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goldustwomun · 2 years

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take a chance on me (b.b.)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x ex! mother! reader

summary: your daughter stumbles upon a photo of you and a mysterious man, immediately noticing the similarities between him and her. nothing good can come from revisiting the past, especially one you’d hoped to avoid because you’d never gotten the courage to tell him, the man from the photo, that he’s a father.

warnings: major rip-off of the mamma mia! plot but this was purely for enjoyment so xxx; angst angst angst; swearing; allusions to sex; a lot of exposition so sorry ‘bout that

wc: 9.2k+

note: had so much fun messing around with this request (thank you by the way!!). listening to the mamma mia! soundtrack the whole time and now yearning for an island romance<3

ps. reader’s age is slightly hinted to being over 30 but that’s only if you do the math and i left the daughter’s age ambiguous (she’s a teen, over sixteen at least); also, daughter’s name is poppy!

pps. i probably won’t be writing a second part to this because i love the ambiguous ending; let your imagination run free lovelies :))

more of my work x

The summer heat was thick and just about everywhere, like sticky honey you can’t wipe clean off your fingers after spreading it onto a piece of too-burnt toast.

You were on the verge of giving up, trekking back home and collapsing onto the sofa with a stand-up fan aimed at your sweat-slick face.

Maybe the dungarees hadn’t been your best idea when it came to thirty-degree weather, but the utility of them, their pockets filled to the brim with spare screws, a cylinder-shaped glue for the hot glue gun you’d lost in your storage room a week back, a few hair ties for when the one currently holding yours up snapped for the third time that day.

Practicality over comfort, as was your motto for the past over-a-decade of your life. As it had been, since you’d found yourself pregnant after a one-night-stand (turned many, many night-stand) you’d yet to shake yourself free of).

You were never one to ask for help, and when it came to raising your child, things hadn’t changed. No matter how desperate you were, working two jobs on an island you didn’t speak the language of, an infant perched on your hip, whaling in your ears whilst you simultaneously cleaned the rooms of the little bed-and-breakfast you’d landed a job at.

When you weren’t taking care of your kid or working, you were thinking about one of those two things, or both.

And it wasn’t like you hated it entirely; she was the best thing to ever happen to you, could have arrived at a more opportune time, but she was your best friend if you’d ever had one. So saying she was a mistake or something you regretted– it was an unfathomable thought that had only crossed your mind once, sat in the doctor’s waiting room, pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper, clutched tight in your trembling hands.

“Ma’!” she yelled now, your little Poppy with her chocolate-brown curls, sun-kissed skin from all the time spent at the beach. Remarkably like her Father, but you’d never tell her that.

“I’m here, I’m here!” you answered in a similar, exasperated fashion, bent over a crack in the intricately tiled mosaics that covered the floor of the plaza.

You still worked at that bed-and-breakfast, though now it was yours and had expanded to a vast number of the buildings at the centre of the island. Everyone helped out, whether out of kindness or a small fee, and you were grateful for the community, the small army, you had behind you, catching you every time you stumbled (far too often than you’d ever admit).

“Need help?” Poppy asked, amused, hands perched over her white-tiered skirt clad hips, looking like the stubborn replica of her mother, of you. Her head just about obscured the sun from beating down on you anymore than it already was, framing her with a halo of gold that tinted the edges of her hair.

“I’m alright, love,” you assured, heaving yourself straight with a pained groan. Poppy crowded you, arms going around your shoulders to help you up. “Why don’t you go help Esme. She’s in the storage room, looking for the hot glue gun.”

“Still haven’t found that thing?”

“No, I– fuck. Everything disappears around here. Swear we’ve got a ghost or something, the only logical explanation.” Poppy nodded along, taking your finger-pointing at the supernatural with a deathly seriousness.

“Makes sense if you ask me, ghost with a hankering for rusty tools,” she agreed, voice solemn. “Aaaand you’re sure I can’t help you here?” she asked again, murky brown eyes baring right into your soul. You brushed her off, nudging her in the direction of the sweet old lady, Esme, with her wonky English accent and pastries to die for.

“If you see anything you like, put it to the side!” you called after her retreating figure, shaking your head as she chucked a ‘thumbs up’ behind her back.

Not only was she the spitting image of her Father, or rather, the man who got you pregnant as you called him in your head, but she walked and talked with that same air of breezy confidence that got him into your pants in the first place.

You’d hoped a few more of your mannerisms (and none of your risky mistakes) would have brushed off on her as she grew up, but other than your resolute anger and little patience, she was nothing like you.

Always headstrong, sometimes teetering on the precipice of arrogance, but she usually relented and bugged you with her incessant chatter until you forgave her.

Would stare up at you, all watery and doe-eyed, hair curling around her chubby cheeks still splotchy from her tantrum, near ready for tears again until you were shushing her with a carrot stick coated in hummus (her favourite but you worried she’d turn into a chickpea or something close to it).

Even if she was part-chickpea, you’d love her forever.

Named her Poppy after the bunches of wild, scarlet-red flowers you’d seen breaking through the stones of the Acropolis when you were pregnant and needed a break from the island. Your Poppy was a lot like that; able to push past even the most inconceivable of hardships, past whatever unmovable stone that might be surrounding her, threatening to cage her in, until she was illuminating the world around her. Painting it a little brighter for everyone to enjoy.

Your very own field of flowers.

Poppy could admit that even with having grown up on the island, she could never get used to the heat or the muggy feeling of her clothes sticking to her like a second layer of skin. But she persisted, finding Esme with a cloth tied around her head as a make-shift hat in the barn they used for storage.

It was… falling to pieces, and still, that was an understatement.

The blue doors looked more grey than anything ocean-like, the junk crammed inside, stacks on stacks of unlabelled cardboard boxes she worried had a family of something disgusting in at least one of them. The ceiling had caved-in in places, allowing beams of sunlight to penetrate through, and acting as a door for the birds to fly in and build their nests.

So yes, the barn was falling to pieces, the entire hotel was, actually. But what worried her the most was that her Mother seemed close to the same fate despite being so young, so she’d persist where she had to.

“Little girl, come help me with this box would you!” Esme ordered from somewhere within the labyrinth of boxes. Poppy picked her way through, using the groans Esme exerted as a homing-beacon and eventually bumping into the older woman. She was caked in dust and dirt, but didn’t seem to care all that much if the grin on her face was any hint of her mood.

Esme was rather grumpy a lot of the time, so a smile like that, one that screamed mischief, and her eyes beaming with that all-knowing look she got sometimes after visiting the psychic on the other side of the island… Well, something told her this couldn’t be good.

“What’s in this particular box, May?” Poppy questioned, huffing as she pushed it onto the ground.

“You’ll see in a moment–” Esme tssked at her impatience, patting her back so Poppy would move into the light so they could see its contents more clearly. When it was in place, Poppy looked-up at her from her crouched position on the floor expectantly, still unsure of where this was headed.

“Don’t give me such a dumb look, little girl, open it!” she scolded, frowning so deeply Poppy worried her mouth would be stuck that way permanently.

Sometimes she thought it already was. “Okay- Okay– Stop calling me that,” she added under her breath, pulling back the hole-ridden flaps and immediately rummaging through, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“This just looks like a bunch of old junk, May. I don’t think the glue-gun is in here.”

“Keep looking,” she insisted, peering over her shoulder. It was only a few minutes later that her hand came down on Poppy’s shoulder, gripping tight enough that Poppy stopped shuffling things around, hand stuck on a tattered journal she’d never seen before. “That one– take that out.”

“This?” Poppy asked inquisitively, lifting it from the box and standing up so Esme could see.

“Yes, this,” she nodded with a relieved sigh, flipping open the first page. Inside, Poppy admired the elegant script, eyes widening at the name inscribed on the first page.

“This was Ma’s?”

Esme held it out to her, confirming her wild thoughts, doing little to halt the curiosity currently poking at her mind. “This was your Mother’s when I first met her. Maybe… younger than you, or the same age, I’m not sure. But she was beautiful, and hardworking, and very, very pregnant.”

A forced laugh stumbled past her lips, disbelieving as she carefully turned to the next page. A stray photo, not stuck down like the others, flew out of the bottom. Poppy scrambled to pick it up, not wanting it to get lost amongst the piles of stuff they desperately needed to sort out.

In it was her Mother, looking radiant with her head tilted back in laughter, flowers in her hair, an arm around her waist that belonged to an unfamiliar man. “And– this guy, who’s he?” Poppy’s heart was hammering now, knowing the answer before Esme could even respond.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. And something about him, the fluidity in his shoulders, the ease with which he carried himself, the look on your face. It couldn’t be…

“I’m not sure. I never knew his name but he was following your Mother around that summer, like a lost puppy. Very cute,” she murmured appreciatively, gaze fixated on the photo in your hand.

Poppy’s heart sank, hating the lack of answers, the not-knowing. She needed to know, could feel the fire stoked in the pit of her belly that would keep her up until she found out more, more, more.

You wouldn’t say anything. You were tightlipped about the ingredients in your famous pasta sauce, so anything about Poppy’s potential Father would be a no-go, a dead end she couldn’t get herself stuck in and clue you in on her snooping.

“What happened to him– the puppy man?” Poppy did nothing to hide her curiosity, knowing deep down that Esme had lured her to this box for a reason.

Everyone could see how you were wearing away, working yourself to the bone everyday for a dream that seemed just about unreachable. You needed someone, anyone, to help you, and Poppy wouldn’t always be there to do just that.

She knew you didn’t need a man, bursting into your life and fixing your problems. It’d have you biting at his heels until he was running off into the sunset. But a partner– a companion, maybe, who could support you when the job was brutal and rough and you were nearing a breakdown like no other– you deserved, at the very least, that.

Poppy would make sure of it. It didn’t take long for her to do the calculations, nine months minus her birthday and she had an approximate date to look for. She thumbed through the journal, marking the pages that mentioned any indication of when you’d written in it, and shoved it into the back pocket of your denim shorts to search through later.

She’d find him if it was the last thing she’d ever do.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be, but she needed to see you smiling like you had in that picture. And Poppy had an inkling, a feeling, a certainty like no other, that the answer to all of your problems, maybe her’s as well, would be found with the man with the funny moustache and wicked grin.

The internet was a powerful machine, and one, Poppy thought decidedly, she’d be forever grateful for. It didn’t take long to hunt down the mystery man from the photo. She smiled, somewhat maniacally, really, at the screen as she read through the email she received from the United States Navy.

She’d gotten the idea after noticing the dog-tag around his neck, nestled against his bare chest. It was hard to see at first, what with the obnoxious printed shirts he wore in every photo, but Poppy was nothing if not thorough, meticulous, error-free.

Anyway, it wasn’t like the Navy had actually responded to her far-fetched cries for help, but she did find a help-centre that was rather effective in hunting down men who had gotten someone or the other pregnant while deployed internationally.

Poppy wondered how often this kind-of thing happened that they needed a whole department for it, suddenly trying to burn the image in her mind of a few more miniature him-with-the-moustache-s walking around the Earth.

But it couldn’t be, not with the way he had stared at you in that photo. And you’d kept it, all these years, so it had to have meant something.

Bradley Bradshaw. She scoffed, what a dumb name. And his callsign? Somehow worse– Rooster. She hoped eternally her maybe-Father wasn’t a proper moron now, and could still live upto the photos she had of him (of which she found many more hidden between pages in your journal).

He was quite attractive, almost two decades earlier. And you– well, even today, you were ethereal in Poppy’s eyes. Carefree and determined.

“Pops– hun, I’m going down to the post office, need anything mailed?” you asked from the other side of her bedroom door.

“Yeah! One sec,” she replied, frantically shoving all of the post-it notes and pictures back into a drawer in her desk, doing one last scan of her room to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying around before snatching up the letter– to Rooster– from beside her laptop.

Poppy opened the door to see you resting against the door frame, flipping through the letters (bills, probably) you had clutched in your hand. You held out your hand, waiting for her to drop it in your palm, but she quickly yelled out, “No!” which had you looking up from the dreaded envelopes with a raised brow.

“No…?” you asked, confused at her unusual outburst. “So you don’t have any mail?”

“No,” she repeated, dumbly, mouth forming words that never made it out. “No– I have a letter, but I’ll come with you. Drop it off myself,” she explained eventually, nodding along as if she was trying to convince herself.

You relented, sending another curious look towards your daughter but stomping down the stairs, creaks following, to the car. “I’m leaving now so put your shoes on!” you sang.

She sighed out of relief, shoving her feet into her trainers and barreling past you into the front seat of your Jeep. “God, Poppy– what’s gotten into you? Acting like a five-year old, I swear,” you grumbled, irritated and lethargic enough to have her wincing with guilt.

This was a good thing, right? Sure, you’d be angry– scratch that, furious, murderous, down-right irate, when you found out, but you’d understand. She was doing this for you.

“Sorry,” she appeased, kicking her feet onto the dashboard that earned her another withering glare from you. It did little to dissuade her as she continued talking. “Just giddy, that’s all.”

“Giddy? About a letter?” Poppy hummed in agreement, watching the ocean and mountain-side trees rush by, painting an array of abstract strokes across her vision. “Is it for a boy?” you asked, teasingly, side-eyeing her before returning to concentrating on the winding road ahead.

“Mmm, funnily enough, yeah,” she giggled, loving how you were entirely clueless.

“Interesting,” you murmured, then reaching across the console to squeeze your daughter’s bare knee. “Be careful, yeah?”

Poppy’s eyes flashed, chest-clenching painfully as she worried her lip between her teeth. Her hand moved to rest across yours. You’d never opposed her love-life, of her having one, but Poppy had always wondered why your own dating history was so sparse, time spent, instead, taking care of her or, later on, the hotel.

“Always, Ma’, you know that,” she made sure with a tight grin, praying you missed how it didn’t reach her eyes.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself. This was for you.

Poppy was jumpier than usual, like a skittish cat, you observed silently. Slamming doors and screens shut when you walked by. You didn’t necessarily care what she was up to until she was rambling off, a mile a minute, going on about an excuse you hadn’t asked for.

You were a good mother, one that didn’t pry or push when you wanted the gossip and highlights of your kid’s life. Had built a relationship, a friendship, even, with your daughter where she voluntarily shared the information without you ever needing to bat an eyelash.

So you tried not to worry, to let the mishaps distract you from the seemingly never-ending list of work you had tugging your attention elsewhere.

But that was another thing about being a mother; worrying was second nature, a muscle that unknowingly worked itself sore whenever your daughter was out of your sight.

She’d go off during the day, by the beach with her friends, at the dock helping with shipments or sailing into the late afternoon, returning only when the sun was sinking into the horizon and the sky was all shades of purple, pink, a burning orange.

She’d give you a soft, routine kiss on your cheek as you sat on the dinner table, skin sticking to the plastic cover you’d laid on the surface to protect the wood. Spew details of her day, who said what, who kissed who– though always failing to mention the letter from a month ago, the unknown boy she was secretly buzzing about was still unknown.

You hadn’t forgotten the letter, not recognising the address, some small town in America with little significance to you.

Poppy sat across from you now, talking around a mouthful of the sandwich you’d made the both of you with the leftover baguette from the bakery across the street, one that hadn’t sold that day so was priced cheap.

“--and then, you’ll never guess, but Dom was changing on the boat and basically flashed everyone. Tony and Riley included. I felt so bad, almost pushed the boys overboard and she was so red for someone who, basically, never got embarrassed.”

You snorted, stopping mid-bite. “Just because someone doesn’t make their emotions obvious doesn’t mean they don’t feel them. And I hope they’ll apologise to her.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” she agreed enthusiastically, eyes wide as if digesting every single one of your words. “And they did right after I threatened them. It wasn’t awkward for long, they’re not a bad bunch or anything. It was an accident, Dom said so herself.”

“That’s good,” was all you answered, now distracted by a letter in your hand you’d pulled from the pile as Poppy talked. She was watching you intently, burning a hole through the paper, and, being her Mother, you already knew she was dying to know who it was from.

“It’s for you,” you said eventually, putting her out of her momentary misery as she squealed and snatched it from your hand. You watched discreetly, touched by the sight of her mouthing the words as she read the letter. “Is it from that American boy of yours?”

“American?– what– I mean, how do you– how do you know he’s American?” she stuttered messily, mouth agape and ready to argue.

You reflexively held up your hands in surrender. “Hey, love– I just saw the sender’s address, that’s all,” you assured.

She collapsed back into her seat, mumbling an apology for getting all worked up.

It was now or never, you decided, finally sick of the anxiety coursing through your veins these past few weeks.

“Poppy, you’re… alright, right?” you asked, struggling to find the right words and sighing, forehead resting against your palm while the other crossed the table, holding your daughter’s hand, grip light and featherlike, in comfort.

“I mean– you’d tell me if you were in any trouble, or anything. I wouldn’t judge or–”

“Ma!” she scolded, sounding appalled by your line of questioning and roughly pulling her hand out of your grasp.

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Pops. You’ve been going mental for weeks now! I’m allowed to fret, I’m your Mother!” you retorted, standing up abruptly, chair screeching against the linoleum tiles as you dropped the plates into the sink.

“It’s nothing, I swear–”

“Is it drugs?” you asked suddenly, turning around to face her.

She looked completely aghast, arms crossed against her chest defensively and, what was likely subconsciously, pouting at you. “If it’s drugs, Pops, we can get help. I’ve got money saved up and I know a decent doctor on the mainland. I’ll get you an appointment tomorrow if you let me–”

“Ma!” she screeched again, parroting your earlier movements, walking right up to you, holding your shoulders firmly, and shaking as she spoke, or rather, yelled. “I’m not on drugs, don’t be stupid!” You scowled at her, pushing her off of you.

“Then what is it because I’ve been wracking my brain for what could possibly have my child on fucking edge and–”

“I found a journal!” she interrupted, voice loud and exasperated. You whipped around, pinning her down with a stare you’d mastered over the years. She froze on the spot, likely shocked she’d let it slip in the first place.

“You found a– a journal? Where? Who’s?” you asked succinctly, hiding your shaking hands behind your back.

“Uh– it was– Esme, she– it’s her’s, and she wanted me to help her find the name of this guy who’d visited her when she was younger. I reached out and it’s a letter from him, that’s it. I was excited for her,” she explained, but the way her voice wavered made you certain that wasn’t the whole story.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” you reasoned, still unbelieving. It was too convenient of an explanation.

“Because she told me not to! You’re– you’re a bit harsh, sometimes, a bit cynical when it comes to love,” she said, hesitantly, mouth twitching with a smile at how you were now the one pouting. “Anyway, you’re always telling me to butt out of people’s business so I thought it’d be best to just keep it to myself.”

The two of you, mother and daughter, stood in silence for many long minutes, bathed in the nauseating yellow glow of the kitchen lights, flickering bulbs casting ugly shadows across your faces. But it was home, the one one you knew, so you never complained, at least not out loud.

Not when Poppy was around to hear you. “Okay, I believe,” you relented, returning to the dishes, though Poppy nudged you out of the way.

“Why don’t you let me do this, huh? Go sit down for a bit, I’ll finish tidying up.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Poppy was quick to give you a look– the look. Same one you’d mastered after many years of dealing with her fits, and evidently, she seemed to have learnt it as well. You acquiesced reluctantly, hands raised for the second time that night, and fell back, fainted more like, onto the sofa.

Poppy stood, hunched over the sink, and you watched her from your position in the living room.

Something– a nagging feeling you couldn’t quite get rid off– poked at you, at your brain in all of its aching, slimy glory– that the story she fed you was just that– a story, fictional. But you trusted her, unlike some other mother’s who’d lecture you over the cabbages in the market about how you were too lenient with Poppy, how she’ll end up just like you.

You griped internally. She’d be lucky if she turned out anything like you. Your gaze returned to her, shoulders moving as she scrubbed at the dirty dishes.

Okay. Maybe not exactly like you.

He arrived on an assuming Tuesday, a single bag strapped to his back, all brown skin and smouldering looks hidden behind decade-old sunglasses. Poppy couldn’t believe it, not one bit, as she greeted the stranger while working at the pier.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown.

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, lips pulled into a frown to hide the urge of flinging herself at him with no explanation at all.

“Yeah, I’m looking for this address–” he fumbled with a piece of paper, pulling it from his back pocket. It was a letter, her letter, and he jabbed at the address, her address, on the front of the creased envelope. “--or if that’s not familiar, Poppy? She said her name was Poppy. Do you know anyone like that around these parts?”

She snorted. What were the chances?

She’d almost bailed on her shift, persuaded by Ben and his pretty smile to sneak out to the hidden beach on a nearby island. You’d managed to coerce him into going another day, mumbling an excuse or two in between kisses as you rushed down to the dock.

And then there he was, looking a lot like the lost puppy Esme had described to you. He still had the same odd facial hair, though it fit him a little better, having aged well.

“Poppy? Yeah, I know her,” Poppy mused, pulling at her bottom lip in faux-thought, eyes darting between the letter and the confused man holding it.

“Right, well–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Can you direct me towards her?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded vehemently, hoping he couldn’t see the grin threatening to take over your features.

He sighed defeatedly after waiting for you to continue, and after you failed to expand on the information, he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “Okay, thanks for the help”-- sounding not the least bit thankful.

Better put him out of his misery, she thought eagerly, looping an arm around his shoulder, having to lean up on the tips of her toes to reach. “It’s actually you’re lucky day, Bradley–” you began, that same grin winning its battle.

“How do you know–” he cut you off, then stopped himself, pausing as he turned to face you. “Oh…”

“Oh!” she mirrored, though a lot less like she’d had some sort of epiphany. more mocking and exaggerated.

“So you’re Poppy?” he asked, stupidly, bashfully, shaking his hair out of his eyes. They were slightly longer, the strands, than in the photos, but he had that same boyish charm you’d sensed.

“The one and only,” Poppy enthused..

“So you’re–”

“Her daughter? Yeah, that’d be me,” she finished for him, teetering towards something more serious, more solemn, bracing yourself for the moment of realisation as the both of them walked up to the road, identical gaits and hair and noses, where Poppy’s Jeep (or the one she’d borrowed from you) was parked.

It never came.

“And your Dad?”

You choked on a breath that never made it down the right pipe, halting in your steps. “My Dad?” you asked, bemused.

“Yeah– is he around? Would love to meet him, your Mother as well, of course. I was really surprised by the letter but I think–”

“My Dad isn’t around. Never met him,” she explained slowly, frustrated by how he really wasn’t understanding. Had she not been obvious enough?

Shit. Would she give him a fucking heart attack if she told him now?

She looked him over, deciding he wasn’t so old that an unannounced confession would kill him.

“I’m sorry about that, men can be real dickheads,” he stated, as if knowing from experience, not bothering to censor his language, and she liked him just a bit more for it.

He was perfect for you.

Poppy watched, unspeaking, as he settled into the passenger seat, admiring the interior of the car– probably the one thing you owned that wasn’t ripping at the seams. “So, where are we headed?”

“The hotel Ma’ owns, it’s at the–”

“Centre of the island?” he interrupted, staring distantly out at the unwavering landscape.

Bradley-- Rooster let out a shaky breath, one she tried not to notice, understanding that the two of you, meeting after all these years– it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was a significant part of his life he didn’t even know existed, one that came in the form of her.

“You remember,” you pointed out, surprised and sounding more like a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, I mean– I remember everything. How could I not?” There was something beneath his words, a weight to them that had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, foot colliding with the accelerator as they hurried home.

“So you’ll be staying here,” she announced, shoving her shoulder against the barn door and coughing at the dust that attacked her senses once she managed it open. Bradley– or Rooster, as he’d told her to call him– followed close behind, cautious with every step as he took in his dilapidated housing.

“Here?” he questioned out loud, pushing at the bunches of hay lining the floor with the toe of his combat boots. He was sweating like it was no one’s business and Poppy giggled to herself, finding amusement in his unspoken disgust.

“Yeah, here. The hotel’s all booked up–” a lie, she just couldn’t have you stumbling upon him before she’d planned how it’ll all go down. “So this was all we had left. I’ll find a spare mattress for you, and the bakery across the road– owned by a sweet, old lady–” another lie, it was Esme and there was nothing sweet about her. “--who can help you with showering, food, all the necessities.”

He stared intensely as she spoke, as if not really listening to a word she was saying.

“What is it?” she asked eventually, breaking free from his gaze as she busied herself, distracted herself, with collecting the boxes into a corner, out of the way to allow him some more room.

Rooster shook his head, convincing himself to look elsewhere, and smoothed his hair back.

“Nothing, sorry. You just– you’re so much like your Mother. It’s crazy, really.” She beamed at him, suddenly sitting on the floor opposite, and he joined her amongst the dust and hay.

“Really? You think so?” He nodded, laughing at her eagerness. “She said once, I don’t think she knew I was awake and I was really young, or younger,” she amended then continued. “She said I reminded her of my Dad, but I couldn’t ever tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Can’t say I knew him either–” Brilliant, it was all just brilliant. “--but you’re as… fiery, I guess would be an appropriate word, as she was.”

“And what was she like?”

He was ready to answer, not needing even a moment to think his response through, but your voice from outside the barn had Poppy’s eyes widening with fear, heart sinking low in your chest.

“Poppy! You in here?” You struggled with the door, pushing all of your weight into the crumbling wood.

“Fuck–” she cursed. “You need to– you need to hide, like– now.” He watched, perplexed, opening his mouth to question the sudden turn in events but she held up a finger, shushing him like he was a child and not her Father-who-didn’t-know-it.

“I’ll explain later just– please,” you begged quietly, urging him deeper in between the organised junk and out of sight.

She inhaled, exhaled, steadying her thrumming heartbeat. “Ma’! Y-yeah, I’m here, one second.”

Poppy pulled on the handle, hauling it open but the circular, metal ring broke-free from the door.

“Another thing to fix, I guess,” you noted, nodding at the rusted metal in her hand. “What’re you doing in here?” you asked, as if only now aware of where the both of you were.

“Here? I’m just– glue gun, yanno. Esme still couldn’t find it so I thought I'd try again.”

“Alright you flaky weirdo. I swear, you wouldn’t even need drugs to act all high and jittery, manage it just fine all by yourself,” you mumbled, dismissively pushing past her and heading straight towards the area Poppy had, moments earlier, shoo-ed Rooster towards.

“You can't go there!” she burst out, holding out a hand in front of you that you glowered at.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” you asked, voice tight and ready to pull the Mother card you never really enjoyed playing. You’d earned it, sure, but it was a little demeaning considering how old your daughter now was.

“Because– Because–”

Shuffling footsteps alerted your attention towards the disarray, squinting between the piles, searching for where the noise originated from. “Is there someone else here?”

“Yes! There is!” Poppy admitted, and your stare returned to her. She could see, right past your head, where Rooster was stepping into the light, assuming she was about to explain his presence, but she shook her head imperceptibly– not yet, go back, go back

You stared expectantly, waiting for a response. “It’s Ben,” she blurted, not sure, even herself, where she was headed. “And he’s– well, you see– he’s naked. Yeah, we were about to have sex and you walked in and he’s all embarassed.”

You sputtered, all but sprinting towards the door and unable to look behind you so you missed how Poppy relaxed minutely. “Oh– wow, okay. Just– that’s not what I was expecting,” you stuttered, palm shielding your eyes. “I mean, firstly– not here, gross, that sounds unbelievably unhygienic. And secondly– use protection.”

You didn’t stay any longer, escaping to the outside, and Rooster appeared beside Poppy almost immediately.

She turned, ready to barrage him with excuses and explanations she hadn’t thought of yet. “I’m so sorry, she’s–!”

“She doesn’t know, does she? That I’m here?” he asked, though he didn’t need you to respond to know the answer.

He groaned into his hands, bending at the hip and breathing raggedly. “Okay, so– I’m gonna go before she does find out. It was nice meeting you Poppy,” he said, all in one go with no room for you to interrupt.

“No you can’t– she’s just–”

“No, I really, really need to leave,” he bit out, not facing her as he strapped his bag to his back.

“If you just give her time–”

“You don’t understand!” he exploded, eyes fluttering shut as he visibly attempted to calm himself. “The last time she saw me– it wasn’t– it wasn’t good. And I left the next day, without a word of apology or justification or–” Rooster sighed as if he’d had this argument with himself countless times before. “--so no, I can’t imagine she’ll ever come around.”

He stopped at the boundary of the door, calling behind him. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

Then he left, again.

At least he apologised this time, she thought bitterly.

You were stepping down from the hardware store, or hole in the wall, really, when you saw him.

A flash of saturated colour, mind-numbing prints, and broad shoulders. You gasped, frantically searching around yourself as if questioning if anyone else had seen a ghost from their own past.

No. They seemed to be going about their day as usual– Johnny sweeping at the cobblestone directly in front of his store, Mia laying fresh fish on ice, ready to be sold, her six-year old daughter tugging on the bottom of her dress with tears in her eyes.

No one was phased, except you. You looked back to where you’d seen him, but he wasn’t there anymore, only an empty street corner with nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

What the-- You rushed forward, intent on finding out the truth as your boots slapped loudly against the pavement, dodging busy workers and locals, all, now, staring at your wild movements.

“Child– where are you in such a hurry to?” Esme yelled, head poking through her bakery window with a scowl at the abrasive noise you were making in your pursuit.

“I’ll explain later, May!” you hurtled back, not stopping despite the burning in your legs, your chest.

Still, you carried on, making it all the way to the edge of the city centre, rushing to a stop as you stared across the abandoned gravel road. There was no one there except you, and you panted, exhausted and head-pounding, as you scolded yourself for such a stupid daydream. The heat had never gotten to you like this before.

It felt so real, him.

“Hey,” a voice greeted, cautiously, from behind you. Your eyes closed, hands clenched at your side, before you turned to face the tentative owner.

“Hey yourself,” you answered, surprising yourself at how civilised and steady your voice sounded to your own ears.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw. It was real after all.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying towards you and letting his bag drop to the ground between the two of you, pulling out a water bottle and holding it out in front of you. A peace offering of sorts.

You only stared at it, like it’d bite you if you got any closer. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s fucking miserable out here.”

The endearment had you flashing your eyes at him, fire or rage or something somehow hotter– the sun had nothing on you in that moment, but he stumbled back, remembering himself.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded between gritted teeth, chin turned up at him.

“Sightseeing,” he said simply with that reaching grin that had you melting years earlier.

You scoffed impatiently. Poppy really had gotten her knack for lying, or royally sucking at it, from him.

“That’s bullshit. Why are you really here?”

There must have been an edge to your voice that had him spilling the truth, because you were stunned when he explained.

“Poppy– you met Poppy?” you asked, forcibly nonchalant, arms no longer dangling stupidly at your side but rather picking at the straps of your dungarees, loose threading growing longer as you pulled at them.

“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” he said, nothing giving away– not in his words, his body language, the look on his face– that he knew. Knew she was his.

He sat on the edge of the pavement, right by your feet, and patted the burning space next to him. You blew at a strand of hair tickling your nose, hating how you listened, even then, and sat right next to him, shoulders brushing the slightest bit and you were scampering to put some more distance between the two of you.

He smirked, quiet, leaning his arms on his bent knees, and his head on top, turned towards you as he watched you fight yourself.

“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, waiting, patient, all things you could never be.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled dryly, accidentally meeting his eyes, Rooster’s smirk deepened, before darting away. “You?”

The mid-afternoon heat bared down on the both of you, colouring your shoulders darker and doing nothing to help the heavy thumping against your skull, like a jackhammer or a fucking normal hammer– whatever. It just hurt bad.

Rooster noticed, silently offering his water to you again which you reluctantly snatched from him, gulping almost half of it down before he decided it was safe to speak.

“Still get migraines from the heat?” he asked, though it was more an observation than a question. You nodded, placing the now-empty bottle between your feet.

“I’m fine, as well. After I left–” you visibly winced, glaring against the rays of the sun as you willed yourself to look anywhere but at him, not when the tips of your ears were burning, ringing, making you dizzy and woozy and about ready to throw up all over your worn boots.

“--I went back to training and was then deployed overseas for a long time. Been training new recruits for the past few years now. It’s–” he stopped, glancing at you momentarily, but decided to continue. “--it’s nice. Feels like I’m moulding them to be better versions than me because I sure wasn’t picture perfect by any means.”

“No, you really weren’t–aren’t–” you agreed, voice barely above a whisper.

“I know I never said sorry, and it seems pointless now but–”

“Bradley,” you said his name and his heart stopped. He was dead and even though it was you that had killed him, right there with your voice alone, it was also only you that could bring him back to life. “I really don’t want to hear this,” you begged, and you never begged– never.

What had he done to you?

“Please, sweetheart–” Again with the nickname. You bristled beside him, standing up all of a sudden as if you were about to run in the opposite direction of his familiar ruggedness. “I need you to hear this, just a second–”

“No– you don’t,” you growled out of frustration, tugging your hair free and pressing your fingertips into your skull, anything to soothe the ache growing there. “--you don’t get to need anything, you, you– fucking prick!”

He said nothing, baffled, shocked, certain nothing he said now would make this situation any better. It was downhill from here.

“You said you loved me– promised me the fucking world and a ring and a life together, and the next morning, you left! You fucking– you left!” You were yelling now, unafraid, unabashed, uncaring if anyone could hear. They couldn’t, and if they could, they wouldn’t clue you in that they were.

The people of this town loved to know the darkest, most confidential secrets of its inhabitants, all without ever showing their face. This wasn’t any different.

“I had to!” he insisted aggressively, pushing off the rubble and invading your personal space, leading you back, back, back– until you hit a wall. You held him at arm's length, hand pressed against his hard chest, holding him there.

If he got any closer– well, if the past was anything to go by, you wouldn’t remember to stay mad long.

“I had to!” Rooster repeated, desperately. You said nothing, so he went on. “I got a letter– they needed me back, I can’t– I can’t tell you why–” You sneered, typical. “--but, I was going to come back. I swear it.”

His breathing was loud, dense in your buzzing ears. It’s just words, nothing but words– you repeated to yourself, over and over again. Bradley stepped back, giving you space and himself, as well. But his despairing stare– it pierced something inside you, something you hadn’t thought was still there.

“I wrote letters,” he stated.

“I know, I got them,” you retorted acridly, slumping into the wall for support.

“You never responded.” Again, stating facts.

“I was busy.” Being pregnant.

He nodded, unable or unwilling, you weren’t sure, to argue. An emptiness stretched between you and him, the kind you don’t think any words, half-hearted i’m sorrys, or passionate confessions could ever fill.

He bent to pick up his backpack. “Is there anything, and I mean anything, I could say to make you forgive me,” he asked, voice dejected and the rest of him following suit.

You shook your head, words failing you.

Rooster, Bradley– he turned to leave, accepting defeat, and something roared in your chest, urging, begging, pleading for you to stop him.

You don’t know why you did it, or how you thought it would ever be even a half-decent idea, but it spilled past your lips before you knew what you were saying, confessing, like a foot jamming between a door, forcing it open for someone, anyone.

Bradley.

“Poppy,” you said, loud enough for him to hear. He stopped but didn’t face you. “Poppy. She’s– she’s yours.”

His bag– the poor thing had been rattled all day– fell off his shoulder, and he spun, in slow motion, questions discernible on his face but struggling to make it out of his mouth. “How– We didn’t– I used–”

“What’s that thing they say– ninety-nine percent effective.” You shrugged blandly. “Guess we were the one percent.

It was strange having a man in the house, but there he was– Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster, sat right at your kitchen table looking a lot like a man you’d once loved but hoped to forget.

There’s this story you loved to tell Poppy when she was young, dealing with the realities of bullies and snarky kids with nothing else to do but poke fun at her absent Father and questionable living circumstances. It was ironic, really, because it wasn’t like they were exactly well off, but kids were mean and you were sick of seeing your daughter upset everyday when there was nothing you could do.

So you told her the story of Pandora’s Box, or Jar, actually, as she corrected you, having read about it in the library but still entirely enchanted by your way of storytelling. It was like letting her in on a secret only grown-ups knew and Poppy was downright bewitched to be a part of the club.

It was never the whole let-out-everything-awful-and-wrong-with-the-world part of the story that was your motivation for telling it, or her love for hearing it, but rather, the ending.

After all the evil, poverty, greed and general nasties had escaped, tainting the world and the humans that inhabited it– out came hope, fluttering on its weak wings but beautiful all the same.

At the time, you’d believed hope to be this beacon of light, something to keep you going when nothing else could, when the bullies had you down bad.

Now, however, you saw hope as a cruel joke.

That after all of this negativity that had made mankind wrought with sin and selfishness, hope lingers about for no reason other than to yank your chain, keep the wheel of capitalism turning, the public nothing but a lot of pigs with hope dangled in front of them like an out-of-reach carrot.

You’d admit it’s a pessimistic take on the story, but it wasn’t long after Poppy was born that you realised hope was a sweet lie fed to the ignorant.

The proof of it sat right in front of you, looking exactly the same except for the way in which his hair tickled the tops of his ears, having grown out from his previous military-ordered buzzcut.

“Can I get you something? Tea? Water?” you asked, words maddeningly courteous as you yanked the fridge door open, searching for something to offer your guest.

He hadn’t said a word since you’d blurted it out an hour ago, instead, guiding him back into town, to your house, Poppy nowhere insight (likely hiding out until she’s certain you’ve cooled down, though unluckily for her, the very sight of her would have you revved up and raging whenever she dared make an appearance).

Rooster stared at a single tile on the opposite end of the kitchen, fixated and motionless like a statue and nothing like the passionate, begging man from earlier.

“Helllooo?” you asked again, waving a hand in front of his face that snapped him from whatever trance he’d been under. He blinked at you, face blank enough to unnerve you. He should’ve said something by now, right?

“Water would be good, thank you,” he answered eventually, hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in years. You nodded, pulling a glass from the cabinet and letting the sink run into it before placing it on the plastic-topped table in front of him.

You sat down on the only other usable chair that happened to be right next to him, the other two with the unstable legs and missing backrests having only been kept to make your kitchen look a little less incomplete.

You both sat in silence, one that seemed just about never ending and had you gnawing on your lips and nails like a mad man. He looked over at you, noting your anxious state, and pulling your hand away from your mouth. It was infuriating, the way he acted like no time had passed.

Well it had if your daughter was any indication. A whole lifetime had come and gone, for you, at least, and he couldn’t ignore it away, not like the rest of his problems or like he’d done with you. You were about to say as much, going off like you’d been itching to since you’d set sights on him, but he beat you to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you didn’t need to see him to hear the distress in his voice, and beneath that, a restrained sort of anger.

“I had nothing to tell,” was all you offered him, and his gaze snapped to you in the blink of an eye, his temper apparent on his features as that one vein at the top of his forehead stood proud, face going scarlet as he held himself back.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spit out, unbelieving. “Nothing to tell?” he repeated. “I have a daughter, for Christ’s sake! One I would’ve loved to know about if you’d done me the courtesy of actually letting me in!”

Your hands clenched into tight fists, fingers twitching. “What? Like you were any better when you up and left?”

He was shaking his head at you, unwilling to hear anything you were saying, and you were no different. “It’s not the same fucking thing, you know that. I had to leave. It’s my job, my duty, to my country and to–”

“Well what about me, huh?” you bellowed, reaching decibels you didn’t think were physically possible. Yet there you were, defying all odds. “What about your duty to me? To us? You promised–”

“I know what I promised you, but how could I give you anything– a life, a home, a family, a future– if I was broke and unemployed. Money doesn’t grow on trees, sweetheart, not here in the real world.”

You couldn’t take it, exploding out of your chair. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, what you’d been through, what you’d fought past. But he followed close behind, grabbed you by your wrist until you had no choice but to face him.

Rooster’s breaths escaped him in hard bursts, and you looked no better with the flush creeping up your neck and the scowl permanently etched to your face.

“That’s pure coming from you, the same man who was throwing away his life to join the army, giving up a paying job, all because his ego wouldn’t let him work for his Dad.”

Bradley recoiled like you’d slapped him.

“You weren’t around to see me working two, sometimes three if I could manage it, jobs– for years, Bradley, years. It was hard, so fucking hard, but I did it because I had someone dependant on me. I wasn’t alone, living like some unattached bachelor. I worked myself to the bone for her– for Poppy.” You were close to sobbing by then, the weight of it all finally registering. “Because if I didn’t, no one would.”

He looked like he wanted to argue more but thought better of it in the end, letting go of his hold on you and moving to lean his forehead against the wall in the living room. You watched, not wanting to move lest he remember you’re still there and end up going for a second round. You couldn’t, yearning for respite of any kind.

And his head turned from where he was, catching the chest of drawers nestled in front of the window with photos of you and Poppy adorning every inch of its surface. He walked over, wordless.

You joined him where he stood, hand brushing against his, by accident, you’d tell yourself later, but when you tried to move away, he slipped his fingers through yours, squeezing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though there was no one else to hear it, no one but you.

You nodded, accepting his apology, then realising he wasn’t looking at you, you said, “Me too. I’m sorry.”

He reached forward, picking up a photo of Poppy at age two, hair in pigtails, chubby knees covered in sand at the beach. It was the first time she’d gone into the water and you wanted to live in that moment forever, freeze it and hold it close to your chest. It had seemed like the biggest milestone at the time, and you remember wishing he was there to treasure it as well.

“I know why you did it,” he admitted, and you faltered from where you stood. “And I’m not going to stand her and pretend like I would have dropped everything, put everything on pause, for the two of you. I can’t guarantee that, knowing who I was back then.” You inhaled shakily, eyes glassy from barely-held-back tears.

Bradley turned to you abruptly, hand sliding out of yours to hold your face instead, close and intimate. Like nothing had changed.

You didn’t fight it, savouring the feeling of being held, of relinquishing control to someone else, if only for a second. “But that’s not who I am anymore. I don’t care about what happened and what didn’t. I’m here now, and, if you’d let me, I’d like to stay. Learn a little more about you, and about– about Poppy, as well.”

You searched his face for any hint of a lie, that innate urge to protect your child at all cost threatening to label Bradley’s confession as pretence. It’d be easier if it was, you thought, if things weren’t so complicated and you could just say no.

But no matter how hard you looked, how long as well, you found nothing, only love and a sincerity you couldn’t possibly fault, even if you were still broken and bruised from years of delayed burn-out.

So you did the only reasonable thing one could do. You nodded, complimenting it with a watery smile he chuckled lowly at.

“Yeah? Gonna take a chance on me, sweetheart?” he asked, needing confirmation but unable to hide his budding rapture.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay, okay. I think– maybe, we can work something out.”

He grinned and fuck– was he a vision. No matter how you framed the past, it was all going to be both of yours’ fault for what happened, and how it did. His for leaving and yours for keeping the child you shared a secret.

And it wasn’t like the road ahead was going to be at all easy, you’d accepted your fate already. But maybe, and you might have been overstepping or consumed by an unexpected wave of euphoria that impaired your judgement– but maybe a family was worth fighting for.

After all, the best things in life, the things truly worth having and celebrating, were never meant to be easily acquired, otherwise you’d just take them for granted.

You didn’t take this for granted, and you didn’t let the hassle deter you.

For the first time in a long time, you had hope, and there was nothing cruel or funny about it.

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roguehongsami · 5 months

Text

Velvet Crowbar | Pt. 3

pairing/s: rockstar!wooyoung x fem!couturier

genre/s: smut, fluff, au

synopsis: 1995. it's been 12 years since you left kialecombe. wooyoung tracks you down, desperate to get you back before your wedding.

content: cheating, unprotected sex (condomize), fingering, oral sex, creampie, (sprinkled)nostalgia.

word count: 3.5k

navigation: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

masterlist here

"Hey, we're Bloodhound and you're not." the man spoke arrogantly, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Y/N switched off the television. Her focus was on the rough sketch she had been working on for a week. The deadline was approaching and she couldn't afford to miss it. It was slowly coming together but still didn't feel right. She let out an exasperated sigh and dropped her pencil on the table. She pushed away from the desk and spun around in her chair, taking in the view of the city skyline. She needed inspiration.

And inspiration she was going to get.

[ . . . ]

"These are the newest addition to the brand." the saleswoman gestured enthusiastically with her hands as she held the shoe. "A suede finish with the brand initials in gold as the heels. It comes in five different colours. What makes this heel special, is that it is the first shoe the CEO has ever designed in her entire career. She primarily focuses on clothing."

Yeosang nodded, having found the perfect gift for his wife. "I'd like them in a size four."

The saleswoman smiled. She instructed Yeosang to wait by the counter, as she went into the storage room to get a box of size four's. She returned with a black box, gold 'Archibald Scott' lettering on top.

Yeosang turned around and called. "Wooyoung, come on."

Wooyoung, who sat on the couch while Yeosang was shopping, walked over and stood beside him. His eye caught the miniature display on the counter. The woman in the picture posing with a bottle of perfume. Her face painted with a nude makeup look, and her nails manicured and decorated with red nail polish. He took the display into his hand, studying the woman's face.

It was now or never.

[ . . . ]

Y/N stepped out of the elevator, heels clinking against the floor tiles as she descended down the steps and marched to her office. No inspiration acquired but only a handbag in hand. Eyes focused on the door that created a buffer between her and the employees, behind came her assistant trying to match her pace.

"There's someone in your office. I told them you're not to be disturbed but they wouldn't–"

Y/N interrupted Cassidy. "That's okay, Cass. You can take the rest of the day off, I think I'm gonna clock off early."

Cassidy stopped in her tracks and returned to her desk. Y/N stood in front of her office door, opening it as her feet led her in. Behind her desk stood a man with black hair, held back by sunglasses. He sported a black leather jacket, black denim jeans and Nike Jordan's. Hands pocketed in his jacket. As she was about to speak, closing the door behind her, he turned around.

The air in the room suddenly became thin, almost losing her breath. "Woo?"

Wooyoung gave her a meek smile. "You are not the same girl I met in '83." he chuckled to himself. "Got time to catch up?"

She stood silently in the middle of the room, unable to move. Unable to find the words to speak. Something in her head suddenly clicked, as if she found the answer to a big question she had been asking herself. Wooyoung moved away from the desk and inched closer to her. As she came out of her trance, she instructed him to sit.

"How have you been doing? It's been a while."

"Twelve years." she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. "I've been doing okay. Just working. What about you? I see things worked out after Velvet Crowbar."

He bowed his head. "I went over to your house after I woke up from my OD. Nurses told me you were the one who found me. When I got there, your mom said you left Kialecombe for good. No matter how much I begged her to, she wouldn't tell me where you moved to. I just wanted to thank you." he looked her in eye. "You gave me a second chance."

"I'm sure anybody would've done the same if they found you." she spoke modestly.

"Yeah, I had nobody after I got kicked out of VC." he let out a shaky breath. "A second too late, I would've died in that room."

She dropped her head, a frown materializing across her face. The image of his unconscious body was still fresh in her memory. The relief she felt when her mother notified her of his condition. Since then, she had solely focused on school and work. Over the years, she saw him on TV. She knew their separation was for the best, she just needed the reassurance that he was doing fine.

He lifted her chin up. "I'm here now, thanks to you." he smiled boyishly. "I couldn't see myself stuck in Kialecombe forever, so I got clean and stayed clean. You remember Yeosang?"

"Dude with the lisp? Always bothered me how he'd say my surname." her eyebrows creased. "He plays drums in your band, right?"

"Yeah, he dropped his nine-to-five when the band finally took off. How'd you know that?"

She gave him a small smile. "I saw you on Headbangers Ball and Unplugged. Bloodhound really gives a good show."

"You listen to my band?" with genuine surprise in his tone.

She playfully shoved his shoulder. "Shut up, Woo. You always knew I was your biggest fan. How'd you even find me?"

"We came to Blue Coast for a break before we resume our tour. I was at one of your stores with a friend– I don't get why you didn't name the brand after yourself." he arched his eyebrows.

"My dad's name has an old money flair to it." she shrugged.

"I found the headquarters' number in the yellow pages, they told me where the big boss can be found."

The tension in the atmosphere eased. His eye caught the white diamond ring on her finger. His heart sank, afraid that he had actually lost her for good. All the work he had put into bettering himself was partially for his own benefit, but mostly so he could be the man Y/N deserved.

He pointed at the rock. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

She looked at the ring and as she was about to speak, her door opened. Her attention now directed to the man entering her office. Wooyoung turned his head, and the look on the man's face replaced with a distasteful one. Wooyoung and Y/N both stood from the couch. Instead of jealousy, Wooyoung was confused. It seems his words never stuck with Y/N as much as he thought they would.

"Wooyoung?" he spoke with an exasperated tone.

"Bradford." Wooyoung deigned, visibly unimpressed.

Y/N walked over to Brady's side and held onto his arm. "Brady and I are getting married in three weeks." she spoke hesitantly.

“I see…” Wooyoung sighed as he shook his head disapprovingly. “It was nice seeing you again, Y/N. I’ll make sure to say goodbye before going back on tour. Also, congratulations.”

Wooyoung strutted past Brady, bumping into his shoulder. He exited the office and once out of earshot, Brady casted Y/N a cold look. She merely rolled her eyes, aware of exactly what he was thinking. Her hands fell from his arm as she walked to her desk. She packed her designs into a cylindrical drawing holder. Handbag in hand and drawing holder nestled under her arm, she beelined to the door.

Brady blocked her path and looked down on her. “What was he doing here?”

“He found my office. Apparently, he was at one of my stores.” she pointed at the door. “Can we go home?”

He made way for her and as she continued her path, he reached for her wrist. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her eyes glanced at his hand then his face. “There’s nothing going on between me and Woo.”

Another late night spent in the office. Lights at every floor were off. From the street, the only lights that shone were on her floor. Office quiet as a grave, all that could be heard was the sound of birds squawking and the occasional helicopter making its nightly rounds around the city.

Slumped back in her chair, head rested against the back and arms laid on the armrest, she felt defeated. Her deadline was fast–approaching and she still had no designs to submit for the next season's line. The sound of nothing was slowly driving her mad. Her frustration worsening, wondering why she did not stick with handling office affairs.

A knock on the door startled her. She sat upright, waiting to hear if there would be another. A slightly more forceful knock followed. She got up from her desk and as she approached the door, she took the baseball bat by the couch. Another knock. As she unlocked the door, turning the knob, she brought the bat over her shoulder.

When she opened the door, there stood Wooyoung holding a paper bag full of takeaways. "I didn't know what you'd want, so I got everything..." he said with bewilderment written all over his face.

Y/N sighed a breath of relief as she stepped away from the door.

"Were you gonna use that on me?" he asked.

She locked the door and followed him to her desk. "You said you had late rehearsals."

He sat in her chair, setting aside her drawings and unpacking the food. "I finished at seven and came by. Saw your lights were on, so I left to go get food." he shrugged. "You had dinner yet?"

She tossed the bat on the couch and sat on the desk, beside Wooyoung. "I haven't eaten since morning."

After getting cornered by Brady, Wooyoung knew he could not see Y/N without her fiancé intercepting every meeting. He acquired her personal number from Cassidy, the assistant. It took a lot of convincing before she gave in. Since then, they had been meeting only when she worked late nights. Brady was completely in the dark.

Oblivious, Y/N was under the impression that he just wanted to catch up. They only had regular conversations about normal things, with Wooyoung occasionally asking about her future with Brady. An unintentional slip of the tongue informed Wooyoung that her relationship wasn't as exciting as it was in the beginning, and that she hoped that getting married would liven things up.

Her mishap was his ticket back in.

"Any luck with your designs?" he said, rubbing her bare knee.

She shook her head.

He planted his hands on her thighs, his head bowed down. "Most people revisit their past when they need inspiration."

He looked up to meet her eyes. She took in a deep breath and released a shaky one. Something about that statement did not sit well with her. It wasn't the literal sentence, but its insinuation. He inched closer to her face, standing between her legs. She leaned back a bit to create distance. His hands on her lower back, he reeled her back in.

Trailing kisses along her jaw to her neck, her body stiffened. Too conflicted to make a decision. What she wants or what she deserves? He was pushing her to choose the former. Slow steady breaths to calm her nerves. She needed to bring herself back down to earth and buck up. She grabbed his arms and as she began pushing him, his grip around her waist tightened.

He leaned into her ear and chimed, "When was the last time you and Brady had sex?" he pulled back to see her face. "Don't be shy, tell me."

Flustered, her hands fell to the table. In a whisper, she said, "Two months ago."

It wasn't the wedding planning. It wasn't her job. She had not been in the mood for a while. Aphrodisia was second nature to her and its absence was dispiriting. Unable to pinpoint the source of her sexual stupor, she just chalked it up to age. She just didn't have it like she used to, maybe.

He glanced down at her engagement ring. His hand stroked her arm, eventually sliding the ring off and tucking it away in her desk drawer. Lips locked with one another and inhibitions cast away, she gave in. She knew it was wrong but it's easier to beg for forgiveness than to actually dig for the actual problem and abate it. His hands slid under her skirt and tugged at the hems of her underwear.

Breaking the kiss, he said, "You know I still-"

"Don't." she cut him off. "I'm getting married in two weeks, don't make this any more complicated than it already is."

Reluctantly, he obliged, seizing the conversation. He pulled off her underwear. Separating her folds, he slid one finger in. Thrusting in and out. She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her head back. He went down on his knees, her legs thrown over his shoulders and hands gripping her thighs, he lapped her up and tickled her bud with his tongue. A breathy moan filled the room.

As his pace increased, he stretched her out to get her ready. Three fingers and ten minutes later, the sound of Wooyoung slurping and Y/N cursing between moans was all that could be heard. He stood up and brought her into a kiss. Her hands were fumbling with his belt but she eventually undid it. He unbuttoned her blouse and unclasped the front of her bra, freeing her breasts.

She pulled his jacket and shirt off, throwing them on the ground. Her lips left trails of wet kisses all over his chest, suckling and nibbling at the skin on his neck. Rouge materialising. He dropped his pants as they pooled around his legs. She went in for a kiss. As he slid into her, she moaned into his mouth. A proud grin forming on his lips. He started with soft, slow thrusts. Easing her into the moment. As he picked up speed and force, he laid her on her back.

His fingers toying with her bud, her brain was fogging. She could not recall the last time she enjoyed sex this much. It had become a chore. Her hands toyed with her breasts, Wooyoung removing her hands from her chest.

"Let me watch..." he spoke, breathlesly.

Sweat beads were forming on his forehead, a combination of their bodies radiating and the raised summer temperatures. One leg over his shoulder and another around his waist, he reached in to grab the back of her neck.

"He doesn't fuck you this good, does he?" he grunted, smacking the side of her thigh.

"Brady could never." she lambasted in a moan.

Wooyoung suddenly stopped. He brought her to her feet then bent her over the desk. With one leg on the desk, he went back in. At this angle, silence was not a given. Moans mixed with cries, and grunts mixed with groans. They could only wish for this to go on forever. Consistent with the pace, he pulled off her blouse and bra. Her hands pressed firm against the desk surface for balance, he toyed with her nipples as he nipped the skin on her shoulder.

She clamped around him, feeling pressure build up in her stomach. How she missed that knotting sensation. He felt the squeeze of his cock, making him move erratically inside her. The warmth and friction of it all drove him to unadulterated insanity. He held her bare back flush against his chest, needing every bit of skin contact he could acquire.

"Woo, faster." she moaned, one hand on the desk and the other holding on to his neck.

Not a second later, he was thrusting as fast as he could. They braced themselves for a simultaneous release, it was fast-approaching. Both came undone. Wooyoung was thrusting all the discharge deep inside her until he stilled. His head rested on her shoulder, catching a breath, and her head hung. He slowly pulled out of her, bits of cum sliding down her thigh. He grabbed a tissue from her desk, and wiped her down.

They got dressed in silence. Not an awkward one. They were reflecting on where their relationship went wrong, and how they got to that point. The chemistry was still there, but so were obstacles. Y/N felt as if she had a promise to fulfill with her engagement. She couldn't turn back now. And Wooyoung, nothing he could say would change her mind. She was determined to walk down that aisle.

What she deserved outweighed what she desired.

Yet she expressed no remorse for what she had just done.

"Just think about what I said, okay?" he pecked her on the lips. "Revisit the past."

[ . . . ]

After spending the whole night in the office, no ideas coming to light, she stepped into her penthouse. She put her handbag down on the kitchen island. Brady's gym bag was still in the kitchen. She went on a path to her bedroom. In her walk-in closet, she found an old miniature chest with memorabilia. She sat on the bed as she went through some of the artifacts.

Her late father's watch.

Her mother's locket, which was passed down to her by her mother, Mrs. Rhodes.

Polaroids of her adolescent days. At the country club with her parents. Making clothes in the atelier. Moments of her dancing on tables and headbanging. Sitting on the roof of an abandoned bus with Murphy and Seonghwa. Her and Wooyoung wearing battle vests and matching Judas Priest tees at a show, their first date. She took a few more moments looking.

Truly the happiest time of her life.

She left the open chest and polaroids on the bed, stepping into the bathroom for a shower. As the water ran, Brady came in and took note of the items on the bed. He picked up the polaroids and studied the one with Wooyoung. Aggravated that she would keep it, he counted to a hundred in his head to calm himself.

Freshly cleaned, she returned and saw Brady holding her belongings. "Morning sweetie. How'd you sleep?"

He mustered up a halfhearted smile. "Just fine but the bed felt empty without you." he leaned in for a kiss. "What are these?"

"Stuff from high school. I think I know what my next line is gonna be."

She went to bed after chitchatting with Brady, getting some shut-eye before resuming her work. She spent the day at home, drawing multiple designs. They all came so easy. Late afternoon and already down to seven designs. She stopped once she felt she had enough ideas and packed her drawings into the holder.

At any moment, Brady was going to step into their home. Dinner was prepared and the table was set. She changed into a loose sweatshirt and sweatpants. Watching the television, the elevator announced Brady's arrival as he stepped out. Sauntering to the couch and pecking her on the forehead, he greeted her and went off to change.

At the dinner table, Brady put forward, "So, where's your ring?"

Y/N choked on her broth. "Oh..." she wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked down at her hand. "It kept getting caught in my blouse so I put it in my drawer." she looked him in the eye. "It's at work."

Her heart was thumping violently against her chest. A momentary lapsus memoriae, nearly outing her. She was lucky to be able to come up with an excuse so fast. The last time she was cornered, the lie got caught in her throat and found herself stuttering a single letter.

Brady nodded and continued eating his food. Eventually, they cleared the dinner table. Cuddled on the couch watching Universal Soldier. Y/N drifted off to sleep on Brady's chest. The phone on the coffee table rang. He picked it up and put it to his ear.

"Yes?" he spoke.

"Hey Bradford, are you busy, like right now?" the woman on the other end said.

"Hey Pari, what's up?"

"I have something you need to see. Come to my office, immediately." the line died.

Brady was careful not to wake her, laying her down on the couch and propping her head up with pillows. He got dressed and rushed out of the penthouse. His car was parked outside the Blue Coast Times office. He signed in at reception and stood in the elevator, waiting to reach the top floor. He reached Pari's door. A silver plate me this eyes; Pari Yadav – Editor In Chief.

He knocked on the door twice before Pari opened. She instructed him to sit as she sat across from him. On her desk was a brown envelope. She slid it over to him. His eyebrows creased down the middle, glancing at the envelope then at Pari.

"What is this?" he spelled out as he opened the envelope.

Inside, there were multiple pictures. His eyes studied every picture intently, soaking up the events captured. He sighed, disappointed but not surprised. It was the most defeated he had ever felt. Quick to wipe away the tears that had fallen on his cheeks, he put the pictures back in the envelope. He knew if he went ahead with their pending marriage, he'd always be second priority.

Pari leaned forward in her chair. "I won't run the story. Nobody needs to know about this, I'll tell my journalists to back off."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you, Pari. But I think I have a better idea." he released a deep breath. "What are you doing on the eighteenth?"

taglist (green highlight = can't tag):

@tinybada @yeosangsbbg @staytiny816

PART 4, READ HERE.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #roguehongsami

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moodymisty · 1 year

Note

Hi ! I hope you're having a great day/night and I was wondering if I could place a request of maybe Crosshair wanting to have kids with reader (female reader if possible)/having a slight baby fever after seeing her interact with Omega a lot ? Have a good day/night ! ❤️

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 2

Author's Note: This took a bit of finagling to try and get a scenario that would work timeline wise, I will admit. But then I just said 'fuck it' AU time. So 'Crosshair doesn't leave the batch' AU it is. l I kept this one SFW just cause that's how I read the request, but if you want the spice, you're always welcome to throw in another request sometime ;3

This one got a little fru fruy and poetic, so if you just want the sauce, I can cook some up

Summary: Crosshair sees how good you are with Omega, and thinks of a future that's rare, but not impossible.

Relationships: Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: SFW, Mentions of having kids, tokophobia warning (trying take sure this gets hit by peoples blacklist if they don't like this sort of thing I know it's not everyone's cup of tea), Crosshair longing and thinking of his future with you, Treating Omega as a like pseudo-adopted kid give this kid parental figures lol

Hyperspace might be the perfect time to get things done- but to Crosshair, it's dreadfully boring.

The ship sails through the stars with a monotonous hum, putting anyone of a less overactive mind to sleep a long time ago. Wrecker is snoring away, a forearm over his eyes. Hunter isn't asleep, but he's relaxing, as is Tech. Which means more so that he's tinkering on a personal project, instead of needed repairs. Echo is resting his eyes- Crosshair can tell by the rhythm of his chest he isn't asleep.

You're nowhere to be seen however, though it's obvious where you are, as he looks to his right towards the cockpit.

He can see the top of your head in the co-pilot's seat, as your head is clearly leaned onto your left shoulder. You must've fallen asleep, as you don't move at all in the few seconds he looks. Getting up off the storage crate he was relaxing on, crosshair makes his way closer until he steps between the seats, and looks down on you.

And Omega, as he quickly notices.

She's sitting sideways in your lap, and you have her loosely supported with one arm over her knees and the other behind her back. Her cheek is smushed against your arm, and the both of you are completely asleep.

It's... Endearing. Crosshair hasn't really seen you this relaxed in, well, he can't exactly remember. Life hasn't been easy, since everything. The two of you have seemed to go with the flow perfectly so far, even after everything that's been thrown at everyone so far. Especially you; As while they were all used to the chaos, you weren't.

He slowly lowers himself into the pilot's seat, trying not to make a sound. But just as he finally settles, he notices your head shift. Not long after, you open your eyes. They almost instantly settle on him, looking over his body as he sits ankle over thigh in the seat. You swallow your mouth dry, blurry sight focusing.

"How long was I asleep?" He glances to you out of the corner of his eyes.

"Don't worry about it." He hears you softly exhale. "I wasn't asking because I wanted to get up."

Omega remains asleep even through your quiet talking, establishing that she's clearly a heavier sleeper than you. But even if Crosshair still doesn't speak up again for awhile, watching the stars streak by the viewport. When he glances back over to the two of you, he notices the way you're brushing a piece of Omega's hair out of her face.

The two of you have been stuck like glue since first meeting, and even someone far denser than Crosshair wouldn't have much trouble seeing it. He can't really put a word to how the sight makes him feel. It's not bad, not in the slightest. It makes his chest hurt in a similar way it did when he would watch the cities bustle with life while they were locked away for later use in clone bases.

Longing?

"You're good with her." He mumbles, jerking his head your way. You shrug your shoulders.

"Hard not to be. She's a good kid."

He doesn't exactly have much of a gauge of what makes a 'good kid'. All he's even spoken to was clone cadets, neck deep in training.

But you look so, natural with her. Omega seems to be so comfortable with you, and maybe in a way, she sees you as a parent. She seems to think that way about Hunter, Echo too; He kind of wonders how she views him.

She almost always views the two of you as a unit, as even in a small ship you and Crosshair are rarely apart. Does she view him the same as you?

He never even thought he'd get the chance to even think about those sorts of things, until he met you. But even then, he never wanted them. Kriff, if it hadn't messed with the early clone tests brains so much, the Kaminoans would've made sure they'd never have the chance. But would he even be able? He went from test tube to battlefield, how can that raise a kid?

But for all of his rough and gruff, he wouldn't mind giving it a shot with you. You'd help him in the spots that need work. He'd help with yours, even if he doesn't think there is any. If Omega is any indicator, you'd be the perfect parent.

How'd he get so stupidly lucky? This all feels like a dream sometimes. He feels like having a child with you would be like rolling the dice yet again and risking losing every good thing he's manage to win. But gods, does he want it.

"Crosshair?" He looks up, and sees you staring at him. Your eyebrows are raised, almost suspicious.

"You good? You look lost." He doesn't respond, instead looking away from a moment. He's trying to think of a way to word his thoughts, but Omega stirs before he has the chance. He probably wouldn't be able to word them in any way that made sense, anyhow.

"Hmm?" She rubs her one eye, looking up at you before turning awkwardly to see Crosshair. He wasn't there when she'd fallen asleep.

"How long was I asleep?" You respond as Crosshair moves to stand. "Not that long. I just woke up too."

Standing right beside your seat he lays an arm on the headrest, leaning downward. He can see all the little imperfections on your face, as you look at up at him and habitually smile. He'll never get over how it seems like the sight of him makes you happier. He feels the same, even if he doesn't show it in the same way.

"Should get out of that seat before you ruin your back." It's true; The way you've been tucked in is horribly uncomfortable, but you aren't going to abandon it right at this moment.

After talking Crosshair leans down just a bit farther, enough to steal a kiss. His lips are nice and warm against yours; Soft, gentle pressure as his nose brushes against your cheek. Afterwards he plops a hand on Omega's head, ruffling her hair before running it down her face and squishing it as she lets out an irritated noise, slapping it away.

He hears the two of you quietly snicker as he walks out of the cockpit, moving to sit on his bunk and take off his boots. The two of you are mumbling about something, and he hears his name mentioned once or twice. He can't help but take another glance and see what the two of you are up to, and while he won't join, he'll enjoy the sound.

Maybe once this is all over, Crosshair can finally enjoy the pitter patter of small feet he always heard the holo-dramas talk about himself.

Join the taglist here: @seriowanwan @starborncyare @simp-legend @nekotaetae @chad-somethingg @coffeyorky @merkitty49 @lokigirlszendaya @totesnothere04 @get-wr3ckered @rebel-finn @mandoloriancookie @therealnekomari @loverofclones @notthatfanfictionwriterr @lucyysthingsgs @jennrosefx @fxlsealarm @crosshairs-wife @sinfulsalutations @Rennyboo9

#the bad batch crosshair x reader #Crosshair/Reader #crosshair x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #crosshair x you #reader insert #reader #mywriting #tokophobia #pregnancy

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autumnshighlady · 2 months

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 21)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: plans become finalized, and you finally get a moment alone with Nesta and Eris.

warnings: graphic violence, misogyny, ANGST ANGST ANGST

word count: 7.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: i genuinely hate how i wrote this chapter it disgusts me so i apologize for how terrible it is but let me know your thoughts as always!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20

read on ao3

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The venison was tasteless in your mouth as you pushed your food around the golden plate. Beside you, Malgorm was already on his second helping, the juice from the meat dripping down his chin, and you tried not to cringe.

After Rhysand had left, Beron had ordered you, Malgorm, Nesta, and Eris to join him and the Lady of Autumn for lunch. Even though your stomach churned at the idea of consuming food after the anxiety of Rhys’s visit, you had simply smiled and said it would be an honour. Beron had offered you his arm, ordering you to walk with him to the dining hall. Keeping up the facade, you had once again gone along with it with a smile.

Beron’s moods gave you whiplash. When you had last seen the High Lord, he was ready to toss your body back over the Autumn Court border. He had not cared if you had lived or died, but something had changed. The way he defended you against Rhysand, treating you like his own daughter that he genuinely loved, unsettled you. It was an act so convincing that part of you wanted to believe it was real. But you weren’t stupid, you knew better. Beneath the surface, there was something evil and cunning behind his actions.

There was always an ulterior motive with Beron, that much you had been told by Eris. But if Beron had married you to Malgorm with the hopes that his second youngest son would eliminate you from his list of problems, then why bother being so nice to you?

For a split second, your eyes had met Eris’s as you took his father’s arm. Panic flickered across his amber gaze before slipping away. That look haunted you as you walked – why was Eris so afraid? Even you knew that Beron wasn’t about to strike you down at that moment.

A thousand questions and thoughts swarmed your head as you ate. With a hearty sip of wine, you forced yourself to pay attention to the conversation at the table.

“The Lords from the remaining cities will be here in three days' time for the wedding,” Eris was saying to Beron. “Extra servants have been brought to the guest house to ensure all their needs are met.”

Beron spoke between bites, not bothering to look at his son. “And the wine storages are fully stocked?”

“Of course. I had extra barrels brought in just in case.”

The High Lord simply made a noise of what you assumed to be satisfaction. He turned towards you, those cunning eyes meeting yours. You fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “Are you looking forward to your wedding, girl?” He asked. The question was pointed – phrased politely enough to not raise questions but there was a challenge underlying his voice. Beron was not an idiot, it was clear he had figured out you knew exactly what kind of male Malgorm was. Every wince in your movement had been noticed by the High Lord, it seemed. As he now dared you to protest the engagement.

The true Beron Vanserra seeping through the strained mask of a loving father.

But you did not give in. “Of course, my Lord,” You dipped your head politely. “It is an honour I could have only dreamed of. I look forward to being wed to your son.”

The High Lord pressed further, as if to urge a stronger reaction out of you. “Is it the wedding you always dreamed of having?”

“Not particularly. But only because I never thought I would be lucky enough to be engaged into someone of such royal status. Nor did I expect it to be a Lord of the Autumn Court. But this wedding is better than anything I could have ever hoped for as a child, and I thank you, High Lord.” A blend of truth and lies, the sweet spot to dealing with Beron Vanserra, as Eris had once told you. You could never outright lie to the male, for he had a talent of seeing right through it. Beron narrowed his eyes for a second, but thankfully did not press you further. Instead, he turned back to Eris. “Once Malgorm’s wedding is over, we will keep the staff for the next month to prepare for your wedding to Nesta. No use spending more gold sending them home only to have to bring them back two weeks later.”

Eris nodded. “An excellent idea, my Lord.”

As the eldest Vanserra discussed more details of the weddings with his father, you snuck a glance at Nesta. She sat across from you, eyes darting between her unfinished plate of food and the conversation between Eris and Beron. She sat stiffer than normal, as if being in close proximity to Eris was too much for her. Thankfully, no scent of the mating bond hung in the air between them, or between you and her, hiding this larger than life secret from Beron.

More than anything, you wanted to go over to her. To sit next to Nesta and hold her hand, leaning into the comfort of her presence. It chipped away at your heart having to act so distant from the female, your mate. It was a hard act to keep up, and you didn’t know how Eris had survived for so long pretending to be so detached.

For the first time in days, you reached down through the bond towards Nesta. You did so as subtly as possible, as to not elicit any sort of reaction from her that might draw attention. On her end of the bond, it was as if a wall of storm clouds were surrounding her. You could feel her turmoil, a whirlwind of emotions so strong it nearly sent you back down to your end of the bond.

But you stayed, gently pressing into the thick wall on her end, urging her to let you in. At first, they did not give, shutting you out and preventing you from feeling her through the bond. Please, you begged her silently. And then you felt the clouds soften, allowing you to push through into the centre, towards the end of the bond. Instantly, you began to feel better, your nerves soothing as the bond warmed and brought you comfort.

But then you felt Nesta’s emotions through the bond. It took everything in you not to flinch as you stood in the eye of her hurricane. It was too loud, as if a thousand different voices were screaming at her at once. Guilt, anger, confusion, all crashing into her like the tidal waves of a raging sea. Yet none of it showed on her face, as if her emotions were not even there. You caressed her end of the bond, feeling the storm slow ever so slightly. It will be ok, you reassured her.

You saw Nesta’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and it took all your self control to go back to your end of the bond. You wanted to keep your mind huddled in there, soothing her and turning those grey clouds into distant memories. But you couldn’t, not with Beron there.

The sound of footsteps dragged your attention away from Nesta. A male in courtier attire appeared, bowing low and apologising for the interruption before insisting the Vanserra’s accompany him to attend to an urgent matter. Beron seethed, angry at being disturbed at meal time, but Eris spoke quickly. “Of course, we will see to it right away.”

Malgorm, Lirilla, Beorn, and Eris all stood up and began to follow the male, speaking in hushed voices leaving you and Nesta alone at the table. As the doors closed behind them, you peaked around at the ten guards in the room. No doubt they reported you and Nesta’s every move to Beron, making you unable to speak freely. Gods, it had been so long since you had a moment alone with Nesta. You had barely seen her in the last week with the wedding planning.

After a few minutes of silence, Nesta finally spoke. “So, are you being kept busy with wedding preparations?” Her voice sounded forced and awkward, confusing you until you heard her speak a second time, but into your mind through the bond. The guards are listening. Keep talking about the wedding.

You cleared your throat, straightening your spine. “Yes, very much so. The different cake varieties I sampled were incredible. Would you like to hear about them? You’ll likely be presented with the same options in a few weeks.” Are you ok?

“Do tell.” Are you? Azriel told us about what Malgorm did to you.

You barely heard yourself rambling on about various aspects of the wedding as you continued your mind speaking conversation with Nesta. Yes. No. I’m not sure. Things with him are already bad, and I’ve been told it’ll get worse once the wedding happens.

Like we said, we won’t let that happen.

Are you sure? Nesta blinked at your words. Because as much as everyone’s telling me I’m not allowed to know anything about your plan to stop the wedding and kill Beron, it really just seems like you have nothing.

She did not respond. A chilly gust of wind seeped in through the cracked windows, unyielding against the blazing fires meant to keep the room warm. The candles flickered, and neither of you moved as you stared at each other. Well? You asked her. Am I wrong?

It’s not that. Nesta said, her blue-grey eyes going down to gaze upon the intricate designs of the table cloth. Eris, Azriel and I are at a disagreement about how to handle the situation. Eris and Azriel believe… Her voice in your head faded off like a song carried by the wind.

You gulped, swallowing the lump in your throat. Well?

Nesta’s solemn gaze met yours. Eris and Azriel believe the best way to end the engagement is to kill Malgorm. And to frame you for it.

Your stomach dropped. You knew Eris was cutthroat and bold with his schemes, but this? This felt like a setup. Your trust with Eris had waxed and waned in the years you had known him, and since your arrival in Autumn he had done nothing to make you believe that he would betray you.

But if he was mated to Nesta as well, perhaps he did not want to share his mate. A mating bond affected males deeply, that much you knew. You willed your panicked breaths to cease as Nesta continued mind speaking. Eris would be the one to find you over Malgorm’s body and take you to the dungeons. That would lure Beron down for an interrogation, where I would be waiting with Eris to kill him. Eris claims that the shock of a bride killing her suitor before the wedding would be something Beron would want to keep under wraps, so he would be more likely to come to deal with the situation alone without letting the word get out that you were supposedly the one to kill Malgorm.

So you’d use me as bait? Your throat was dry, stomach resisting the urge to hurl up lunch’s contents.

Silver fire flickered beneath Nesta’s eyes. Absolutely not. That is where we disagree. I am not willing to let you be put in this position. Too many things can go wrong.

I’ll do it.

Nesta’s slender hand curled tighter around her goblet of wine. No you will not. I wasn’t even supposed to tell you about this plan, (Y/N). Because this is exactly what Eris said you’d do.

So you’d rather me not have a choice, just like you didn’t have a choice either when you were shipped off to the House of Wind?

Your mate flinched as if she had been struck. Part of you regretted your words, but the other part didn’t. Nesta was being blinded by fear for your safety, as any good mate would. You knew it was unfair to compare the two very different situations, but that didn’t change how you felt. Nesta, I’ve had all of my choices ripped away from me these last few weeks. You know damn well how that feels. Please. As my mate, let me do this. Let me have this be my choice.

Her face softened slightly, contemplating your words. She sighed, pretending to fiddle with the hem of her sleeve as her voice sounded in your head again. Funny. Eris knew you’d say that too, if you found out. Something tells me the slippery bastard was banking on me telling you so he didn’t have to. I don’t think he wants to piss you off.

You chuckled into your wine as you took a sip. So, how do you plan on killing my beloved fiancée? Beheading? Death by glorious silver fire? Being fed to the dogs?

Believe me. After what Malgorm did to you, Eris wants nothing more than to make a public spectacle of his suffering. But we will have to be quick and discreet, lest we draw attention to ourselves. And it has to look like you did it, not us.

How will that work?

We’re still figuring out the details.

You folded your hands in your lap, taking a deep breath as you decided to finally address the elephant in the room. So… you and Eris?

Nesta stiffened visibly, her voice quieter in your head as if she was pulling back. I don’t want to talk about it.

Nes, please. We don’t have to talk about it right now but… but I need to hear it from you, not Azriel. Please, just tell me… is it true that a bond snapped between you and Eris?

A moment of silence before her answer. Yes.

Ok.

Ok? That’s it?

Well what do you expect me to say?

I don’t know. It feels strange, having more than one bond. It’s as if I am being unfaithful to you. Aren’t you supposed to be mad?

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, stabbing a piece of broccoli on your plate harder than necessary. Azriel asked me the same damn thing. And I’ll tell you what I told him: no, I am not mad. No, I am not jealous or hurt. Hell, I feel like I should be, but I’m not. I see no reason why potentially being loved by more than one person is a bad thing when it hurts nobody.

But things have… happened between us. A faint blush crossed Nesta’s cheeks. Things I don’t just want to forget and let go of.

You remembered her words to you, those six words that made up the phrase you replayed in your head over and over again every day after Nesta was brought back from her hike with Cassian. It’s you. It’s always been you.

She had never explicitly said it, but Nesta loved you. And you loved her. No amount of mating bonds would change that.

And you don’t have to. Your hands tingled with the urge to reach across the table and entangle your fingers in her own. I certainly won’t. We can figure out what all of this means for us once things settle down, ok?

A hint of a smirk crossed Nesta’s lips. Remember that day after the Prison where you helped me bathe?

You were naked in front of me and I was too nervous to look because I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. Of course I remember.

There was a haunted glaze over her eyes that replaced the playful one. You’re so different from Cassian. He… he always wanted to fuck me in those moments where I was vulnerable. And I wanted it too, but…

You finished her sentence for her. But he should have known better.

You felt something warm around your ankle. It was gentle, and you knew if you looked under the table and beneath your skirt you would have seen a silver flame there. It was electrifying, but not burning – a soft caress of reassurance.

The sound of the doors opening snapped you out of your trance. A pissed-off looking Beron entered the room, his sons behind him with their heads low. Lirilla was nowhere to be seen.

You and Nesta quickly stood up, curtseying at the Vanserra’s. The atmosphere in the room tensed with their arrival, Beron’s anger casting a dark cloud over everything like the comings of a thunderous storm. His face was twisted with mal contempt as he resumed his seat at the head of the table, delving back into his food without giving the nod for the rest of the lunch party to sit down as well. The sound of the High Lord’s noisy eating echoed throughout the room. You clasped your hands together, impatiently wanting to sit back down.

After what seemed like forever, Beron finally nodded, urging the rest of you to finally take your seats. Malgorm reached behind you to pull out your chair, his hand conveniently brushing your backside along the way. It took every ounce of self control you had to not glare at him. He snickered as you stiffened at his actions.

“Father,” Eris spoke up smoothly. “Lady (Y/N) and Lady Nesta have finished their meals, and I believe you and my dear brother still have wedding matters to discuss. If it pleases you, I can escort both of them back to their chambers.”

Malgorm’s thin upper lip curled, eyes flashing with anger identical to Beron’s as he challenged his brother. “I can escort my own fiancée.”

Eris scoffed. “I saw you groping her ass just now. I do not think I can trust you to bring her back to her room without soiling her before the wedding.”

You cringed at his language, speaking of you as if you were a shiny new object. Females here were treated just as badly as in the Court of Nightmares. It would be hard for Eris to convince them to change their ways, and you doubted he would be able to do so without bloodshed. You wanted more than anything to make Autumn Court safe enough for Gwyn and Emerie to be brought here, along with any female who sought a better life.

“You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do with my wife, brother.” Malgorm snarled viciously, causing you to flinch.

“Silence!” Beron seethed. Malgorm’s eyes still burned with anger, but he clenched his jaw shut at his father’s orders. “Eris may not be able to tell you what to do, but I can. Eris is right – if you cannot be trusted to keep your cock in your pants, then you are not to be alone with your bride until after the wedding. She is to remain pure and untouched until you are married, am I clear, Malgorm?”

Malgorm sighed. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Then consider the matter closed.” Beron motioned for another glass of wine to be poured. “Eris, escort the females back to their respective chambers. Now.”

Eris nodded hastily, offering Nesta his arm as they both stood up. When they reached your side of the table, you took Eris’s other arm. His expression was unreadable as he led you away from the table, heavy doors closing behind you.

*********************

The three of you walked back to your bedroom in silence. Guards and servants hastily parted ways as you strode through the winding hallways. Eris held his head high, the perfect portrait of an arrogant eldest son. You wondered how many of the servants reported to Eris or Lirilla rather than Beron.

Autumn truly was a court of spiderwebs, each one carefully woven by each player of their own game. Unless you knew for sure who was loyal to who, nobody could be trusted.

You relaxed when you saw Saeros and Ivar posted outside your door. They nodded to Eris ever so slightly, a reassuring sign that they wouldn’t repeat whatever they overheard. Beron’s eldest son ushered you and Nesta into your room, and only when the door closed and locked behind you did you let out a breath.

“We may speak freely here.” Eris said, igniting a small flame on his fingertip. He flicked his hand, casting it into the fireplace. A soft orange flow filled the room, chasing away some of the damp chill.

You kicked off your shoes and sat down in the middle of your bed, sighing against the soft pillows. You rubbed your temples, feeling the mattress sink beside you as Nesta joined you. Her comforting scent calmed you, and you finally reached down and entwined your fingers in hers. Warmth swelled in your chest through the bond, relief of finally having physical contact with your mate. Nesta’s gaze softened, her blue-grey eyes finally free of their cold mask. She squeezed your hand comfortingly, her free hand coming up to brush a lock of hair out of your face.

“So, (Y/N),” Eris drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the tall bedpost. “Shall I challenge you to a blood duel for the hand of our mate?”

You felt Nesta stiffen beside you, and you shot a death glare at the Prince. “That’s not fucking funny, Eris.” You snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on (Y/N). It is a little funny, you have to admit. The female we both wanted to save from being swallowed by Rhysand’s dreadful court just happens to be both our mate? I find great irony in that, don’t you?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an insensitive asshole?” You shot back. Beside you, Nesta’s lips twitched ever so slightly as if she were fighting off a chuckle.

“Oh, plenty. But it sounds so much better when you say it.” Eris purred. “Besides, I’m a very sensitive male. I got you guys your alone time at the table earlier, didn’t I?”

Nesta spoke up, confusion lacing her voice. “You planned that?”

Eris sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. “Your surprise wounds me, my love. Of course I planned it. With a bit of help from a certain shadowsinger in creating a distraction to pull my father away from his favourite meal.”

“You certainly have a lot of tricks up your sleeve.” You muttered, the heat from the fire finally beginning to warm you up. Nesta leaned closer into you, her arm grazing yours as she settled into the cushions.

The Autumn Prince smirked. “Always. Now, the elephant in the room is that (Y/N) and I are both mated to Nesta. However, that does not matter until we can end your engagement to Malgorm. But for the sake of efficiency, shall we put all discussions of mating bonds on pause for now while we figure out what to do about my brother?”

“Please.” You spoke at the same time Nesta said, “I would love nothing more.”

“Perfect. Now, I trust Nesta told you about how much she disagrees with mine and Azriel’s plan?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did. And naturally, she was on board.”

Eris clasped his hands together smugly. “Good girl,” He said as he smirked at you. “I was right. Admit it, Nesta.”

“I’d rather stick pins in my eyes, thanks.” Nesta said dryly. You snorted at the deadpan tone of her voice.

“But they’re such pretty eyes.” Eris protested before continuing in a more serious manner. “Anywho, as I predicted, you are willing to play a role in this, correct, (Y/N)?”

You shifted against the pillows, nervous at the idea of the plan. But you forced your voice to be even as you said, “If you mean am I willing to be Malgorm’s bait, yes.”

“Make no mistake, I do not like it either. But as I am sure Nesta explained to you, framing you for his death would force my father to come deal with the matter personally. By having you chained up in the dungeons as evidence, it is more believable. Then, Nesta and I can kill him.”

“Why do your plans always involve me in chains?” You sighed.

Eris’s voice was like pure silk as he replied, “Maybe I just like the way you look tied up.”

“Eris.” Nesta growled, her voice low with warning. You couldn’t tell which your heart was fluttering from more – Nesta’s veiled protectiveness, or Eris’s flirtatious remark.

The Prince continued as if he had not heard her. “But yes, chains are a little extreme even for my taste. I will not lie to you, there are huge risks involved with this plan. And I promised Nesta I would be transparent with you. In order for it to be believable, you have to be there when Malgorm dies. And if you were without injury, my father would see right through it.”

Your mouth dried up at his words. As if sensing that, Nesta clamped her hand even tighter around yours. Her lips were drawn in a thin disapproving line, and you could feel her distaste for the plan through the bond. Even though it was written all over her face.

“So you’re going to let Malgorm beat me up a bit first?” You asked, swallowing the dread that was building up in your throat.

The look on Eris’s face was one of remorse, an expression you had not seen him wear before. “That’s the only way it’ll work, my dear.” He said softly. “My father needs to be able to smell Malgorm’s touch on you. Feigning injuries will not work in this case. The evidence of a struggle needs to be real.”

“Stop.” Nesta hissed at Eris. “We can’t do this. I will not stand by and let my mate get hurt by that male.”

“Nesta,” You said quietly, and her head turned back towards you. “He already has hurt me. After everything I’ve… after all that’s happened I can take it. I promise.”

“Besides, we will be right there in the shadows. We will not let anything terrible happen to you. You have my word.” Eris added in an attempt to ease Nesta’s worries.

“Please.” Nesta’s voice was breaking barely above a whisper as she spoke to you, desperation in her grey eyes. “You have already sacrificed enough for all of this. I will support your decision but… please, don’t do this. We can find another way.”

You smiled sadly, cupping her cheek with your free hand and letting her lean into your touch. “We both know this is the only option. It’s okay, I can do this. Let me do this so we can finally be free of Beron and Malgorm.”

Nesta closed her eyes and sighed, but nodded. Gingerly, she grabbed your hand that was cupping her cheek and pulled it away. She pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it before entwining her fingers in your own. “Okay.” She said softly. “I trust you.”

Eris coughed, forcing you to break your gaze away from Nesta and focus back on him. “Now that that’s settled, we need to discuss the logistics of the plan.” He said. “(Y/N), Malgorm will undoubtedly choose to come see you here in this room. That’s where everything will take place.”

You frowned. “I thought your father banned him from being alone with me. Don’t your brothers obey your father’s orders?”

He shook his head. “Not Malgorm. His obsession with the chase of a forbidden female will tramp any desire to listen to Beron’s orders. The High Lord did us a favour and planted the seeds for him coming to seek you out somewhere that is not public, which gives us more privacy to kill him. I have no doubt he will come to your room tonight to spite my father.”

“Tonight?” Nesta said, tensing up beside you. “That soon?”

“I strongly believe so, yes. Malgorm will seek (Y/N) out tonight after most of the castle is asleep. She is to try and ward off his advances which will provoke him to anger. Then–”

You interrupted Eris. “Then I let him use me as a punching bag for a bit before you guys come in and kill him?”

“Not quite.” The male said, twirling the large amber ring on his finger. “He needs to die without magic being used to deal the blow, or else it won’t be believable since nobody knows you possess any kind of magic. Malgorm is to be slain with a dagger, the old fashioned way. Nesta will use her magic to restrain him and his powers, while Azriel comes in and deals the killing blow.”

“Azriel?” You baulked. “Why not you, Eris? Don’t you want to be the one to kill your brother?”

“Believe me, there are few things that would make me happier.” Eris said bitterly. “But Azriel can use his shadows to mask his scent – it would be too obvious if I killed him. My father knows exactly how I fight, how I wield a blade. We cannot take that risk. Plus, I believe the shadowsinger is still trying to make up for his role in your capture in the Night Court. Besides, I am trying to conserve my power to make killing my father as easy as possible.”

You hadn’t expected Azriel to be actively participating in this plan. It was an act of war for him to slay Malgorm, and a huge risk for him to take. But Eris was right – for the sake of evidence, it was easier if Azriel killed Malgorm with a blade than if Eris incinerated the bastard with his magic. “So what will you be doing amidst all this?” You asked. “Standing in the corner braiding your hair?”

“My job will be to keep you out of harm’s way after Nesta and Azriel enter the picture. And to provide backup if needed, but I am confident in Nesta’s ability to take on my brother alone. Especially with her hatred towards him.”

You glanced at Nesta, who met your gaze and nodded. “I will deal with Malgorm.” She promised, her voice cold.

“Once Malgorm is dead, Azriel will winnow Nesta away and I will make sure everything is in order. My guards have been instructed to enter the room once I depart, and they will take you to the dungeons while I go inform my father. You will be chained, but Azriel has the key. He will be in the cell with you, hiding Nesta with him. Once my father comes down, Nesta and I will work on killing him while Azriel unchains you. He will take you to my personal residence and get you healed up. Once Beron is dead, we will all breathe a sigh of relief.”

“And I won’t have to marry that awful male.” You added.

Eris nodded. “Precisely. by tomorrow morning, my father and brother will be dead, and I will be High Lord. And we will drink the best wine my court has to offer to celebrate.”

*********************

It was impossible to try and sleep. You didn’t know why you bothered – perhaps it was an attempt to make time pass until the inevitable happened. Malgorm was coming for you. And every creak and noise from the surrounding area made you flinch.

It wasn’t the pain you were afraid of. Gods knew you had endured worse at the hands of Rhysand. It was the fact that so many things could go wrong. You were about to play a role in two murders. Well deserved ones, but murders nonetheless.

Please, You prayed to the Mother. Let us get through this.

You knew it was somewhat pointless, given that Estelle had said you were an incarnate version of the goddess she was. But you could still feel her presence, watching over you as if she, too, feared for what was going to happen.

You knew Eris, Nesta, and Azriel were not far away, cloaked in the darkness by Azriel’s shadows as they waited. But even their presence was not enough to bring you comfort. Your body was sweating with dread, the usually comfortable mattress feeling like rocks as you tossed and turned.

It was going to be a long night.

*********************

It was three hours later when the door creaked open, and you forced yourself to lie still as the unmistakable footsteps of Malgorm entered your room. The sound of a lock closing shut made your blood run cold. He was here.

You pretended to be asleep as you felt Malgorm walk around to the base of your bed. His presence was like a cobra in the dark, poised to strike at any moment, but not quite yet. The anxiety nearly made you tremble as you put on the best sleeping performance of your life.

You felt the covers being viciously yanked off of your body. Your surprised jolt awake wasn’t entirely an act. You blinked several times, panting frantically as your eyes focused on the male before you.

The sight of him made your stomach churn. Malgorm’s expression was nothing but predatory, his eyes practically glowing with glee in the dark as he drank in your nightgown-clad form. “Hello, lovely.” He purred.

You scrambled against the headboard, trying to cover your bare legs. “What are you doing here? It’s late, and your father said–”

“I don’t give a shit about what my father said.” Malgorm growled. “You are mine to do with as I please. Not even he has a say in that.”

You could feel Nesta’s anxiety through the bond, which increased your own. A large hand reached forward and grabbed your ankle, yanking you down to his end of the bed. Your body burned against the sheets as you were dragged towards him, squirming. “Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged.

“Please, don’t hurt me!” Malgorm mocked your voice before laughing and digging his sharp nails into your ankles. “I love it when they beg like that. So pathetic. I will not fuck you tonight, dear wife, that will have to wait until after the wedding I’m afraid. But I can enjoy other types of begging from you until then.”

Malgorm reached into his pocket and drew out the same knife had used the other day on you. In response, the barely healed cuts that littered your skin began to sting, as if he was reopening them all over again. Undoubtedly something he would likely try.

“I said no!” You shouted, bringing up your free leg and mustering all your strength to kick Malgorm between his legs.

The male let out a surprised groan as your foot connected with his groin. You gulped nervously – Eris had said to fight off Malgorm’s advances, but by the murderous look that crossed his face, you knew you had maybe taken it a bit too far.

“You little bitch.” Malgorm snarled furiously, tossing the dagger aside and launching himself at you. You had a split second to prepare yourself for his anger, and then the blows began.

Malgorm’s large form landed on top of you, his knees pinning down your legs as he drew back his fists and began bringing them down on you.

The first blow collided with your stomach, knocking the air out of you. The second one came immediately after, agony lacing your cheek as his knuckles slammed into it. Your body screamed in pain as his fists pummelled you, punching and slapping with tremendous force. Through blurry vision, you saw his amber eyes wild with fury and glee as you squirmed beneath him. It was enough to fuel you with enough anger to finally begin fighting back. He had gotten his blows in, judging from the blood that pooled in your mouth. Now it was time to make the struggle look real.

With a strength you didn’t know you possessed, you freed your left hand and raked your nails across his face, clawing deep enough you felt blood. You screeched furiously as you began meeting his blows with your own, biting and clawing like a creature from hell. Malgorm continued to pummelled you with his fists, but you barely felt it as you savoured the growl of pain he emitted as you fought back, your elbow connecting with his chest.

You couldn’t tell if it had been hours or seconds before a current of silver fire exploded from the corner of the room, sweeping in and curling between your bodies. Malgorm’s weight was lifted off of you, his body thrown into the wall. Flames of silver wrapped around his wrists and legs, pinning him to the surface as he snarled furiously, Flickers of orange stemmed from Malgorm’s fingers, but were quickly smothered by the silver flames.

Through blurry vision, you saw Nesta emerge from the shadows, the dark ribbons peeling away from her body and skirting back to the towering form of Azriel. Hazel and silver eyes glowed in the darkness as Nesta approached Malgorm’s struggling form like a goddess of death, Azriel quietly beside her like the executioner of an ancient queen. Death and darkness, united against Malgorm who could do nothing but sputter angrily.

“You will never touch her again.” Nesta hissed at him, silver flames bathing her body like an otherworldly gown. They danced around her, happy to be unleashed.

“Let me go, cunt!” Malgorm spat.

“You will not speak to my mate that way.” A familiar voice sounded from behind Azriel. Eris peeled out of the shadows, his amber eyes blazing with fury. He came to stand beside Nesta, whose silver flames licked at his fingers, as if they wanted his attention.

“I should have known you were behind this.” Malgorm said furiously. “Once father finds out, he will have your head.”

“Father won’t find out.” Eris said coolly. “Because you won’t be alive to tell him. Actually, I had not even planned on making an appearance to you until I saw your corpse on the floor. But I had to see the look in your eyes when you knew you were going to die.”

“You won’t kill me.”

“No, I won’t. But he will.” Eris stepped aside to let Azriel stalk forward, shadows dancing around his scarred hands as the blade Malgorm had tossed aside gleamed in his hand.

To your delight, Malgorm’s eyes flickered with fear. Azriel had a reputation amongst all courts for his cruelty, it seemed. Even in your half-conscious state, you watched with a shiver of fear for Malgorm as the coldness in Azriel’s eyes made the room nearly freeze over. “Any last words, Malgorm?” Azriel’s voice was soft but lethal, the unmistakable voice of death against the echoing rush of Nesta’s silver fire.

“Father will kill you all.” Malgorm hissed, albeit with a hint of tremble in his voice.

“Beron will be dead before your body even grows cold.” Eris said before nodding at Azriel. Within a heartbeat, the shadowsinger brought the blade up to Malgorm’s neck and plunged it into his throat. It was messy and untrained, the opposite of how Azriel would normally deal a death blow – but it was a deliberate choice, you realised. One to make it look like you truly killed Malgorm.

A sick, gurgling noise echoed throughout the room as the male began choking on his own blood. It gushed from his throat, filling the air with a burnt, coppery stench. After the longest minute of eternity, the light left Malgorm’s eyes as he took his last attempt at a breath, body going limp under Nesta’s silver flames.

Malgorm’s body hit the ground with a thump, his face still twisted in a look of pure hate. The silver fire retreated, going back to Nesta’s fingertips. Not a single mark was left in the room from them, evidence of Nesta’s new control of her magic. You tried to turn your gaze to her, but Azriel blocked your view. The Illyrian crouched down beside you, pity in his hazel eyes as he muttered, “I apologise, this is going to be unpleasant but necessary.”

Before you could wrap your brain around his words, scarred hands filled with dark red blood met your own fingers. Azriel carefully painted Malgorm’s blood on your hands, face, and chest, using his fingers to flick it as if it were paint and you the canvas, creating a splatter effect. You fought the urge to gag at the scent, a single tear falling down your cheek as the adrenaline wore off and the pain from Malgorm’s fists began to take over.

When he was done, Azriel carefully placed the blade next to you, staging the perfect crime scene.

“(Y/N)...” Nesta’s worried voice sounded through your weary blinks, but was cut off by Eris’s sharp voice.

“Az, get her out of here. Now.”

You whimpered, but had only a split second to see the horrified look on Nesta’s face before Azriel’s shadows encased her, whisking her away.

“I know it hurts, love,” Eris said softly, having crouched down beside you. “You were brave, and I am so proud of you.”

And then you felt it.

That tug in your chest that had always led you straight to Nesta and her mind.

Only this time, there was a fork in the path, a new rope to travel down. You felt yourself falling down it, away from the comforting silver clouds of Nesta’s end of the bond and into the red mists. The scent of smoke and evergreens enveloped your senses, and your skin was hot as if you were being bathed in flame.

At the very end of the magical rope, orange flames burned. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly seeing clearly as you met the orange flaming eyes of Eris.

The male at the other end of the rope. The mating bond.

“Eris…” His name felt different on your tongue than the hundreds of other times you had said it. This time, it was like a sacred prayer in a forgotten language was being uttered from your lips, the world itself spinning around you – and not just from the punches to the head that you took.

“I am sorry…” Eris’s voice was soft, and to your confusion, lacked the surprise that was reflected in your own.

Then it hit you. You reached down into the newly snapped bond, feeling the whirlwind of emotions of the flames that surrounded it. There was sadness, fear, and about fifty other different emotions, but not the one that you had expected the most: shock.

Your stomach dropped, and you could barely hear your own voice as you spoke. “You… you knew.” You rasped.

Eris said nothing, only stared down at you with sadness and regret across his pale face.

You sat up, and said stronger this time, “You KNEW? All this time, you knew that you were…” Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed your own blood before uttering the phrase you never thought you’d say to him: “You knew that you’re my mate?”

He did not answer, but his expression said it all.

“YOU KNEW!” You screamed at him hoarsely. “Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you knew, all this time, that I was mated to you. And that even after I placed all my trust in you, put my fucking life in your hands, you still kept it from me.” Every word was agony, but you didn’t care.

The prince swallowed, his face breaking. “Yes. I knew.”

Tears flowed down your face. “Since when?”

“Since the Winter Solstice when Azriel took you away.”

You let out a sob, the force of it aching your sore ribs. Each breath was shaky, and you pulled yourself away from the bond, feeling the sting of the action deep within your chest.

Eris had known since the ball in the Hewn City. You had trusted him with your plan, having felt something within that reassured you that you could trust the male. You could never explain it, choosing to justify it with a dozen other reasons. But now you knew why.

Was that the only reason Eris had helped you? Not because he truly cared, but because a mating bond forced him to care? The thought stung, and you recalled every time you had looked at him while in Autumn, and wondered how he could look you in the eyes and pretend he wasn’t keeping this big secret from you.

Once again, Eris Vanserra proved himself a liar.

“(Y/N)...” He began.

You cut him off. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses or more lies. It doesn’t change the fact that you kept this from me for weeks, for months. You’re a snake, Eris. And you’re no better than your father.”

Eris flinched as if you’d slapped him, a faint pooling of tears forming in his eyes. But you didn’t care, you just kept going.

“Get out.” You growled. “Get the fuck out of my sight. You’re fucking dead to me. I don’t care if you’re my mate. If you were a halfway decent male, you’d have fucking told me about the mating bond. But you’re not. So get out. GET. OUT.” You screamed the last two words at him, and as your vision faded to black you saw a single tear slip down his cheek as Eris stood up and left the room.

You didn’t even feel Saeros and Ivar dragging you to the dungeon.

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whxre-bxby · 1 year

Note

I wish people would write more soft romantic fics like you do, you write it really well!

Thank you bbygrl lemme give u a kiss <3 here's round two

"Hopelessly Devoted To You"

Masterlist

Summary: The RDA has a capacity issue and the recom's have been kicked out of their accommodations. When Quaritch says you're sharing a room with Lyle, it seems to bother him. You don't understand why so you confront him and eventually one thing leads to another and he's confessing his love to you.

WARNINGS: SMUT, fluff, little bit of angst, fingering, oral f. receiving, dirty talk, bad language, penetration, bonding (tsaheylu), arguing

Word Count: 6137

"Hopelessly Devoted To You" (From Grease) - Olivia Newton-John

The RDA was recently having a little space crisis. A new spaceship of workers arrived on Pandora this morning and they were struggling to find accommodation for them.

They were behind in building plans of expanding Bridgehead City and were now facing the consequences.

While the recom team was one of the most important muscles of this entire place, the RDA still prioritised their human workers and we found out the hard way.

After a long day of training and exploring the jungle, we came back to find our bags packed and in the hallway outside our rooms. As you can imagine, Quaritch wasn't having it one bit and he let all his rage out by yelling at Ardmore.

She got so pissed she threatened to have us all start sleeping outside because we need twice as much space and different air.

That shut Quaritch up because he wasn't going to have his best team sleep outside on Pandora.

Luckily Ardmore didn't let her conflict with the Colonel influence her decision of where we sleep too much. She let us take rooms which were located further away from the centre of Bridgehead and we were on our way there right now.

The recom team walked through hallways, jet runways and large storage facilities to reach the specialised rooms. Quaritch was leading the way while we all followed. I walked with slumped shoulders, dragging my bag behind me. Z dog yawned and it made me drop my head and yawn too.

I noticed how others would always take precautions when we passed. Sure we were 3 times their normal size but it was a little silly. Then again I enjoyed walking past them, knowing everyone except people like Ardmore are intimidated by us. Maybe she is too.

Finally, the exhausted team arrived at the Na'vi-designed rooms, filled with Pandora's air.

We stopped and the Colonel turned around and sighed, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket.

I leaned against a wall, dropping my bag by my feet and closing my eyes for a few seconds.

"Alright squad, listen up." The Colonel spoke and I opened my eyes, trying to give him all the attention I had left.

"I hate to do this to you, especially after such a rough day..."

I hold my breath, eyes opening a little more just to make sure I'm hearing him properly. Oh god, bad news. Did some of us have to sleep outside? I would rather take the hallway.

"But since we are dealin' with a space problem-" he sighs, taking a deep breath to break the news to us.

"...some of you are sharin' rooms."

My eyes widen, but I am a little relieved that we are not sleeping outside or that our rooms don't have a roof or a mattress.

"Because my day has been as bad as yours I picked the names at random. Alright startin' with..." Quaritch spoke, naming soldier after soldier and whether they shared a room or whether they were alone and also which room they had.

Everyone's name had been called up except Lyle and me. While others were already walking off and high-fiving, Lyle and I waited with perked ears.

And yes we both noticed the way the Colonel avoided eye contact with us. It made me dread to hear the words he was about to say.

He sighed, pinning his ears back and re-reading his list again.

"Wainfleet. Y/N. You're sharin' a room." He said, glancing at us for a split second before grabbing his own bag. Of course, he had his own room

I just blankly stare at him for a few seconds. But it’s not such a big deal to me. I didn’t really mind.

Lyle however didn’t seem happy and I wasn’t sure whether I should make fun of his silly behaviour or whether I should be offended.

Lyle was looking at the Colonel as if head lost his mind.

“Sir- sir! You can’t be serious.” he said, calling after Quaritch who was retreating to his own room.

“Very serious Corporal.” Quaritch said, getting his keys without even looking at Lyle. I’m just standing there and watching. I had the keys in my hand but I wanted to see what Lyle was doing.

“But-”

“We’re on a deadly planet here Wainfleet. If your biggest concern is sharin‘ a room with one of your most trusted soldiers, I’m gon’ start thinkin’ you ain’t suitable for this mission.” Quaritch warned, turning to Lyle and glaring at him.

That did it, that shut him up.

Quaritch stared him down for a few seconds before giving me an apologetic nod and going into his room, leaving Lyle standing outside in silence.

I shrug it off, walking down the hall to find our room number. It’s not that far down and I reach it quickly, taking the small keys I was given and unlocking it. I can feel Lyle watching me but I don’t want to say anything to him.

Was I so bad to share a room with? Does he secretly hate me that much?

I heard him pick up his own bag and follow me while I had unlocked the room, flicking the light switch on.

It really wasn’t a nice room but I didn’t complain, walking inside.

Lyle arrived at the door.

“Wow, what a shithole.” he mumbled, looking around before closing the door behind him. I don’t answer.

I enter what is meant to be the bedroom and freeze. This was going to be complicated.

Lyle walked up behind me and was met with the same sight.

“No fuckin’ way.” he groaned out in frustration while both of us looked at the double bed.

“I could kill the Colonel right now.” he muttered, seeming very agitated. Lyle was starting to already get on my nerves.

“I don’t think so.” I mumble, walking to one side of the bed and putting my bag next to it.

He picked up my words and noticed the tone I used.

“What’s up with you? You on your period or somethin’?” he asked and I rolled my eyes. No fucking way did he just ask me that.

“No, you moron.” I answer a little louder this time while unzipping my bag. Lyle stays standing where he is.

“What then?” he asked, completely oblivious to how he’s been complaining.

“Is it such a big deal to share a room?” I ask, putting my hands on my waist while my ears are tipped back, clearly showing my annoyance. His own ears flatten when he realises I’m mad at him.

“Am I that bad?” I ask, looking at him before returning to unpack my clothes.

Lyle looks dumbstruck for whatever reason.

“No, no of course not it’s not that.” he says, trying to save himself but I’m already pissed.

“What is it then?” I snap back and he seems taken aback by my words.

“Oh right, you’re not mature enough to share a fucking room.” I add with a scoff and now he looks mad too. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t talk to your superior like that.” he says after a minute and I almost laugh.

“Yeah right, superior my ass you’re not suitable to be a Corporal if you can’t grow the fuck up.”

I did feel like I was crossing the line with my words a little but I couldn’t seem to stop. My bag is thrown from the bed by me and I grab my toiletries and towel to go shower. I can’t even look at him he’s gotten me so mad.

Lyle stares me down when I walk past him and into the shower, quickly closing and locking the door behind me.

Not even five minutes in and I needed a break.

….

I sigh, taking in a deep breath before putting my hand on the door handle of the bathroom.

Lyle and I had an odd relationship and it seemed to always change. Sometimes we avoided each other. Other times it felt like we were the best of friends. Once, I thought I felt a connection with him and genuinely thought he might end up being my boyfriend. That’s how much has happened between us. We never did anything. The highest point of things we’ve done together was hugs and flirting. I fell asleep on him once too, but that was it.

During the flirting phase, he once looked at me like I was all that mattered to him. A look you would see in movies with eyes twinkling and all that. I thought I was in love with him but the next day, he went back to barely acknowledging me and we started from the beginning of the cycle again.

A week ago, we were at the close friends stage once again and I was happy around him. When Quaritch announced the rooms I thought Lyle and I would high-five each other too but seems like he had other plans.

My heart is racing as I try to collect myself before stepping outside. I open the door and walk out in my so-called pyjamas. It was a pair of shorts and a loose old shirt which… actually used to belong to Lyle.

He’s laying on the bed and staring at the ceiling but his head tilts over to me when I exit the steamy bathroom.

“Took ya long enough.” he said and his tone was no longer annoyed. But damn did his sentence still annoy me.

“Miss me that bad?” I ask, surprising myself with the words that slipped from my mouth. I wanted to actually throw an insult at him but this worked too I guess.

He seems to be amused by what I said and rolls to his side to look at me, who has walked to my side of the bed again.

“Maybe… Buttercup.” he replies and I can tell he was thinking about whether he should risk calling me that or not.

I glare at him, flattening my ears back again before I return my attention to packing away the shit I took out before.

“Oh come on, you used to like me callin’ you that.” he said and I took a deep breath to control myself and not snap at him. He was so confusing it frustrated me. Suddenly, he hates me and now it’s as if he’s forgotten how he was complaining before.

“Yeah, back when you weren’t a dick.” I say. Oops, maybe the self-control faltered for a split second.

Lyle’s ears perked up. He was surprised by my mouth again.

“When did I become one?” he asks with a small chuckle. Great, now he thinks it’s funny.

“Maybe when you decided that I was such a bitch you can’t share a room with.” I say, turning my head over my shoulder but not looking at him.

“Or when you don’t talk to me the day after we were finally having fun together again.”

Lyle stays quiet while I just angrily refold my clothes. I hear the bed creek and Lyle get up and somehow I secretly hope he is walking to me to give me a hug. If he would I would probably break down.

But no, I hear him gather his things and he leaves the room, closing the bathroom door behind him with a thud.

“Sure, just walk away. Not like I matter to you.” I mumbled under my breath. I was feeling all sorts of emotions and to be completely honest, if I were completely alone right now I would just cry myself to sleep.

Mainly because I was angry and when I get angry my eyes tear up. I was sad because he didn’t treat me like the friend I was to him but I was also sad because… I don’t think I want to just be his friend anymore. I was attracted to Lyle and I hated myself for it.

Every time we got close and he pushed me away again, I swore to myself that that would be the last time it happens. But each time he comes back and is all friendly and kind again, I can’t help but accept him.

I sit on the bed with my legs and arms crossed while in deep thought, listening to the running shower water coming from the bathroom.

The door opens minutes later and Lyle steps out. I snap out of my thoughts and glance at him.

He’s just wearing the loose shorts that he sleeps in. His torso is bare and speckled in water droplets.

I rip my gaze from him, not wanting him to see but Lyle smirked to himself because he noticed my lingering eyes.

I stared down at my feet as Lyle sat on the bed next to me.

He too was thinking and then his ears perked forward as he thought of an idea. Teasing you or doing things to get you to laugh were good ways of getting your attention and having you talk to him.

He wasn’t good at starting conversations so he needed you to talk, even if it was scolding him. He was able to mostly turn the conversation in a positive direction but it had to start.

He picked up his dirty sock and tossed it to you.

I saw the sock fly towards me and it landed on my legs. Immediately I sat up, grimacing a little. It wasn’t disgusting because the sock was only a day old and it didn’t look dirty but I wanted him to know I didn’t think it was funny.

“Ew Lyle, why would you do that?” I complain, scrambling to my feet.

“Do what?” he asked, trying to suppress a laugh.

I snatch the sock from the bed, grabbing for my bag to get my own dirty clothes and throw the whole pile on him but I only now notice it's gone.

“Wha- where’s my-” I start before my head shoots to Lyle who is avoiding eye contact. He didn’t expect such a reaction and he was a little scared of what you would do now.

“Lyle I swear to god-” I start almost shouting while I stomp over to his side of the bed. I can see my bag hidden next to his nightstand and I want to go and grab it back. I throw the sock back on him but suddenly he is scrambling up to his feet and he’s in my way.

“Wait Y/N-” he says and his hands reach for me but I dodge them as if they were sharp and take steps back. The last thing I needed was him holding or touching me. I would as I said break down. His arms found mine but I wriggled it out of his grasp with fast movements.

Quickly I start walking away and retreating back to my side but Lyle is quicker and when I reach the foot of the bed his arms encircle my body, preventing me from taking a step further.

They tighten and wrap around my middle, pulling me against him. I freeze in my movements and all the muscles in my body tense.

I can’t give in. It’s happened too many times.

He’s holding me against him while I keep my eyes clenched closed.

“Y/N I’m sorry…” he softly says, his breath fanning against the skin near my ear.

I shakily exhale after hearing his words, turning my head away from him. He can see how much I’m fighting him.

“I know I’ve been an idiot.” he says and I fight the urge to aggressively nod. Instead, my ears once again strain all the way back and my tail stops moving.

“Please talk to me.” he almost whispered and I picked up a hint of sadness in his voice.

His arms loosened around my waist and fell to his sides. I turned around and took a step back to create at least a little bit of distance between us.

Lyle watches me, finally letting us lock eyes. His gaze softens when he notices how glossy mine have become.

“Why do you do it?” I ask, internally cursing myself when my voice becomes shaky.

He knows exactly what I mean because he looks away in shame. I’m helplessly staring at him, needing to hear some kind of answer.

Lyle sighs before speaking. “I was trying to keep things professional…” he says and his voice is now gravelly.

“Professional? By constantly pushing me away?” I ask, trying to make sense of it all. Then again I was glad he was such a forward and bold person. He wouldn’t usually dance around things, he says what’s on his mind.

His sad eyes meet mine and his look answers my question with a yes.

“You heard the Colonel. You’re one of our best soldiers. I don’t wanna screw it up for either of us.” he says. I don’t know how to answer that.

“You’re one of my… best soldiers.” Lyle adds. This cheesy asshole. Somehow it‘s working.

“How would our friendship ever screw it up?” I ask, thinking he’s talking about us being friends.

He gazes deep into my eyes as if he were searching for something to tell him I didn’t mean what I just said.

“It wouldn’t be the friendship doin’ that.” he faintly replies. There it is again. That look. He’s doing it right now, looking at me with big eyes as if I were everything in the world. It’s making my heart warm up and my knees weak.

“Lyle, what are you talking about?” I ask, wondering whether he means what I’m thinking.

He straightens his posture a little, looking up at the ceiling for a second to steady himself in reality before taking a deep breath and locking eyes with me again. He seems to zone out a little while staring at me.

“I’m so in love with you…” he whispers. His ears droop and his body slumps a little in defeat. As if he too has been trying to fight the feeling and deny it but now it’s won and he told you.

I just stare back at him and my lips part in an attempt to say something but no words come out. His words shock me but I can tell by the way he is looking at me that he means them.

“I’ve been trying to hide it but every time I do that I can see it hurts you,” he continues talking, confessing all his feelings to me and somehow I am grateful for that because I am currently speechless.

“And I don’t want to be doin’ that anymore. I want this,” he says, pointing between him and me “to be more than just friends.”

“I’m sorry…” he adds when my silence becomes unbearable for him. “I just needed you to know.”

His gaze flickers between me and the ground. Lyle is clearly nervous and his anxiety is eating him from the inside out right now while he awaits my response.

He’s expecting a clear rejection because he thinks you only want to be friendly with him.

“You moron.” I say in disbelief with a scoff. Lyle flinches a little at my words, now fully staring at the ground.

All the worrying and crying I’ve gone through, all because he was suppressing his feelings for me.

“I thought you hated me.” I say and a look of confusion floods his sad face.

He looks up at me with a glimpse of hope and when I reach for his dog tag and pull him down a little, his eyes widen and his ears perk up.

I pull him to me, eliminating the space between us and pressing our lips together.

For a few seconds, Lyle doesn’t move. It hasn’t fully loaded in his head yet that I’m kissing him.

Once he replays what just happened, he deepens the kiss and his arms are once again around me, pressing me right up against him.

We pull away and just stare at each other. A huge smile finally brightens Lyle’s face and he’s laughing. It makes me smile too.

“No fucking way.” he says, looking at me in disbelief. “You’re into me?” he asks, suppressing another laugh. He needs one last confirmation before he can feel relieved from the stress.

“I know, it’s bad.” I say with a grin, teasing him.

“Come on, just say it properly so I know.” Lyle pleads.

I take a deep breath. “Corporal Lyle Wainfleet, my attraction to you has been the cause of my lack of sleep this month and the month before. Maybe even the month before that.”

I’m smiling like an idiot at him now too. “Yes, I love you dumb ass.”

“Fuck princess, you don’t know how happy you make me.” he replies, his huge smile spreading across his entire face before he pulls me into him once again for a kiss. This time I wrap my hands around his neck and his arms start running all over my body. He’s gripping my waist, squeezing my hips and finally allowing one of his hands to test the waters and rest on my ass.

I break the kiss by laughing and it makes him chuckle.

“What?” he asks, wondering what’s so funny.

“I really thought you didn’t like me and here you are so desperate for me.” I joke and he sheepishly grins.

“I couldn’t get you outta my head since the day we woke up like this.” he said, referring to our resurrection on Pandora.

I smile, looking down for a brief moment when I feel my cheeks start to heat up.

“Shut up, that’s so cheesy.” I say with a breathy laugh, poking him in the chest. It seems to just spur him on.

Lyle’s mission is now to get you as flustered as possible.

“I’ve dreamed about you too, no kidding.” he said and I shake my head, pretending like I don’t want to hear it.

“They weren’t always workplace-appropriate dreams either.” he says, leaning down and smirking at me.

“Oh my god.” I say, clutching my reddened face in my palms.

“Don’t hide yet I’m not done.” he chuckles, gently pulling my hands from my face.

“Sometimes, when I’m in the shower…” he starts talking and I know this is going in a very bad direction. “... or when I’m alone in my room at night…” Oh god, help me please. “I touch-”

“Okay! Okay!” I say, my face completely flushed.

“What’s wrong, you embarrassed?” he coos, teasing me.

“Never.” I say, accepting the challenge. I was never bold with my words so I was going to unleash the dirtiest hell on him and shock him.

“Sometimes…” I say, grinning and tiptoeing my fingers up his bare chest. His grin slowly retreats and he watches me.

“When I finger myself…” I say, sounding as seductive as possible. Boom, just like that all teasing and smiling was flushed away and gone from Lyle. He was completely shocked by my words and could not believe I was saying that.

“I push them in as deep as possible… and I imagine it’s you doing it.” I whisper and watch as Lyle gets literal goosebumps. His mouth also happens to be hanging open a little.

“And I think of how you would feel like inside me.” I say, slyly smiling up at the dumbstruck blue marine.

He can’t believe it. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.” Lyle curses, adjusting his shorts and my smile turns into a grin. “Don’t stop.” he says and it sounds very desperate.

“When I cum, I moan your name.” I add and he groans at my words, not taking his eyes off me for even a second. I can’t remember the last time I saw him blink. He isn’t blushing either because Lyle just rarely gets embarrassed but my words definitely affect him more.

“But I’ve been so stressed lately, I haven’t been able to help myself anymore.” I say, faking a sad and helpless voice which seems to really do it for him.

“Since I sometimes think of you… I think I need some help.” I say, tracing my fingertip down his chest muscle.

“Only sometimes?” he asks in a joking manner, playfully raising an eyebrow.

I grin, knowing just how to get under his skin. “Mhm. Sometimes it’s someone else.”

His grin drops. “Take that back.” he says and I’m biting my lip to hold back laughter.

“Make me.” I say, knowing that will trigger the right things in Lyle.

It does.

“Oh I will.” he says, tugging me by my arm and pushing me back onto the bed. I fall back, bouncing down on the mattress before looking up at him. He’s towering over me and I scoot backwards, trying to create a distance between us again but this time he won’t let it happen.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good your legs will stop workin’.” Lyle says and I gasp when he tugs me back.

My stomach twists in excitement and anticipation of what he has planned.

He glides his hands up and along my legs, fumbling with the hem of my shirt and grinning.

“You look good in my clothes.” he says and I smile.

“I always wear this when I think of you.” I say, trying to make him hornier.

“Oh you’re in for it now.” he says, with dilated pupils and a grin.

“Can I?” he asks for permission to remove my clothes.

“Yes, sir.” I say, making him smile. He pulls my shorts down my legs, leaving my bottom half bare in front of his predatory eyes.

“Fuckin’ hell… you don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of this.” he says, not taking his eyes off my pussy.

My cheeks heat and I try to close my legs to shield myself from his prying stare but he won’t let it happen. His hands push my legs open again and hold on beneath my thighs.

Lyle is kneeling by the edge of the bed, leaning against the mattress as he pulls me closer to him. One of my legs rests on his shoulder and he gives it a kiss, before slowly kissing down my inner thigh.

When he nears my crotch he inhales and the next time he opens his eyes, I can almost only see his dark pupils.

He can’t wait or waste a second more. It looks so inviting to him and your scent has become irresistible.

Lyle leans his head down and sticks his tongue out. He flattens it out and licks a long stripe from my hole to my clit. I gasp, balling my hands into fists.

Such a small action had me already feeling this good.

“Oh fuck-” I breathily whimper and Lyle wishes he could savour those noises forever.

He needs to hear more and he can’t fight the urge to taste you anymore.

Lyle buries his face into my cunt, tightening his grip around my thighs so that I can’t escape.

I squeak in surprise while my mouth falls open. He starts fully eating me out, licking and sucking on everything he can access.

I arch my back off the bed, already feeling high off of him.

“Lyle-” I mewl and he growls against my heat. I know I won’t last long because I’ve been longing for his touch for a long time already.

His tongue is flicking over my clit and he lets go of my thigh with one hand, slowly pushing a finger into me. I gasp, clasping my hand over my mouth so that I don’t accidentally scream.

Luckily the walls here were thick for once.

He pushes it in, thrusting it in and out for a while before adding a second finger.

God, it feels so much better when he does it.

The feeling of penetration mixed with the stimulation of my clit has me whining and whimpering incoherent words.

I try to suppress my pleasure a little, just so that I can last longer and extend this euphoric feeling. That plan goes to shit once Lyle starts purring. His chest is rumbling and The vibrations go through his tongue which is pressed against my most sensitive area.

“Fuck- Lyle I’m gonna-” I say, unable to stop the approaching orgasm. He doesn’t stop, in fact he deepens his actions making me clench my thighs around his head.

My orgasm hits me like a brick and then I’m falling apart while Lyle is fingering the life out of me.

My chest is heaving and I manage to open my eyes again, remembering where I am. Lyle pulled away, resting his arms on my trembling legs and giving me a shit-eating grin. He licked his lips while keeping his eyes firmly locked with me and I sighed.

“Was that how you imagined it?” he asks, teasing me. I scoff.

“Better. So much better.”

He grins. “Good, we’re not done yet.” he says, climbing onto the bed and over me. He helps me scoot up so that my head is laying on the pillow while hovering above me.

“God you look so good.” I mumble, feeling up his bare chest. My common sense was gone. I was still recovering from my intense orgasm so I could only confess every thought that came to mind while looking at Lyle with half-lidded eyes.

“Look at you, buttercup. Fuckin’ goddess. I don’t even know how I managed to pull you.” he says with a smile, slowly inching my shirt up. I know he took my compliment to heart though. He would prefer me saying he looked hot or that his body was toned rather than being told his eyes are beautiful. He wasn’t the poetic romantic type.

I lift myself off the bed a little and he pulls my and his shirt over my head, throwing it down next to the bed.

When his eyes meet my bare chest he becomes weak.

“I’m fallin’ asleep on those.” he said as if he were reserving my breasts, unable to tear his eyes from them.

I chuckle. “I didn’t know you were a ‘titty’ man.”

He grins, kissing my cheek. “I’m a ‘you’ man.”

I giggle before he starts peppering kisses from my collarbone and onto my chest. He sticks his tongue out and flicks it over a nipple.

I wouldn’t have expected it to feel good but it oddly did and it made me arch my back off the mattress and into him. Lyle’s other hand came up and groped my other breast before massaging it.

My heavy breaths have Lyle struggling to control himself.

The straining of his shorts is becoming painful, so he rids himself of the remaining clothes he has on.

“Holy fuck.” I say, shamelessly just staring at his erection. I knew it would be bigger but this was massive. Compared to me as well. I would probably struggle to take him.

He grins and moves back over me. This time, his braid falls over his shoulder and onto my chest with a small thud.

It reminds me of something and the same idea seems to be in his head.

We exchange looks and he smiles. “Do you wanna try it?” he asks.

I reach for my own one, examining it for a few seconds.

“Sure, I just don’t quite know how it works…” I say.

“Me neither.” he chuckles. We mess around with them a little until I open the end of my braid and watch the small nerves move around. Lyle watches mine before mirroring what I did. Once he revealed his own cord we just followed our natural instincts and held them together. Before they even touched, the little tentacles were reaching for eachother. Now they are entangled and become one.

I saw white light for a good few long seconds and my senses seemed to strengthen and expand. I managed to feel a part of Lyle and I could tell he felt the same with me.

Without further ado, we followed what nature told us to do. We couldn’t wait any longer. Both of us have needed this for so long, the release was so close, we couldn’t lose another second.

Lyle parted my legs again, pressing his hips in between them. I held onto his shoulder with one hand while resting one leg on his lower back.

He lined himself up with me, pressing the tip of his leaking cock against my dripping heat. I clenched my jaw in anticipation and then Lyle finally pushed his hips forward, fully entering me. I was so lubricated that he slid in with ease, stopping once he bottomed out just to relish in the feeling.

I drop my head back, finally feeling like my needs were being fulfilled.

“God damn, buttercup you’re so tight ‘round me.” he groaned, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

“Please move.” I whine, desperately needing to feel more of him.

I don’t need to tell Lyle twice. He’s pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back in with long and precise strides. Each time he jolts forward a new wave of pleasure shoots through me. He leans down, wanting to be close to me.

Our lips crash together and we heavily make out while Lyle continues to fuck himself into me. After a few minutes, we are breathing so heavily that we have to break the kiss. We just rest our foreheads against each other, our hot breath fanning against the other's face.

“So good.” I whimper, closing my eyes while Lyle rubs his cheek against mine.

He’s speeded up a little, starting to rut his hips against mine, trying to force himself further into me with each thrust.

Lyle hits a spot inside me that makes my body jolt in ecstasy and since we are bonded, he feels it too. Quickly, he rearranges his hips and starts to relentlessly pound into me while groaning and hissing.

This feels so much better than I could have ever imagined.

Lyle’s thrusts are becoming a little sloppy but I don’t blame him because I’m close to another orgasm again.

“Lyle, too much… I can’t-” I whimper, still sensitive from the previous one.

“Come on baby, one more f’ere me.” he grunts, encouraging me. I can’t answer because my mouth is falling open.

He feels how I’m slowly starting to clench even more around him. “That’s it Buttercup, let go.” he whispers, kissing my neck. I nod, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him in.

Lyle growls, speeding up a little more just before he pushes me over the edge and I swear I can see stars. My pussy’s walls clench down around him and Lyle only manages to thrust into me a few more times before spilling his load deep into me.

He moans, clenching his eyes closed and biting down on my shoulder. His fangs sink just beneath my skin but I’m so overwhelmed by my orgasm it doesn’t even hurt.

After a few moments, my legs loosen and fall off of him. Lyle stops desperately grinding into me and he drops his head into the crook of my neck. I wrap my arm around him and he gently lays himself down on me.

Our heavy breaths mix and after a few minutes he scoots down a little lower so that his head is in fact lying on my breasts. Lyle gently pulls out of me in the process and I chuckle at his behaviour while he shoots me a cheeky smile.

“You’re mine now.” he whispers, wrapping his arms around me. I smile, tracing the stripes on his head. Our braids disconnected but I felt more connected to Lyle than I ever have before.

“No one else gets to have you.” He said, tracing his hands down my hips before returning to just holding me again.

“I don’t have a problem with that.” I smile and he chuckles.

“Say it again. How you feel about me.” he says, looking up. I’m not quite sure what he means.

“I need to hear it once more before I fall asleep.” he says. Oh, of course.

“I love you, Lyle.” I whispered, cradling his cheek. He looks relieved as if he were still somehow worried I would have changed my mind.

“I love you more. And I’ll take care of you.” he said with a grin. I smile in return before my eyelids become heavy.

The Na’vi body seemed to be able to fall asleep much easier.

Lyle did in fact sleep on my chest for most of the night. However, he made sure and waited that I fell asleep first before he closed his eyes.

He felt protective of me now and even though there was no current danger, he was passionate about caring for me.

I wonder how things will be between us after this. We still work together, meaning we might have to keep this relationship secret.

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @number1gal

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joels-darlin · 9 months

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Monday Morning - The Rescue

Chapter 1 can be found here - Ch 1: Monday Moring - The Situation

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ only. kidnapping/hostage situation, violence, angst, hurt, allusions to rape, mentions of weapons, restraints/being tied up, mentions of blood and injuries. (I think that's all sorry if I missed any)

Summary: A standard Monday morning commute to the DEA office takes a harrowing turn of events. Now Javi and Steve are here to rescue you.

Word count: 2469

Author Note: Apologies this took so long to get out but have been hit with huge writers block recently and finally got through it!! I am debating (being a strong word here) wrapping this all up with a Chapter 3, so if you want it please let me know! Any feedback is appreciated, thanks all ♥️

Special thankyou to @ladybess-a03 for your help/support on this and providing your amazing Beta reading services which I am forever grateful for ♥️ AO3 Link

Javier was losing his mind, anxiety bubbling in his chest an unusual feeling for him. Taking another glance around, his eyes landed on the clock that hung on the yellowing walls of the office.10:43am, and you still hadn’t stepped through those heavy brown doors. He knew you liked to be in earlier than the rest, taking the first couple of hours of peace to catch up with any leftover paperwork and enjoy the coffee you grabbed from near the markets on your short commute in.

His fingers drummed against the solid oak desk, shifting to grab another file from the growing pile of paperwork next to him. Having only drained his coffee cup a mere five minutes ago, file still in his hand closed, Javi pondered for a second thoughts of you filling his mind.

“Fuck this!” he thought shoving the chair back with force and standing to his feet. Snatching the cup from the desk he stalked to the kitchen; he needed a distraction, and fast.

In the kitchen was where he ran into Steve who seemed to have a similar need for a caffeine fix. Javi made himself busy washing and drying his cup before leaving it next to the coffee machine, signaling he was next in the queue.

“You heard from her?” Steve spoke first, breaking the unusual silence between the pair.

“Nothing, she must be on holiday or sick?”

“I spoke to the front desk earlier, but no phone calls or requests have come in,” Steve responded in a flat tone.

As far as they were concerned this was unusual behavior, and something felt really wrong. You had never missed a day's work, always opting to call in at the earliest convenience if you were sick or unable to come in. After Steve left, Javi busied himself again now that the coffee machine was free, retreating back to his desk shortly after. A sigh left his lips on approach as he spotted the paperwork pile which he swore had increased since he had stepped away.

The day dragged on like any other; go through the never-ending paperwork, look at leads on Escobar, review new (but also useless) intelligence. It was the conversation between some other colleagues that caught his attention on his seventh visit to the kitchen for a refill.

“Did you hear about the trouble this morning? At the markets, I heard some young woman was bundled into the back of a car. They must be in trouble with Escobar and his cronies” he overheard.

Javi’s ears pricked up at this, craning his neck towards the conversation happening in the other room. Paper thin walls meant no secrets were safe in this office. His mind suddenly went into overdrive. The markets? Wasn’t that near where you usually frequented for your coffee? Shoving his cup in the sink, not even bothering to clean it this time, he rushed back to his desk.

“Steve…can we talk…in private?” he asked. He leant over the desks, getting as close to his partner as possible trying to avoid causing any commotion. Moving his head to gesture at the storage cupboard across the other side of the room. Steve nodded, rising from his desk before following, closing the door behind.

”This better be good, I have a pile of paperwork to-” he began.

“I was just in the kitchen…overheard a conversation about someone getting kidnapped by possibly Escobar’s men near the markets early this morning…you think it could be her?”. It had been radio silence all day, still not hearing anything from you, definitely a cause for concern.

“Wow, you really like her don’t you?” his partner chuckled. Steve knew Javi had a slight infatuation for his female partner but didn’t think it ran this deep. It was obvious sometimes though, the extra glances across the office towards your desk whilst working or the way his partners eyes lit up upon you entering the room.

“Steve…not now…seriously…could it be her?”

“What makes you think it could be? These things happen on the streets pretty much every day!”. Javi sighed, lifting his hand to card his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know, I just have a bad feeling and it won’t go away…”.

What Steve failed to mention was also the sinking feeling in his stomach that had been churning around for most of the day; in his eyes you were a friend and even he was starting to get concerned.

“I guess it won’t hurt to go ask around” he said.

~~~

Absolutely useless, the pair might as well have stayed in the office, having not gotten a single lead on your whereabouts. With the endless shaking of heads and “No’s” they were met with, the frustration was grating. Not a single person had recognised your face in the picture they were showing around, but there had to be someone here.

From the corner of his eye, Javi spotted it; the coffee cart. Still manned, an old looking bloke who must have been late sixties maybe. In all of ten minutes the man in question had identified you, and even made note of the number plate of the vehicle he saw you being carted into; it was like some sort of miracle. Javi and Steve left not long after, graciously thanking the man for his information, even grabbing a quick coffee whilst there as a token gesture.

He might have just saved your life.

~~~

It took less than an hour for them to find the location once back at the office. A small group of the team pulled off their current assignments, their new focus now being tracking the whereabouts of the black SUV they now knew you had been taken in. It wasn’t long before they got a hit. The vehicle was last spotted in a location known to Escobar - owning establishments up and down the country.

As soon as the approval was given they were out of the office and into the car, the location being a disused house just a few miles from the market. It was a huge risk just two of them versus however many of Escobar’s men were guarding you. But Javi had to get you out if it was the last thing he ever did.

Under the cover of darkness they parked just up the road from the house, in the hopes to not raise any suspicions. Slipping out into the warm air, both quietly approaching the two doors on the building, splitting them evenly. Luckily, for once, there were only two men inside; taking one each the bodies dropped to the ground in the blink of an eye. The partners opted for a quick scan of the premises for any further Sicarios before giving the all clear.

“Cariño” Javi’s voice came out barely a whisper, catching sight of you from through the doorway. Eyes scanning your frame he could see you were stripped to just your underwear. Beaten, bruised, blindfolded and currently slumped over in a rusty metal chair. It wasn’t hard for him to miss your chest heaving with sobs. His heart sank, stomach twisting and turning in a sickly way - the bile starting rising in his throat. Then came the wave of rage. How could someone do this to you, a small, fragile but beautiful human being?.

Checking his surroundings again before holstering his gun he approached you cautiously, your head lifting slightly at the sounds of footsteps in the room.

“Please ...no…not again…please” you begged, screamed in fact. Evidently choking on a fresh set of tears. Javi stood frozen for a second a million thoughts whizzing around his head; what the fuck had they done to you?

“It’s Javi…sweetheart…you’re okay, Steve is outside the door…you-you’re safe now” he said, his own voice stammering as he processed the sight of you, the sickening feeling in his stomach not having passed yet as his mind ran with thoughts of what had happened to you in this room.

“J-J-Javi….H-H-How?” you croaked.

“Shhh now, it’s okay. I’m going to undo the ropes and blindfold for you. But it’s just me; I won’t hurt you” he said.

Javi waited and the small nod of approval was enough for him to step closer. Approaching the back of the chair his eyes fell to your hands bound together with an old dirty rope. Releasing the knot took him longer than expected and he let out a sigh of relief upon seeing it hit the floor - not missing the angry bleeding marks which embellished the soft skin there.

Circling back around Javi wasn’t prepared for the sight he lay his eyes on; breaking his heart into pieces. The mixture of pain and blind rage bubbling up in his chest; insistent that he was going to make every single one of them pay. Fighting with his demons he wanted nothing more than to pull you into an embrace. Now was not the time for that though, as he was unsure how much physical damage you had endured, and wanted to get you straight to the hospital to be checked over.

“Hey…” a soft voice made you lift your head, eyes locking for a brief moment with those brown orbs, it being hard to miss the sadness and guilt swimming in them “…think you can stand?” Javi asked.

You nodded, taking a minute for a deep breath in and out before shakily standing from the chair - feeling his eyes watching intently, ready to intercept at any moment. It wasn’t long before your shaking legs gave out, landing on the cold hard floor with a thump. At this point what was just another bruise for the ever growing collection.

“Okay cariño I’m going to carry you, alright? If you get uncomfortable at any point tell me, okay?”. Javi waited for your approval and after another slight nod he approached slowly, sliding one arm under the back of your knees and the other around your back, lifting your frame from the floor to carry you bridal style. Ever so careful with hand placement.

Cradled against his chest it was hard not to close your eyes, the sheer warmth radiating from his skin, your head nestled in the crook of his neck; forehead brushing against the exposed skin there. The smell of Javi filled your nose as you tried to control your breathing - a mix of leather, tobacco and coffee.

“You good, hermosa?” he asked. No words came out, just the nod of approval again to signal that you were okay. Making sure he moved slowly out of the house, he carefully bundled you into the backseat of the car.

“Is she alright?” the familiar voice cut through the darkness, and it took a second to realise that it was in fact Steve. You don’t remember much after that; the world plunged into darkness.

~~~

Coming to your senses, you slowly started blinking, desperately trying to open my eyes and see what’s around. The blinding light slowly subsided as you craned to take in the surroundings. Okay so this was a hospital, you knew that for certain, obvious by the pristine white walls and that goddamn awful bleach smell that made your nose crinkle in disgust. It was the soft voice from the right which caught your attention more though.

“Cariño…”. Turning your head, you saw him. There was Javi, sat in the sickly green looking hospital chair, standing the second your eyes locked. “…it’s okay we got you, you are safe now”.

A heavy sigh left your lips, the events of the morning playing vividly in your head. “I mean…I th-think so” your voice was hoarse and weak.

“I’ll go tell them you are awake” he smiled and reached out a soft warm hand, taking yours and giving it a quick squeeze before heading towards the door.

Taking in the surroundings, you quickly noticed it was dark outside from the slight crack in the blinds over the window. How long had you been out? Looking down at your body, the tangle of wires and IV’s all connected into your skin causing a shudder to run up your spine. Not failing to notice that you were still just in your underwear, the scratchy feeling of the hospital blanket against your skin was uncomfortable, but at least it was covering you from the chest down. The door creaked open again, in strolling Javi moving to stand next to you.

Your skin was a mass of purple bruises and luckily only a few superficial cuts which were taken care of whilst you were out, your face being the part that had taken the brunt of the beating. They had left you with a hefty black eye, split lip, and fractured cheekbone. Javi was seething hearing the damage they had inflicted. But there was one thing he couldn’t get off his mind, the thought plaguing him for the many hours he had spent sitting in that goddamn chair.

“Sweetheart…I need to know…did-did…they touch you?” he stuttered, locking eyes with yours again, emphasis on the word he needed to get across so you understood what he was asking. Taking a moment to answer, you were obviously reliving the previous trauma and he could see it behind your eyes, tears just starting to collect at the lash line.

Gaze drawn back down to your lap all you could do was nod, not baring to look at him again knowing the tears will spill over. He had an idea but wanted it to come from you and the non-verbal response was enough. It took a lot for Javi to show his emotions but that was when he broke.

It was only when a nurse entered the room, fresh hospital gown in hand, that he turned away. More so to give you privacy whilst she helped you into the clothing, he let a single tear slip down his face whilst his back was turned, wiping it away with the heel of his hand. Gods above, he was going through it right now, unable to comprehend how someone could even do that to you. The feeling in his chest was insufferable, his heart breaking into a million tiny pieces again. He couldn’t even imagine the pain you must be feeling right now.

It was only when he caught sight of the nurse leaving that he turned back around. Glancing over at the bed, you looked so small…so frightened. Javi wanted nothing more than to scoop you up into his arms and make the pain go away. But right now, that wouldn’t achieve anything, for as much as he wanted to. He was going to have to be so careful with you for a long, long while.

This was going to take time, but he swore then and there to be by your side every step of the way.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javi pena #pedro pascal characters

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munsonownsmyass · 3 months

Text

Frank Castle x OFC! Abigail Miller

Summary: After his first visit, Frank comes to town more often. As the days go by, him and Abby get closer.

Notes: Still just some good ol' pining for this one folks. It's a slowburn, I'm sorry 😆

But we get way more Frank in this one and some not so pure thoughts. But really... who could have pure thoughts around Frank Castle? 🥵

There's also a little nod to Matt Murdock in here 🤭

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Words: 3.3K

Part 1 - Masterlist - Part 3

Two weeks. It had been exactly two weeks since Abby had last seen Frank. Some days she caught herself looking at the door, hoping he would walk through.

Which in itself is really silly. First of all, Mildred said he rarely comes to town, always keeping to himself. Secondly, she had barely talked to him. So why did she think about him?

Well, she had to admit his eyes were kinda pretty. Okay, they were downright beautiful. And thinking about it, his lips were kinda plump and… really kissable.

God, was she really thirsting over a man she barely knew? It really had been too long since she had gotten laid. And how old was he anyway? Definitely older than her, but the beard probably made him look older than he actually was. Abby shakes her head, finishing putting some freshly baked muffins in the display.

Thankfully it’s a slow day, so Abby has lots of time to do some much-needed chores around the store. Browse for new recipes, put the delivered goods in the cooler or storage. Just as she puts the empty boxes away in the backroom, she hears the bell from the door.

“I’ll be there in a sec” she yells cheerfully. When Abby re-enters the store, she sees him. Frank Castle. Well, you know what they say. Speak of the devil and all that. Without thinking, she instantly smooths down the folds of her apron, before she walks towards him.

“Mr. Castle, what can I do for you today?”

“I wanted some more bread. And maybe some cookies too.”

“You came to the right place then.” she smiles softly, hoping he takes no offence by the playful tone to her voice. She walks towards the counter, gesturing to the selection she has, waiting for his order. When he walks closer, she is reminded of just how tall he is. And broad. God, he is broad.

She forces a smile, looking up at Frank with an innocent face, like she didn’t just think about him. “So what tickles your fancy?”

He doesn’t answer, just looks at her with an intense gaze. His eyes trailing down her body and up again, where they once again meet hers. Abby suddenly feels shy, strangely exposed under his gaze.

“Do you have more of that corn loaf?” He asks, his deep voice calm and soft.

Surprised, Abby’s lips quirk up into a smile. Figures he would be a man of habits. “The same bread again, Mr. Castle? You don’t want to try something new?”

“Just call me Frank.”

A sudden warm feeling washes over her at the prospect of getting to know Frank better. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

“I do have one left.” Abby says softly, as she walks to the bread and put it in a bag. As she types the order into the register, Frank just looks at her, studying her quietly. Once she had added the cookies, she looks at him again. Not wanting him to go yet, but still not wanting to push too much, she gestures towards the coffee machine.

“You want a cup of coffee before you go?”

“No.” He says a bit too hard. He frowns quickly before his face turns softer. “No, thank you.”

It’s strange, as if he’s been alone for so long that he’s forgotten how to interact with people. Abby doesn't mind, though, but the thought makes her sad, makes her wonder why he keeps to himself.

He lingers for a moment, looking to the display, before his eyes find hers again. “You don’t have any red velvet cupcakes?”

“No, but I can make you some.” Abby smiles softly, suddenly eyeing an opportunity. “If you leave your number, I can call you when they’re done?“

Frank nods softly, taking one of the notepads on the counter. As he scribbles down his number, Abby notices how small the ballpen is in his hand, how small the notepad is against the other. God, his hands are huge. Just like the rest of him. Before she can stop herself, Abby looks him up and down, before scolding herself. Down girl. She doesn’t even know him yet. And even if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do, hopeless around men. Truth be told, she’d never had a serious relationship, always been a little shy. Or she just never found the right one. But… Doesn’t hurt to look, does it?

She forces herself to look away, biting her lip in shame.

Frank hands her the block, before he puts his hands back into the pocket of his coat. Silence falls between them. Abby fidgets with the block, while Frank looks at her. He opens his mouth, as if he’s gonna say something, but no words come out. He looks away, nods and turns towards the door.

“Have a nice day, Frank.”

He gives her a quick wave and leaves the store. Abby looks after him until he reaches his car, wondering what he wanted to say. She looks at the block in her hand, smiling, before she returns to her chores.

The next day, Abby and Mildred are sitting in the couch area, when Mildred spots something outside.

“Well, will you look at that? Frank is in town again. Twice in one month.” She takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes following him as he walks towards the shop. “Don’t think that has ever happened before.”

“Actually…” Abby starts softly, biting her bottom lip. Mildred looks at her, scotching closer. “He was here yesterday.”

Mildred looks at Abby softly, raising her brow, as a shit eating grin spreads on her face. “Hmm… I wonder what’s suddenly causing him to visit more.”

She nudges Abby’s shoulder playfully, before she puts her cup down, walking towards the back room.

“What are you doing?” Abby asks, confused.

“Leaving you alone with him.” Mildred blinks, before she disappears behind the kitchen door, just in time for Frank to enter the shop. Abby turns to face him, a blush slowly creeping up her cheeks. Frank walks towards her slowly, a faint smile on his lips.

Huh. A smile. Would you look at that? Abby can’t help but imagine how he would look with a full-on smile, how it would light up his face.

“I was wondering if my cakes were ready. Was heading to town anyways, so…”

“Oh, yeah. I… I was just about to call you, actually.” She smiles softly, fighting the urge to smile too much. Mildred couldn’t be right, could she?

Abby gets up to get his cakes, already packed up nicely in a little box. As she hands him the box, he has a faint smile on his face, his features softening ever so slightly. Looking softer, he’s not that intimidating. Sure, the hair was a little long, and that beard could use a little trim, too. But it really wasn’t that bad.

As he walks to the door, Abby softly wishes him a good day, even though he never reciprocates. Frank stops in the door, looking out into the street, before he looks back at her. His brown eyes are soft, as they look into her green ones.

“Have a nice day” he says quickly, before lowering his gaze and walking out the store.

Once outside, he looks through the window, but when he sees Abby watching, he blushes and looks away. As Frank walks to his car, Mildred comes out of the backroom, practically snickering. She puts her arm around Abby, a wide smile on her face.

“That is something I never thought I would see. You got more than 5 words out of him. He must like you.”

She gives Abby a little squeeze, before she returns to her coffee, already talking about the county fair, even though it’s still a month away. But Abby’s mind is still on Frank. He couldn’t possibly like her, could he?

She shakes her head, walking over to Mildred, trying not to smile too much.

The next few weeks flew by. Frank had come into the shop 3 more times. Once to pick up more cookies and twice for… Well, Abby wasn’t sure. He said he just wanted coffee, but the coffee couldn’t be that good, could it?

He was still very quiet, not talking much at all. A few sentences here and there, but one thing she noticed was his voice. He sounded warmer, more comfortable. Even his body language changes. He looks more relaxed, the tension gone from his shoulders, as he sits on the couch, enjoying a coffee while looking at the small bookshelves.

One day he casually mentioned he was reading Moby Dick as he was browsing through her collection of classics. It was nice to know they had that in common.

Sometimes they don’t even talk at all, just relax in each other’s company. Every so often, Abby would look up as she’s finishing up a cake, only to find Frank’s eyes already on her. And for every sweet smile she gave him, he would give one in return.

The bell to the shop rings. When Abby looks up, she is in shock for a second. Frank is there and in his hand is a bouquet of Gerber Daisies. Smiling widely, surprised by his gesture, she takes the flowers from him. “What is this for?”

“The shop's three-month anniversary.” His voice soft and… nervous? No, she must be mistaken. “It’s from my garden.” He continues softly, looking at her. Abby is one big smile, as she finds an empty vase and pour some water in. Once the flowers are in, she puts it right on the counter.

He couldn’t have picked a better flower, the Gerber Daisy being one of her favorites. She had always loved colors and could remember how her dad would always bring her mother a bouquet every Friday, filled with Gerber Daisies in all the colors the florist had.

“It… It reminded me of you.” He says softly, a gentleness to his voice that almost makes her heart ache.

“How so?” Abby asks softly, almost certain her face was flushed red at this point.

“You’re colorful.” He huffs softly, before looking down at his hands. With a shrug of his shoulders, he looks up into her eyes again. But before he can say anything, they’re interrupted by Mr. Peterson, the guy who owned the flower shop next door.

“Hello Miss Miller. Here with your flowers.”

When he sees Frank, he instantly smiles wider. “Mr. Castle, it’s such a pleasure you’ve been coming to town more.”

Frank nods and smiles, before he walks to the door in a hurry. Mr. Peterson just shrugs it off, before he begins replacing the flowers around the shop.

Abby looks down at the Daisies, gently taking one of the petals between her fingertips. So he thinks about her, huh? A warm feeling runs through her, her heart beating faster. Abby wondered what he was about to say, when they got interrupted? God, she wishes she knew.

Still caressing the soft petal, she barely hears when Mr. Peterson speaks to her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Peterson. What?”

“Just said I was done, Dear. Have a good day.” He looks at her hand, before shooting her a knowing smile. He snickers softly as he leaves the store. Great, now that’ll be all over town. But somehow, she really doesn’t care. She turns to the flowers again and then notices something on the counter. A wallet.

Confused, she picks it up and looks for an ID. A huge grin spreads as she reads the name. Francis Cast-… Castiglione? Italian? And a Francis, huh? Curious, she reads the rest. His address, birthday and… Wait… His birthday was only a few days away. Should she…? No, that would be crazy, wouldn’t it? He would probably hate it if she did anything.

If he wanted to celebrate his birthday, he would say so, right? But maybe he didn’t say anything because-

Before she can finish the thought, some customers walk in. As she helps them pick out some cakes, Frank comes back. He sees his wallet and gestures to Abby that he found it, before leaving again.

A week later, Abby is sitting in her car, heading down a small forest road. This was probably crazy, but she really wanted to do something nice for Frank.

The last few months they had gotten closer and dared she think, had become friends? And friends didn’t let another friend be alone on their birthday.

Finally, after 4 wrong turns and 50 checks to many with the GPS, Abby finally pulls into the driveway. As she looks around, she is at a loss for words. The cabin is beautiful, taken straight out of a travel magazine. Beautiful wood and stones, perfectly matched, looking gorgeous against the green of the woods. Near the treeline, there are huge stacks of lumber.

The whole place is really quiet, peaceful. She gets why Frank loves it up here.

From a small gap in the trees, Frank emerges, followed by two pitbulls. When he sees Abby, he drops his axe on a log and walks towards her car, a frown on his face.

Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea. As he strides towards her car, she braces herself. Ready to be scolded, told to fuck off. She slowly exits the car, smiling gently at Frank.

“What are you doing here?”

She can’t quite decipher his expression. A mixture of anger and shock is painted on his face. Maybe even panic. Abby gets it. She’s probably the first one up here in years, maybe ever. “Sorry, I… It’s your birthday, so I wanted to-”

“How do you know?” He demands, looking into her eyes, confusion written all over his face.

“I… I looked in your wallet. To see who left it.” She bites her lip, looking at the ground like a scolded child. When she looks back up into his eyes, his expression has softened.

“Sorry, I… I never have visitors.”

“And now I see why.” Abby smiles nervously, gesturing towards his intimidating posture. Frank instantly relaxes.

A small wine comes from behind him, and they both look at the dogs, sitting nicely, waiting to be called over. Frank whistles and the dogs rush to Abby, almost knocking her over. She’s always loved dogs, grew up with them and had actually been thinking about adopting one after she moved out here.

“Easy boy.” Frank says softly to the eager dark one. God, his deep rich voice always makes her heart flutter.

“They’re cute. What’s their names?” Abby asks curiously, her eyes never leaving the dogs. Always been a dog person, maybe even liking them more than humans. Dogs are honest, their emotions and intentions always clear. She liked that.

“This guy is Max.” He points to the dark grey Pitbull, before turning to the red one. “And this little boy is… Red.”

Frank shuffles slightly, scratching the back of his head, as he looks down at the two of them. “Max I rescued, and Red I got at a shelter. Named after someone I knew years ago.”

He smiles softly as he pats squats down and pat the young Pitbull’s head. Abby couldn’t help but wonder who this person was. Must’ve have meant something to Frank. Abby stands again, brushing the dirt and dog hairs of her fingers. Suddenly nervous, she smoothed down her dress, before gesturing towards her car. “I actually brought you something.”

Abby excitedly opens the door, pulling out the cake and a present. Her smile falls slightly, when she sees his face. Abby was expecting him to be surprised, but she never would have expected this.

He looks overwhelmed, like he can’t believe what is happening. Abby’s heart clenches at the thought. How long had it been since anyone had done anything like this for him?

He gestures for her to follow, leading her to the backyard. While he goes inside to get plates, Abby sits down in a lounge chair. She didn’t know what she expected his place to look like, but it wasn’t quite this. New stylish furniture that complimented the wood of the cabin. It was all very clean and minimalistic, but still somehow had soul. She looks towards the terrace door, dying to know what it looks like on the inside. Maybe next time.

Frank comes back with a tray, holding plates, cups and a teapot. But that’s not what has caught Abby’s attention.

While inside, Frank has taken his jacket off and holy fuck. Abby had never seen arms as his, suddenly feeling her throat dry up. Toned muscular arms, flexed, so thick. And God, the shirt. Until now, she had only seen him with a jacket or sweatshirt on, never really knowing what kind of body was underneath. But now, as his tight t-shirt clings to him slightly damp skin, nothing is left to imagination. A broad, muscular chest. Nipples perked in the cool afternoon air. Abs dancing under the thin fabric. She bites her lip, wondering what he would look like without it, sweat dripping down his chest as he chops wood?

It takes every ounce of willpower for Abby to look away, before she gets caught. Her head now filled with images she wouldn’t forget anytime soon, she clears her throat, pushing the cake towards Frank.

“I… I-“ she coughs, stumbling over her words. Damn, how could he affect her so much without even doing anything. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I made carrot cake.”

“Well, lucky for you I love cream cheese frosting.” A wide smile plays on his handsome features. Just when she didn’t think he could be any prettier, he smiles.

Frank carves them both a piece and then they eat in silence, looking out over his grounds. A big field of grass surrounded by trees. To one side, there’s a big greenhouse filled with plants and raised beds with herbs. To the other side there’s bushes with berries.

All over the yard there’s flowers, making it a colorful space. But closest to her, in many pots on the terrace, there’s Gerber Daisies. Just like the ones he gave her, in all colors of the rainbow. “This place is really wonderful, Frank.”

He just smiles and mutters a quiet thank you through a mouthful of cake. Abby giggles softly, the sight of Frank with his mouth full priceless, his cheeks filled out like a chipmunk. “So, I take it the cake was a hit?”

“Best damn cake I’ve had in years, sweetheart.”

She’s so damn easy. One ‘sweetheart’ leaves his lips and she’s a puddle. But to be fair, that voice of his is something else.

Abby gently pushes the present towards him. Frank tears the paper away, smiling when he sees the book. Okay, sure, maybe she should have gotten him something else. But she didn’t know him well enough, and he did seem to love books.

“Looking at what books you eyed at the shop, I thought that you might enjoy ‘The Call of the Wild’.”

“I love it, thank you.” Frank smiles softly, opening the book, inspecting the pages. Suddenly captivated by the way his fingers gently dance over the pages, Abby can’t help but wish she was that book. To have his fingers dance over her skin like that. She swallows a huge lump, looking at his hands. How could such a big book look small in his hands?

After a moment's silence, he looks into her eyes, suddenly looking a little nervous. “Abby, you’re going to the county fair, right?”

Slightly surprised by his question, she tells him how Mildred coerced her into helping set up. “But my evening is free. Why?”

“Maybe… You’d wanna go with me?”

Abby isn’t sure he heard him right. But the way he smiles, she knows it’s true. She can’t hold back her smile, as she happily agrees.

She was already tripping. Did he just ask her on a date? As she looks up into his beautiful chocolate eyes, a soft smile on his face, her heart flutters. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @chvoswxtch @theradioactivespidergwen @danzer8705 @lucy-sky @yanna-banana @murdock-and-the-sea @mattmurdocksscars @boliv-jenta @darlingshane @pedrito-friskito

And some no pressure tags 🙈: @anna-hawk @feelmyskinonyourskin @chellestrash @chelseasdagger @loveroftoomanyfandoms

#lumberjack frank castle #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle #frank castle AU #frank castle x abigail miller #whisk me away

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judgementdaysunshine · 1 year

Note

May I please request headcanons for Sonya, Cassie, Kitana, and Jacqui reacting to their S/O having a heart attack or stroke and going through the recovery process?

Omg finally mk requests! 😊

Jacqui

She was working when you came in to have lunch and not too long after when she was talking with Cassie that they heard cass's dad Johnny yell with you holding tightly to your chest immediately being taken to medical and being sent to the hospital for a heart attack

She was terrified going to the hospital with you seeing you in so much pain being taken back while she waited in the waiting room crying quietly but as soon as she saw her dad who johnny had called right after the ambulance left the base telling him that his daughter and the love of her life needed him and he came immediately hugging jacqui as she sobbed in his arms

They found out from the doctor that you had a heart attack and you were lucky to have survived it but you had to have surgery to clear blockage in your arteries from how bad it was

You spent 4 days in the hospital and went back to her home as you recovered with her staying by your side as well as her parents getting visits from all your friends at base

You slowly recovered going back to base at first doing paperwork and storage eventually back on missions with cass and jacqui under Sonya's command all three being mindful and careful of what missions you went on and how much stress you were put under

You go to the doctor quite a bit to make sure your heart is not blocked up again or swelled which could lead to another heart attack if not spotted and treated and jacqui makes sure to go with you and if she can't one or both of her parents go with you

Kitana

The two of you were having a day off at home just spending time together until you went to the bathroom

She was wiping the table when she heard a thud running to the bathroom seeing you on the floor immediately yelling for Jade who happened to be next door

She realized immediately that you were having a stroke staying with kitana until the ambulance came and the two of you went to the hospital

You went for x-rays and surgery leaving her a mess even with jade, Kotal Kahn, and Liu Kang there to try to keep her company as the time drags on and no news of your condition until 4 hours later

The doctor tells them that you had a stroke and had to have surgery for an hemorrhagic type of stroke due to a ruptured blood vessel in your brain that bled out due to a head injury you had not too long ago

You spent the next 3 months recovering from the stroke and 4 months after you slowly got back to training until you were well and fully okay to fight again

Kitana was right by your side the whole way from you being in the hospital to when you could finally fight again teaching you all of what you had to relearn before from talking, eating on your own, and walking to coordinating your body movements, picking things up, and finally fighting

You fully recovered but you're also more weary when you get a head injury and always have announcers give fellow fighters warnings for you due to the stroke

Sonya

She was on base with Cass while you were at home off for the day so you slept in and had been talking on the phone to your sister when you started feeling unbearable pain in your chest and collapsed

She had her phone put up so instead of her getting the call about you going to the hospital cassie did and she just sobbed as Jacqui, Takeda, and Kung Jin stood hearing the news and followed cassie as she yelled for sonya who turned seeing the four along with Kenshi and she immediately ran getting on a helicopter with everyone else while Johnny held cass in his arms in the back of the chopper

He hoped you were okay because if you were gone god he didn't know if either women would ever be okay again if you weren't there to keep the peace but also by being there and loving both of them and because of that you put them back together after all they had been through

They found out you had a severe heart attack and had been in surgery for 25 minutes out of 2 hours so they all waited through the whole time and thankfully you were alive and recovering

They stayed right by your side as you recovered sonya especially after not being there with you when it happened even when you told her that it wasn't her fault

You went back into fighting making sure your heart was healthy enough for the training and hard strain of physically fighting and once that was checked off you were back good as new and better than before

Cassie

The two of you and Jacqui were spending the day out on the beach and we're heading back to your and cass's apartment when you noticed you were slurring when you talked which confused you and them

The next thing you knew was you felt your body go numb before everything went black you fell and started having a stroke which terrified both cass and jacqui and they tried to help you and calling an ambulance

They waited as you were taken for testing and surgery both of them terrified of you not making it and cass not knowing what she was going to do without you

Sonya and Johnny made it to the hospital two hours later after Jacqui called them and told them what had happened and hearing cass sobbing I'm the background

They held her and waited until the doctor came and told them that you were okay but you were unconscious and the next morning you woke up to the relief of everyone

They all stayed and helped as you recover from the stroke learning how to do most of your motor and cognitive skills all over again and once you were okay and approved cass, sonya, and johnny taught you how to fight again and later on you learned your old Japanese fighting style from Takeda and his dad Kenshi who also helped you during the stroke

You became the old you again but also a new version of yourself that you never thought you would be or even become in any other set of circumstances

You always thank the people who stayed by your side and tell them how much you love them and how they saved you in more than one way just by helping you after the stroke

#mortal kombat x reader #cassie cage #kitana x reader #mortal kombat #sonya blade x reader #jacqui briggs #kitana #sonya blade #jacqui briggs x reader #cassie cage x reader

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gvfgal · 1 year

Text

The Art of Life: Epilogue

18+, minors get the hell out.

A/n: Just a nice little update on our favorite creatives!!! Thanks again for all the love on this story, feels good to close this chapter and move on to the next. As always, enjoy <3

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, soft!dom Josh, lots of teasing & pet names, exhibitionism, oral (m rec.), masturbation (f rec.), unprotected sex.

Word count: 5.1k

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One Year Later…

“How many more damn boxes of art supplies do you have?” Sam groaned as he clambered up the stairs with a box hoisted on his shoulder.

Josh and Jake were arranging the couch to your liking as you dusted the blinds, semi-thankful to finally have some.

The new apartment you and Josh were in was another brownstone, but a bit of a step up from the one you had before. Since having graduated, you both now had steady incomes (or as steady as the income can be for an artist and a filmmaker), and decided that splurging on a place big enough for your ever blossoming love and creativity was well worth it.

The ceilings were a lot higher, and unlike your old place, this apartment had two bedrooms, one that Josh readily agreed to turn into your own personal art studio so that you could, in his words, “finally have a real damn living room”.

Josh sat his end of the couch down and crossed the room to wrap an arm around your torso.

“Guess we shouldn’t tell him about the storage unit,” he smirked at you.

“Not until after we get him high,” you gave him a quick kiss on the lips and gently shoved him in the direction of waiting boxes.

Jake groaned and stretched his back, plopping down on the couch.

“You alright over there, old man?” Josh teased as he pulled a kitchen towel out of a box. He held it up for you to inspect, ‘keep or toss?’, and you immediately shook your head in disgust.

“Yeah, I agree,” he tossed it across the room.

“I need beer,” Sam called out to no one, sitting his box down and taking a seat on top of it.

“I second that,” Jake threw a lazy hand in the air.

You sat your duster down and began making your way to the kitchen, “well, since you guys were soooo sweet for helping us, I suppose the least I could do is get you an ice cold beer,” you teased, swinging the refrigerator door open.

You grabbed four bottles from the six pack, the only thing sitting in your fridge other than a bottle of wine.

The bare necessities.

After popping the caps from each of them and discarding them on the counter, you went and passed each of the brothers one, and they all stood to their feet, knowing all too well that Josh, ever the thespian, would want to give a toast.

And true to his nature, he raised his bottle.

“To my beautiful smoking hot girlfriend,” he winked at you, causing you to roll your eyes, “and to new beginnings for us.”

“To new beginnings,” the rest of you agreed. Josh fell onto the couch, pulling you down with him to sit on his lap.

“You know I really like this sofa,” he cheesed, letting his free hand run across the smooth velvet.

You’d picked it out while strolling through Tribeca one afternoon after a showcase. Josh showed up with a bouquet of roses to congratulate you, and you decided to window shop your way back to the subway station.

You didn't buy it that day, but a few months down the line, Josh surprised you with the purchase receipt one night at his apartment.

“Set to be delivered on the day we move in together,” he pointed at the date on the paper, smiling up at you.

You then argued that that couch was too expensive, he then assured you that no purchase was too big if it meant making you happy.

Then you made love.

Snapping out of your day dream, you took a swig from your beer, “I really like it too.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After his brothers left to explore the city, you and Josh ordered a pizza from your favorite spot and popped open the bottle of wine.

He sat and watched you paint a small piece as he fiddled with videos on his laptop. You were blabbering away about the house warming party you were scheduled to have in two weeks time.

“So I was thinking we could get a charcuterie board from that little deli on fifteenth street,” you balanced your brush and your wine glass in one hand, stroking gently on the canvas while your other hand fed your mouth pizza.

“I would say the one on eleventh but the one on fifteenth does these vegan charcuterie boards and I figured you could get one for Sam,” you took a sip of your wine and looked at him with a curious expression.

He was ogling at you with a goofy grin, causing you to furrow your brows.

“What?”

“It’s amazing to me, the way you’ve mastered the art of pizza-wine-painting. It’s pretty impressive I must say,” he chuckled as he took a bite of his own slice. “That tomato sauce on the corner of your mouth is a nice touch, too.”

There was no teasing in his voice, he stated it matter-of-factly, as if he really meant it, but your cheeks still flushed in embarrassment.

You sat your pizza down on it’s paper plate and used your sleeve to wipe your face, a much easier thing for you to do now since you had an in unit washer and dryer.

“Oh, that reminds me,” he shot up from the couch and dissapeard into the direction of your shared bedroom that was full of unpacked boxes. You heard some momentary shuffling, a loud bang, before he came inching back out, a large canvas in his grasp.

There was only one painting he could’ve possibly been carrying. He was adamant that the only artwork to be displayed in the apartment would be yours, and you sold all the other pieces that had collected in your apartment over time, (something you would’ve done earlier if you knew how much you could make, but you were glad you waited).

“Josh,” you groaned with a roll of your eyes, “I told you I dont wanna hang that one.”

“Oh come on, mama,” he begged, stopping to turn the canvas towards you, as if you hadn’t seen it a million times already.

It was the painting of him you displayed at the showcase that fateful night, seemingly the painting that brought you back to one another.

After the showcase, you had quite a few offers from people willing to buy it, but in the end you opted on keeping it, after all, it was the painting you were most proud of.

Still, that didn’t mean you wanted it hanging in your house.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t the most beautiful piece of artwork you’ve ever seen in your life,” he jammed his pointer finger at the canvas, “look at that detail,” he then pointed towards one of the empty walls, “it’s even got a perfect spot.”

To be truthful, it was a perfect spot. Right above the fireplace, that section of the wall would hold the canvas almost perfectly.

You made your way over to him and examined the painting with a quizzical expression, “is this about you wanting to display my work, or about you wanting a half naked picture of yourself to gaze at in our living room?”

The corner of his mouth turned upwards, “an intricate mixture of the two.”

You frowned, “no.”

“Pleaassseeee,” he begged more, leaning the canvas on the wall to grab ahold of you, “what if it’s just a placeholder, until you paint something just as glorious and deserving?”

You narrowed your eyes and threw your arms over his shoulders, “something tells me you don’t think I’ll ever paint something as ‘glorious and deserving.’”

His smirk returned to his face, “don’t get me wrong, Picasso, I’m nothing if not a believer in your talent,” he nodded in the direction of the waiting canvas, “but you’re not topping that one. Not when you had a muse such as my—”

“Alright, alright Mr. Big Shot,” you pushed him off of you gently with a laugh, “go get the damn nails.”

Like a kid being awarded a piece of candy, he scampered off to the kitchen where the nails were as you picked up the hammer from the coffee table.

“Placeholder,” you reminded him, waving the hammer in the air.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After 20 minutes of Josh up on the ladder and you barking instructions, feeling very tyrannical since he forced your hand in the first place, the canvas was finally hung.

You both stepped back to admire it and all its glory. You had to admit it did look pretty good hanging there, but you’d never say it out loud for Josh to hear.

“You know we’re taking this down for the housewarming party, right?”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” Josh shrugged with a sly grin, “it’s kind of a good conversation starter.”

“Yeah, like you ever need help starting a conversation,” you bumped his hip with yours, “I’m gonna shower, getting sleepy.”

Josh moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist as he began peppering kisses along your collarbone, “want me to run you a bath?”

“Hmmm, that sounds nice,” you hummed. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, and you took a moment to inhale his scent, so very unique to him that it made you love it even more. Now that you two were living together, you thought of his scent clinging to the furniture, lingering in the air even when he wasn’t present, causing a soporific smile to spread across your face.

“Yeah,” he kissed our neck, leaving fire in his wake, “I can pour you some more wine, maybe rub your feet,” his mouth was hovering over your ear now, “and we can talk about what color to paint the accent wall in the bedroom. I’m thinking an earth tone, Laurel Green, maybe?”

His lips closed around your earlobe, sucking gently before his tongue returned to lick a slow stripe back down to your neck.

Goosebumps rose to your body at the feeling, and you bit your lip, “I love when you talk interior design to me Joshua, it’s sexy.”

“Wait until I tell you about my ideas for the backsplash in the kitchen. Two words. Mosaic. Tiles.” he pressed further as he began walking the both of you towards the bathroom.

You threw your head back in laughter, throwing a dramatic hand over your head like a 1940’s starlet, “take me now, Mr. Kiszka.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Two Weeks Later…

In the end, the canvas, in fact, did not come down for the party. Josh was smart enough to get you nice and toasty before the guests arrived, leaving you to forget all about it.

And he was right, it was a good conversation piece. Almost everyone in attendance wanted to know the story behind it, and Josh was more than ready to fill them in on all the mushy details of that night.

He was proud of your relationship. Proud of all the obstacles the two of you overcame that led you to that point. He was proud of your love, and by the end of the night, he was dying to show you just how proud he really was.

While you mingled with friends and family, his eyes tracked your movements constantly. He was enjoying the way you seemed so at home there in just a few short weeks, appearing so in your element that you were practically floating. It very well could’ve been the copious number of Moscow Mules you were plowing through that made you appear that way, but he liked to imagine it being more poetic than that.

As soon as the clock struck midnight, Josh was wrapping the party up, sending guests out the door in twos, eager to finally get you alone.

“Y/n, Josh, lovely hosts as always,” Sam slurred as Karen worked to usher him out the door. They were the last two left, Karen trying her hardest to wrangle her youngest and pack up his charcuterie board that he refused to leave without.

“Come on Sam, your dad is waiting in the rental car,” she gave him a light shove out the front door before turning to hug you and Josh.

“Congrats again, you two,” she gushed as she squeezed you tightly, “we’ll see you tomorrow for brunch?”

“See you tomorrow, ma,” Josh kissed her on the cheek then pulled you into his side.

You could feel his fingers digging deeper than usual into the flesh of your hip, intense heat radiating from his body as he stood so casually on your porch waving his family off.

“Ma!” Sam shouted as Jake climbed from the back seat to help him into the car, “don’t forget my charcuterie board!”

Karen rolled her eyes, “would you stop all that damn yelling? I’ve got it right here, genius,” she quipped back, just as loud as he’d been.

The two of you stepped back inside, Josh shutting the door on his family, their shouting still being heard from inside.

“They sound like proper New Yorkers out there,” he chuckled.

“Guess being in the city so much is starting to rub off on them,” you were tossing trash into a large garbage bag to clear some chores from tomorrow, unaware of the way Josh was undressing you with his eyes.

He crossed over to you and grabbed the large garbage bag from you, his lips turned upwards in a mischievous manner, “we’ll worry about the mess later, mama. I wanna do some christening of our new home.”

The bag was tossed to the side as he sent you a flirty wink, his arms coming to wrap around your waist.

You rolled your eyes, “you dress up as the pope for one Halloween and all of a sudden you become him. I don’t think there’s any christening left, we’ve pounded it out in almost every square inch of this place.”

He threw his head back and laughed at your choice of words before turning serious once more, “almost every square inch.”

When he realized you had no idea what he was referring to, his eyes slowly panned towards the artwork that hung over the fireplace, then to the floor below it, then back to your face.

You gasped playfully, shoving a finger into his chest, “your vanity becomes you, Joshua. Are you really trying to say you want to have sex with me underneath my painting of you? Is this some kink I have not yet been introduced to?”

Though he knew your teasing was nothing but harmless, he still found himself growing bashful at your words. But there was a twinkle of curiosity in your eyes, something that told him that this might just be up your alley too.

His head dropped to plant gentle kisses into your neck, his hands traveling lower to cup your ass.

“It might be,” he shrugged, “won’t know until we give it a try.”

Your fingers found his curly locks, guiding his mouth along your neck with a sigh before yanking him to look you in the eyes.

“What are you waiting for then?”

Without missing a beat, one of his hands darted up to grip your face tightly, a dark lust swimming in his eyes.

“I think you have the wrong idea about this. I’m in charge tonight, you’re at my mercy.”

A chill shot up your spine at the way his voice dropped into a husky authoritative tone, something you rarely got to here from your sweet Josh.

He was mostly sweet and gentle when it came to sex, a direct reflection of the type of person he was. But sometimes, sometimes, a much darker side of him would come out to play, and oh how you’d missed it.

When you didn’t respond to him, he tugged at your face with little force, his eyes narrowing an inch, “do you understand me?”

You nodded, swallowing down a moan that so badly wanted to permeate the air.

Josh tilted his head back, “words. Use. Your. Words.”

“Yes,” you sighed, “yes sir.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, softly kissing the tip of your nose, “I love it when you listen.”

He released his grasp on you and took a step backwards, drinking in your body as he went over the different things he wanted to do to you. His ongoing silence was making you rather nervous, but you’d stand there and allow him to stare until he gave you further instructions.

After all, you were at his mercy.

Finally, he began backing away, his eyes the last thing to leave you before he settled himself on the couch. He wasn’t facing you, and the couch shielded you from seeing anything beyond the wild tuft of his curly hair, but the sound of his belt buckle coming undone suddenly had you on high alert.

He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side with a heavy sigh before dropping his hands out of your view again.

It took all your strength not to scamper over to him and throw yourself at his feet, willing and ready to bestow love and praise on him in any way he saw fit.

But you were patient, listening closely to the sound of fabric rustling as he dropped his pants around his ankles.

When a soft moan escaped his mouth, you realized exactly what he was doing, and the hair on your arms stood straight.

“Jo-Josh,” you whispered, wringing your fingers together to stop yourself from moving.

His head fell to the back of the sofa with another drawn out sound, and you could barely see the movement of his arm as he pumped along his length.

He called your name back to you in a similar fashion, “what is it baby? What do you need?”

The way he was being both gentle and demanding, switching back and forth between the two personas, had your head reeling. You took a small step forward, accidentally nudging the discarded trash bag and giving away your movements.

“Aht,” he scolded gently, “I didn’t say you could move yet. Did I?”

His authoritative tone was laced with want, as if he himself was having a hard time holding back from seeking out what he really wanted, but he refused to give up the game.

“No but,” you were cut off by another sound from him that made you squeeze your legs together, “I want to see you, Josh.”

“You wanna see me, baby?” He repeated, “you wanna watch?”

He turned to look back at you with a dazed man smirk on his face, reveling in the way you were all but squirming in place.

“Yes,” you trembled in response as your eyes fell to the movement of his arm. Slow and steady strokes, a firm grip, just like he liked for you to do.

“Come,” he turned to face the painting in front of him, “sit in front of me.”

Without missing a beat, you scurried over to the foot of the couch, your eyes immediately falling to his pulsing erection and the way his hand worked it over.

You were about to kneel down on the floor in front of him, but he stopped you with a snap of his fingers. Your eyes shot up to his, and he grinned at your obedience.

He loved it when you listened.

“Clothes off first, mama. I wanna see that beautiful body of yours.”

Once again in compliance, your hands found the hem of your shirt in a frenzy, eager to please while also eager to get closer to what you wanted. And although Josh was pleased with your obedience, he wasn’t completely satisfied.

“Slow down,” he bit out with a swift downward pull on his shaft, “easy.”

Layer by layer, you stripped yourself down, making sure to take your time as Josh instructed you to, and when you were completely naked, his jaw fell slack.

“I swear,” he groaned as he began speeding up his movement only slightly, “every time I see you like this, it’s like the first time all over again.”

You would have blushed if his next words didn't come out so harsh, “on your knees. Hands in your lap.”

Once you were in the preferred position, Josh relaxed back onto the couch, his legs spread like some king on his throne as he worked himself over. He was holding your eye contact as he did so, enjoying the way your eyes were pleading with him for any sort of attention. As your arousal began to build, you began squirming in place, trying to conjure up some friction. This wasn’t missed by Josh, of course, he was paying far too close attention to you.

“I see what you’re doing,” he panted, “trying to give that pretty little pussy some attention. You must be so wet.”

You nodded swiftly, hoping that your obedience would gain you some kind of a reward.

Josh tilted his head back, glancing at the painting hung above your head before peering down his nose at you, “for me? Is it wet for me, mama?”

Again you nodded, this time followed with a small whimper as you shifted your body again.

“Show me.”

You sat on your bottom and spread your legs for him with a heavy sigh.

Josh hummed in approval, “look at that. Dripping all down your legs.” He released his cock from his hand with a grunt, getting a better look of what you so easily offered over to him.

As much as you wanted to touch yourself, find some sort of release, but you dared not move. You simply allowed him to stare and admire, taking in the way his tongue appeared to brush across his bottom lip.

It stopped to rest in the corner of his mouth as it turned up into a smirk, his eyes dragging up your body to your face.

“You’re trembling. You wanna touch it, don't you? You wanna play with my pussy?”

His pussy. The sound of that had you moaning again, arching your body towards him without thought.

“Yeah, you liked that, huh mama?”

You were growing rather tired of his teasing, you’d been starved of touch all night, even from yourself, and you were growing more and more desperate. But he seemed to be enjoying it far too much, and you would never steal that from him.

“Forgetting to use our words?” his head tilted to the side, the once soft look on his face now being replaced with one of displeasure.

“No, I—” you croaked out, but realized you had no rebuttal to his statement, “I’m sorry.”

His bottom lip poked out, “that’s okay, baby. I know how you get when it comes to my cock.”

As if it knew it had been mentioned, it twitched in his lap, gently tapping against his stomach and leaving a smear of pre cum in its wake. Josh hissed and wrapped his hand around it securely.

“It’s like there’s nothing in that brilliant little brain of yours except that. You forget your manners, forget your words,” he shook his head in mock disappointment, “isn’t that a shame?”

He was certainly knocking you down a peg, playing into that dominant role far too well. So well in fact, that it only served to push you further into your role.

“But that’s quite alright, I’ll let you make it up to me, I’ll even cut you a deal”. He sat back and threw his arms over the back of the couch. He looked like some mafia godfather, about to make you an offer you couldn’t refuse.

“Anything Josh,” you gasped, “I’ll do anything you want me to.”

“I know you will, baby. Cause you’re such a good girl, aren’t you? Such a good girl for me?”

You nodded, but quickly remembered that he was demanding your words, “yes.”

His smile only broadened at that, “come suck me. Put me in that sweet little mouth of yours and I’ll let you touch yourself all you want.”

How could you refuse that offer?

“On one condition,” he raised his finger as he began kicking his pants the rest of the way off, “you can’t cum. Not yet, not until I tell you to, okay?”

“Yes sir,” you nodded, mindful not to move until he gave you the command to do so.

He seemed proud of you, beaming with pride as he settled himself back on the couch once more.

“Come get it, mama.”

You swiftly positioned yourself in front of him, your left hand wrapping around the base of his cock and your right immediately seeking out your clit.

When your mouth sunk around him, his tip nudging the back of your throat, Josh moaned so loudly you were sure any passerby on the street could hear him.

“Fuckkkk baby, just like that. God yes.”

You were swallowing him down without relent, your fingers between your legs moving at a similarly frantic pace. You moaned around him as you eyes rolled back, but still you never slowed.

His began fucking himself up into your mouth, hips lifting from the couch as his hands crowded your scalp.

“Sucking my cock so good,” he growled out, “that mouth is a treasure mama, always so sweet for me.”

His praise made you speed up the movements on your clit, and his eyes quickly fell to where you were working.

“Remember what I said,” he tugged gently on your hair, letting you know he was still fully in control, “no cumming till I say so.”

You were gagging and sputtering around him, but tried your hardest to nod so he knew you’d heard and understood him.

But it wasn’t you, who he should’ve been worried about. With every thrust of his hips, he felt himself sailing closer and closer to his end. He would’ve let go right then, but even in his dominant state, he felt the need to please you first. He wanted you shaking and cumming around him before he allowed himself to do so.

With his hands still in your hair, he pulled you from off of him with a hiss, “turn around, on your knees.”

You wiped the mess from around your mouth before dropping down into an arch facing away from him, wiggling your ass in the air as an invitation.

“Yeah, look at you,” he goaded as he pumped himself in his fist, “so fucking ready. You ready, mama?”

You shuddered when you felt his warm body position itself directly behind you, the tip of his length just barely brushing against your slick.

“Yes, Josh,” you whined, pressing back into him, “give it to me.”

That seemed to really do it for him, a guttural growl left his mouth as his hand fisted into your hair and pulled back roughly. Your stinging eyes were met with the sight of that glorious painting, and you knew this was exactly how he wanted it.

He pushed into in one swift movement, your leaking hole offering him no resistance.

Your mouth dropped open without a word or a sound, and the arch in your back deepened as he slid right into that sensitive spot.

He pulled back out before slamming into you again, yanking on your hair as he did so, “gonna give it to you,” he repeated the movements, “just how you like it.”

His thrusts began to speed up, and the grip he held in your hair prevented you from looking anywhere but at your artwork, forcing you to take it in its fullest.

In a way, it turned you on. Being able to still gaze upon his face while he railed you from the back. You were beginning to see the appeal in having it displayed, and it was surely a conversation to be had once you were finished. But now, as Josh had mentioned earlier, there was nothing in your brain except Josh and his cock.

The way he was stretching you out, how his thrusts were so forceful yet so loving at the same time. The way he was panting and grunting above you, determined to bring you to a heavenly end.

And oh, were you headed there.

“Keep your eyes open,” he ordered as his hand came crashing down into the flesh of your ass, “don’t stop looking until you cum for me.”

“Yes,” was all you could manage, but it seemed to do just fine.

“Can I? Now?”

“Can you what?” Josh was no fool, he knew well what you were asking him. But he was going to play the game to its end, an end he knew was coming quickly.

“Cum!” you yelped as he sailed further still into you, not giving away how close he was himself, “please let me cum for you Joshy I need to cum so bad!”

Tears were brimming your eyes, causing the colors on the canvas to melt and dance around in front of you like some sort of hyper realistic kaleidoscope.

“Cum for me?” he parroted back, “that’s so sweet of you, baby. Go ahead. Cum for me.”

You tightened around him before your release began to spill from you, a shrill cry ringing out into the apartment.

“Oh shit, fuck that’s so good mama,” Josh threw his head back and fisted your hair tighter. The sting combined with your orgasm was a feeling you’d be daydreaming about for weeks to come, replaying that perfect memory over and over again.

As you drifted through the ends of your release, he pulled himself out of you and released his grip on your hair. Before you could hit the ground, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pumped his pulsing member along your back until he was spilling hot spurts onto your skin.

You could feel goosebumps raise on his skin, and you hand reached back to stroke along his thigh.

“One of these days,” he shuddered as the last of his orgasm coursed through him, “one of these days, I’m gonna put a little Picasso in you.”

One of these days, you thought. How beautiful that sounded.

Once you both had a chance to climb down from the mountain top, Josh stood on wobbly legs and extended a hand to you, “come on, my love. Let’s wash up and go to bed. I’m awfully tired.”

You allowed him to help you to your feet, and he placed a small kiss on the bridge of your nose.

“So… the painting stays?”

There was a mischievous glimmer in his eyes, so similar to the day he scooped you up from the library over a year ago. A day that kickstarted you into this beautiful life you lived now.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, “to be discussed, my muse.”

The End.

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Taglist: @welllauragvf @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama

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teacuptoast · 2 years

Text

Homefront

Relation: Young Justice x Teammate! GN. Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Mention of Alcohol

Words: 3.2K

Summary: A reader insert and rewrite of episode 12 season 1. Reader is an absolute smart ass but we stan the sarcasm. They're giving major stiles stalinski vibes.

A/N: Ayyy my first piece so enjoy. Also, I'm having my monthly YJ brain rot.

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“Ugh, I hate chemistry,” Sighing, I walked out of my last class of the day. Merging into the swarm that was the hallway I adjusted my bookbag as my feet swiftly carried me out of the building. I was practically running to get out of the building, desperate to get away from the place.

Its only the second week and I already miss summer. AP this, ACC that, I was drowning in paperwork. Not to mention the fact that the rest of the team gets 3 hours off before you. While they’re all playing games and baking cookies I’m stuck listing to Mr. ‘Peaked in Highschool’ tell me how to do a pushup.

Already in a bad mood I walked deeper into the drowsy city. A steady drissle turned into a downpour as your student jacked did little to shield you from the rain. ‘I hate this,” I’d chant in my head to pass the time, “I hate this, I hate this so much.” Forgetting an umbrella was a rookie mistake.

Now being soaked and soggy, I huffed before taking a sharp turn into the nearby ally. My boots splashed through puddles as I neared the rundown photo booth. Setting my bag down in a relatively dry sport my hand rummeged through textbooks before pulling out a pair of glasses.

Placing the glasses on my face I took in a large breath before stepping into the booth. After scanning me the voice read, “B0-7 Hawkeye.” Hearing the familiar name I readied myself for whatever weird situation I was about to walk into.

Stepping forward into the room I closed my eyes and spoke into the room, “I think I’ve broken the record for most consecutive minor problems in one day, and let me tell you, its really pissing me off.”

Opening my eyes I looked into open room to find a fireball coming straight twords my face. My mind took its time playing ‘fight or flight’ roulet before it made the last minute movement to doge.

A string of curses left my mouth as I tried to figure out what was going on. Though I didn’t have the time before another fireblast came my way, this one I didn’t miss as cleanly. Feeling your skin burn you let out a hiss before dropping you bag and deciding to run.

Practically screaming I began to talk to myself, “I just had to ask how this day could could get any worse!” Booking it down the hallway I took a steady turn into a small room, barely missing the flames that followed.

Shoving yourself into a storage room was anything but ideal. My rapid breath frilled the room creating a erie eco. Inhaling one more time I held my breath as foot steeps neared. It sounded like the person was wearing metal shoes. ‘Red Tornado’ my mind celebrated, almost making me open the door.

The footsteps stoped at the studden sound, right on the otherside of the door. Rational thought soon kicked in, ‘Whys Red Tornado trying to kill me?’ My face cringe as I relized my stupid mistake.

The tension grew as the steps didn’t seem to move. Almost like a horror movie I held My breath, waiting in anticipation. After what seemed like hours the footsteps began to walk away.

Shakily I let out a breath. Trying to piece together the situation, I couldn’t help but wonder who, where, why, and what the hell was going on here. ‘This must be an attack, or maybe this is just a practie mission right? Right?’

After a short while I left the closet, checking the to make sure the coast was clear. I began to work myself down to the locker room. If I was going to do my job effectively, I first needed to get myself out of civies.

Heading twords the fitness center I quickly rushed into the locker rooms. I frantically tried to open my lock before it finally released. Out fell my suit and I didn’t wait a second to rip of my soaked cloths.

To think I was in the rainy streets of Seattle less then 20 minutes ago, gave me the shivers. I didn’t even have time to look at my burns on my arms and face to know I was in some deep shit. Knowing the adrenaline masked the pain, I quickly cover it up the burn. Finally placing my mask on my face I slipped on my toolbelt.

Putting my last knife in its place, I took in the calm that certainly wouldn’t last long. Hearing two pairs of footsteps, I quickly turned to see a pair of familiar faces being thrown to the ground by a flame.

Waving for them to follow me into the locker room, the three of us filed in before the next attack. Before we could even speek a word, Robin was already tring to override the systum. Following their lead I began to twist the showerheads, again drenching my dry suit.

“Can anyone please tell me what the Hell is going on!” I asked though nether responded. Robin procided to tell us that all lines of communication where down. ‘Grate now were stranded,’ I thought to myself.

“At least the waters helping,” he said as we backed into the middle of the room. Soon the clicnking of the pipes turned into growls as the water pressure shot them off the wall.

“Or not,” I added as the room began to flood. Swimming upwards I noticed a red robot sening more flames twords up. We looked at one another before I was taken by the water and tossed onto the hallway floor.

The three of us coughed as we tried to catch our breath. Standing up we quickley headed for the kitchen.

“We need to get lost.” Robin said as we walked into the kitchen. As we all entered I started to catch my breath.

I scoffed and smiled back. “Yeah no shit.”

Artemis looked to me before rolling her eyes, “The sarcasm is not helping Hawk.”

Turning back to face her, I rasid my hands in frustration, “I’m sorry I almost just got my face seareed off by a robot with boobs! I have a right to be a fussy,” stepping twords the kitchen I continued, “Lets head for the vents, so I can have a little fussy breakdown without being seen!”

The twos’ bitter similes soon turned lighthearted. Disite being overly dramatic and flamboyant at times, you were intellectually a genius. No matter the task at hand you always were able to run every possibility to make the best decision for the team and mission. You were flashy but decisive none the less.

As the two of us started our way into the vents we questioned Robin as he downloaded the caves blueprints. Before he could finnish his explonation, the familiar sound of metal boots was heard in the hallway.

We quickly scurried into the shaft one after another, myself leading the way. Robin shouted directions as we made our way throught the vents. Turning I opened the vent cover as instructed. Sliding down I couldn’t help myself from making a little ‘wee’ sound.

Braking through the vent we landed on the rafters inside the boiler room; now it was Robins time to lead. Before he could get anywhere we were stoped by a loud thud. Looking up we saw it was the same flame robot from before.

“Hey your a very nice looking robot,” I said to draw her attention away so the others could escape, “But the whole metal thing is kind of a turn off, for me.” She didn’t seem amused as she raised her hands, fire fillling the room as I let out one last remark, “I never said you wern’t hot!”

Jumping onto the growned level I met with my teemates. Seening the machines begin to malfunction, Robin let out a quick word before we moved again. Steem hissed as pipes broke sending us charging by the robot. It aimed for us as we continued to struggle with the blazing attacks. We ran past it quickly, myself brining up the end of the pack.

Ducking behind another engine, Robin pulled up a scene from his hollow glove, “I know that other acces tunnel is here somewhere,” Robin said in distress.

Finding the vent door on the floor I held it up for Artemis to jump into, speaking with a stupid smile, “You mean this one?” Placing an explosive, Robin followed in behind us. Falling into the tunnel, he stoped us before we could get much further.

Plugging his glove into the electrical socket he quickly explained, “Looking out the cave’s motion and heat sensors to prevent the enemy from tracking us.”

Artemis quickly followed up, “And I ask again, who is the enemy?”

“We already know theres a giant red robot lady that can produce fire and unless Kaldur’s gone crazy, we can assume theres another person who can control water. I’m just wondering why they look like Red Tornados divorced parents,” I added as Robin pulled up the screen.

On the screen showed our four superpowered teammates. They were up to their usual shenanigans wile working on Conners bike.

Kalder was the first to ask if anywone was struggiging with their school work, to which I fell back against the vent and yet out a disgruntled yes. As Megann began to ramble about her cheerleading team, I silently wished I went to our own Happy Harbor High school.

It was just some normal highschool, with normal kids who all did normal things. They could do extra cariculors like cheerleading, or swimming. They could hangout without having to risk the lost hour for their homework. It struck a cord of jellosuy inside of me hearing them talk about how easy their personal lives are.

Every morning I’d wake up at 6 in the morning to be greeted by prentious assholes for the 8 following hour. Pine Hills Private Acadamy for Intalectully Gifted, or as I call it, ‘The prerec for becoming a rich dousebag.’ Everyone there was just the same carbon copy Barbie and Ken and it made me want to rip my hair out.

While everyone was worried about surviving the evil robot attack, I couln’t stop myself from stressing over my lab paper due tomorrow.

My attention was soon drawn back as everyone was blasted back by an explosion before the screen cut out. Artemis was the first to pester us with questions about what hapend to our team mates.

“Explosion took out the camera,” Robin responded, “I’ll look for another angle.” He continued to type away as 4 more screens loaded onto his hallow glove. The first camera showed big stretching waves crash into the hanger before one seprate stream deliberately took out the camera. On the second angle, we briefly saw the team get splashed by water, before the camera was cut out again.

“All four are dead,” Robin spoke as I rolled my eyes at his poor choice in words, “The cameras. I mean the cameras,” Artemis face relaxed, “I’m sure the others are ok.” He continued to ramble on as Artemis leaned back next to me. Before we got the chance to relax, we were already opening the vent to jump down into the study.

Running down the stairs Robin explained that theres was a secret passage opened by one of the books. I jumped at the chace to coment, “Whats next, a trap door that leads to the dongen?”

“You should see the Batcave,” He said as I chuckled. Walking passed the numerous shelves we were surprised by the door opening behind us. Getting into position we quickly retreated behind a shelf. Knives still drawn and ready, we patintle waited as metal clanking walked down the isle.

“Artemis, Robin, Hawkeye.” The voice spoke reminding of us all of a familiar Den Mother. Artemis, though, jumped the gun and moved to confront him. Though who she saw was not Tornado and more like his long lost step father.

Robin pushed her out of the way as I tried to stab the machine in between its mental plating. Hitting its eye I tried to stab the other one before he could react. Before I got the chance he grabbed me by the neck and threw me into the nearest bookcase.

Hearing my teammates call my name I croaked out, “Sorry for flirting with your wife, thats my fault.” Rubbing the back of my head I got up to find the other, female, robot standing infront of us.

As she shot fire out of her hands I tried to regroup with the others as they scrambled ontop of the bookshelf. Artemis questioned who they were as she covered us from the top of the shelf. Sliding down with Robin the two androids continued to fire. Finding the right book in the nick of time, we entire the secret as the shelf fell overhead.

As we sprinted down the hall Artemis asked, “Did you know Tornado had siblings?”

“Yes! It’s almost like I mentioned this is the vents!” I shouted, “If I had a nickled for every time you all called my ideas stupid and I was right, I’d be more richer then Bruce Wane!”

As we met a cross in the halways she grabed my hand, “So what do we do now? Red Tornado is one of the powerhouses of the League. How are we suposed to take down two of them?” She seemed more distressed as the situation grew.

“They do seem pretty user unfriendly.” Robin responded as I once again let out an obnoxious chuckle.

She told us off before we got to respond, being interrupted by they overhead speaker system. It sounded like the same voice as one of the androids, “Attention, Robin. Attention, Artemis. Attention, Hawkeye. You have exactly ten minuets to surrender or the lives of your teammates will be extinguished.” Turing to face one another we could only assume what danger are teamates were in.

Continuing to run down the halls the androids sounded again, reminding us we only have 8-minuets left.

“We can access the hangar from here,” Robin spoke before we quickly turned around to face another wave of water. Contradicting himself, the three of us began to run away from the wave, only to be swept up by it. Taking in a deep breath, we were quickly submerged.

As Robin took out his breathing device, he headed towards me first but, I shook my head. Giving it to Artemis I looked around, only to find a red hand wrapped around my ankle. As it pulled me twords it, I grabed a smaller knife from my belt. Griping it I stabed it into his other eye as bubbles escaped my mouth.

Pushing off of it I felt a hand grip my waste and pull me out of the tunnel. As explosions followed behind us we broke for the surface. Gasping for air we quickly caught our breaths before hearing the voice of a familar speedster.

Quick dodging the incoming fire blasts we quickly swam twords Wally and Conner, who where both trapped in a rock of some sorts. Quickly asking if they were ok, they directed our attention up to the Martian. Looking up both Kaldur and Megan were traped in a cage made of fire.

“Aqualad, is she-” Artemis asked, pleading. Kaldur reassured us that she was just unconscious but, that they were running out of time. The conversation was broke when more flames were sent twords us.

Navigating deeper under water my body was beginning to fetieege. 8 hours of school on top of running away from evil robots was alot more then your 16-year-old body could handle. Passing Sphere, who was stuck in the wall, we quickly tried to hussle up the stairs. Unfortunately we were followed by the evil step father, and were stoped at the top of the stairs by the evil stepmother.

As Artemis talked about her lack of arrows, Robin called for a distraction.

”Ay Ay Captin!” I responded. throwin a small dager into the flame robots eye. It didn’t seem to faze the it at all. Before she was able to hit me with her flames, I dove into the water.

The others followed as I looked for a storm drain, which I luckily found. Pulling it off I let the others swim up before I followed in. Once we broke the surface we gasped for air and starrted to climb up a later.

Sitting in the tunnel I looked up and spoke, “You know i’m getting really tired of drowning!” Following my statement was the reminder that we only had 6 minutes left. Placing my hands behind my head, I heaved for air and didn’t bother listening to the two bicker.

“And you,” She looked to me, “For once in your life can you take this seriously? Our friends are dying and you look like you’d rather be napping!”

Between breaths I snapped back, “I think anyone of us would rather be naping then dying Artemis,” taking in another breath I responded to her other question, “And for the record I am taking this seriously. I prefeer to process my emotions with a little bit of sarcastic flare to avoid the fact that I secretly have an inferiority complex,” Watching her face turn in confusion I finished, “Does that anser your question?”

Slowly nooding we followed Robin down the tunnel. Artemis droned on about how none of our training maters now that we’re without the rest of our teammates. Though something she said sparked an idea.

“There machines,” Robin spoke and looked at me to finnish, “That means one electromagnetic pulse will shut down any machine within range. Nighty Night evil robots!”

Artemis was quick to bring us back down to reality, “Great, except you better have an EMP emitter in your utility belt, because I know I don’t have one in my quiver.”

“Nope I’m fresh out!” Robin responded, “But i'm betting we can make one.” Looking dumbfounded I turn my attention to him.

“This isn’t the science fair! We can’t do that in -” I was cut off by the android reminding us we had 5 minutes left, “In five muniets.”

Pressing my com, I linked to the one deliberately placed wepon, “Hey KF. Correct me if i’m wrong but, theres two vircator in the med lab, on the X-ray machine.”

Chuckling he responded, “I thought you hated practical science?” I hummed in agreement as we made our way into the med lab, before explaining the plan to the others, “You’ll find a small vacuum tube called a viractor, that converts high energy pulses. Reprogram the units microwave conversion from X-rays to EMPs, with a cascading energy vector directed outward.”

Grabbing the cylinder I asked once again, “Alright we’ve re-programed and secured the EMP,” Standing up the others followed my lead, “Hey KF? Again correct me if i’m wrong but if we hook this thing up into the main generator then we win the prize right?”

“You know your really making it hard to be the science nerd on the team,” Sighing he finished, “Once again correct.”

Pressing off my com, we dropped into a nearby airway. Looking down I could see the two robots as well as our teammates. Looking at one another, Robin divised a plan.

“Ok. Make a distraction,” He called into the com. It wasn’t long before the two drowning knuckleheads were teasing the robots to death. Hell, their commets were even making me cringe. Whe Robin asked for cover, the two of us quickly got into place.

As he swung onto the generator, he placed the EMP inside. After pulling up his hollowglove to re-route, he whispered into the coms, “It’s not working, Hawk. Circuits incomplete, I need something conductuble.”

I readied myself for the throw, though I stoped when I heard a yell, “Robin look out!” The boy was soon tackled by a wave of water, nocking him off the generator. Artemis reaied her arrow but whilst trying to dodge the blast from the android, rammed into me.

Losing my footing I tried to regain my balance but, the slickness of my drench boots betrayed me. As I began to fall I gave one last ditch attempt to connect the circuit. Throwing the knife before I hit the water with a large and painfull splash. Relling in pain from the impact I came up to the surface tp find that my dager had only missed by centimeters.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” I spoke, preparing myself for the incoming wave. Taking a final deep breath I excepted my fate, It was all up to Artemis now. With that, I felt my mind slip as I passed out from exhaustion.

***

Long and painfull coughs wrack my body as I began to wake up. I didn’t even have the energy to sit up but I always had one for a comment, “God I need a drink,” I coughed as I heard footsteps walk towards me, “A dirty shirley? Vodka? A club soda? Fuck it i’ll even drink Malabu just something people.”

“Well you definitely haven’t lost your humor.” Megann spoke as the others crowded around me.

Kaldur was the next to ask, “Are you alright? You’ve been out the longest? We were beginning to worry.”

A week chuckle left my lips, “Ah just ask Artemis, I was taking a quick nap. Speaking of which, I would like to get back to that.” Shewing them away with my hands I curled up more into the floor. Chuckles followed but they all decided to let you rest.

The moment didn’t last long though before Wally and Artamis were heard yelling from accros the room. Though when you heard a familiar voice. Deciding it was best yous at up drowsy.

I couldn’t bother to hear the aindriods reasoning, looking over to the two bots you decided to study them. As Red Tornado walked twords you and the drown you began to protest, “Hey I don’t care why you wern’t here but, I think its in all or our best interests if you don’t have a family reunion.”

“There’s no need to worry any more Hawkeye. The leage is here to finnish this.” He said kneeling twords the too.

Trying to stand up I wobbled and tried to separate the group of robots, “Thats not my point. My point is that your clearly linked to these two, making you a person of intrest in the attack. You being here at this moment is quit literally the worst alibi.”

He didn’t seemed bothered by my words but I still tried to convince the android. Before I got the chance Sphere sprung back to life jumping out of the wall. Then the relization hit me, those robots would be waking up anytime now…they just need a spark.

As the others were busy with the laser cutter, I wispered to the android “You walk away right now and no one will need to ever know about this,” He didn’t anser, just simply sreached his finger out, “Don’t!”

Quickly the drons came back to life, panicking you looked back to your friends behind you, trying to tell them to run. Red tornado raised to the sky as it began to suck the air out of the room. Quickly grabing your throat you began to cough. Grasping for oxygen you felt the life being rinped out of you. One after another, their bodys hit the floor. Despite your best efforts, you feel back to sleep.

***

“Hey I know your tired kid but you got to wake up.” The familiar voice was heard above me. I willed myself to open my eyes. Opening my eyes I was met with a familiar face.

“God I need a drink. Do you know the day i’ve had,” I asked him with a lopsided smile, “Like I had a Murphy's law daw. Just wait till Roy hears this.” Patting my shoulder he stood up giving me the chance to lay down once again.

From a distance I could only hear him speak, “Definitely concussed but they’ll be alright.

#kid flash x you #young justic x reader #young justice #young justice imagines #dick grayson x reader #kid flash x reader #wally west x reader #conner kent #dc x reader #nightwing #roy harper #we stan a platonic storys #maybe thats just me

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