spanish, it serves as both a familial appeal and a chance for some privacy. Roman focuses on you as you talk, suddenly regretting not paying more attention in his language classes back in college. Your face is enough to keep him vaguely in the know. Your cousin sounded tired, unconvinced and you looked scared.

“Anda primuis…. Por fa?? Es mi amigo.” ¹

Now that’s a part that he understands, he feels a funny flutter in his chest when he hears it. That sentence feeds a warm hopeful part of him but it’s accompanied by a strong sense of guilt when he hears your voice crack oh so slightly. You were scared. He fucked up and now you’re stuck here trying to help piece him back together. Great. He turns his head away and looks out the passenger window. There’s dozens of things that could float around his mind at this moment but he tries to hold on to that weak little sound byte. It’s all he could repeat in his mind to keep from crying, he keeps his face stiff and watery eyes trained to the window. He doesn’t speak the rest of the car ride, you barely make out a slight nod of his head when you hang up the phone and tell him you’re headed to your cousin's office. You give silent thanks when you see your cousin's car already in the parking lot. 

Roman greets them politely, a bit more quiet than you’re used to seeing him, but he looks collected and that gives you some relief. You act as your cousin's assistant, handing them tools you vaguely recognize and holding a mirror and light in place. Apparently Logan had managed to knock off one of Roman’s veneers; the porcelain had left some nasty cuts on his gums. It was a quick enough fix between the two of you. You neared the final step and you watched your cousin prep a needle, ready to numb an area where Roman needed a suture. Absent-mindedly, one of your hands grips his arm. He tenses slightly under the comforting squeeze and you worry that you overstepped something, not used to seeing him so still. Once the final stitch is tied off, you step back and admire the work. Your cousin instructs Roman to smile and you both feel relieved that your work paid off, his smile looked as unfairly handsome as you thought it always did. Before you can think clearly, you blurt out something that Roman can only conceive of as a stupid joke.

“You look nice.”

He clicks his tongue in response. You think you can see warmth in his eyes when he smiles at you; a small dimpled thing. He opens his mouth to give you another quip in return but your cousin ushers you away to the corner of the office and Roman feels a chill on his neck. He hears them speak to you in Spanish again and he tries not to look strained as he leans forward a bit, trying to hear you.

“Sabes que me puedes decir lo qué sea, verdad?” ² Your cousin's voice sounds soft, a little like yours. 

“Qué?” Roman knew that word, you’ve even made that same scrunched up face at him a couple times. 

“Es tu novio?”³ He knew that word too, your cousin's head tilted slightly in his direction. his ears perk up and that weird flutter comes back. His eyes stay on your face, he tries to decipher the look on your face: embarrassment? disgust?  

“No.” You punctuate that word with a small bark of laughter. Roman suddenly feels sick.

“Creo que el no sabe eso. Te queda viendo.”⁴ He’s lost again. Your head turns to look right at him. Shit . You lock eyes with him and smile. If he didn’t already feel a little dizzy, he would have now. Something about that smile felt like a slap. He supposes that rejection doesn’t always need a physical hand to follow in order for it to hit. You look away and he feels something sharp. It’s as if you had just sliced him, belly up.

“Soy la única cosa en este méndigo cuarto que él reconoce. Obvio que me queda viendo. No soy pendeja.”⁵ He’s got no clue what you said, but you sound a little defensive, annoyed even. There’s still a smile on your face when you turn back to talk to your cousin. Roman can’t see it fully but it loses its warmth. He assumes that, as usual, he’s the distasteful thing in the room. In reality you turn away to avoid your face growing flushed once more. Leave it to the family to strike a nerve so easily.  

“Hm.” A skeptical sound from your cousin.

“Hm.” You mimic, not enjoying the doubtful look they give you. Not enjoying the skip you felt in your pulse when you noticed Roman looking. This was something you’d have to think about later and you weren’t looking forward to it.

“Me vale madre pues. Dile que le va a costar 60 bolas, descuento familiar.”⁶ Your cousin gives a smug smile, believing your annoyance proves their point. They’re definitely telling your aunt and uncle.

“Oh.” You can’t say much more. You feel your face grow hot as the memory comes back. He heard that , you wonder what other parts he listened in on.

“Oh.” He echoes bitterly. The accusing glint in his eyes is gone but part of you wants it to come back. Anything might be better than the disappointment that’s left there. That pang of guilt you had swings back in at full force.

“I’m sorry.” You sound defeated, your head tilting down. You feel a pinch of regret following him that night, you never questioned if he even wanted you there. 

“You’re sorry ?” You’re gutting him.

“I— I shouldn’t have said that.” Maybe you had misread things, maybe he didn’t want you close. He certainly reminded you often enough of your fragile position to make that a possibility. That couldn’t be further from the truth though and your meek little “apology” for calling Roman your friend entrenches him further in his belief that there’s no way you actually ever liked him.

You won’t look him in the eyes, his empty glass on the counter now more interesting than him. Oh, you are twisting that fucking knife into him.

“Oh so now you’re just taking it back??” A new emotion for tonight. You had the displeasure of an angry Roman in your kitchen now and you weren’t even exactly sure why.

“Wha–  do you want to be friends?” Your eyes snap back up to his and he almost flinches. You look upset, sound upset, but the question is worded the same way a kindergartener would ask it. He’s surprised your teeth aren’t rotting out from the sickly sweetness. He didn't want to answer you. It would have been easier if you had never picked up the phone tonight. Of course, he wanted to be friends, he’d take anything you’d give him and it feels humiliating.

“Fuck no.” Roman lets out a mirthless giggle. 

You’re not happy with his answer. You don’t want to believe it and you’re not gonna. You wonder if Roman would’ve ever done the same for you; given you the option of being friends. He’s got on a cruel tight-lipped smile and you realize he never would’ve given you the option. Why offer that courtesy to him? You take in a short breath.

“Sounds like you really want to be friends with me.” You ignore the prickle of heat at your tear ducts and manage to conjure up a self-assured smile.

“I don’t. You probably have cooties.” He quips with a jeer. 

“I do, actually. Aaaaaaand you drank my spit water.” He ews. You keep going. 

“So we’re pretty much cootie-bonded to each other forever. I’m, like, legally your friend now. ” You see his face struggle to shape itself into what he wants. His nose is wrinkled in disgust but his mouth threatens to pull into an earnest smile.  You grin, feeling a speck of warmth grow in your chest. Every so often you understand why Roman enjoys being a pest, his annoyance is funny to you.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not yours.” He was, though.

“That’s fine. I can work with that.” You manage to sound casual.

“I don’t like you.” There isn’t any acid in his voice as the smile that was pulling at the corners of his mouth fully takes hold. He likes you. But the words still sting a bit. You feel your throat getting a little tight, you have to tread lightly. Back and forths were fun for you till they suddenly weren’t.

“Bummer. My cooties like you, I can hear them. They're swirling around in there.” You step a little closer, eyeing his stomach in stubborn commitment to the bit. There’s a glimmer of pride when you hear him laugh. A full bellied, honest laugh.

“You’re gross.” And just like that you manage to coast past something stormy, Roman’s no longer souring the air. He really fucking likes you. A small part of him wants to kiss you, condemn you with real cooties. But he smiles back at you instead. Your heart rate shoots up and you blame it on the lack of sleep, not the twinkle in his eyes.

“At least I’m not the one who looks gross.” You move to grab a damp paper towel. “Seriously, did you even bother cleaning yourself before you got here?” 

“Shut up. It’s not that bad.” His brows rise up in emphasis.

“It kinda is.” You move in closer, feeling bold. Your hands reach out to wipe his face but he grabs hold of your wrists. You let out a small huff and try to pull out of their grip.

“Stop that.” His voice gets a little higher, like he’s nervous.

“No.” You both wriggle around like that for a bit. It looks a little silly, like he was trying to keep you from tickling him.

“Fuck off.” 

“Just lemme see it.” You lift your arm in a way that gives you a chance to bite his hand. He lets go of your hands, swearing loudly but not in pain, just surprise. You manage to wipe at the cut on his cheek. He can feel his mouth go dry when you stand so close. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it …” You trail off, distracted. That cold feeling creeps back in.  He watches your brow furrow in concern. “You’re still bleeding.” 

“It’ll be fine.” He looks unconcerned and that breaks your heart. Maybe he’s ok with bleeding out but you weren’t.

“It will be. Wait here. Don’t . . . don’t fucking touch anything.” You take a step away from him and he feels like the room gets a little cold without you in it.

As you make your way to your room, looking for the first aid kit you kept somewhere, Roman stands in your kitchen. For a moment he’s stuck in place, all he can do is think of what just happened. Clenching and unclenching his hands into fists repeatedly, he tries to linger on how soft your wrists felt, it unsettles him how nicely his fingers wrapped around them. He feels a little dizzy knowing he’s actually in your home and you haven’t even tried to kick him out yet. But the sting and dull painful ache across his face sober him up a bit. You were a nice person, and you were doing the things a nice person was expected to do for their friend. He shouldn’t think anything of this. Part of him wasn’t even sure if he would have gotten such a warm welcome if he didn’t show up bloodied on your doorstep. He didn’t dislike you patching him but he didn’t want this to be the only thing you saw in him; a sniveling puppy of a man. He lets out a deep breath and walks around your home, trying not to dwell on his feelings of inadequacy. The puzzle you left on your dining table catches his eye. His eyes scan over the pieces, he remembers your instruction to not touch anything and decides to ignore it. A single jigsaw bit stands out to him, he holds and places it gently, like he doesn’t want to make any noise. The piece fits right in and Roman smiles to himself, a small blink of accomplishment. He hears your footsteps but he’s still caught off guard when he looks up and sees you right by his side. 

“Didn’t I say not to touch anything? You better not be fucking up my puzzle.” You sound so warm. The small smile you give him is annoyingly cute.

“I’m not. I’m just giving you the help you clearly need.” Roman’s stomach feels lighter.

“Charitable of you.” You say flatly. There’s a smug smile on his face.

“Very.”

“I hear you’re getting the key to the city tomorrow?” 

“Yep, everyone loves me. Wouldn't kill you to be grateful either. You should be saying " Oh, thank you sooo much, Mr. Roy!”  He bats his eyes at you. “Please, how can I repay you? I’d do anything . . .” His voice goes high and airy trying to mimic you. You fail to hold back a laugh and he feels ill from the dopamine rush that sound gives him.

“I don't sound like that.” You try to sound annoyed, it's unconvincing.

“You do.” He gives you his signature shit eating grin and flicks a jigsaw piece at you, it bounces off your shoulder.

“I do not.” You fling a puzzle bit at him in return but it sails right past him miserably. He chuckles, sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry. Actually annoyed now, you reach out and flick his nose. He groans and his face scrunches up; the sound makes your cheeks feel a little warm. 

“Fuck you.” His voice is a little lower as he rubs his nose. You giggle a bit.

“Anything for you, Mr. Roy.” You say dryly. You continue and give Roman a smug smile of your own. “Now go sit on the damn couch.”

With a dramatic “ ugh!” he does as you say and moves to the couch, you follow close behind. You set out the first aid items on the side table. You perch on the sofa’s arm as you flip through the kit for some alcohol wipes. You open the packet and stand up, thinking it might be easier to just lean over him. He suddenly feels squeamish when your hand guides his chin to look up at you.

“You washed your hands right?” He asks. He already knows the answer but he’s looking for something to fill up the silence.

“Of course I did.” One of your legs knocks against his knees and it rattles through him.

“You’re sure?” He does his best to not look a little panicky but he can smell the laundry detergent you use and he hates how much he likes it.

“Positive.” You look down at him a little worried. You think he’s still making a fuss in stubborn faith that the cuts will turn out fine. Your frustration leaves a bit of a kick in your words. “Roman, I need you to trust me and shut the fuck up for once in your life .”

“Okay, okay. . . I’ll shut up now.” 

You both end up feeling uneasy- oddly guilty. You regret telling him to shut up. Your hands reach back for his face gently, you hope he can't tell there’s a slight tremble in your hands. He can’t, he’s too focused on how warm they are. But the words you said are snagging into his sides. There's a part of him that wonders how much he annoys you and if you knew how much he actually did trust you. You were the first one he thought of when he got hurt. 

“Sorry. That was a little mean.” Your voice is quiet again and it sounds so soft. Weight is piling onto Roman’s chest.

“It’s fine.” He sounds so small, there’s a part of you that wants nothing more than to just hold him. Another small but loud and prideful part is disgusted by the idea of coddling him and it shames the rest of you into stoic submission. The guilt eats away at you but you give him a small doleful smile before you tilt his face to the side. 

“Deep breath. This is gonna sting a little.” He does and you begin to lightly wipe the fresh cut on his face. You hear him grunt a bit, his face scrunches slightly in discomfort. You let out a small commiserating hiss as you stare in concentration at the angry welt along his cheekbone. You bite your lip as you apply ointment to the area.

“This really looks like it hurts.” The concern in your voice is clear and he can feel the skin on his cheek tingle from both the rubbing alcohol and your touch. He looks up at you from the corner of his eyes, his head still turned and he feels like it's almost worth the pain  when you glide your finger across his cheek to keep the bandage in place. Your tightly knit brow drops when you hear him chuckle.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He slides back into that sarcastic tone so easily. You don’t fight it, you know it helps him feel a bit safer.

“Oh yeah, what did he look like?” Roman sees a flash of teeth when you grin as you speak. Your voice sounds amused and he tries to ignore the blood rushing to his face when you guide him to look you head on again. It feels like you’re taunting him when you gingerly push his hair back a bit, his scalp tingles where your nails drag along and he wants to sink into your couch. 

“Geriatric. Wrinkly old fuck kicked my ass.” His voice is quiet and tense. The latter for more reasons than you were aware of.

“Hm” You let out a quick, sharp puff of air, not enough to even be classified as a snort or a chuckle. You mull over his words for a moment. You know he meant his dad and you feel something in you freeze. You hate seeing him get hurt, but you know well how much someone could put up with, how strongly you can want someone to love you back. You rattle your brain trying to find something a little helpful to say. You can’t. “You were doing your best.”

“I fucked it.” He frowns. Your palms are warm when they cradle his chin and he wants to enjoy that but he can’t. It’s a little sad that this is the only way he can get you to touch him. 

“Maybe. You tried though.” Your thumb presses lightly against his bottom lip, trying to get a better look at the wound. Roman hisses a bit, he can feel his cock get hard and he feels . . . icky, for lack of a better word. You’re trying to care about him and he was being gross, creepy; he needs to leave.

“I think that makes it worse.” You sigh through your nose, you want him to let you in but you focus back on patching the cracks for now.

“Deep breath.”

A pitiful, pained noise is caught in his throat, his body jerks away from you and it’s just enough to make you lose your footing. You steady yourself by gripping his shoulder roughly, one your legs that fell forward against the couch is now slotted between his knees. You’re the closest you’ve ever been and Roman’s scared shitless. 

“You fucking bitch.” His words are slurred as he sucks in air to soothe the chemical sting. You feel like a disembodied hand is tightening its grasp on your throat. 

“I told you to breathe, and don’t call me that.” You manage to spit out a response that doesn’t sound as weak as you feel.

“What? A bitch? Sowwy, does that hurt uwr feewings??” His voice slips easily into a mocking babyish voice. The tone sounds meaner than you’ve ever really heard it being directed at you and you aren’t sure how to respond, you feel your face grow pink with shame.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! And close your fucking legs, you’re letting in a draft!” He shoves your leg away from his knees and he shuts his legs tight, he tries not to look at his lap when he feels his cock twitch a bit in his pants. You’re completely oblivious.

“Stop saying that shit. I’m trying to fucking help you.” You bite your inner cheeks for a moment, a habit you developed as a kid to keep yourself from tearing up in front of others.

“Can’t help me much if I fall into your cavernous vagina, can you?” Hostility stretched into a smile makes it feel more like he’s baring his teeth. Roman’s mind is racing with things to say to get him out of this. A coyote typically settles for biting off his own limb to escape but yours will do fine.

“It’s not my fault that everything looks huge compared to your sad little cock.” Finally . You’re finally biting back, he’s trying to build a reason to push you out and you just took the bait.

“Oh that’s nice. I think Human Resources will love that one.”

“HR? Really? Don’t you think they’re tired of seeing your name come up in the complaint log weekly.”

“You’re right, it might just be better to let you go.”

“Ooo, you’re gonna threaten to fire me again? Cool. Awesome. Go ahead, if that’s what gets your wormy little dick stiff.”

“It does actually, yeah.”

“Well, I hope you actually get to fuck something once you’ve fucked me over.”

“Sure will, gonna hire a bouncy new little fuck bunny assistant. One that doesn’t use her dick lips to talk back.”

“I fucking hate you.” You pull on his hair, hard. Part of you doesn’t want to be this harsh with him after what his father did tonight but part of you knows that this doesn’t really hurt. Not as much as it should. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, enjoying the sweet, wimpy cry that falls out of him; it makes you want to sit on his face. Roman finds it hard to breathe, the tip of his prick is dripping no doubt. His eyes are half lidded but they glimmer under the dim light of your living room as he blatantly stares at your lips. He's transfixed by how soft they look, your grip on him feels good and he doesn’t care enough to pull away. You rest your thumb on his lower lip again and his lips part but not wide enough.

“Open up.”

He nods a little and opens wide. His brain short circuits when you spit into his mouth. He thinks your spit tastes sweet like you— he ignores the idea that there might be something wrong with him. You feel that familiar wanting flutter down below when you watch him swallow your own spit. He whines again when your hand loosens its grip, he needs more. His hands, that were gripping the couch beneath him this entire time, find their way to the small of your back. He pulls you into his lap and buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing any skin he can find. A nagging voice in your head knows that this is probably a horrible idea but then he nips the skin on your shoulder and you feel yourself turning into putty. Your grip on his hair tightens again as you look for something to cling onto, he groans and his breath is hot and wet against your skin. You say his name in a soft, pleased sigh and it makes something in him crack. Fuck . He needs to hear that again, the glowing pride he gets from making you sound like that feels addictive. He needs you, he doesn't really know how he’s held out this long around you. His kisses are feverish and his grip tightens around your hips. He can’t help but grind up into you looking for some relief. You tense when you feel how hard he is under you.

“Rome... wait.” His entire body stiffens under you, stopping immediately. He makes a cute little groan when he lifts his head away. His cheeks are flushed and you almost regret pulling away when you see how pretty he looks. You feel yourself clench around nothing.

“What is it?” He tries to sound casual, but he’s terrified that he might have fucked things up.

“I still need to fix your lip.” He groans again, this time in disappointment.

“We can do that later.” He sounds impatient but his thumbs rub light circles over your hips and it feels so gentle. 

“No, we can do it now.” He looks upset but it doesn’t sting you this time. You know you’re in the right. This serves as further proof to him that you’re an annoyingly nice person.

“Can’t you just. . . I dunno, kiss it better ?” 

“Rome. . . “ You’re smiling at him and it doesn’t feel like pity, it feels like love. He wants that to be the case but he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if it weren’t true.

“Please?” He sounds so good like that, a little desperate and pleading. You wonder if he said it like that on purpose, his big eyes and that small little pout feel unfair. You take in a sharp breath and bite your lip in contemplation; your cunt feels painfully empty. Ever the self-denier, you shake your head.

“I think it’s more important to make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m fine!” His tone is defensive, face annoyed.

“Stop saying that, no you’re not. You don’t see me when you’re doing fine!” Your voice is firm, a little angry even, and he knows you’re right. 

“Shut up, I see you all the time.”

“You wouldn’t have come tonight if you were ok.” That part seems to stick with him. He doesn’t have anything to throw back at you. “You can ghost me or fire me or do whatever you want after tonight but I at least want to try to help.”

You make it sound like it’d be a little too easy for him to just leave, and it is. He’s made a big point of it since he first met you, but that’s not what he wants. He’d like a cage big enough for the two of you, he’d never worry about who would help him lick the wounds.

“Why bother, just gonna get hit again.” He avoids your gaze, this is starting to make him feel small again. You grit your teeth and fight back the twisting in your gut at the thought of seeing him get hurt. Again. 

“Then you can visit me again.” You make it sound like a small thing, like you’re not eager for the company. Truth be told, you’re going crazy wondering what he’s up to when you aren’t around.

“You’d get sick of it. Sick of me.” 

“I won’t.” Those two words slip out of you so fast, it surprises the both of you. His eyes meet yours again and it helps you keep going. 

“I care about you, Roman.” He didn’t expect to hear those words from you, not after you said you hated him just a minute ago. You don’t sound like you’re lying to him, but he still feels an urge to look around for a trap. “I wouldn’t be doing this for anyone else.” His pulse goes haywire. 

“If you cared about me so much you wouldn’t just ignore me when I say my dick’s about to explode.”

“I’ll kiss it better later.”

“You really are a bitch.”

“Sure am.”

You lift yourself off of him to grab a few things from your aid kit and he instantly misses your weight on him. His heart gets into a funky little panic till you come back and lean into him again, easing the ache. You feel a bit more confident touching his face this time round. Your hands don’t shake but they hold his chin gently. Roman loves any touch you give him but he can’t help but be a little amused that your hands feel so shy. You feel a little embarrassed that he distracted you so easily, that he could have had you so quickly. You were whipped, plain and simple. You try to drown those thoughts by focusing on cleaning him again. You don’t think you could live it down if his cut got infected from his vacuum-seal sucking on your neck, and you’d rather die in a hole than learn if it was your spit that did him in. You refuse to let either be an option and so you dress his wound diligently, you try to ignore the heat building in your stomach as Roman distracts himself by tracing circles along  the sides of your thighs. Your knee is back to being stuck between his thighs and he prays that you shift your weight, bring your knee a bit higher so he can get some friction. His grip on you tightens when you apply liquid bandage over the cut, it burns a bit. You know it's an uncomfortable feeling so you scoot in closer, you run your fingers through his hair and he moans a little. The strands are stringy with gel but his roots are soft, he closes his eyes when you scratch his scalp. You blow air gently over his bottom lip, like you were drying a new set of nails, trying to soothe the sting. He leans up, trying to catch you in a kiss but your hand rests against his chest and he stills again. His eyes look so hopeful when he peers up at you, he’s oddly obedient. You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek instead, your voice is quiet as you speak close to his ear.

“It takes a few minutes to fully dry. . .”

The full on pout on his face would have made you laugh if the whine he made didn’t sound so needy . He’s been so cute, you’d feel guilty if you made him wait any longer. it’s not like you could wait for it either. You’re grateful that he can't see how drenched he’s made you, it feels a little shameful and a little good. You test the waters and move your knee in closer, he presses his erection to it and grinds softly against you. Your fingers run through and grip his hair again, you pull his head back and trail kisses down his neck. You nip at a spot beneath his jaw and his moan rattles around in your brain, your skin feels hot and you can feel yourself aching. You kiss his collarbone and blindly fumble while undoing the buttons of his shirt. He lets out a small giggle, something grating and high pitched that his father would beat him for; it’s one of your favorite sounds.

“Someone’s a lil desperate, aren’t they?” His voice is quiet, a little raspy, but smug.

“You feel hot, I don't want you to die from a fever.” You sound a little breathless when you respond, your lips latched on to him so quickly you hadn’t really taken a proper breath. 

“Mmm, lucky I’m around someone so thoughtful.”

“Yep, no ulterior motives.” He can hear you smile as you talk back against his throat. You undo the last button of his shirt and your hands find their way to his sides. Your mouth moves lower to his sternum, he notices that you like leaving a little trail of bites wherever you kiss. He makes a note in his head to return the favor.

“None whatsoever, just wanna motorboat my flat tits.” He talks a lot. You don’t mind. 

“Yeah. Consider it your breast cancer screening.” You realize your cheeks hurt a little bit from smiling as your mouth and hands move to his chest. You hear a soft groan get trapped in his throat when your teeth graze against his nipple. You feel his hand shift and cup your ass firmly while his hips rut against your leg again.

“You’d make a terrible excuse for a nurse. Absolute shit bedside manners.” That earns a laugh from you, something bubbly and cute. You look up at him with what he thinks looks like a loving smile and he feels a sharp pain in his chest. He’s not sure why he feels this, it should be easy for him to touch you, he wants to touch you but he still feels wrong. Is this gross? Is it good? He gulps and it feels like swallowing needles; his face manages to keep a soft smile. You give him a small playful pout and you cup his face, your other hand slides down to take hold of his.

“You think so? I thought I was being nice.” You guide his hand under your shirt, sliding up your stomach to your breasts. You dig your leg closer into his groin and he whines again, his hand grips mindlessly onto one of your breasts. You smile and kiss his forehead. “Do I feel nice?”

“.. yeah….” He nods slightly, not wanting to move away from your kiss. Your lips feel so soft, you feel softer to him than anything. There’s an anxious bubbling in his stomach at feeling so warm. Nothing he’s wanted has ever been his to keep, he shouldn’t think this is any different.

He rests his head against your shoulder and sighs as your hands slide down his chest. He can feel his stomach lurch, here comes the drop, the point where you leave. You’ll see him and find something you hate and then he’ll learn to hate it too. Your fingers thread through his happy trail downwards till you feel his soft stomach tense. You lift your hand off slowly, not wanting to scare him with sudden movements, and bring it up to hold his face once more. 

“Rome? You ok?” Your voice is hushed and quiet.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Peachy keen.” It sounds forced, the words rush out too fast. You worry you might have pushed him into something upsetting. Your thumb rubs his cheek gently. 

You were one of few people in his life whose touch didn’t make his skin crawl. It feels like a good thing but it also leaves him paralyzed. For Roman, sex was followed by a bitter aftertaste, a heaviness in the chest. He worries that it’s a balancing act. If he’s not the one feeling repulsive and shameful then that must mean you are, he doesn’t want that for you. He’d die if he ever made you feel that way.

“You don’t have to go through with this, you know. You’re allowed to back out.”

“I know that. I’m not dumb.” He rolls his eyes as if in annoyance but his voice sounds cagey. He doesn’t want to back out, he’s wanted you for so long. He’d rather lose another tooth than admit he’s nervous and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I never said you were. I just— I want you to know that I’ll still like you after this, even if nothing happens.” There you were, saying just the right thing to cut into him.

“You said you fucking hate me. Won’t even kiss me.” His voice cracks a little and you feel your stomach flip.

“I did, yeah. I was mad at you and I said that and I’m sorry. . .  you know when people just say things they don't mean?"

 Roman knows you're referring to him and he thinks of every rude thing he's ever said to you. He meant none of it, he thinks you're wonderful. He swallows thickly and takes in an uncomfortable breath but he doesn't open his mouth to respond so you keep talking.

"But I don’t really hate you, Rome, I like you too much to ever hate you.” You cut him again and a happy warm feeling bleeds out.

It’s getting easier to swallow but he hates how much this matters to him, he wants you to like him. Your hand cupping his face slides down a bit and your thumb ghosts over his bottom lip, checking the wound. You smile when you feel the liquid bandage has fully dried, you lean in close. 

“I can kiss you now. . .if you still want me to. . .”

Roman blinks for a moment, trying to breathe and take everything in. He stares at your lips for a moment, full, pink and soft, and there’s a flicker of something on his face that makes you scared he’s gonna leave. But he nods and you feel his arms wrap around your waist, his hand holds the back of your neck gently and he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s slow and delicate, different from the frenzy he had when he attacked your neck earlier. As if he’s no longer worried that you’ll vanish into a speck of light the moment he admits he wants you. He buries his hand in your hair, enjoying how soft it is. He can feel you smile into the kiss and a sappy sweet feeling fills him up, overflowing. He bites your bottom lip and swallows the moan that leaves your mouth, he tastes your saliva again and the tenderness he has for you mixes with something volatile. He lets himself be needy, his hands grip at your hips and hair and his teeth clash against yours as he tries to taste more of you. You reach a point where you need to catch your breath and you pull away. He gives you that same dimpled smile he gave you that one night and when he tucks your hair behind your ear you feel like you might say you love him.

“I’m glad you came here tonight, Rome.” That's the closest to saying it that you can manage for now. 

“Ew.” He says it softly, teasing.

“I need you to be serious with me.” You chuckle as you speak.

“I am being serious. 

“Are you?

“Yeah, I am and my dick is seriously about to fall off.” Ah yes, very serious.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” There's genuine curiosity in your voice. A part of you is actually surprised that he wants to escalate things.

“I don’t fucking know, suck me off or something?” Once again, Roman holds the same levels of charm and power of seduction as a cum-filled sock.

“Incredibly tempting offer. Buuut, I didn’t really hear a “please” in there so I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh god, it’s falling off and it’s all your fault because you won’t be a good little assistant and fuck your boss.” He tilts his head back, reveling in melodramatics to avoid telling you exactly what he wants. If this were a different night and he acted like a different man then the scenario he painted might have appealed more to you. You enjoyed whenever past partners wielded power over you but something about Roman's choice of words tells you that you shouldn't let it be so easy. Isn't it typically the boss who fucks the assistant?

"Would I get a raise?" Roman thinks he sees something wicked flash in your eyes as you keep an innocent smile on your lips.

"You would get to keep your job." The haughty grin on his face leaves your knees feeling a little weak. Where's the fun without a threat to your livelihood?

“Yeah, nope. Not gonna touch you until you tell me what you want so you might as well start figuring out how to fuck yourself on your own.”

Whatever frustration there was on his face disappears, a satisfied smile takes it place like he just had an idea.

“Fine.” He sounds a little too content. He lowers his hands to his lap and unbuttons his pants. He keeps his eyes on you while he shoves his hand down his pants reaching towards the thick bulge straining against his slacks. Your gaze hovers between his crotch and the wry glint in his eyes.

“What are you. . ? Is this supposed to make me jealous?” An incredulous tone is heavy in your voice.

“Yep.” He sounds a little breathless, he lets out a little moan before he speaks again. His hand slowly strokes himself in his pants. “I know it will, you’re probably gonna soak my thigh through your shorts.”

“Take them off then.” You say it in such a calm tone it catches Roman a little off guard. With a puzzled look he glances down between your crotch and then his own. You smile and nod at his pants. “Blocks my view.”

He smiles, a little giddy that you’re playing along. You lift yourself off of his lap for a moment so he can shimmy out of his pants. You settle back onto him, straddling one of his thighs, and try to ignore the ache between your legs. His eyes fall back on yours and you raise your brows expectantly, Go on. He’s not sure where to look, not sure if you’d appreciate him staring. He tilts his head back a bit, opting for the tried and true, and looks up at your shitty popcorn ceiling. His forehead creases with a nervous look as he adjusts himself a little and pulls out his cock, the length curves upward towards his soft stomach. It’s cute. Roman would probably die of embarrassment if he heard you say that aloud, but it’s the first word that comes to mind when you see it. A light pink, twitchy little thing that you know would hit that gushy spot deep in you just right. You want him to fill you till you hurt. It’s impossible for you to push that thought down when you hear him curse under his breath and feel his legs shake slightly. His thigh grinds slightly against your clit, it’s puffy and sensitive, desperate for touch like the rest of you. You whine softly at the friction but the moment it passes through your lips his eyes are back on you and you know what you're in for. 

“Having fun?” You feel your face get hot. Roman grins widely, way too happy to hear that little sound you made.

“I guess…” You don’t bother denying it but there’s an urge to talk back. “Out of curiosity how long does it usually take you to cum?— Not that I’m bored or anything but it’s getting pretty late. . .” You hear him snort, he’s stopped stroking himself. 

“It’s usually faster when I’m watching something. But if you’re feeling antsy to rub one out in your room you don’t have to wait, you could do that here.” He bounces his leg under you a bit, he’s found another way to annoy you. You keep your hips still, your pussy screams at you to grind down on him and chase your release.

“Are you asking for something to look at?” 

“Yeah, gimme a show.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and you feel your mind go into a fritz when he pulls at them a bit. “It’s the least you could do.”

He lets go and the elastic snaps back into your hip. Your thighs squeeze around him at the sudden feeling and you can feel blood rush behind your ears when he gives you a knowing smile. It doesn’t surprise you that one of the richest men you’ve ever met was a shitty little brat, but you’ve never wanted to fuck someone’s brains out more.

“The least I could do, huh?” He looks comfortable. That mean urge creeps into you. “Fuck it, why not?” Your voice is light and playful.

Roman looks a little surprised, a small eager gleam grows in his eyes when your hands move to the hem of your shirt. His full attention is on you. You take a breath, ignoring the small tinge of shyness and take off your shirt, tossing it aside. The cold air of the living room doesn’t affect you when you hear Roman let out a low whistle of appreciation. That fluttery feeling comes back for a moment and you let out a small laugh. You lift yourself off of him once again and slip off your shorts, leaving them where they fall. You stand in front of him clad in nothing but your panties and you struggle to push down the urge to wrap your arms around yourself, make yourself smaller. When you lock eyes again he smiles at you, just a sweet happy smile on a battered face, and you feel something in you thaw out. Your knees sink into the couch, interlocking with Roman’s legs but you don’t sit fully onto his lap. His hands hover over your hips, unsure where to touch you and his awkwardness melts you enough to bring him in for another kiss. He feels his heart skip a beat the moment your mouth lands on his. His lips feel sore and there’s an ache when he presses his mouth against you but it doesn’t stop him from trying to deepen the kiss. His soft, uncalloused hands grip at your sides and he can’t help himself from kneading at the extra flesh; fully enjoying how soft and warm your skin feels. There’s a pleasant buzz in his head when he feels you bury your hands in his hair and he moans your name against your lips. You forget to breathe for second when you hear it. The urge to dote on him will always be second nature to you but you won’t let it distract you from putting him in his place tonight. A twinge of excitement shoots up your spine at the idea of denying him. You feel his arms try to pull you closer to him and you don’t comply, you yank his head back roughly by his hair. He groans, disappointment overshadows any pain, but there’s nothing but lust in his eyes when he looks up at you.

“The least I could do is let a twitchy freak like you get off next me.” There’s a venomous tint to your voice. Roman takes in a sharp breath when you peer down at his lap and see his pretty cock twitch up at you. He’s never felt this strained, reeling with a need to feel your walls clench around him. You grin. “Those hands of yours have never done anything useful before. I don't think you deserve to use them tonight. You were doing just fine on my knee earlier.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“ I’m not fucking you at all, actually.” You smile as you let go of his hair and take his hand into yours. You lift it to your face and kiss his inner wrist. Your eyes gleam warmly at him before placing his hand on your thigh for him to hold on to. Your walls clench around nothing when his fingers graze your inner thigh and part of you hopes that all of this goads him into fingerfucking you till you squirm. His expression is muddled with confusion and annoyance but there’s no trace left of that nervous tension he had. He follows your lead and brings his other hand to rest on your thigh. He scoots a little closer to you and there's a glint of something, maybe gratefulness, in his eyes when he looks up at you. Some starved part of you found it sweet, oddly romantic. His hips stay still but his cock twitches against your thigh and the sight makes your mouth water, you want him badly and it’s all his fault.

“Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” You use the saliva that’s pooled in your mouth to spit onto your thigh, you grin when some of it dribbles onto his shiny, pink tip. It’s warm when it touches him and Roman’s hands dig into your thigh as he groans, picturing your pretty mouth wrapped around him, drool peeking out the corners of your lips and over his shaft. It was something he had pictured a few times, but tonight was the first time that the visual wasn’t accompanied by a guilty churning in his stomach. He can’t stop himself from taking up your generous offer, he’ll happily take your scraps, and his hips begin rocking back and forth. You chuckle softly and tilt his face up at you, he can feel his heartbeat quicken. The skin of the back of his neck bursts with goosebumps when he sees the smug look on your face. 

“This is really what you want??” He does the best he can to sound irritated. To be fair, he was a little upset at not being able to touch you more, but your coldness has gotten him harder than he could’ve imagined.

“It is, I wanna see you get what you deserve.”

"I always knew you were dirty.” A toothy bastard grin grows when he speaks. He’s enjoying this, a runt acting out.

“I’m easy, too. I’d let practically anyone fuck me. Just not you.” You smile lovingly despite the vulgar joke, playing with his hair. You laugh when you see his face shrivel in disgust. It was a bold faced lie, one you knew he wouldn’t fully believe. Either way you knew it was prickly enough to stroke that mean streak in him, the one that leaves you feeling a little cheap and a little wet.

“Gross fucking slut.” He mutters it under his breath like a toothless quip but it bites you just the same. You yank his head back harshly and a bitchy whine slips out of him.

“You don’t get to say that to me. Not when you’re humping my leg like a fucking dog.” Roman teases a talent for cruelness out of you that you’ve never really considered before, never really explored.

There’s a dissonance in you that winds up tight in your stomach as you consider your next steps. You could get up and lock yourself in your room till he leaves to avoid saying any more hurtful things. Or you could cry a little in front of him and ask him to forgive you for being so mean; let the guilt take hold and be ashamed of enjoying ripping into each other in this way. Either one ends with Roman potentially never speaking to you again, and that’s what scares you more than anything else. 

Unknown to you, the ire in your eyes would’ve been enough to make his dick rock hard had he not been already. There’s no doubt that he’s always liked the kind and bright person you normally are but seeing you mad made him go beet red, he could feel his blood run hot .

“It’s not my fault that you want it like a bitch in heat. ” There he goes again, the little shit loves talking back. Your doubts fall away. There’s a glint in his eyes and his little fangs peek out when he gives you a lovesick grin. It makes you drip. He wants you to sink your teeth into him. You grin back, your hands still grip tightly at his hair, you move your knee to press to his groin. He whimpers and it feels like someone’s set you ablaze; the sound shoots around your skull and lights up every nerve in you.

“I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” An overly saccharine tone coats your voice as you speak down to him. A long heady whine comes out of him so freely, he’s always been willing to fill up a room with noise so it shouldn’t really surprise you but it does. Roman’s expressions were enthusiastic, even the pained ones. He nods his head fervently, his brows strung together in discomfort but eyes cloudy with arousal. His lips pout and part as if to speak but a pitiful croak is all that leaves his throat when you nudge your knee, gliding it gently along the underside of his cock.

“Do you want to cum?” You speak quietly next to his ear and a rush of heat rolls over him. The sweet tone you had is gone, all that’s left is the cold firmness that was underneath. He squirms under you, scared he’s gonna burst and a little curious about what you’d treat him like if he did. How badly would you grill him if you knew how starved you made him.

“Y-yes….” He sounds breathless. You move away from his ear to look at him again. one of your hands still grips at his hair tightly while the other slides forward to gently grip his chin.

“Then I need you to play nice .” You dig your knee in harder, crushing his balls in the most careful way you could. Rather than move away from the source of the pain, he leans forward closer to you. His hands still grip at your thigh, practically pulling you in as if determined to feel whatever touch you give him. A long pitchy cry comes from his chest. He makes such pretty sounds and you’re filled with a deep need to hear each one he can make. “Can you do that for me, Romey?”

“Yeah…. Yes. . .  I’m sorry, I’ll be nice.” He sounds so gentle, so weak for you, this can’t possibly be the same man who’s made your life a living hell 14 hours a day for the last year. Your memory might be stunted while in your aroused haze, but you think this might be the first time you’ve ever heard him say sorry. His wide eyes blink slowly at you, his long lashes fanning whatever flame he lit in you. Another small twitch of his cock against your leg reminds you of your own needs and you decide to give in a little.

“Good. I’ll be nice too. . .” You pull your leg away slightly to grant him some relief, but his hips press back into you reflexively. There’s a glimpse of hunger in Roman’s eyes and he feels a deep need to do anything for you, anything to keep you looking at him. Your voice softens again, slightly smug around the edges. “Did you still want that show?” 

He nods shyly, his eyes widen further in curiosity when your hand slides off his face and moves to touch your own body. He holds his breath when he sees you lightly touch yourself over your panties. Your pointer and middle fingers slowly drag across your outer lips and then dip slightly between your folds. You sigh when you brush against the hood of your clit, you’ve staved off touching yourself for this long and each touch feels like sweet relief. Roman’s eyes are fixed onto you when you tilt your head back, you bite your lower lip in concentration as you rub circles over your sensitive bud. Your pooled arousal comes much more apparent as you keep touching yourself, your wetness leaves a stain in the middle of your blue panties and Roman thinks to himself that that dark blue might now be his favorite color. He groans when he watches your hand slip under your panties, wondering how warm you must feel. You shiver when you tentatively dip your fingers in your wet center. A soft moan slips out when you feel yourself slide in so easily, grateful that he can’t feel how slick he’s made you already. You groan Roman’s name softly as you work at yourself and a whirl of lust and jealousy slices through him. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear you say his name like that before and it kills him that it’s nothing of his that’s buried in you now, helping your mouth form the letters so smoothly. He keeps his hands on your thigh, minding your instruction, but he can’t really help himself from touching you in some way, not now when you sound so good that it makes him wish he had shut up. He leans into you, testing the waters by peppering kisses across your shoulder. His stomach lurches when he feels you tense under him and he thinks he’s ruined something for a moment till your free hand ghosts its nails gently across his scalp and he feels his brain liquefy just a bit. 

It’s all the encouragement he needs to latch back onto you; his hips press down, humping your leg shamelessly. You breathe in deep when you feel his teeth nip at the end of your throat. He smells so good to you, a mix of cigarettes and sweat and a cologne that’s just as obnoxious and overwhelming as him. You can’t help but moan his name again, spreading your cunt with your fingers, desperately mimicking the way he might stretch you. He mumbles a barely recognizable “ Yeah ?” against your skin in response, his thumb stroking softly along your inner thigh all the while. You roll over for him so easily. You don't say anything as you slip your hand out of your panties to hold his and guide it to where you want it most. He holds his breath when his hand digs under the soft cotton hiding your wet center. His soft, manicured hand trembles slightly against you, unsure where to go till your hand leads him. A thrill runs up his spine when he glides his fingers between your slick folds and feels just how soaked you are. He teases you, not necessarily intending to do so but so invested in knowing how all of you feels that he ignores the crucial bundle of nerves aching for him. It makes you want to scream. His fingers stroke up and down along your opening, and you try to choke down a whine when he finally presses into you. Heat rushes to your face as you both hear the wet squelch of your tight walls, he groans at the way your hungry cunt swallows his fingers whole. He finds himself wishing he’ll have another chance to have you, not ready to accept a possibility of him never feeling you around him. Both the physical and emotional grip you have on him feels insane as you clench over him, your free hand digs its nails into the skin of his back. Your leg moves in tandem with his hips, helping his heavy cock garner friction and it leaves him feeling worse. Needy for more and muttering soft nonsensical nothings under his breath, he feels a flicker of shame and wishes he could do more for you. You nip at a spot below his ear and he doesn’t bother biting down the moan of your name that surfaces. He’s begging any thing that will listen to let him keep you, he needs to know he’ll feel the creaminess of your thighs and tight cunt again. You pull him off of your collarbone to look at him again, he thinks he feels himself throb when he sees the flush on your cheeks and nose, the swell of your reddened lips. You cup his face softly and he slows his mindless rutting against your leg. Your thumb brushes his cheek lightly as you smile at him, no hint of cruelty to be found.

“Look at you being so quiet.” There’s a teasing slant to your voice but it’s overshadowed by a warm love-drunk drawl. A giggle slips out of you as you continue and it rings on inside Roman’s head. “Are you feeling good?” 

“Yeah…” He leans his face into your hand and nods softly, fully melted into your touch. The light brown of his eyes shimmer while he looks at you, a shy smile on his face makes him look a little angelic. Maybe it was a mix of that and his soft voice that had you fooled into thinking he was so sweet. He looks ready to burst, he practically confirms that thought of yours as he mumbles. “ ’m getting close…”

You bring him in for a gentle kiss, thinking he’s had enough cruelty for tonight. His lips land against yours softly, the hunger for you is still there but he tries to reel it in. He wants everything from you but he doesn’t want to risk being greedy. He needs to give you a reason to let him be with you again, the concept of someone liking and caring for him feels so foreign that he’s still thinking of it transactionally. He needs to feel you cum or he might not ever be able to face you ever again. His fingers curl up towards that sweet spot of yours and slowly pump in and out of you, pulling a moan out of you that he uses as a chance to snake his tongue into your mouth, desire burning hot to taste more of you. A strand of saliva connects you both as you pull away to catch your breath, his face follows yours slightly as if unwilling to part. His thumb presses down and swirls circles around your swollen little clit, it’s sloppy but it manages to rile you up just the same. Your soft sighs help boost his ego which took quite a bruising tonight and he smiles against your lips when he feels you snake your hands into his hair. The glowing sense of pride returns when he hears your breathing grow staggered. Your walls clamp down around his fingers in an almost sinful way and he feels his cock twitch against your skin, hoping for the chance to have you milk him dry. He groans your name against your neck, strumming at you with a vigor that leaves the corners of your vision a little blurry. Being touched by Roman is different than you had thought it’d be, you always thought he’d be lazy–  selfish maybe, but he feels like the opposite. He grips you like he wants you, really wants you, his fingers pushing and spreading in you eagerly. He’s a little clumsy, so eager to touch you that the broad strokes of his thumb over your clit feel like an effective little tease. He’s not clueless though, it's clear that he’s listening intently to your breathing and the way your folds squelch around him. The once dead air of your living room now filled with steady moans and sloppy wet touches. You feel that the coil of heat near your center winds up tightly, set to release at any moment. Roman’s own moans sound distant to you and you barely register his hips rocking against your bare thigh. You can feel yourself getting fucked stupid, unable to form any meaningful words. Any brain cells you had left at this time of night are now just honey-thick liquid arousal smeared between your thighs and down Roman’s palm. You feel him sink his teeth into your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark and at the same time he twists his fingers into you so sweetly, pressing deep into that spot that leaves you drooling and the last thread in you snaps. Your legs start to shake and that white hot feeling rolls over you, leaving you struggling not to crush his hand. Roman pumps his fingers in and out slowly, helping you ride out the wave of pleasure as your walls clench and spasm around him. You tilt your head back and catch your breath, you can’t do much but watch as he licks your creamy slick off his hand. You curse quietly under your breath as you see him moan and suck noisily at his fingers, his softened eyes lock back onto yours and you feel like your cunt might have you start begging for more. There’s no space for that as his mouth crashes back on yours again.

“You taste good.” He mutters the compliment against your neck, back to his frenzy of kisses which earn a fit of giggles from you.

“. . . yeah?” You chirp sweetly. A blush is clear on your face.

“Yeah. Shoulda told me sooner.” He mumbles more along the edge of your jaw, he pulls away a bit to look at your face as he continues. “Might’ve given you your own office if I knew you tasted like a pink starburst.” 

You snort. You know it’s a joke with the way Roman says it so confidently but part of you wonders whether he’s ever actually had a starburst before. Or even eaten pussy before.

“You’re gross.” You say it as a joke. You hope it lands, serving as another way to tell him just how much you like him. He smiles wide enough for the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

Holding his face in both hands you bring him in for another kiss, each one feels like he’s trying to make up for lost time. You lean into him, your body weak in the post orgasmic rush. His shoulders press back into the soft cushion of your couch and he pulls you down, fully into his lap, your arm brushes past his hard length and he lets out a soft pained moan. You freeze and look at his groin. Poor, sweet Roman had kept to his word and not touched himself this entire time, and now here you were facing the sensitive flushed thing that a small part of you actually believed might fall off. He looked almost sheepish when he met your gaze, it was like he froze once the spotlight was back on him. 

“Oh, Rome. . .” You lean in and pepper kisses across his face, it makes him laugh. The air in his lungs doesn’t feel so heavy. You kiss the tip of his nose and his face scrunches in mock distaste. 

“I can help you if you want.” You murmur it close to his face, forehead resting against his. Your thigh feels the air grow chill against the large sticky wet spot on your skin, a mix of your spit and Roman’s precum. 

“Please.” The way Roman wraps around that word, it was meant for him.

You press a kiss to his forehead and slip off his lap to adjust yourself on the couch. You give him a soft smile and pat the space between your legs to have him saddle up into you like a little spoon. He raises an eyebrow quizzically for a moment but doesn’t hesitate to settle in, eager to be in your arms. You lean against the arm of the couch for support as his back presses against your bare chest, your legs on either side of him. You rest your hands on his thighs and brush your lips against his shoulder, that fondness you have for him comes back when you feel his back arch slightly in reaction to you. 

“This ok?” You keep your voice soft, nonjudgmental. You take hold of one of his hands and he’s suddenly grateful his back is to you, his eyes feeling watery.

“Yeah.” He gives your hand a squeeze, a silent request to keep it there. “Thanks.”

You smile and lift your free hand up your mouth to spit into it then hold it below his mouth, he spits as well. A cute little whimper comes out of him when you wrap your hand around his shaft and you hum approvingly in response. Roman does his best to keep his hips still, trying not to buck roughly into your palm. He’s still a little embarrassed by the idea of you seeing him undone even if he also finds it exciting. But regardless of how he feels about it, he fails to hold back a long string of moans the moment your teeth graze the back of his neck. Whatever cold, macho ideals were drilled into his mind at early development, it all falls apart when he’s around you and he’s so happy that you don’t seem to mind in the slightest, you don’t see what he believes to be shortcomings. He lifts the hand of yours that he’s still holding on to and kisses the back of it. He staggers out a groan of your name into it too when he watches your thumb circle around the shiny wet tip of his cock. He knows this isn’t going to last, he’s too sensitive, but he tries to focus whatever parts of his brain that can into fully enjoying this. You make it an easy task. Your hand on him feels good: it’s soft and warm and you squeeze him nicely while you tug him off. He feels that familiar pressure build up faster than he expected, his blood runs hot behind his ears and he can’t quite fully hear the lewd wet slaps that come as his hips jerk up to meet your hand. He feels your thighs squeeze around his torso and your hand grips tight on him and when he feels your hot breath on his back it’s enough to fully pull him into something that feels safe and warm. The sight before you makes you want to devour him whole. You try to commit all of this to memory. The way his weight presses into you as his body melts under you. The soft whisper of your name as you lightly drag a nail across his balls. You admire the veins along his length and take in a sharp breath when you feel him throb against your palm. His sticky head twitches desperately as you pull back his foreskin and his hips writhe beneath you. One last, long, crying moan ripples out as his hips rut into your hand and he feels that hot flash of pleasure take him. You run your hand along his length slowly, coaxing him down from the high, his release spills over your hand and his lower stomach, which rises and falls with heavy breaths. You wish you could see what he looked like right now: pupils blown and tear dotted lashes, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. But more than anything you want him to feel comfortable around you, if you only get to hold him while he makes such pretty sounds then that’s enough for you. He mewls a little at your touch, now overly sensitive and reaches for your hand to lick up his release. You groan his name softly at the feeling of his wet tongue wrapping between your fingers, sucking them clean. He pulls them out with an unceremonious pop! of his lips and he smiles softly when he feels your teeth pull into a grin against the back of his neck. You lower your hand to his stomach and wipe up the last few drops of his cum. He holds your wrist gently as you raise it, thinking you’ll bring it to his mouth.

“Wait.” You speak softly, your breath tickling him just behind the ear. He twists a little to face you better, slightly confused. Did you want a better view of him eating his own spunk? You chuckle a little at the way his face morphs in bewilderment and press a small kiss to his temple, a little salty with sweat, and mumble against it. “I wanna taste you.”

His grip on your wrist goes slack, a slightly anxious drumming starts in his chest. He stares at you as he watches you lick up the rest of his mess off of your fingers, waiting for the warm bubble he’s found himself in to burst. He tasted mild and inoffensive but it was Roman’s and that fact alone made it slide down your throat like honey. You swallow and lick your lips in silent appreciation, his brows raise at you in a weird form of anticipation.

“Like a cream soda.” You can’t bring yourself to say that with a straight face, cracking into a grin as you look at him. His skill for being disgusting has not yet fully rubbed off on you. He giggles.

“You’re sick.” He replies, twisting his body fully to better face you and bring you into a deep kiss. One that leaves you with that old fuzzy feeling from your chest to your tummy. You find yourself wrapping around him like a plant, he folds into your embrace easily. His eyes shimmer when he pulls away and looks at you.

“I like you.” You blink, thinking you misheard him for a moment till his eyes narrow impatiently, like he expects you to say it back. It feels silly, the first time you said it you never expected him to say it back and here he was now, prompting it from you like a conductor’s cue to a symphony.

“I like you too.” You share a smile, and he rests his head on you, nuzzling into your chest, exhausted from the swirl of emotions you’ve put him through tonight. Your hand finds its way back to his hair, and he quietly hopes you never get tired of playing with it. 

He feels you wriggling around a bit beneath him, reaching for something but he doesn’t bother lifting his head off your chest. His ears are met with the sound of sloshing and plastic crinkling and his brow dips in confusion but he stays still. He’s made you his bed to lie in and his arms are already wrapped around your waist snugly, stubborn with his drowsy affection. Suddenly, he feels something smooth and cold press to his cheek over his bandaged wound. He opens his eyes and tilts his head to see that you had brought an ice pack. He thinks that one day you’ll be the reason his blood sugar will spike and kill him.

“Thanks.” He mumbles it quietly but you’re pressed close enough to hear it clearly.

“Anytime.” You ruffle his hair as you speak. “Hopefully, your face isn’t so fucked the next time you come and see me.”

He hears you say the words “next time” and he immediately feels a hopeful buzzing in his ears.

“Yeah. . ."  He smiles softly. ". . . You should try waterboarding me with that wet cunt of yours. . . next time, I mean.” He tacks on the last bit in hopes that you’re on the same page. That this isn’t his last chance to be intimate with you. He wants to try being with you in general. 

“I’d like that….” You start giggling, you hate to admit that you think he’s funny. He hears the smile in your voice as you rest your head back against the cushions. Exhaustion creeps in on you both.

 A sun ray somehow manages to find you both in the dark of the night, you both feel warm and tired in its light.

---

Translations (These are not all direct word for word translations. Just what I think sounds better): 1. Come on, cuz….. please?? He’s my friend. 2. You know you can tell me anything, right? 3. Is he your boyfriend? 4. I don’t think he knows that. He keeps looking at you. 5. I’m the only thing in this damn room that he recognizes. No shit, he’s staring. I’m not an idiot. 6. I don’t give a shit, then. Tell him it’s gonna be $60. Family discount.

#roman roy #succession #roman roy x reader #roman roy succession #roman roy smut #succession hbo #succession x reader #succession fanfic #succession smut #dogmotif! roman my beloved #roman roy x f!reader

[rogueddie]

Canon Divergence Steddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🧭

save it for a rainy day

Unoriginal_Username

In which Steve Harrington has to walk home in a torrential downpour, and happens to find Eddie Munson without an umbrella.

Words : 5,166 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

Haunting

AnnetheCatDetective

Steve gets dragged to a haunted house… little does he know he's about to be a whole other kind of haunted.

Words : 8,890 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I think I like them too

melonalemonade

Eddie was expecting to feel the sharp knuckles of a hand colliding with his jaw any second but the only thing colliding was a pair of soft lips … with his own.

Words : 2,035 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

off the beaten path

pukner

Post season 3, Steve manages to figure out that he's bisexual, despite his best efforts to repress it, comes out to Robin and Jonathan Byers of all people, and figures himself out. Also, there's a cute guy who might be actually insane running the kids' dnd club and he's got his eye on him. And his bandana.

Too bad Eddie Munson hasn't had a similar revelation. He's still under the impression that he's a straight man obsessing over Steve Harrington for normal, extremely heterosexual reasons.

Words : 34,208 Chapters : 6/6 Rating : Explicit

AO3 : x

you make it feel like christmas

oceanwaves23

Steve somehow ends up celebrating the Christmas of 1985 with Max and Eddie 'the Freak' Munson and it just might be his favorite Christmas yet.

Words : 9,122 Chapters : 3/3 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

I wave goodbye to the end of beginning

LittleMissKnowItAll

Steve and Eddie properly meet for the first time in the middle of Family Video, somewhere during the summer of '85.

It's the start of a friendship, maybe even the start of something more.

Words : 19,814 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

kickstart my heart

inspectorabed

Eddie sighs and leans back in his chair. The plastic groans in protest under the weight of him. “You know, what sucks about all of this is that now I have to re-examine my biases. If Steve Harrington is actually, deep down, a decent guy, that means any of those asshole preps might be hiding a secret heart of gold. I mean, who’s next, Jason Carver?”

This makes Ant laugh rather hysterically. Eddie can’t tell if he’s doing it for dramatic effect or if he really thinks Eddie is that funny. “Okay, maybe not,” he concedes. “But you get my point.”

Words : 14,236 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

it's his party (and i'll fall if i want to)

formosus_iniquis

"Steve?" She nods, but even death couldn't stop him now,

"Harrington? Steve Harrington? King Steve? Steve "the Hair" Harrington? Steve "Big House, No Parents" Harrington? Steve "Sex God" Harrington?"

"I am certain you made at least those last two up. Yes, Steve "Lady Killer" Harrington invited me to his party."

"Are we about to be Carrie'd?"

Words : 25,411 Chapters : 2/2 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I'm Beginning to Understand, There's No Mystery to This Man

senoritablack

Four times Eddie thinks Steve Harrington’s fucking with him, plus one time he accepts the compliment. Alternatively, the one where Steve’s been blatant since freshman year and Eddie’s really thick.

Words : 5,428 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

don't you know you might find a better place to stay

Anonymous

Eddie works the night shift at Hawkin's local grocery store. Somehow, Steve can't stop coming.

Words : 6,780 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

King Steve Buys Weed

StepfordSnarker

When Steve promises to get Robin high over the weekend, and his usual weed guy goes out of town, he needs to find a replacement. Eddie's grungy, and nerdy, and weird, but he'll have to do.

Words : 4,488 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

undue

meglimeg

Steve and Eddie knew each long before Vecna, before Hellfire, before the Upside Down.

Words : 6,301 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen And Up Audiences

AO3 : x

The Enormous Upside to Losing Everything

Stressed_Depressed_Lemonzest

Steve gets his heart broken in two and promptly trips over Eddie Munson. Then that school freak Steve usually wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole offers him weed to forget his troubles.

Words : 35,886 Chapters : 5/5 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fic rec #ficrec #is this a good time to admit that I'm not entirely sure what counts as canon divergence and I'm just hoping and praying with this one lmao

[explorevenus]

something permanent, pt. 4 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni i am so for serious rn

reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, drugging, noncon, somnophilia, forced daddy kink, forced breeding

in other words, dead dove, do not eat !!! you are responsible for your own media consumption.

find part 1 here ! ♡

find part 2 here ! ♡

find part 3 here ! ♡

find part 5 here ! ♡

word count - 4.9k

description - leon discovers a new way to connect with darling after hours. later, darling hits a breaking point that sends her down an unwinding path that might be hard to crawl out of.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, kidnapping, drugging, noncon, somnophilia, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pet names, praise, fingering, choking, restraint, reader has a trauma trigger sooo implied ptsd i guess, dumbification, dollification if u squint, leon gets mean again, heavily implied onset stockholm syndrome

a/n - y’all have @dollrxst to blame for this one ♡ go follow tea she’s the mf best and put somno!leon in my brain :^) 

taglist - @dollrxst @myeowza @starcrossedreaders @ifeelikeflying @nexyswrites @honeysoakedbandages @idekman111 @litepowee @tosuckmyweenis @cosmicerror83 @pb-n-aj​

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic below the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ! ♡

- venus ♡

Leon liked to watch you sleep more than you could possibly realize -- you weren't conscious, after all. You knew he at least used to, due to your complete and utter inability to sleep for the first few weeks after he'd taken you in, when sleeping didn't feel safe, didn't feel worth it.

But, as Leon knew it would, you eventually succumbed to your exhaustion and began to sleep again, mostly during the day when he was away at work, but with time your sleeping pattern became much more normal and he was able to delight in watching your sleeping form once more.

He loved how your body would warm up when you slept. How your lashes would flutter as your eyes darted around behind your lids, an indication to him you were dreaming. The way your lips would sometimes part and you would let out little noises, or even talk a little bit. He liked to imagine you were dreaming of him. He liked to imagine you were talking to him in those dreams. 

Since your attempted escape three weeks ago, Leon couldn't fight back the urgency to knock you up any longer. He'd held off for over a month to ensure you were able to heal after your IUD was removed, and now that you were becoming more and more pliant with him, all he could think about was fucking you over and over and over again until there was no possible way you weren't pregnant.

Your attempted escape terrified him very deeply. Although you had been quite sweet to him since those three days you spent cuffed to the bedframe, he couldn't help but worry you were just trying to manipulate him. He wanted-- no, needed-- to know you were his forever. He needed to know you were really serious about this, about him, about your future family.

What better way to ensure you'd never leave than to make you the mother of his children?

He brushed his knuckles over your cheek softly enough to feel you without waking you. He knew you needed your beauty sleep if you were going to be healthy enough to conceive, but he was having a considerably hard time convincing himself not to fuck you right now.

Slowly and feather-light, Leon dragged his fingers down your jaw, over the soft skin of your neck, up and over the slope of your shoulder. He laid the flat of his palm over your breast, feeling through your shirt the way your chest rose and fell with sleepy sighs. You were just so cute, he couldn't help himself. Leon was growing hard in his boxers. 

He wondered how he might be able to make absolutely sure you would stay asleep while he fucked you. Then, he remembered something he'd smuggled home from work to use in an emergency.

Carefully, Leon shifted out of bed and crept over to his desk in the corner of the room. Pulling open a drawer as silently as he could manage, he reached for the object that would allow him this opportunity.

He pulled out a sleek metal syringe, filled to the brim with tranquilizer. It would only take a small dose to keep you out for a few hours due to your size and the concentration of the solution. The tiniest prick would grant him at least the rest of the night to do with you as he pleased.

Leon made his way back to the bed, crawling in beside you with the syringe in hand, freezing as you stirred beneath the covers. He waited to make sure you hadn't woken up before continuing to get close to you, hovering over your sleeping face to brush your hair away from your neck and ready the needle. In the dark room he felt gently for your artery, and the tip of the needle just barely grazed your warm skin before you woke up with your brows furrowed.

"What're you doing?" You mumbled tiredly, reaching up to rub your eyes. "W'time is it?"

"Nothin', baby," He shushed you, steadying his hand again. You hadn't noticed what he was holding, it was too dark. "It's late, you should go back to sleep."

You grumbled, tucking back into your prior position, and Leon knew it was now or never. He punctured your neck with the needle and injected the tranquilizer before you could push him off of you.

You jolted into consciousness, hand raising to nurse the stinging bite in your neck. "W-What did you do?" You asked in a panic, your words already beginning to slur.

"You're okay princess, don't fight it. Just go back to sleep," He cooed, cradling your cheek. "Did so good for me. Took it like a champ."

Your mouth fell open to ask what exactly it was that you took like a champ, but you were rapidly struggling to hold yourself up and you couldn't get a word out. Your fingers and toes were tingling and your head felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Your eyelids felt just as heavy. Suddenly you felt like you were falling, and you grabbed at him weakly for stability before tipping back into the pillows with a soft sigh.

"That's it, pretty baby," You faintly heard him praise you over the ringing in your ears. "Right back to sleep."

Then you were gone, and you were unknowingly at his mercy.

Leon kissed your forehead, crawling atop your unconscious body, hands shaking a bit with excitement as he tried to decide where he wanted to start. Typically he would take his time to warm you up, playing with your tits, smothering you in wet, sultry kisses, toying with your clit until you caved and begged for him to get on with it. This time, he was far too eager, too excited at the prospect of having free reign to pump you full of his cum that he couldn't wait any longer to feel you on his cock.

He parted your thighs eagerly, pushing your panties aside with one hand and pulling himself from his boxers with the other. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your pretty pussy on display just for him, stuffing two fingers inside your tight little hole to stretch you out a bit. Precum dripped down the rosy head of him just at the feeling of your plush, wet walls inviting him in. 

Leon drew his bottom lip between his teeth as he lined himself up at your cunt. He began to sink into you with a bit of resistance from your body, and he watched your pretty face scrunch up, your cute little nose wrinkling as you whimpered quietly in your sleep. With all the restraint he could muster, terrified of hurting you, he slowly fucked deeper into you with shallow thrusts, easing your tight cunt into taking him completely.

He shuddered at the feeling of you clenching around the length of him. He couldn't help but think that even unconscious, you knew you were meant to carry his seed. He curled over your sleeping body, planting his palm on the bed just beside you to steady himself before he began to really fuck you.

It was remarkable how quickly your breathing picked up, sweet, soft little whines and sighs falling from your plush lips. Even in the dark he could have sworn your skin was going rosy. 

"Good girl," He smiled to himself, speaking as if you could hear him. He hoped you could. "So fuckin' tight and wet for me."

He let his eyes slip shut as he pounded into you, one hand planted into the sheets and the other gripping your hip with white knuckles. Just the thought of having you to himself for the entire night made him dizzy with lust. Leon worried a bit that he was going to finish early, but he could hardly bring himself to care-- you felt so good, and the sooner he'd finish, the sooner you might be pregnant.

Leon huffed out a breath, brain wired in concentration as he took you, the sound of skin on skin and hushed chants of your name over and over again flooded the dark room. His mind was racing with thoughts of you, your body, your scent, the taste of you, the thought of you in his daydreams, ring finger adorned with a band of your favorite stone, tummy full of his seed. You were so pretty, so sweet, so cute and sexy and loving and he just couldn't possibly get enough of you. It made him fucking crazy.

He was quickly approaching his release just thinking about you, pace of his hips stuttering to a halt as he buried himself into you and groaned as he filled you up with hot cum. You were clenching around him, like you were trying to milk every last drop from him. He couldn't help but smile as he caught his breath.

Leon rested his head on your chest, still inside you, plugging the cum in you with his cock. 

"So pretty," He spoke into your shirt, lazily pressing kisses over your clothed tits. "My pretty girl. Gonna get you good 'n knocked up, I promise."

He let his hand slide up your shirt, feeling your hot skin beneath his palm, trailing up to toy with your breasts. They were so supple and soft and fit so perfectly in his hands. Absent-mindedly he felt over the expanse of your chest and your tummy as he lazily rutted into you, quickly recognizing he was growing hard again.

Leon would be making a habit of this.

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was a throbbing pain in and between your thighs. The next thing you noticed was the feeling of something thick and sticky leaking out of you.

Your first instinct was that you were bleeding again, but as you propped yourself up on your elbow and pulled back the covers, you were weirdly relieved and not at all surprised to see your hips littered with fingertip-scale bruises and your inner thighs slick with something pearly white. Leon was nowhere to be found, and as badly as you wanted to get up and shower off, you were so sore and your body still felt so heavy from whatever Leon had dosed you with the night before. There was no possible way you were getting out of bed without assistance... or painkillers.

Leon's intention of getting you pregnant was beginning to worry you a lot. Something about waking up full of cum just really made the whole thing feel real. For obvious reasons, you couldn't depend on your contraception anymore, and he was intent on fucking you every single day, sometimes multiple times. Apparently now he felt the need to continue those efforts into the night. His stamina was terrifying and the thought of growing his child inside of you was petrifying.

You couldn't help but make yourself sick to your stomach just thinking about what was in store for you. His efforts were so thorough, as much as you wanted to believe the universe would give you a break and make you infertile or something, you were smart enough to know it was only a matter of time. You might even be pregnant already, and there was nothing you could do about it, Leon made sure of that.

Leon. Where was he?

He hadn't exactly been great about showing up to work lately-- he'd rather call out to fuck you-- but if he was home he would definitely be in here with you or at least close by, making his presence known in some way. Maybe he had to go in today. Maybe he was running errands or something.

Maybe he was delivering your letter?

Something like that, anyway.

Leon was sat outside in the sunshine, in his enclosed backyard, idly twirling the crumpled note in his fingers as he stared at the high wooden fence, the very same one you'd tried to scale three weeks ago.

He read it a while ago. He noticed your code-- it was pretty obvious, after all-- but he couldn't help but think it was cute that you'd tried.

More than anything, he couldn't quit thinking about how proud he was of you. Yes, proud. The fact that you wrote the letter at all proved to him how you really felt. If you weren't ready to commit to him, why else would you bother? Surely you would have refused his demand if you were still trying to be difficult. In your own little way, you were finally succumbing to the truth. You were realizing that Leon would take care of you, that he knew what was best for you at any given time. It was just a beautiful thought to him. 

His eyes casted downward to the paper, tracing over the lines of your delicate writing once more before standing to his feet, turning around to walk inside with a soft thud of the sliding glass door closing behind him. He went into the kitchen, taking one last long look at the letter before he tore it to shreds and let the remains flutter into the garbage.

He didn't even have to send it off to your family. The message was clear to him-- you didn't really want to be found, and he was intent on making sure you weren't going to be.

Anything to please his princess.

Eager now to see your face, Leon hurried up the stairs and down the hallway, unlocking the door to your shared bedroom with a shaky hand. He was delighted and unsurprised to see you laid exactly where he'd left you this morning, although your eyes were open now.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart? Need anything?" He asked, trying to stay focused as his gaze kept trailing back to your cum-stained thighs.

You groaned quietly. "Water. And Tylenol."

He chuckled, prying his eyes away from your cunt to focus on the task at hand. "I can do that," He said, stopping to kiss your forehead before exiting the room in search of what you'd asked for.

He was so proud of you. You were really shaping up to be such a well-behaved little doll for him, even if it was hard at first, because you were just that perfect. That brave. That well made for him. Leon appreciated the challenges you would throw at him-- the attempted escape, the kicking and screaming, the hunger strikes, all of it. He knew love wasn't meant to be easy. It was meant to take a lot of work, and he would do it all for you a thousand times over if it meant keeping you to himself forever and ever.

When he returned to the room with two pain relievers in one hand and a tall glass of water in the other, he saw you had at least managed to sit up while he was gone, though you otherwise hadn't moved. He thought that maybe he should be fucking you past the point of being able to walk more often. It would certainly deter you from running.

Typically when he'd walk into the room with water and pills you'd curl away from him, shaking and crying, pushing him away and begging him not to make you take anything, but not today. Not this time. You were taking the medicine from him without hesitation, swallowing them with what was probably a bigger chug of water than was necessary. Was your fear of him starting to go away, too?

He sat beside you on the bed, massaging your sore thighs quietly as he gazed upon your spent body. He had a feeling he was forgiving you too quickly for what you'd done, but it was just so hard for him to stay mad at you. It tugged at his heart when you'd speak to him casually, like everything finally felt normal. It made his heart race when you'd curl up on him at night without him even asking, or forcing, you to. It made his cock twitch when you'd submit to his advances and let him fuck you however he pleased. 

You groaned with relief, squirming your sore legs into his touch. He knew you didn't mean for it to be, but the sound you'd made was borderline obscene. Although, it never took much of you to get him overwhelmed with impure thoughts, especially when you were laid limp and groaning beneath his touch with hours-old cum puddling out of your cunt.

You were unaware of his gaze, eyes closed softly as you basked in the feeling of him working out the knots in your legs. It was certainly a welcome reprieve from the pain.

"Thanks," You sighed softly. "Feels nice."

"Does it?" He perked up.

You nodded. "Mhm. M'so sore."

A grin tugged at his lips, his body flooding with adoration at the sight of you, the sound of you, the feeling of your plush thighs beneath his strong hands, the way you'd thanked him for fucking you into a state of mandatory bedrest and then having the decency to ease the tension in your muscles.

He just couldn't bite back the thoughts creeping up through his lovesick brain, the thoughts of a better method to ease your tension.

"I know, princess," Leon hummed, a rosy blush creeping up his neck as his pupils began to dilate. "Just relax for me. I'll make you feel all better."

He began to slowly work his way up your thighs with every movement he made. You were so enthralled by the relief that it didn't seem you'd even noticed. 

Or maybe you didn't mind...?

Encouraged by this, Leon's touch left you with just one hand, though it would soon return, two fingertips barely dipping into your folds and dragging up the length of you.

Almost immediately you tensed right back up again, eyes shooting wide open as you sat up to stare at him like you were about to cry. It confused him, he thought you were enjoying this, inviting it, even, but as much as it confused him, it made his cock throb just a little harder beneath his pants.

You shook your head. "D-Don't, please..." You said timidly. "I still just... I can't..." You elaborated-- well, barely-- shifting to close your thighs.

Leon simply held you open. "Sure you can," He said. "Didn't I tell you to relax?"

Your bottom lip quivered. "Leon..." You whispered his name as a warning, a plea, voice breaking with upset, and you hoped it would get through to him. "P-Please, I just... I just can't," You repeated, eyes glossing over as memories flooded your dizzy head.

The pain. The blood. The bathtub.

You began to kick at him a bit, trying to push him away from you.

Leon was quick to take ahold of your ankles, pinning your legs down to the bed. "Hey, none of that," He chided, realizing now might be a good time to mention what he'd thought about earlier-- you hadn't done nearly enough to gain his trust back yet, let alone his good favor. "You have a long way to go before you're forgiven, pup. It would serve you well to remember who you belong to."

"Leon!" You gasped in offense. Even through your rising panic you knew that was bullshit. Your brows furrowed in frustration and your hands curled into fists at your sides. "Let go of me!" Angrily you tried to kick and thrash your legs, but as per usual, his hold on you was virtually unmoving. You weren't able to get much farther than a pathetic squirm.

He couldn't understand for the life of him why you were acting like this, throwing a tantrum like a spoiled fucking princess. Perhaps he had been too soft on you. 

"Knock it off. I'm not going to ask you again," He demanded, suddenly going stern with you as he pinned your legs to the bed with what was likely not even half of his strength.

He was staring deeply into your eyes, icy blue clouded over with annoyance. Leon knew that adjusting to life with him wasn't going to be painless, but he was starting to get rather sick of your mood swings. One minute you would be putty in his hand and the next you would be fighting him, crying, arguing, disrespecting him in every single way you could think of. He didn't want to be angry with you. He didn't want to have to punish you.

Sometimes you just made it really hard for him not to.

In an act of defiance he truly wasn't expecting, your dainty little hands began flying forward, landing a series of punches on his face and shoulders that he could only assume were hurting you more than they were hurting him. Still, that kind of behavior could not and would not be tolerated.

Leon crawled atop you, pinning your legs down with his own so he could snatch your wrists up in one hand, clutching your throat with the other. Just as he suspected, you recoiled in fear, pleading up at him with just your teary eyes, but it was far too late for that now and you both knew it. You were trying and failing to get a breath in, lashes fluttering as you writhed.

"I am sick and tired of your disrespect," He growled, hovering closely over your face so you didn't have anywhere else to look but him. "You know my name, so fucking say it."

He gave your neck a parting squeeze before letting go of his bruising hold of your windpipe to allow you to respond. You spluttered as you caught your breath, hot tears leaking down the sides of your face. "You don't even love me!" You shouted at him through labored breaths. "You treat me like garbage and I've tried but I can't take it!"

"Say it," Leon repeated, returning his hold to your throat. "Say my name, you little brat."

Your face went hot with frustration and strangled breathing. Gritting your teeth, you choked out, "I.. h-hate... you..."

Leon froze, a mixed bag of emotions flashing over his face-- at first it seemed he was hurt, and then he looked furious, but then, perhaps most chillingly, he looked as though he pitied you. His hold on your neck remained as your body began to tingle and your vision began to blur. Even so, you did your best not to give him the reaction he was inevitably hoping for. You weren't going to blurt out a strained apology, you weren't going to plead for him to stop, you weren't going to try his restraint on you anymore.

If he wanted to kill you-- or at least toe that line very closely-- why not let him? Either you'd die or you wouldn't, but whichever way fate called, you hoped he'd be teaching himself a hard lesson.

No such luck. You weren't going to die today.

He removed his fist from around your neck, hand lowering down between your legs while you were distracted catching your breath. "Poor, dumb little baby," He sneered. "You have no idea what you're even saying. Can't keep your head on straight without me holding it there for you, huh?"

What? He had to have known he was just making you angrier. You tried to close your thighs around his hand to stop him in his tracks, but the weight of him straddling you was more than enough to hold you open past the point of being able to budge. Your heart sank heavy into your stomach as you were quickly reminded just how helpless you were against his physical capabilities alone.

Oddly enough, the defeat and the utter fear that settled in the wake of that revelation wasn't scaring you into submission, it was making you rage at the mere thought of your situation, the way it made you feel like a caged animal and a hopeless pet, the way he treated you like a stupid child, the way your agency had been entirely stolen from you to the point where you weren't so much as trusted to wash your own hair. You wanted to scream until your throat was in shreds, you wanted to burn the whole house down. 

Yet here you were.

Perhaps you couldn't move far enough to burn the house down, but you could at least scream. You struggled in his hold as he forced two fingers inside of you, knowing he wouldn't be phased by it but you wanted to make it a little harder for him, at least. The sounds that came from you were fucking primal. You were unleashing months worth of fury and resentment in one big supernova of an explosion, honestly unable to care if it'd anger him further. You had to blow your lid, eventually.

Seemingly uninterested in entertaining your meltdown, Leon practically ignored you as he pumped his thick fingers in and out of you, tips of his fingers dragging over that sweet spot inside, but it didn't feel how it usually did. You weren't psychologically there enough to feel it. You were just sobbing and screaming, writhing with discomfort aching in each one of your limbs as you internally begged for the universe to smite you.

"H-Hate you," You hiccupped, throat becoming scratchy already, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you..."

Leon chuckled darkly, squeezing your wrists as an acknowledgement of your words. "Just let it out, doll," He said. "Let out all those icky thoughts 'til your little brain's nice and empty for me."

It was as if the thought of you crying it out until you went stupid spurred him on. He was pounding his fingers into you now, watching with drool pooling up on his tongue at the sight of his fingers slick with your wetness and the multiple loads he'd left in you overnight. He had to fight back the urge to devour you because he knew you'd like that too much, and you were still being punished.

He let his thumb brush feather-light circles over your clit, delighting in the way your thighs jerked beneath his own at the unexpected stimulation. He was going to make you cum in the way that he wanted you to, until you were boneless and chanting his title above you like a mantra, until you realized only he knew how to really please you. You might be silly sometimes and think you didn't want him, but Leon knew the truth in his soul. You were his and you always would be, whether you accepted it or not. 

"I hate you!" You shouted, eyes screwed shut as white hot tears dribbled down your face. "I hate you s-so much, it makes me want to die." You were red in the face and gasping for breath, slowly running out of energy to keep thrashing around, though you still felt it was necessary. 

With an unimpressed hum, Leon pressed a kiss to your shoulder before sitting back to watch your cunt clench around him, like you were sucking his fingers up into you. "Oh, sweetheart, my dumb, needy little puppy... Such a flair for the dramatics, hmm? Crying about how bad you hate your daddy but you just can't help but fuck yourself on my fingers..."

Am I doing that? You thought to yourself, quickly realizing your squirming away from him had switched to bucking into him at some point and you felt your soul flood and your ears burn with shame. You went from screaming and crying to just... crying.

Leon clicked his tongue. "Aww, baby... You don't have to be embarrassed, just give into me. Show me how sorry you are, and maybe I'll forgive you."

You shook your head, trying to bury yourself into the pillows but couldn't even do that. You felt weak and angry and defeated and done, but worst of all, you sort of did feel sorry. 

Sorry for pushing him away from you, sorry for punching and kicking at him. You were sorry for being loud, for being obnoxious, for being an idiot, for ruining what could have otherwise been a pleasant day with your spontaneous tantrum. Suddenly you were beginning to ask yourself why you even felt the need to put up such a fight with him. He took good care of you, loved you unconditionally, and for the most part, didn't pose any physical threat to you unless he felt pushed to do so.

Pushed by your disobedience, your disrespectful behavior.

The innate part of your brain that was solely concerned about survival was beginning to crack, and quickly so. Maybe it would just be better to submit, to actually submit, to 'accept you were made for him' as he'd put it and just... let him take care of you like he wanted. He was willing to feed you and bathe you and clothe you and hold you and shower you with enough sweet compliments to give you a toothache. A lot of people would kill for a partner like that. Why were you being so ungrateful, such a brat?

You could barely catch your breath through your cries as your peak approached, crashing over you in a shameful wave of release that would have felt good in any other context, but it just made you feel guilty.

You went limp in Leon's hold, giving in to everything in you that told you it wasn't worth it to fight anymore. Words wavering, you wished you could reach for him as you sobbed, "I-I'm sorry, daddy, I'm s-so sorry..."

Leon smiled softly as he watched you unravel beneath him, soaking his hand with your release as you twitched with overstimulation and continued to repeat yourself, melting into a puddle before his eyes. It was a beautiful sight.

You were forgiven.

part 5 ♡

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader

[kquil]

heyyy im loving divorcing Orion black, it’s so good, I was wondering if you knew any other fics with a similar theme?? like other Harry Potter fix it fics

ooof! this is a really hard question to answer but i am happy to rise to the challenge hehe~

there are plenty of Harry Potter fix it fics out there however, i haven't been able to find one with similar themes to 'Divorcing Orion Black' -- actually, the reason i started writing the DOB series is because i was on a Harry Potter fix it fic binge and couldn't find one with my the specific tags i had in mind (oᗜo;) i.e marauder era fix it fic, focus on platonic relationships, massive hurt/comfort + fluff, sirius and regulus focused, badass reader, and inspired by reincarnation/transferring manhwas where the main character becomes the villainess/side character of a story they know very well - yup, it's a very specific criteria so i don't know why i thought i could find a perfect fanfic that meets all points out there (ಥ‿ಥ) 

however, i do have some recommendations

✦ Time Warp | @astonishment

ugh! i love this fic so much, it's a time-travel, James Potter x Reader series that i would consider a fix it fic, it's so beautifully written and one that i sneakily go back to often just so my darling mal doesn't think im a creep for obsessing over her writing

✦ Oh God Not Again! | by Sarah1281 (fanfiction.net)

its old but a classic one that i'm sure many people have read and for good reason, it's a great read and still holds up well even now, i would say though that its focus is on Harry redoing the lightening era and is not set in the marauders era

✦ The Source of Grief | by withthekeyisking (ao3)

this is fairly short but incredibly well written where Harry goes back in time to fix the original time line under the alias of Hadrian Gaunt. it's only two chapters but its such an amazing read! i love re-reading it

✦ Three's Family | by darkbluedark (ao3)

this isn't a full fix it fic but it has the amazing potential to be the beginning of one and i adore it! the humour is amazing and the hurt/comfort + fluff is just so incredibly good! Harry and Draco travel back in time by accident and that's all im revealing hehe~

✦ Eight's Company | by darkbluedark (a03)

so i just found out that the 'Three's Family' fic has a continuation and i believe that this will be a full on fix it fic now! ugh! i can't wait to read its only two chapters and i look forward to it's continuation

these are just my personal recommendations, i'm gonna confess that i haven't had much time to read a lot of fix it fics since most of them have a lot of chapters but if you still want more recs, i assure you that there are many rec. lists out there for Harry Potter fix it fics - don't you just love this fandom? hehe~ (still hate the creator of it all though)

#☁︎ : kquil talks #🎏 : anon #harry potter fix it fic recommendations #🔎 : recs #harry potter fix it fics

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

All of my work is rated M or E (18+ only. If you’re under 18 this isn’t the space for you) and is ofc or xfemreader unless otherwise noted. Mind the tags. No use of y/n. You can also find me on ao3. My Misc. Masterlist is here and Star Wars Masterlist is here.

I do not give permission for any of my work to be translated, reposted, or plugged into AI.

Aemond Targaryen

they say I killed you (haunt me then) - Aemond x ofc Wylla Karstark | in progress | Wylla Karstark is content with her life in the far reaches of the North, happy even. She has everything she ever thought she needed. Until Aemond Targaryen tumbles from the sky, abandoned by his dragon and left at her mercy.

Paper Crowns - mafia au | Aemond x ofc Viserra Velaryon | Completed | Viserra Velaryon has never buckled under the weight of her legacy, of all that she stands to inherit. The oldest daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, she has always understood her place in the world, in her family. But when her grandfather passes, leaving behind an incomplete will and a bloodthirsty widow intent on securing her children's inheritance, she finds herself in the middle of a war that she isn't sure how to fight. Her enemy? The boy she once loved, the man she's learned to hate.

Iron and Ash - When he looked at you it was as if he had peeled the dress from your body, the skin from your bones; you had never felt more bare than when the prince gazed from across whatever room you were in, his eye fixed on you and you alone.

You've Got My Body (Flesh and Bone) - Her violet eyes crashed against his like waves against a rocky shore and the mismatched jewel tones of his gaze had her feeling dizzy; she could just make out her reflection in the facets of the sapphire he wore in place of his right eye. Without thinking, she raised her other hand, tracing the line of his scar even though she knew he couldn't feel it beneath the knot of roughly healed tissue.

Shimmer - He was hot to the touch, as if he burned with fever, and you supposed in a way, he did. He burned for you, he burned in the way that only a dragon could, with the same fire that you felt heat your own

Daemon Targaryen

Meet Me In the After - Daemon Targaryen x oc Sabitha Blackwood | upcoming | The realm holds its breath as Queen Aemma approaches the end of her pregnancy. The king proclaims loudly to any that will listen that she will finally give him a living son, an heir, and all around him rejoice. But Aemma knows, after two stillbirths, three miscarriages, and a son lost in the cradle, that Viserys will not get his wish. Dreams plague the queen, dreams of fire and blood and a dead boy in a cursed crown. Sent to court to attend Queen Aemma two years prior, Lady Sabitha Blackwood is privy to all the queen's fears, to the anxieties that plague her daughter, Princess Rhaenyra, and the pressures of court that eat at her dear friend, Lady Alicent Hightower. Stuck in a loveless marriage with a husband who grows crueler with each month that passes without an heir of his own, Sabitha finds herself preening under the attentions of the king's brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen. As the two fall deeper into a torrid and dangerous affair, the worst comes to pass.

The queen is dead, the king's heir with her, and all eyes fall on the young women closest to her. Will Rhaenyra truly be named heir? Why do the king's eyes follow Lady Alicent? And what does Sabitha know that puts her in the gravest of danger?

When It Comes To You (My World Is Deep Red) - “Is that what you seek? A great love story?” she asked with a raised brow, dismissive of the notion that Daemon Targaryen would be swayed by something so simple as that.

Salt in the Wound | completed | There was a reason they said the Targaryens were closer to gods than men; it wasn’t just their dragons that held them separate, that held them above. No, it was the way that once every handful of generations, one came along that held the ability to tear the world apart with their bare hands, to rend it with their teeth, to melt it down and attempt to recreate it in their own image.

evening star | in progress | - A queen, locked high in her tower, a rose in a glass case.A knight in the form of a sharp tongued, silver-haired princess.A violet-eyed villain who speaks like a lover. Alicent has hardened herself against the promise of a gentle touch. Daemon has learned to taste love in the blood he licks from his blades. And Rhaenyra, lost in the fog of her father’s neglect, finds that she is the tie that binds. What does it mean for the realm when the Queen in Chains, the Realms Delight, and the Rogue Prince come together to create a light in the dark?

Jacaerys Velaryon & Helaena Targaryen

For the Love of a Princess - “Your fascination with me will be your death,” she said, arching up toward him, his shaky exhale ghosting over her face. She had no idea why she said it, though surely her mother would call for his head if they were caught, a replacement for the eye her desperate bid for justice could not procure.

The Conquerors (Visenya, Rhaenys, and Aegon I Targaryen)

Afterlife - She was not the wife he had wanted. He was not the husband she had wanted. All that connected them was lost now. “It should have been me.” The words came out in a whisper and Visenya wept.

Aegon II Tagaryen

Lips Like Lightning (Skin So Sweet) - This moment was just a miniscule light in the dark. But any light was better than none. Tomorrow she would leave, heading home to Volantis to start the new year back in her real life. And Aegon Targaryen, whoever he was, would go back to the people in the pictures.

heaven is not meant to house a love (like you and I) - Aegon Targaryen and his wonderful, fantastic, very good day. A they say I killed you (haunt me then) outtake, set one year before the main story. A birthday gift for @emilykaldwen

#daemon targaryen #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #my fic #daemyra #rhaenicent #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x alicent hightower #daemon targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x original character #daemon tagaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x helaena targaryen #asoiaf fic #asoiaf #game of thrones fic #game of thrones