#i'll let you go but I hope you enjoyed the chapter

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 15 (18+)

a/n: thank you @bahablastplz for editing! i apologize for the delay. my work schedule goes back to normal next month so i'll have my head back on straight then. thank you for your patience! i hope you enjoy the chapter :)

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter fourteen here ]

Chapter Fifteen: Of Showers and Cabins

Tuesday, November 14th

You’re in the living room with Han, Felix, Hyunjin, Jeongin, Changbin and Charlotte. Han gathered you all to practice an upcoming presentation for his public speaking class. As you watch him discuss his chosen topic of Greek Mythology (accompanied by a PowerPoint on the TV behind him), you wonder when his nerves are going to set in, when he’s going to slip up or stumble over his words—he never does. None of the members interject, taunt or tease him.

Han is confident in front of them. Perhaps because of them. He has no problem being the center of attention in the house, around his friends. On his own in front of strangers must be another thing entirely, apparently.  

After he’s finished, the boys offer suggestions on things he could make clearer or that are not necessary to mention. You’ve seen how they operate together—typically silly beyond belief but at the end of the day, they’re always there for each other. Still, it surprises you how gentle they are with him, knowing he’s facing something that makes him uncomfortable.

Han thanks everyone for their time before sitting on the sectional between Changbin and Felix, and with his very next breath says how much he does not want to do this.

“If you bomb it, just remember you’ll probably never see those people again after you graduate,” Changbin tries to console him.

“Maybe not,” Han replies. “But they will have an embarrassing memory of me etched into their brain forever, if I do.”

“We could come sit in the back of the class,” Hyunjin offers. “For moral support.”

Hyunjin is laying down on the couch, legs resting on Changbin’s thighs and his head on your lap as you play with his hair. Jeongin and Charlotte are on the other side of you, cuddled together and in their own little world now.

“Please don’t do that.” Han shakes his head.

“Just relax…don’t overthink it,” Felix tells him, shrugging.

“Easy for you to say,” Han rolls his eyes. “If I, too, had a voice made for smutty audiobooks, I’d probably be giving speeches every day for fun.”

Changbin laughs, “He has a point, ‘Lix. Give us a ‘that’s my good girl’.”

Felix smiles devilishly, eyebrows raised as he leans across Han and motions with his finger for Changbin to come closer. In the deepest, most sultry tone you’ve ever heard from him he says, “That’s my fucking good girl.”

Changbin wiggles his body, as if shivers are running through him and Felix lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Just get through it,” Felix leans back and returns his attention to Han, “and next week we’ll have a nice break at the cabin.”

“Cabin?” You ask.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says, looking up at you and offers a weak smile. “I forgot to tell you.”

You smack him on the head, and he flinches.

“They just decided on it a few days ago,” he attempts to defend himself.

“For Thanksgiving weekend,” Felix informs you. “It’s maybe about an hour and a half away from here. But if you’re going home to visit family that’s fine, of course.”

You hadn’t gone home for Thanksgiving since freshman year. It’s too short of a time span, with most of it spent in the airport. And God forbid there are delays.

“No, I hadn’t planned to,” you tell him.

“Good. ‘Cause I make an amazing peach cobbler,” he does the chef’s kiss motion. “You wouldn’t wanna miss it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You look down at Hyunjin, shaking your head in mock disappointment.

“I’m sorry?” He attempts puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, you will be. Sorry and broke.” You retort.

Thursday, November 16th

You’ve returned home from your morning class and it’s no surprise Hyunjin is still sleeping. You’re in the girls’ room doing homework and waiting for him to wake up. Rhiannon is in the den with you, click-clacking away on her keyboard. The others are either in class or out of the house.

It’s nearly 1:00pm when you receive a text from Hyunjin.

Are you not back yet?

It makes you smile—picturing him waking up in bed alone, knowing you should be back from school by now and expecting you to be there, snuggling up with him.  

I’m in the den, doing homework.

You sleep too much.

No such thing. I’m gonna hop in the shower…lunch when I’m out?

Of course. I got you.

And yes, you do. You have him. You will whip him up a lunch of his choosing, after business is handled. Now that half the members are out of the competition, you don’t think he’ll object as heavily to losing. You’ve been waiting for this day—you know his Thursday routine. He sleeps in, showers, eats, then goes to class. Now is the perfect time to take action.

“Rhi,” you call out to her, spinning around in your chairs.

“Hmm?” Is her reply, but she doesn’t take her gaze away from her computer screen.

“I’m going up now.”

She finally turns around to look at you, “You got this.” She gives you a thumbs up and a wink.

You exit the den and head upstairs. You’re not sure if this is allowed, but there was never anything said about areas of the house specifically being off limits to the girls. You’d never seen or caught any of the members in the girl’s bathroom with their assignees, though.

When you make it to the second floor, you hear music playing at the end of the hall. You tiptoe towards the bathroom and can hear the shower water running, too. You take a deep breath as you turn the doorknob, hoping that your calculations of who’s home and who’s away is correct. Since the boys also share a bathroom, you have to pray that Hyunjin is alone.

You tentatively step inside, peeking your head in first to make sure no one else is there. The coast is clear and Hyunjin is already in the shower, thankfully. Their bathroom is set up exactly like the girls—multiple sinks, showers, and separate rooms for the toilets. The glass surrounding the shower is fogged up, keeping your entrance a secret. You quietly close and lock the door behind you.

Hyunjin is obliviously singing along to the Mac Miller song blaring from the speaker. You quickly slip out of your clothes and set them in a pile on the sink before making your way to the shower door.

You grip the handle and gently pull the door open. Hyunjin is standing directly under the showerhead with his back towards you. His head is tilted back, eyes shut as the water pours over him. You have a fraction of a second to enjoy the sight because as soon as the cold air hits him he whips around, screams and holds his hands up in defense.

You immediately burst into laughter.

“Y/N,” he says, exhaling lightly when realization sets in that it’s you.

You enter the shower and close the door behind you, sealing the steam and warmth back in. He’s leaning against the wall, hand now over his chest and just completely…exposed. You don’t let the opportunity to run your eyes over his body pass.   

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” you say with a small shrug and smile.

He clicks his tongue, “Liar.”

He pushes away from the wall, standing under the water again. You step around him, positioning yourself between him and the shower wall.

“This is it, huh?” He asks, seeing the look in your eyes.

You nod in response and start to lower yourself to your knees.

“Uh-uh,” he shakes his head and grabs your waist to stop you.

He pulls you up so you’re standing and covers your mouth with his. His tongue glides over your lips and your eyes flutter shut as you relax and let him take the lead. You don’t have to worry about what comes next with him. You know he’s about to make you feel like you never existed until you met him.

“You first,” he says, breaking the kiss. 

He backs you up against the wall and gets down on his knees. You step your legs further apart to allow him better access. He slides one hand up your stomach to cup your breast, pinching your nipple and watching with a smile as you push your hips forward in an attempt to get his mouth right where you want it.

He doesn’t make you wait. He latches on to your pussy with his mouth and your hands immediately go to his head, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling at the roots. You lean your head back against the wall and let out a sigh, feeling his tongue slide back and forth, up and down between your folds.

You hadn’t exactly been fucking your ex every single day, however since moving into the SKZ house you’d grown accustomed to some kind of regular sexual activity. You hadn’t gone more than seven days without it since being here. It’s been sixteen, and it felt like an eternity.

You turn your gaze down to Hyunjin. He’s focused on the task at hand as the water cascades down his back. With your hands still in his hair, you press him against you harder, rocking your hips against his face. He chuckles at this. His other hand slips between your legs to find your opening and pushes two fingers inside of you.

“You missed me, jagiya?” He murmurs, looking up at you with those smiling brown eyes.

“Yes,” you reply without hesitation.

“Good,” he places a kiss on your clit then returns his focus to fucking you with his fingers and playing with your breasts, your nipples.

One, maybe two, songs play out on the speaker as he continues to pleasure you. Alternating from using his fingers to his mouth, never seeming to grow tired of the work he’s putting in. You want to let him finish; you want to come standing over him like this. But you need him to fuck you.

Sure, he’s technically out of the game now due to his actions. You’ve got to see this through, though, to make sure he’s out-out. 

You release the hairs on his head and grab his wrist to stop him. You motion for him to stand, and he does, popping his fingers in his mouth to lick your juices off. He kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You push him away and turn around, pressing your chest against the wall and turning your head to the side. You arch your back, pushing your ass against him. He reaches up to move the shower head out of the way a bit as his other hand rubs his dick up and down your slit. He revels in the feeling for a moment, teasing you.

When his dick reaches your opening, he thrusts his hips forward and you moan at the feel of him inside of you, arching your back even more.

“Fuck,” he says, shaking his head as he holds your hips still. “I’m not sure how long—”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “You can make it up to me.”

That’s all he needs to hear.

He starts fucking you—pulling out, thrusting in. Gripping your hips, your breasts, hands wandering all over your body. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do, but it’s been so long he wants to do it all.

One hand makes its way down around your waist to stimulate your clit, rubbing circles as he continues thrusting. He leans forward and showers your back in the sweetest, softest kisses. Combined with everything else and how long it’s been, it’s enough. Your palms are flat against the shower wall, helping you push your hips back against him. You feel your legs start to shake and Hyunjin gets the hint. He doesn’t change anything he’s doing, knowing what you’re feeling right now is what will make you come.

“Fuck, fuck,” he exhales heavily as your pussy clenches around his dick. He can’t hold back any longer. He thrusts into you with reckless abandon, gripping your hips as he releases himself into you.

When he’s done, he wraps his arm under your breasts and pulls you back against him. He moves the showerhead back in place, so the warm water falls over both of you.

“Fine. I guess I’ll do the dishes for you,” he jokes, leaning down to rest his cheek against yours.

“At least you don’t have to hold back anymore,” you reply.

“That’s true. I want you in the room ready for me when I’m back from class.”

You turn your head to look at him—he’s smiling.

He had never demanded such a thing before. Not that it’s much of a demand…more of a request. Close enough for Hyunjin.  

Thanksgiving Weekend

Thursday, November 23rd

The house is just as chaotic as you imagined it would be this morning. Twelve people up before the crack of dawn loading cars with food and luggage while still half asleep. Chan instructs you and the other girls to leave first in the car with all the food to get started on the meal. He plugs in the address on the GPS and then you’re off.

The roads are relatively empty, so the drive takes just about an hour and a half. The last fifteen minutes are spent off the main road, driving slowly up a rocky path surrounded by trees.

“Now that’s a cabin,” Rhiannon says as you park the car.

It looks like a log cabin in that the exterior and pillars are all made of wood, except the top portion of the home is triangular with wooden awnings on the sides that cover the wraparound porch on the second level. There are several large windows with no coverings—probably a good thing the location is remote, so no one has to worry about neighbors looking in. In the front yard is a patio table and fire pit surrounded by chairs.

You all exit the car and start lugging the food to the front door. You enter the code on the keypad Chan had texted you and it unlocks.

The interior holds up the log cabin feel with a wide, open floor plan, but all the furniture and appliances make it feel modern. You all momentarily abandon the food at the door to explore the inside. There are four bedrooms, one downstairs and three on the second level, the third level has a loft with a computer desk and ping pong table.

You wonder if this is a rental property or if the SKZ fraternity owns it. You wouldn’t be shocked by the latter, but it’s none of your business.

After touring the cabin, the four of you get back to business and haul the food inside to start prepping the meal. The menu is a mix of traditional American and Korean food for the holiday.

When the boys arrive an hour later, they’ve stopped for a few essentials—mainly alcohol. They unload all the luggage then crowd in the kitchen and start debating over who will sleep where.

“Room Roulette?” Han suggests.

“Assignees and their members?” Jeongin says, winking at Charlotte.

“You’re already out—of course you want that,” Lee Know rebuffs while vigorously working on stuffing the turkey.

“Don’t think you can resist?” Allie asks, to which he rolls his eyes.

She still hasn’t been able to get him to break, but she’s been persistent.

“Ladies choice?” Hyunjin offers as he comes up behind you, standing at the stove, and wraps his hands around your waist.

You nudge him away playfully with your shoulder, but he stays put a moment longer, kissing the back of your neck.

“Does it really matter?” Changbin speaks up. “Everyone will just fall asleep wherever anyways.”

They continue back and forth until they’ve all had enough and just stare at Chan to make a decision.

He points to Jeongin, Han and Hyunjin, “Kai bai bo.”

The three of them stand on separate sides of the island and begin playing rock, paper, scissors. Han is out first. Before Hyunjin and Jeongin start, Jeongin has Charlotte kiss his hands for luck. It must work, because Hyunjin loses.  

Jeongin grins, heart melting dimples on display, and gives a satisfied nod.

“That’s settled then—assignees and their members,” Chan announces.

You’re still focused on the food you’re cooking, but you want so badly to turn and look at Chan to see his expression. Sharing a room with him and Hyunjin? Is he happy with the result?

The rest of the afternoon is spent with everyone helping make something. When it’s finally time for dinner, you sit between Hyunjin and Chan. You’re thankful to be here with all of them. You think back to what Chan said on your first day at the house—that you’d gain a sense of community, and you really have.

The room assignment winds up being a nonfactor. Everyone is so full and damn near comatose that, true to Changbin’s words, they fall asleep wherever they land. You wake up on the couch in the living room and make your way back to the room, but neither Hyunjin nor Chan are there. 

The next day, everyone kind of does their own thing. You go hiking with Hyunjin and a few others while everyone else stays at the house. That night, after dinner, everyone is gathered in the living room drinking and playing games. Or at least you thought everyone was. Looking around the room, you don’t see Chan.

He was here earlier, you’re certain. Where had he gone off to?

It’s closing in on the end of the month and Chan and Lee Know are the only ones that have not yet lost the competition. The others are preoccupied with their game, so you decide to go find him. Time is running out for the month, you’re extremely aware of that. And you have a little bit of liquid courage on your side now.

You take another shot of the strawberry flavored soju before getting up from the couch. He’s not in the kitchen, dining room, or the porch. You make your way up to the room you’ve been assigned on the second floor.

There he is.

He’s laying on the bed on his stomach, scrolling through his phone when you walk in. At the sound, he promptly turns around and sits up.

“Are you bored of us?”

“Nah,” he says lightly. “Just don’t wanna get too drunk again.”

Meaning he doesn’t want to lose control of himself or say anything he might regret again, you assume.

“Would you mind some company?”

You sit next to him on the bed, draping one leg over his and looking up at him with a lazy, tipsy smile.

“PG company?” He chuckles lightly, placing his hand on your leg.

“PG-13, maybe?” You counter, sliding his hand up towards your thigh.

The feel of his fingertips gliding across your skin sends an achy feeling to your core. You want to him to press his fingers against your clit to release the ache.

He smiles back at you and hooks a finger under your chin to pull your face closer to his. Since that day in the closet, he had at least been more open to semi-steamy make out sessions but always pulled away before you could go too far.

You close the distance between you, locking your lips with his as you swing your other leg across him to straddle him. He allows it. You wrap your arms around his neck as you deepen the kiss, sliding your tongue past his lips. You can taste the alcohol on him, too, but it’s faint. Maybe you should have brought some in here. It still counts even if he’s drunk, right?

In any other context, that sounds terrible.  

You start to rock your hips against him, moaning when you feel his cock hardening through his sweatpants. His hands suddenly grip your hips to hold you in place.

“Chan, please,” you whisper. You kiss along his cheek, down to his neck, lightly nipping with your teeth. “I miss you fucking me.”

“No,” he says, but it sounds half-assed, not even half of the conviction you know he can muster. He shakes his head but his cock pressing against your thighs say otherwise. You grind against it again.

“It’s just a stupid competition,” you attempt your best pouty face. You’ve never known these antics to work with him, but you’re pulling at straws now.

“It’s more than that for me,” he replies softly.

“You have to win?”

“I have to resist.”

You furrow your brow.

“Please?” You slip your hand between your legs and squeeze his cock.

He sucks in a breath and in one swift motion, moves you off him and stands up. Before you can even get another word out, he’s walking towards the door, shutting it not so quietly behind him.

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed so much, so fast. You have six days left to get to him and right now, it feels like an impossible task. You knew he could hold back, but his words made it seem like it’s more than that. Resisting? Resisting what? You?

You sit for a while, wondering if he’ll come back and why this seems like such a big deal to him. After a few minutes you stand in defeat and walk to the door. As you reach for the knob, the door swings open again, startling you.

Chan is there, ushering a confused Hyunjin into the room.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asks you, sounding concerned.

“Yeah? I’m fine.”

Hyunjin turns back to look at Chan with a confused look on his face.

Chan shrugs, his eyes move from you back to Hyunjin, “Y/N needs you.”

There’s something about his tone of voice that you can’t quite pin down. He sounds…dejected almost.

You try to make sense of Chan’s thought process. You plead with him to fuck you and he won’t…so he gets the next best thing in his mind? He knows you’re turned on, that you need him, but he can’t—won’t—give in. So he brings the only other person that can satisfy you right now. Why does it feel like a slap in the face, though? With his tone and the look on his face it’s as if he’s saying, you wanna be fucked so bad? Here’s Hyunjin.

Hyunjin turns back to you and smiles lazily. He reaches for your waist, pulls you to him and kisses you. You’re still surprised by what is playing out, eyes open, looking at Chan with Hyunjin’s lips on yours. Chan breaks eye contact and turns his head as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

You shut your eyes and try your best to shake the thoughts of Chan and focus on Hyunjin. It doesn’t take much trying on your part, truthfully. You could lose yourself in trying to solve the puzzle that is Chan. The only solace from the madness he conjures up inside of you is the man still standing in front of you. The one who hasn’t left.

“How can I be of service?” Hyunjin asks, nuzzling at your neck.

You can’t help but smile at his words, his actions. He’s always ready to please you and it’s never been complicated.

Sunday, November 26th

Chan did not come back to the room that night. He didn’t sleep in the room with you and Hyunjin the entire weekend, as a matter of fact. His behavior with you throughout the day was the same as usual, though. It didn’t appear that he was upset. He even joked around with you and offered a seat on his lap when all the other chairs on the patio were taken. He’s really acting like he has something to prove by abstaining this month, and you really wish you knew what it was.

Maybe you’re thinking too deeply about it…but how can you not? You also don’t want to ruin the growth you’ve made with him, so you don’t bring it up. You do, however, have a plan to hopefully end this silly competition once and for all. To see if you can push him over the edge.

After you arrive home in the afternoon, Chan leaves with some of the other members to run an errand and you know that this is your moment. Hyunjin is somewhat surprised when you tell him you’ll be staying with Chan for the night. He doesn’t question it, just kisses your forehead and says he’ll see you tomorrow.

You shower and take the items you’ll need to Chan’s room and set up as quickly as possible. You’re not sure what time he will be back, so you have no choice but to sit and wait once you’re in place.

You can feel your heart pumping in your ears. A million thoughts are racing through your mind, trying to understand how you got here. Hoping Chan has the reaction you want. You want to win the competition, sure, who wouldn’t in this situation? But you’re also eager to please Chan in a way you’ve never tried before. To give him complete control of you.  

You’re excited. You’re nervous. You’re so out of your element.

You shift around in his bed, really wanting to check the time on your phone but unable to. Your hands are linked together with the furry black handcuffs you got from the mall, looped through a space in his headboard. You have waited all month for this. To catch him off guard, with a sight that is hopefully so shocking he will not be able to resist.

Though you tried to seduce him at other times throughout the month, you still had this wildcard up your sleeve in case none of your attempts worked. Which they hadn’t. So here you are, lying in his bed in skimpy black lingerie. It’s a one piece, lace body suit that’s cut out around the breasts so they’re on full display. The area between your legs is exposed, so you keep your legs bent, knees pressed together. The ensemble is accompanied by black, knee-high stockings and a garter belt.

You could hardly believe the sight looking at your own reflection. You just have to hope it’s enough. And fucking pray no one randomly decides to come in Chan’s room since you had no choice but to leave the door unlocked. You’d be fucking mortified.

Another few more minutes pass and you hear car doors closing in the driveway. Your heartbeat picks up again, fraught with anticipation.

It feels like a lifetime passes before you hear footsteps outside the door. Chan’s laughing at something someone said as he approaches. At least he’s in a good mood, maybe this will work. You sit up as straight as you can with your hands hanging above you.

You hold your breath as the doorknob turns while simultaneously trying to figure out what to do with your face. A cute look? A look of innocence? Seduction? You bite your bottom lip between your teeth, attempting to hide your inner panic and that’s the look you’re stuck with as he enters.

His eyes land on you—exposed and cuffed to his bed—his laugh abruptly stops. His smile falters.

He exhales a loud sigh, drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. You’re chewing on the inside of your lip now as your nerves take over. This was not the reaction you had anticipated. Is he angry?  Frustrated? Put off?

Maybe you shouldn’t have welcomed yourself into his bed. It’s not like you had an open invitation after the night he allowed you to sleep here with him. That hadn’t happened again since, and he hadn’t even mentioned it.

“Chan,” a timid voice says. It’s yours, but you hardly recognize it.

He straightens his head and looks at you again, eyes moving from your head, down to your stocking covered toes. He lets out another loud sigh and runs his hand through his hair. He shakes his head, blinking incredulously as he steps back and retreats from the room.

When the door closes, your heart sinks.

[ picture book for photos of the cabin and lingerie ]

a/n: please don't kill me. this one had to end on a cliffhanger. like, comment, reblog to show your support <3 what do we think, is chan coming back? or is he gonna win this thing?

taglist: @iflmho / @stayatinykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @krayzieestay / @kayleefriedchicken / @sunnyhonie / @cotton-candycloudz / @lubsungie / @conwunder / @puckmaidens / @ashleighland / @hyunjiinnnn / @bmnyy / @ihrtlix / @maqqiekwon / @hynxnelly / @teti-menchon0604 / @you-make-skz-stay / @zandra-42 / @seungminindabuilding / @slytherinatheart / @loveuwoo / @hyunjinhoexxx / @chartrucewhore / @torothecatt / @fun-fanfics / @yaorzu-blog / @yjeonginlvr / @huneyeon / @kpop-kink / @tenshimara / @a-person-with-void / @ilovetheworldilivein / @dhillomilo / @skzfelixlove / @luvvvash / @blondechannie / @sailor--sun / @stephanieeeyang / @msauthor / @grlcbrd / @okkkcausewhet / @bangtancultsposts / @wannareadstories / @jenniferlr / @shroomcapp / @lyracarvahall / @palindrome969 / @grandma143

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[lunarubra]

Sooo... I wanted to wait to post it next week, but I feel it's going to be even crazier and busier at work in the coming days. As I mentioned in a previous post, the next few months are going to be really hectic for me, so updates could be even more delayed. But I am not abandoning my babies, don't worry. So here we are. I hope you enjoy it. If you can, leave a comment letting me know what you think. It's the first time I've written smut for a straight couple, so I am a little worried of how this is gonna feel. Thanks a ton to @cillmequick and @emotionalcadaver for beta-reading this chapter and being the best mutuals <3

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: The morning after, with a surprise visit, and maybe finally, those two idiots are going to talk about what they are feeling. It took them only 25k+ words, sooo. Yeah, I'm aware that as the writer, I should be in control of what they do, but spoiler alert: I am not. They are in control.

Warning: English not my First Language, Mention of Panic Attack, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Star Wars Spoilers.

Words: 5439

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Part 7 - Swell of Renewal

The first light of dawn gently illuminated Cillian's eyes, rousing him from sleep. Reluctant to open them fully, he savoured the comforting sensation of that fleeting moment between slumber and wakefulness. Gradually, he became aware of the sensations enveloping him. He was laying on his side, with a warm body pressed against his chest, nestled between him and the couch's backrest. His face was buried in soft hair that carried the scent of sea and spices. Before fully registering his surroundings, he snuggled closer, relishing the embrace.

A sudden noise from the front door jolted Cillian awake, causing him to open his eyes and discover Jiyan nestled against his chest. It took a moment for him to recall why he was on the couch and why Jiyan was there beside him. He admired her peaceful form for a few seconds, noting the deepness of her sleep, likely a result of the exhaustion from the previous night. Another knock echoed at the front door, diverting Cillian's attention from the woman beside him, while she remained completely oblivious to the noises, undisturbed and lost in her tranquil slumber.

With gentle care, Cillian untangled himself from their embrace, draping a blanket over Jiyan as he had done the night before, before falling asleep. Since her panic attack and her subsequent openness about what had transpired, neither had questioned the shift in their relationship—they naturally gravitated towards holding and comforting each other. Falling asleep together seemed like the right next step after the emotionally draining evening they had experienced; it was a simple and comforting way to support each other. Even considering leaving Jiyan alone after such a night was unimaginable to him.

Yawning and stretching his arms above his head, he shuffled to the door, muttering under his breath about whoever had the audacity to disturb so early in the morning.

Peering through the door's peephole, he immediately recognized his sister's figure, and a shock of cold realisation shot through him, fully waking him up. Damn, he had completely forgotten about their plans for this morning.

As he opened the door, attempting to offer an apology, his sister launched into a scolding tirade, oblivious to his efforts to quiet her down. The living room wasn’t far, and even though Jiyan seemed to be a deep sleeper, he doubted she would stay asleep for long with his sister's loud reprimands.

"You were still asleep?! Cillian, I told you we needed to buy Sile’s present this morning. With me covering for a colleague this week, I'm swamped, and we agreed to do it today!"

"Orla, morning… I know, I'm sorry, very. I'll find Sile's present on my own later, just please lower your voice," Cillian pleaded.

"Lower my voice?! This is the third time you've postponed it. Her birthday is next week! You were busy with work the past few weeks, but now what? You just forgot? And why do you look so tired? Were you out yesterday night—" Orla paused, her gaze shifting past him.

 Turning around, Cillian saw Jiyan standing there, wearing a hoodie and sweatpants that were clearly too big for her, giving his sister ammo about a crazy night spent the night before, where she spent the night here and now she was wearing his clothes. 

Jiyan appeared still a bit sleepy and somewhat taken aback to find someone else in the house. "Um, hi, sorry, I heard voices and—" Jiyan trailed off, her cheeks flushing with a hint of concern about the situation she had walked into.

"Really, Cilian? Really?" Orla interrupted, looking annoyed with her brother.

"Orla, it's not..." Cilian began, then he shook his head, hoping to dispel any misunderstanding that he had spent the night drinking and picking up random women at the pub. 

He turned to Jiyan, hoping to clarify everything; this was not the morning he had imagined.

"Jiyan, this is my sister, Orla. I forgot we had to buy a present for our youngest sister this morning, and she's giving me an earful. Orla, this is Jiyan, my... This is Jiyan," he concluded a bit awkwardly, turning back to his sister.

"Jiyan?" Orla repeated, making the connection, and sounding placated for the moment, with a hint of sisterly curiosity. "Oh... I'm sorry, I must seem like a crazy sister, but this one," she gestured towards Cillian, "is the most unorganised person I've ever met. I'm Orla, nice to meet you," she said, extending her hand to Jiyan.

"Nice to meet you too," Jiyan replied, still feeling a bit uncertain about the situation. "I can go if you need to go out, it's really no problem-"

"No!" Cilian exclaimed a bit too forcefully, cutting her off before his sister could intervene and convince Jiyan to leave. "Orla was just leaving. I'll buy something later this week, and everything will be alright, right Orla?" he asked, looking at his sister.

Orla glanced between them a couple of times, as if watching a ping pong match, before finally settling her gaze on her brother's determined expression, realising there was no way she could win this battle and following their planned morning.

"Sure," she confirmed, though with a hint of warning. "But if you forget like Mum's birthday last year-"

"It was two years ago!" he defended himself.

"I don't care," she told him firmly. "I have to go now. Jiyan, it was a pleasure to finally put a face to your name. Cillian couldn’t stop talking about you during Paddy's -"

"Yes!" Cillian said, raising his voice, cutting off his sister to comment further. "Orla, I think it’s time. You really should go," he interjected, gently nudging his sister towards the door and subtly hinting for her to leave, hoping to salvage some of the dignity he had left.

His sister finally composed herself and exited, bidding her goodbyes to Jiyan, but not without one last firm reminder to her brother.

After closing the door behind his departing sister and exhaling a held breath, Cillian turned back to Jiyan, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

"Sorry about that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "My sister can be a bit... persistent. I completely forgot that we had to meet this morning."

Jiyan glanced at the floor, uncertainty clouding her expression. After all that had been said the previous night, she was still shocked by what had transpired and perhaps a little ashamed of her own reactions. "I can really go, if you-"

"I don’t want you to go," he said, cutting her off.

They stood in the hallway entrance, bathed in natural sunlight from the living room, casting a deep ambiance around them. As he looked at Jiyan, he soon forgot about his sister's impromptu visit. The tension he had felt multiple times in the past months was coming alive that morning, making his hair on both his arms feel energised, as if pure electric energy was coursing through him.

"Cillian… I…" Jiyan started to say.

"Can I say something?" he interjected, his voice trembling a little with emotion, starting to feel his heart beating faster. "I know it's only been a couple of months since we met, but the more time I spend with you, Jiyan, the more connected I feel. It's like I've known you for decades, like I can understand what you're feeling and thinking.

He paused briefly before continuing, his words pouring out in a rush. "Yesterday night... Yesterday night, it was draining and exhausting for you, and I understand if you feel like you've exposed yourself to more hurt, or if you think you've shown a vulnerable side of yourself. But I see you, Jiyan. I think I really see someone for the first time, and what I see is beautiful. You have nothing to apologise for or feel ashamed of that happened yesterday. Nothing."

For a long moment, she just looked at him. Looked at that sensitive, generous, humble, handsome man who had offered refuge to her last night, after one of the worst panic attacks she had ever experienced. Who has listened and supported her, making her feel for the first time not alone in what she was going through. She could see in him someone with whom she didn’t have to hide - not her feelings, not her emotions, not her past or insecurities.

"I think... I think I also see you," she said, walking closer to him until their chests were almost touching, locking her gaze with his deep blue eyes that reminded her so much of the sea.

As her heartbeat quickened, but not like the night before, she didn't feel panic this time; she felt alive, a tingling sensation coursing through every part of her body.

Cillian didn't respond with words. Instead, he gently cupped her face with one hand, his eyes speaking volumes, like she could read the myriad shades of the ocean within them. His breathing changed too, influenced by their proximity and her presence.

She wasn't sure who moved first or who initiated the first contact. All she knew was that the first touch felt like finally coming home again. Her hand found its way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, craving to deepen the connection and feel more of him. Their initial tentative kiss quickly turned passionate, almost desperate, as if they feared the other would vanish in the next moment.

His hands found their place on her waist, slipping under her hoodie and eliciting a groan from deep within his chest as he felt her warm skin, his thumbs tracing circles on her taut abdomen.

She lightly nibbled on his lower lip, drawing another deep groan from him, before resting her forehead against his, breathing him in, both of them trying to catch their breath.

"Ok, wow," she said, opening her eyes again and gazing into his.

"Yeah," he agreed, his arms holding her close to him, not wanting to let her go. She held his cheek, breathing him in, closing her eyes and relaxing into their embrace. If their first kiss had quickly turned passionate, the second time their lips met, she wanted to convey all the different feelings she had, feeling connected to him, letting herself go, and trusting him to accept her.

She let out a high-pitched moan when he responded, exploring her mouth with his tongue, wanting her to feel as much as he was feeling in that moment, wanting to deepen it and at the same time just enjoy their exchange that made him feel like he was walking on the moon.

She also wanted to feel more of him, holding one of her hands on his heart, feeling his chest expand and his heart beating frantically. She then started kissing his jaw and snuggled into his neck, softly biting the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

"Jiyan," he warned, closing his eyes to catch his breath again and gain some sort of control over his body.

She made an innocuous sound, then repeated her action, eliciting another deep groan from him. He moved his arm from under the hoodie she was wearing to cup her cheeks.

"You are a tease," he said softly, planting a soft peck on her lips again.

“Who says I am teasing?” she retorted, joy bubbling up from her chest as her hands ran through his hair.

“Come on, you need some food in you after yesterday, before we do anything that requires more effort.”

“Ah, so it’s an effort for you, Murphy?” she teased him, “Didn’t think you were this old,” she said, sliding her fingers into his as she followed him to the kitchen, settling on one of the kitchen stools.

He ignored her last comment with a smile, opening the fridge and inspecting its sad remains.

“I have some toast, cheese, and eggs, but I know you don’t eat those. There’s a lemon and a very questionable package of mushrooms.”

"Urgh," she made a disappointed moan.

“I know, sorry. I just got back yesterday and haven’t had a chance to go to the big shop yet.”

“Do you have some canned chickpeas? Or canned beans?” she asked.

“Maybe, I can check the pantry.”

After she gathered some canned chickpeas and quickly made some hummus to eat with toast, he prepared some scrambled eggs with toast and cheese.

“I should really bring you a package of real tea here and teach you how to make chai,” she said as they sat facing each other, their knees touching, and his left hand resting on her thigh. Since the night before, where he had held and comforted her, it was like both of them couldn't stop touching each other, almost like they always needed some kind of physical connection.

“Please feel free to bring as much chai as you want and teach me that wizardry that you Kurds call tea. You knew I would become a complete addict to that.”

“Yup, that's our evil plan for Kurdistan liberation, making white people fall in love with our chai so they would finally stop persecuting us.”

“See, I always knew you had a second motive,” he joked.

After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"After finishing the last of her hummus on toast, a real champion’s breakfast, she looked at him with a more serious expression.

"I know you said you didn’t want me to apologise, so I won’t," she said, resting her hand over his on her leg. "But thank you for taking care of me yesterday, for your patience, and for listening to me. I don’t think I've ever told anyone all of that before."

"I will always want to listen to you and be there for you, I think," he said sincerely. "I know we both said we weren’t looking for something beyond friendship, Jiyan, but I don’t think..."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "During the past few weeks, while I was working in Galway, I tried to detach myself from you and think about it objectively. I wanted to see if it was just like my other past relationships, where I could lose myself in work and disappear. And I could, partly. I think acting will always be liberating for me because I can stop being myself for some time. But when I stopped and was back to being Cillian, I wanted to share it all with you. I’m not sure how it will all go, but I want to try to have this deep connection that I feel with you, Jiyan. Because for the first time, I feel I can be more than just a good actor, a decent brother, or someone who makes my family proud."

She didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, just staring at their interlined fingers, playing with them.

"During these weeks, when you weren’t here, I also had time to think. I think that’s also why yesterday I had that reaction. Newroz was the first time where I talked again about Samyah, or I felt she was there, back with me, celebrating. It’s like I pushed all away and now I am feeling all of it together. When you were away, I understood how much more difficult it was, feeling all of that without you… here. I am also not sure how it will be, I am not sure how much I am able to give to you right now. You saw yesterday how easily I can break down…” she said, taking a breath and looking back at him. “But I also would love to know what it really feels like, to share all of this with you."

“You are not the only one that is not sure how much I am able to give. Sometimes when I am so deep into my work, I feel like a shadow of myself. Even if I am there, the people around me feel like I am a ghost of the man I am, and maybe the worst is that I love losing myself so deep into a role. It’s the best feeling, even if I feel like shit at the end of the process,” he finished, trying to joke about it, intertwining his fingers with hers, wanting to feel her closer.

“What a pair we make, eh?” she smiled.

He chuckled at that, finishing his last bite of eggs. “Do you have plans today?” he asked, hoping to not get separated too soon.

“I don’t think I want to do anything. Every time I have one of those breakdowns, I feel exhausted the next couple of days. I just want to lay down and maybe watch something.”

“One of those?” he asked worriedly.

“They started a couple of months after Samyah’s passing. Moving here helped. I just had something similar the day I came back from the hospital, after what happened at the pub.”

He stroked her arm gently, not knowing how to help or what he could say. She was confronting her demons with an acceptance that he did not possess, almost like it was natural that things like this were happening and after those few days life would go on, with Jiyan being back to her solar and sassy self. On one side, he was slightly feeling frustrated about her laid-back attitude; he knew that he would not have her grace to behave like that if something similar happened to him. On the other hand, he was really amazed by the woman in front of him, by her resilience and her strength.

“If you don’t want to be on your own, but if you want some company, we can go back on the sofa, choose some comfort movies, and just relax. Later we can order something if we feel hungry.”

“You sure you are okay about spending the day watching movies with me?”

“It would be just grant, Jiyan,” he said, grinning, getting up from the kitchen island and gathering their plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“Are we allowed to snack during these movies?” she asked hopefully, as if they hadn't just finished breakfast.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked back.

“Popcorn?” she asked eagerly. 

“I'll put them in the microwave. Go check if you can find some movies,” he suggested.

“Do you have Star Wars?” she called from the living room.

“Yup, check the shelves on the left,” he said loudly back, just after putting two bowls of popcorn in the microwave and looking for some jalapenos. Then he paused for a moment, thinking about what George Lucas might say, knowing stories about his character, knowing they were using his movies as comfort just after a panic attack. Well, if it worked for her, he would never say no to a Star Wars marathon.

It took him a couple of minutes to return to the living room, with Jiyan seated comfortably on one side of the sofa, wrapped in a fluffy blanket.

He passed her a bowl of popcorn as she pressed play, and “A New Hope” started. Sitting close to her, he started to enjoy the famous first scene of the saga, starting to understand why she found it comforting; it felt like being hugged by an old dear friend.

While Luke met Obi-Wan, Jiyan finished her bowl of popcorn, putting it on the floor. For a tiny person, she could pack away quite a bit of food. As she leaned back, before he could stop her, she took some popcorn from his still full bowl and then reacted with a shriek.

“What’s that?!”

“Popcorn,” he said back, ignoring her shock, hiding the bowl on his side of the couch, the furthest from Jiyan, worried what could happen to his guilty food treat. Hoping to refocus on the movie and avoid a topic that almost every friend or member of his family teased him for.

“No it’s not! Popcorn is crispy, salty, and addictive. What the fuck is that? It’s all soggy,” she whined, complaining.

He avoided her question until she started to tickle him on his side, making him squirm away.

“Jiyan!” he said, slightly annoyed, putting his bowl on the floor too, trying to avoid her tickling attack by grabbing both her wrists. As she tried to struggle away, Cillian pulled back, making her fall onto his chest, and him laying down on the couch.

“Are you finished?” he asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

“You are ticklish,” she answered, avoiding the question with a devious smile, like a cat that ate the canary.

“No,” he tried saying, keeping his face as serious as he could, but her smile only grew wider.

“You are,” she teased.

“Jiyan…” he warned.

“Tickling you is less than a deserved punishment for what you have done to the popcorn,” she defended.

“It’s my bowl,” he said exasperatedly.

“I don’t think even serial killers would dare to do whatever you have done to popcorn. Not even terrorists. Maybe cops, you would expect that from cops, or fascists…”

He interrupted her with a kiss, freeing one of her wrists and cupping her face. “Are you done?” he asked, his voice lowering a tone, smiling amusedly at her.

“You’re not gonna distract me from your crimes, Murphy,” she said, pouting, as he kissed back her pout.

“No?” he asked, this time smirking.

“You cannot bribe me, I’m incorruptible,” she said seriously, as she settled more comfortably into his embrace, starting to run her fingers through his hair. She loved how soft his hair was; it was so comforting.

“Sure, love,” he teased her, starting to kiss her jawline till he found the spot just under her lobe, sucking it and getting a moan from her that made his insides boil, feeling his pants getting tight.

He caressed her throat with his nose, continuing his exploration and being surrounded by her perfume. He could smell some of his body wash and another smell that he could only describe as Jiyan, it reminded him of the spices of chai and the salty air of the sea. He breathed deeply, feeling all his senses wake up and had to control himself, wanting to just turn around with her under him and kiss every centimetre of free skin possible.

Jiyan, who was starting to feel all putty in his hands, tried to get some sort of control back by grabbing his hair slightly to capture his lips, with her free hand sneaking under his t-shirt wanting to also feel his skin. She was welcomed with his smooth skin and the lines of his muscles clenching as she caressed them, gaining a deep groan vibrating from his chest that she swallowed before biting his lower lip.

He also slid his hand under his hoodie she was wearing, caressing her sides as his brain went blank when he noticed just now the absence of a t-shirt or the feel of a bra.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath laboured, as his hands were just under her breasts, wanting nothing more than to feel their weight. She arched herself into his hands, like a luxurious cat, nodding her head before brushing kisses along his neck.

He caressed slowly the side of her chest, consciously avoiding the most erogenous zones, making her press into his hands even more, wanting to guide him silently where she wanted him to be touched. He smirked at her attempt, running his thumbs close to where she needed them the most, never really touching them, feeling her trembling with desires but still teasing her. She was so responsive.

“Cillian…” she whined in his neck, grabbing his hair hard.

“Yes, love?” he asked, amused, enjoying playing this game.

“You know what…” she mumbled.

He chuckled, “I don’t know what you mean.”

Jiyan, annoyed and impatient with this man, got up sitting over his lap and in one move got rid of her hoodie, throwing it on the armchair next to them, leaving her topless in front of him. As Cillian's throat got dry and he was distracted by the view in front of him – her taut stomach and her round breasts with small dark areolas that were begging to be kissed – she used his distraction to push his shirt over his head, leaving his chest also bare in front of her.

“Are you done teasing?” she asked, her hands on his chest to balance over him.

“You are beautiful,” he said instead, not sure if he even heard her, his hands back on her, just under her ribs.

She bent and captured his lips, feeling the heat coming from him. His hands started to roam again, one holding her head and the other one cupping one breast, caressing her nipple, making her moan in their kiss. She felt his erection under her and moved her hips, starting a slow rhythm that made them both pant.

They lost themselves in the sensation of skin against skin, lips on lips, and fingers touching any part of skin they could reach.

As she started to rock faster, she started to feel the pressure and the heat inside her growing. When he moved his kisses to her neck and bit her, she moaned loud, feeling the electricity running in her body.

He slid his lips from her neck to the valley between her breasts, catching his breath slightly before he pressed his mouth to her nipples, sucking it slowly, gaining another deep moan from Jiyan. He used his teeth and tongue to explore, switching his attention from one breast to the other and Jiyan felt like her blood was burning, the pressure between her legs increasing.

She stopped her movements, making him look at her confused and worried, asking her if she was alright.

Instead she bent and captured his lips, the kiss became more heated. She then slid her hands in his sweatpants, breaking the kiss and asking silently if it was okay for him. At his eager nod, she got rid of his trousers with his help. As her hand ventured over his boxers, she lightly brushed against his erection, causing him to arch into her touch.

"Who's the tease now?" he rasped, his voice low and growling, as he eyed her with anticipation.

Instead of replying, she reached for him, pulling his underwear down to grasp his member, exploring him for the first time. Her touch was deliberate, moving slowly and firmly, savouring the weight of him and relishing in his laboured breaths and groans. She craved more.

As her thumb traced the pulsing vein on the side of his shaft, feeling his precum, his hands found her ass, gripping it firmly as he surrendered to the sensations she evoked. It didn't take much to push him to the brink.

"I want to feel you," he gasped, seizing her wrist to halt her movements. Looking into his glassy eyes, mirroring her own passion, she nodded.

Sitting up, she took his hand, guiding it to her sweatpants. Together, they shed her clothes, leaving her naked atop him.

"Are you clean?" she inquired, her hand caressing his member with a slow stroke.

"Yeah, are you?" he murmured, his voice dropping. "Do we need a condom?"

"I have an IUD, and I got tested in December when I donated blood on campus," she reassured him.

He nodded, cradling her face to kiss her fiercely once more. As they kissed languidly, catching their breath, her hands trailed down to his chest while his found her hips, aiding her in adjusting their positions.

Guiding him to her entrance, she began to sink onto him slowly, both of them moaning at the initial contact. She exhaled, trying to relax and accept his girth and length.

"Fuck… so tight," he groaned, closing his eyes as he felt her contracting. 

Feeling her stop, he opened his eyes back, trying to gather some control and staying as immobile as possible, "Are you okay?" he asked, his concern evident as his thumbs circled her hips, offering support.

"Yeah, it's been a while," she whispered, closing her eyes to focus on her gradual movements, starting moving slowly.

Supporting her with one hand, he found her folds with the other, feeling how wet she was and searching for her clit. Slowly, he circled it with his thumb, causing her to close her eyes, arch her back, and moan deeply as she slowly sank down. She let out a deep whine when his entire length rested inside her.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, suppressing his own desires and focusing on her well-being.

"Yeah, it feels good," she said, breathing slowly. "I just need a moment."

She was incredibly tight and warm, enveloping him like a glove. He took a deep breath, restraining himself from moving and allowing her to adjust. He lay back down, enjoying the view of the gorgeous woman in front of him, holding her waist gently, he couldn’t stop touching that soft sunkissed skin.

As she began to feel more comfortable, she squeezed her walls experimentally, feeling him stiffen under her touch.

"Fuck, Jiyan!" he moaned deeply, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on her waist.

With slow movements, she adjusted her hips, searching for a good angle and relishing the sensation of him filling her up. As her movements became smoother, his tip brushed against a soft spot inside her, eliciting a deep moan from her, causing her to arch her back and lose her rhythm.

"Here?" he asked, using his other hand to guide her hips.

"Yes, don't stop," she said, feeling the pleasure intensifying and her walls pulsating.

Time seemed to slow for both of them as they rapidly approached their limits quickly, it had been sometime also for him. Cillian felt her walls spasm around him, signalling her impending release. His thumb went back to circle her clit as her hips stuttered and lost their rhythm. The tension inside him grew like a taut bow ready to be released.

"I'm so close," she gasped, her breathing laboured.

"I am too," he replied, withdrawing his fingers from her folds and gripping her hips tightly. Taking control of the rhythm, he thrust his hips upward, feeling her walls contracting around him. She reached for her breasts, pinching her nipples.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," he growled, captivated by the sight before him.

Without warning, he felt her orgasm approaching, the sensations spreading through her body and engulfing her in pleasure, eliciting deep moans. As she tightened around him, pulling him in and causing him to groan loudly. It didn't take long for him to follow suit, his body tensing as his release filled her insides. They both felt her spasms and the aftershocks of their orgasms.

They remained intertwined for several minutes, trying to catch their breath, their sweaty bodies pressed together. Exhausted, Jiyan leaned down while Cillian embraced her, gently caressing her back.

Pressing a tender kiss on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, "Are you okay?"

She murmured a sleepy affirmation, planting kisses between his neck and shoulder.

"Do you want to stay here or go to bed?" he inquired.

"Bed," she mumbled, though she made no move to get up.

"Do you need help, love?" he asked, slightly amused.

Instead of answering, she kissed his neck and hugged him tightly, causing him to chuckle.

"Hmm," she mumbled, with a yawn.

Chuckling, he sat up, still inside her, eliciting a soft moan as he withdrew. Wrapping his arms around her, he carried her upstairs, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before gently laying her down on his bed. After quickly cleaning himself in the ensuite and grabbing a cloth for her, he returned to admire her naked form before laying beside her, cleaning up the mess they had made.

"Thank you," she mumbled, her voice hoarse as she opened her eyes.

He tossed the cloth into the hamper and lay back, embracing her from behind. Pressing a kiss on her neck, he whispered, "You're amazing," as she snuggled into him, emitting a satisfied moan.

"That was a first for a Star Wars marathon," she said softly, her voice already sleepy and relaxed.

"Well, it did bring us comfort," he replied, hugging her tighter.

"Mmmh, I hope all our movie marathons end this way," she murmured, her energy fading.

"If you have enough energy, I can show you the best part later," he teased.

"Mmmh, sleepy," she moaned.

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he said, closing his eyes and planting one last kiss on her neck.

"Mmmh mmm," she mumbled, relaxing, as they both fell into a restful sleep.

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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

#shadows of the sea #jiyan fabris x cillian murphy #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy #cillianmurphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x y/n

[thewigsnatcher764]

--A TRASH BEAST ANALYSIS--

{-BY THE SNATCHER-}

°~INTROOO~°

Okk sooo remember when I did a post Chapter 94 and went on a little rant about how trash beast could operate? Well, In this post I'll take that idea and expand on it more. I'll also be adding more ideas...! (This post is mostly speculation and pondering but I hope you still enjoy my mess of ideas!!)

/×/——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——/×/

ALRIGHT, SO THERE ARE THREE MAIN IDEAS I WANT TO EXPAND ON HERE:

— Contaminated/Polluted areas and how that could affect the trash beast's forms and characteristics.

— The different types of negativity that supplement the creatures and how that can possibly modify their traits.

— The plausible reasons as to why trash monsters are so aggressive and violent towards humans.

LET'S GOOOOO!!

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°~HOW CONTAMINATED AREAS AFFECT TRASH BEASTS~°

We all remember the first few chapters right? Rudo landed in the intensely polluted area, so unbreathable you had to put on a full-face gas mask just to not choke.

When we first see thrash beasts, THEY'RE FUCKING GINORMOUS. BIG, SCARY AND VIOLENT. The walking definition of a monster. They attacked on sight and don't give up on their targets easily.

At this point in the story, we simply assume that all trash beasts act this way. We haven't learned of the different levels of contamination so we just go along with it.

UNTIL... WE GET TO THE MOST RECENT CHAPTER.

All of a sudden, trash beasts are smaller, slimmer, faster and... Animals!?! The beasts are suddenly mimicking real-life species. In this case, their cheetahs (I think...)and act exactly like them.

But what makes this interesting is that we're not in the intensely polluted zone anymore! We're in the semi- contaminated zone, an area where you only need to put a normal face mask.

This insinuates the fact that a trash beast's physical power is altered depending on the level of contamination in it's area.

-So the power level should look something like this-

INTENSELY CONTAMINATED: These are the most powerful creatures we've seen so far. They're humongous creatures that hunt alone or in small packs possessing monster-like physique and power.

SEMI-CONTAMINATED: Animal-like creatures that hunt in extremely large packs possessing characteristics of real-life animals. (But It could be possible that there are monster-like trash beasts in the semi-area that are simply smaller)

NON-CONTAMINATED: Given the lack of pollution, this is the only area that has actual animals like cats, rats, horses, etc. Though it might be possible that there are miniature trash beasts(Though I doubt that fact...)

✨MINI TANGENT✨ I did research on this and apparently, cheetahs will only hunt in groups if they're in a coalition to attack larger or more dangerous prey. This suggests that trash beasts (or at least the semi-contaminated ones) View humans as dangerous. Because if they viewed them as simple prey, the cheetahs wouldn't bother creating a coalition since they only bother with that if the prey is big and dangerous. (Normally cheetahs are solitary hunters) So why do they view humans as dangerous? ✨ END OF TANGEANT✨

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°~DIFFERENT TYPES OF NEGATIVITY (ANIMA) AND HOW THAT AFFECTS THE MONSTERS~°

In the early chapters of Gachiakuta, Enjin explains to Rudo how trash beasts are made:

" Here on the ground, trash accumulates quickly...And so do feelings and emotions...Anima. Sometimes, that gets converted into energy which causes a variety of unusual phenomena. One of these is the birth of trash beasts. They always attack humans on sight. Generally, they live in the garbage dump outside of town... but every so often they'll invade the cities."- Enjin

I'm not gonna put the whole thing since some of it doesn't connect to what I'm saying. Essentially, negative Anima fuels trash beasts and positive Anima fuels Vital instruments(Jinkis).

But could the percentage of the types of negative feelings in the converted Anima affect the trash beasts physically?

What I mean by this is for example: the percentage of negative emotions in a polluted area is 50% sadness, 40% anger and 10% fear. When they get converted to Anima, instead of the beasts resembling a ferocious monster. Do you guys think it could look more... sad? Its roars would sound more like cries, more sluggish movements, you guys see the vision?

The main emotion making up the Anima could be reflected in the monster's demeanour.

Now if my theory is right, why haven't we seen trash beasts with a more melancholic or scared demeanour? Well, it's simple: trash beasts reflect the population's feelings, right? The story has made clear that the people of the underground are angry: They're mad at what they have been reduced to because of the ones living above them. So obviously all that anger is concentrated on the MAX which affects the monster's power.

AND FINALLY...

//×/——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——/×//

°~THE PLAUSIBLE REASONS AS TO WHY TRASH BEASTS TARGET HUMANS~°

Ok so for this part of the essay, I'm really pulling stuff out of my ass😭😭. I wouldn't be surprised if I was wrong on all of these but it's fun to make! I'm theorizing there are two reasons why trash beasts are targeting humans: for energy or due to the projecting of the citizens of the city.

-HOW CAN HUMANS FEED TRASH MONSTERS, WELL I HAVE TWO IDEAS-

- FOR ENERGY: All humans possess some amount of negativity in them. Whether or not they are a good person, it wouldn't be surprising if they hunt them for energy purposes. After all, animals hunt for sustenance, right?

- PROJECTION: Remember when I explained that trash beasts could be reflecting the population's anger? We all know that the majority of that anger is towards the people on top. Whether it's internalized or forward, anger is anger. You can imagine that a lot would wanna cause pain to them...So what if those violent thoughts get turned into Anima which powers up the beasts? Given that Anima is something that was converted, some of the specifics of that anger might have sorta got lost in translation. So when a trash monster sees a human, they won't be able to differentiate between the underground and the people on top.

All the creature really knows is that the anger is towards humans, and so they attack.

//×/——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——//×//——/×//

°~OUTROOOO~°

AAAAAAHHHHHH THIS WAS SO FUCKING LOOOONNGGG. I hope you guys enjoyed my overthinking brain!

See you in the next one!

💕💕💕💕💕

#gachiakuta #gachiakuta theories #the snatcher's rants

[cherrygorilla]

The Mixtape Mysteries: Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne - 4:53

Yes, it is a ridiculous amount of time since I last posted anything to do with this (or anything at all really), but I've been dying to write for this story again, so I thought it would be a good way to help me get my groove back. Plus, I wanted to wait until Camp Wanamaker was done before I went back to working on Acting School Drop Out (because I feel like I might be able to use some stuff that's been mentioned in the next part lol). So, after months and months of uni stress that's kept me away from my google doc, here's the next installment of the story that's kept me going through it all.

Listen along with the gang here. Enjoy!

Heavy eyelids dropped over a pair of umber eyes trying, and failing, to focus on the computer screen in front of them. Whilst the radio often felt like Butchy's only co-worker, today it just seemed to be functioning as a lullaby machine - and the smooth, fade-out ending of Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman' just proved the point further. One second he was staring blankly at a page of pixelated text on a fuzzy screen, and then the next thing he knew he was drooling into the palm of his hand and almost falling off his chair at the sound of a car racing past his window. 

It's not even that he was tired - it was barely even 11am for Christ's sake - he was just so bored his brain was shutting down from lack of stimulation. And considering the latest turn of events, his body wasn't far behind. The roaring engine disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the incessant ticking of the plastic wall clock in its place. It didn't matter what kind of car it was, or where the hell it was going; all Butchy knew was that he wanted to be in it. Hopefully travelling far, far away from this crappy, dead-end town, and this shoe box of an office, that was more dust than desk, and smelled like a wet rat. 

Begrudgingly, he gathered himself together and finished typing out the latest file he'd been working on - something about trespassing in the old steel mill, he didn't care enough to look into the details. Tipping his head back, he rubbed his palms across his eyes, trying to press as hard as he could to draw some sort of alertness to the forefront of his mind. If anything, it just made him more tired.

One glance across his desk let his gaze settle on the dorky Star Wars mug Royce and Bentley had gifted him on his last birthday, and for the first time since he'd slumped in the splitting leather swivel-chair that morning, a ghost of a smile graced his features. He took a swig and drained the mug of the last of its contents: bitter, room-temperature coffee. Wincing at the taste, he picked up the next file to work on, but swiftly dropped it in favour of refilling his mug. After all, the walk to the coffee pot in the main office was the only change of scenery he got all day. Sometimes he watered the dying yucca plant beside him with the rancid liquid just so that he had an excuse to get away from his desk.

The tapping of keyboards and mumblings of the same, tedious phone calls he overheard every day met Butchy's ears as he lumbered down the hall and pushed open the office door. Lurking behind the frosted panel, caked in as much dust as the rest of the building, was the rag-tag reception team, consisting of three women Butchy had absolutely no intention of even looking at, let alone speaking to. He'd given up trying to make conversation with his co-workers pretty quickly after every meagre attempt on his end had been ignored. Most shifts passed without him uttering a single word. However, Lela ditching his ride that morning must have thrown him off more than he realised, because this shift was about to become an anomaly. 

"So I said to him: If you know so much about the damn sausages, why don't you cook 'em yourself?" 

"I bet he knows a lot about one kind of sausage."

"Oh Jen, pull your mind out of the gutter, you sound like a teenager."

"She practically still is one."

"I'm right though, aren't I?"

A strained sigh slipped past Butchy's lips before he could stop it. The nasal drones from the women behind him were enough to make his eye twitch at the best of times, but the added scraping of Jennifer's nail file made it inevitable. Before he could short-circuit altogether though, one of the adjoining doors to the main office was pushed open, and the conversation unfolding behind it immediately caught his attention. 

Heaving a sigh that put the young trainee's to shame, the fourth, and final receptionist, led the charge into the room - two officers hot on her heels. "Well, you'll just have to go alone then, won't you, gentlemen?" 

"We can't just 'go alone', the chief's the only one that goes on solo investigations. What if it's dangerous? What if we need back-up?"

"And what, pray tell, Officer Reynolds, is so 'dangerous' about a broken store window?"

"Well from the sounds of things it's a pretty clear-cut robbery. What if the culprit's still on the scene? What if he's armed?"

"Why are you assumin' it's a 'he'?" Jennifer piped up with a smirk, punctuating her question by blowing the acrylic dust from the tip of her nail. 

As expected, neither officer batted an eyelid at her interruption. 

"We got the call last night. You've got a higher chance of him sticking the damn window back together."

"But what if it's like that time when Old Man McRoberts'-"

"Enough, boys. I don't want to hear it," she finally snapped, slamming the stack of paperwork down on her desk so hard it even made her glasses chain quiver. Turning to the pair with her hands planted firmly on her hips, she continued. "Callahan, you're on patrol with Officer Powell; Reynolds, you're investigating that store window. Alone."

"But Fran, that never-"

"No, I don't want to hear another word. You're going solo, Reynolds, and that's that." 

"...Uh, I could go with you."

The whole office fell silent. Even Jennifer's nail file seemed to pause for thought. But all too soon, six pairs of eyes fell on Butchy, whose grip on his mug instinctively tightened under their bemused glares. He couldn't exactly blame them; even he couldn't believe that he'd dared to speak - let alone suggest such a thing. But then again, this was a perfect opportunity - perhaps the only opportunity he'd get (at least for the foreseeable future) to prove himself a worthy member of the team. Being stuck behind a computer screen all day was getting him nowhere - in fact, he was pretty sure he had even less respect now than when he'd first set foot through the door over a month ago. But working on a case, a real case, meant he could put all the skills he'd learnt in his training to the test - show everyone that potential he'd promised in his interview. This could be the making of Officer Bandoni. This could be his ticket out of that godawful, stuffy office. This could be-

"Oh my god, look at his face; he's serious."

God, he hated Jennifer. But he hated that cackling laugh of hers even more. 

"Jennifer," Linda, the crotchety receptionist to her left, scolded. If Butchy hadn't known better, with her brusque, hushed tone and sharp glare from over the top of her tortoise shell glasses, he'd have thought the woman was her mother. 

"Yeah right," Officer Callahan snorted. But a pause, followed by a brief glance in the new recruit's direction soon had his confidence faltering. "I- Oh…" 

"Hey, cut him some slack, Jen; the kid's still learning the ropes," Officer Reynolds piped up, ignoring Officer Callahan's attempts to hide his smirk by smoothing out his moustache, and instead sending the smarmy receptionist a blasé, yet stern frown. "Of course he wasn't being serious."

"Actually, I was," Butchy corrected. He set his mug down and stood his ground opposite the two officers, gently nudging his chin up and puffing out his chest in an attempt to outwardly show some of the confidence he was so desperately trying to scrounge together. At least that would help to mask the stubborn rage bubbling away in the pit of his stomach. The staff's dismissiveness was frustrating enough on its own, but being reduced to a 'kid' was downright infuriating. 'Kids' did not single-handedly raise their little sister. 'Kids' did not give up their weekends to go and work in a shitty garage for two bucks an hour all throughout high school just so they could have food on the table. 'Kids' did not shoulder the responsibility of four adults after stepping up to parent, not only his own sister, but the three boys next door too. Butchy hadn't felt like a 'kid' in years. He had always been the oldest - the most mature, the most dependable, the most capable… So for these six adults, who had barely given him the time of day in the month he'd been working with them, to stand there and tell him he was nothing more than a 'kid'...it was insulting. And he was determined to prove them wrong. "If you need another officer for back-up, and no one else is free, then why can't I go with you?" 

"Well, for one, you're not an officer-"

All Reynolds had to do was hold up a hand for Callahan to snuff out his snickers. "Because you haven't finished your training yet, son," he plainly explained. At least his withering look was softened by a bored tone. 

"But I've aced every part of the course I've completed so far," Butchy argued. "And this could be a chance for me to learn on the job, out in the field-"

"Son, let it go."

"You said, yourself, that I've got potential. Why can't I just show you-?"

"Look, kid, you're not ready - you won't be for a long time. I admire the optimism but we've gotta look at the facts here. And truth is: the dirt on Callahan's shoe's got more experience walkin' 'round a crime scene than you do. I know you want to get out of the office and get a taste of the action, but I can't work the case and babysit you at the same time. It's just not realistic."

'Babysit'? Butchy could feel the word in the palm of his hand as he clenched his fingers into a fist around it, crushing it, along with all its juvenile connotations. "I'm not a 'kid', I'm eighteen years old," he insisted, choosing his words and tone very carefully as he fought not to lose his cool. 

"Yeah, and I'm not a chainsmoker neither," Jennifer sniggered, appearing to have swapped her nail file for a cigarette during the confrontation. She took a long drag as her, deep, carob eyes latched onto his, lashes sprawling across a rough sea of streaky kohl, before letting the smoke leak out through her crimson-painted smirk. 

Butchy didn't know what was more nauseating: her attitude or the stench of tobacco hanging in the air. 

Officer Reynolds let out an exasperated sigh that soon stole back the trainee's glare though. "That's all well and good, but it's not gonna change my mind. You need more experience before you go out in the field, Bandoni," he explained, with an expression that told Butchy he was well-weary of the conversation now. "You can't learn to run before you learn to walk. It's just not realistic - if anything, it's naïve."

"But how am I supposed to get more experience when I'm stuck behind a desk all day?" 

Butchy's question was shot down though as the pair of officers crossed the room to the office's main door, back to their usual routine of barely acknowledging his existence. "If I'm not back by two for your CPR training, Officer Powell will handle it, okay?" Reynolds said as he plucked his hat from the coat stand in the corner and secured it atop his head of thinning, taupe hair. Knowing the new recruit wouldn't be satisfied with any answer he could give him, he'd just decided to brush the question aside altogether. 

And knowing that defiance, and further provoking, would get him nowhere, Butchy finally relaxed his hand, and gave a stiff nod. He silently watched the officers announce their departure to the room and felt his shoulders slump in defeat, his chest aching with betrayal. Officer Reynolds was supposed to be his mentor, the one who would take him under his wing as he learned the ropes - and yet he'd kicked him to the curb and spat in his face the one time he'd tried to do the right thing. At least that's how it felt to him anyway. 

"Bye boys," Jennifer trilled with a flirty giggle as the office door closed behind them. Tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, she turned her vampish smirk to Butchy. "Nice little show there, Bandoni. And there I was thinking today was gonna be boring." 

Butchy's frown deepened as her scornful laughter battered his ears. The thick-headed she-devil wasn't worth his breath though - even the sickened huff that escaped his throat felt like a waste. His fingers once again closed, although this time they at least found the warm ceramic of his mug beneath them. Letting the heat seep into his skin, he took a deep breath in through his nose and tried to focus on anything else other than the anger boiling in his chest. At least the Star Wars mug, and the memory of receiving it, gave him something to anchor himself to: a way to discharge all the bitter resentment that had been steadily building for weeks, but had finally come to an ugly head. One more snarky comment from Danielle and he'd have hurled the coffee at her sloppy up-do, he knew it - he could feel himself teetering on the brink. 

And yet, a friendly hand in the centre of his back was all it took to draw him back from the edge. "I should be thanking you," Fran said with a sympathetic chuckle, and roll of her eyes at the officers' expense. "I thought they'd never leave."

Managing a weak, but grateful smile to the receptionist, Butchy finally picked his mug up from the drink station and took his leave before he could draw any more unwanted attention to himself. Jennifer's squawking voice still rang in his ears as his footsteps pounded down the hall, desperate (for once) to shut himself away in his office. At least in there he knew he was safe from further embarrassment, even if the only thing waiting for him was a stack of files on petty traffic crimes. Apparently reading about speeding fines and parking tickets was all the excitement his life could afford him for the time being. But, for once, he actually found some comfort in that. 

"Well, Wuthering Heights, you were fun while you lasted, but I am not going to miss you," Vivien snorted, holding the worn paperback out in front of her, as if to address it like an old friend. 

The gentle chuckles that bounced the soft, chocolate brown curls beside her set her innocent little middle-school heart aflutter, and she caught herself clamping her lips shut in case it tried to escape. Craving the thrill of that sensation again, she snatched a shy glance in his direction before plastering the jovial grin back on her face. "Thank you for the 'A' though, Emily." 

"What are you thanking her for? We did all the hard work," Royce scoffed. "I wrote so many notes on the moors I'm pretty sure I almost gave myself Carpal Tunnel."

A snicker crinkled the brunette's nose. "Well you do have the neater handwriting."

"And you have all the good ideas," Royce chuckled, praying desperately that the prickling he felt across his cheeks wasn't what he thought it was. 

Stopping in front of a set of painted metal doors, Vivien turned to him with a disapproving frown. "Not all the good ideas." 

"Fine… most then."

Whilst Royce may have been able to keep his blush at bay, Vivien felt hers raging like a wildfire as she downplayed his compliment with an affectionate eye-roll and pushed her way out into the crisp autumn air of the Hawkins Middle parking lot. Hopefully a bracing breeze like the one that smacked her across the face the second she set foot onto the asphalt would help her systems stop running on overdrive, because right now she felt like a live wire about to catch light. One wrong move from Royce and he'd be fried to a crisp. 

Wrapping her free hand around the forearm that flanked him, protecting his arm from being barbecued should he decide to fondly bump her as they fell into stride once more, Vivien, composure regained, offered him a smile. "I guess that makes us a pretty good team then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he agreed, holding her gaze for a beat and letting the sincerity of the moment swell alongside the tingly, warm feeling spreading through his chest. "...And we've got the A to prove it." Terrified by the sensation, he snorted out a laugh that shattered the tenderness of the moment just as awkwardly as how he almost tripped over his own feet because he was spending more time looking at Vivien and her freaking dimples than where he was walking. Damn his stupid hand-me-down sneakers from Miles and their stupidly long laces.

More awkward, cheerful chuckles tumbled from the middle schoolers' lips as Royce steadied himself again and they made their way over to the cluster of trees by the soccer field. It didn't take Vivien long to break the comfortable silence that had fallen over them though. "I don't know what we're going to do with ourselves now that project's finished; it completely took over our lives for like two whole weeks there."

"I'm sure we'll find something."

But Royce's laidback grin was the complete antithesis of Vivien's tense shoulders and skittish gaze. Then again, he had no idea what she was planning, or what her skating friends had been begging her to do for weeks. 

It couldn't be that hard, right? It was just one little question. She asked him questions all the time, this one didn't need to be any different. And besides, there wasn't really anything Vivien felt as though she couldn't talk to Royce about; he was her best friend, he was always her first port of call for anything that was bothering her - well, unless it was about something like her period; that was strictly for her mom…

But this was just a question: one that could very well have been asked without another thought had she not attached all the extra weight to it in her mind. And yet here she was, fighting her own tongue, trying to persuade it to recite the script she'd meticulously planned out in her head the night before, because for some reason it wasn't convinced by her promised ability to brush the sentiment off as 'just a friend thing' should Royce take it badly. And neither was her mind, really. 

Realistically though, what was the worst thing that could happen if he had a weird reaction? It's not like a meteor would crash out of the sky and strike them both down or anything, no matter how much she may want it to in the moment - she knew; she'd checked and it wasn't the right time of year for it. The worst that could happen is things might be a little awkward between them for a couple days, right? He wouldn't- 

-Actually, scratch that. Vivien didn't want to think about it. 

"Well, actually…" she began, before she could talk herself out of it any further. 

Vivien felt Royce's gaze land on her the second she stopped to clear her throat, which had become inexplicably scratchy ever since those last words had left it, clearly so reluctant to be said they'd dug their heels in the entire journey out into the cool, October air. And as soon as it did, it felt as though all her sweat glands released at once, adding a glistening sheen to her already crimson skin. Horrified, Vivien kept her gaze on the ground a few paces ahead of her to avoid having to find out if Royce had realised, and pushed her round, silver-rimmed glasses further up the bridge of her nose in an attempt to shield herself from further embarrassment as a result of her thirteen-year-old hormones wreaking havoc in her own body. 

Fearing that the longer she dragged this on, the more her subconscious would betray her, she swallowed her nerves and ploughed ahead. "Do you remember how you missed out on going to watch The NeverEnding Story this summer because you had to spend your ticket money on a new wheel for your bike?"

In her periphery, Vivien saw Royce's hand shift up to play with the fraying fabric of his backpack strap. He only ever did that when he felt uncomfortable. She didn't even have to look at him to confirm it either, the pause before he responded told her almost as much as his tone of voice did. 

"...Yeah, but what does that-?"

"Hey nerds!" 

Despite their disdain for the term, both Vivien and Royce's heads whipped around to try to locate the source of the voice, mentally cursing themselves for even acknowledging that the phrase could have been used to refer to them, let alone responding to it. But as green and brown eyes scanned a sparse sea of middle schoolers, searching for signs of anyone with ill-intent, they came up short. 

"Over here!"

The voice, carried on the wind, drew the pair's gazes to a figure, practically standing on the bench of a rotting, wooden picnic table to try to grab their attention and their disgruntled grumblings fell from their lips within seconds of one another, replaced by fond sighs. 

Bentley waved the duo towards him so spectacularly that, for all they knew, he could have been directing a plane to land. And whilst Vivien couldn't help but smile at the blond's boundless energy, she also couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with how easily Royce shelved their conversation by letting out an almost relieved: "Duty calls."

"Yeah," Vivien agreed with a forced smile and a breathy, awkward laugh to match his. Although it dropped from her face the second he turned his back to head over to the shaded seating area. 

Once he was a good few paces ahead of her, and she was sure he was out of earshot, Vivien let out a frustrated huff, so hot she was surprised it didn't steam up her glasses. "Goddammit, Bentley," she muttered, shoving her library copy of Wuthering Heights into her backpack as she started trudging along behind Royce. "I almost got through it all that time."

But Bentley was none the wiser to Vivien's grand plans; too excited by his own news to consider that the pair may have been busy. And besides, the easygoing grin his older brother shot him as he approached made him none the wiser. 

"You've gotta come up with something better to call us, Benny," Royce said, fondly shaking his head as he climbed the last few steps of the hill leading up to the picnic table, adorned by Bentley's friends, the contents of at least three up-turned pencil cases, and enough sheets of paper to paper mache a small child. Thankfully, the table was sheltered from the worst of the breeze, so the most that a stray gust could do was flutter the edges beneath the various, makeshift paperweights (dog-eared textbooks and unopened juice boxes) strewn across the splintering surface.

"Why? You are 'nerds'," the boy laughed as he bounced back down into his spot on the bench seat beside August. 

"We are not," Royce protested.

"It got you to come over here, didn't it?" Bentley replied with a cheesy smirk. 

Royce let out a slightly bitter sigh as he fumbled through a response. "Well- yeah, but it's… demeaning." 

"Then why'd you respond to it?" Kona snorted, apparently more focused on selecting the right shade of crayon than bothering to look Royce in the eye as she insulted him. 

The bluntness of the eleven-year-old's comment drew a snort of laughter from him before he could stop it, whether it was in amusement or incredulity though he'd never know. But the smile that threatened to envelop his disapproving frown stayed firmly in place as he said, "Because I'm so used to everyone else calling us it, that's why. And you shouldn't be contributing to the problem anyway; I thought we were all on the same side here."

"You calling us nerds, RJ?" Zack piped up with a challenging quirk of his eyebrow. 

"Pot calls the kettle black," Royce smirked.

"White boy says what now?" Zack retorted with a confused frown that soon gave way to a mischievous grin the second that Royce rolled his eyes and playfully ruffled his hair, insisting through shared laughter that the boy knew what he meant. 

"What are you guys doing up here?" Vivien asked with a breathy laugh of her own as she arrived at the picnic table and caught the end of the boys' friendly roughhousing.

"Having fun until you nerds showed up," Zack scoffed as he shoved Royce's chest in an attempt to get the older boy away from him. But the bubbling giggles that tumbled from his lips as Royce expressed his disdain for the name once more told everyone all they needed to know about how much he enjoyed the brunet's company - proved even further when he resorted to wrapping his arms around his torso and tackling him into a hug from his spot on the bench. 

"Looks like it," Vivien noted with a bemused chuckle. "What's all this then? You writing out your own comic book or something?" she continued, gesturing to the vast collection of paper spread out before the quartet. 

"We're designing our characters for this cool new game Gus brought in," Bentley raved, holding up his sheet of paper for Vivien to see. "Look at my guy, he's got a wand that's disguised as a paintbrush and this magic flute that lets him talk to animals." 

"Damn, Benny, that's so cool," she grinned, marvelling at the artwork with almost as much care as the blond put into creating it. 

"And look, here's the one I'm doing for Gus," Bentley continued, shuffling the papers around until he selected the right one. 

"You didn't want to draw out your own?" Vivien asked the boy, whose sandy blond eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. 

"Nah; Ben's better at art," August admitted, only glancing up from his work to shoot his oblivious friend a shy smile. "And I enjoy the planning part of it more anyway," he went on to explain. "So he's doing the drawing, and I'm filling out his character sheet for him." 

"Yeah, 'cause there was no way I was gonna be able to deal with all that," Bentley snorted.

"This looks like a lot of work for just one game," Vivien noted, inching another piece of paper towards her and finding it covered from top to bottom in meticulously written words, numbers, and the occasional, scribbled doodle. 

"Tell me about it," Kona scoffed. "I feel like we got extra math homework with this stupid number system we've got to work off of," she added with a huff that blew a straw strand of hair away from her eyes. Begrudgingly tapping the open, yellowing pages of an intricately illustrated book with the end of a pencil, she brought the thirteen-year-old's gaze to the table she was drawing from. 

"You guys are willingly doing math over lunch and you're calling us nerds?" Royce asked with a teasing incredulity that earned him further, playful bickering from Zack. 

"So what do you do with all this when you've created your characters then?" Vivien continued, feeling a fond smile tugging at her lips as Royce's unbridled laughter tickled her ears. Fighting the urge to swat the imagined sensation away, she focused her attention on the other children at the table. "What's this dorky wizard math game called?" 

"Dungeons and Dragons," Bentley explained.

Vivien’s ears perked up. “Dungeons and Dragons? That weird roleplaying game Riven plays with his sweaty high school friends?” 

“Who’s Riven?” Kona asked.

“My skating partner,” Vivien said, throwing the explanation away like a used napkin so that she could get back to the main point at hand. 

“Ew, so is he like your boyfriend then?” Kona teased with a devilish wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“No!” Vivien blurted, maybe a little too quickly if everyone turning to look at her was anything to go by. "No, not like… It's just- He's like my brother, ok?" she hurriedly tried to explain, trying to ignore the bile now creeping at the back of her throat the very thought alone had placed there. 

"Ok," Kona snorted, smirking to herself as she caught Royce's shoulders slump in relief in her periphery. Making the ninth-graders squirm was a favourite pastime of hers, and lately, all this girlfriend-boyfriend talk around them, despite making her want to hurl, had been a homerun every time. 

"I didn’t know Riven played DnD,” Bentley piped up, earning himself a grateful smile from Vivien for taking some of the heat off her. 

“Neither did I until he made us switch our practice days so that he could go play pretend with a bunch of dorks out the back of Eddie 'the freak' Munson's trailer."

"Riven's in that weird Hellraiser club?" Royce asked, bushy eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

"My sister says they're all devil worshippers," Zack mumbled.

"It's Hellfire," Vivien corrected. "And they're not devil worshippers - well, Riven's not anyway. As far as I know they're just losers in matching shirts who play make believe like they're still in first grade."

"It's more than just playing make believe," August dared to pipe up with a somewhat defensive frown, immediately toying with the corner of Bentley's character sheet the second the group's attention landed on him. A sideways glance in the blond's direction earned him a reassuring smile that breathed some much needed confidence into his lungs, and as he released it, he said, "There's this whole world you can build your own stories around with all these super detailed characters and a bunch of lore you can discover. I spent my whole weekend reading through the books my cousin gave me and that doesn't even cover half of it. It's like one big choose-your-own adventure story, but everyone gets a say in what happens, and gets to feel like they're a part of it."

A beaming grin and steel blue eyes, sparkling with excitement, found Royce with startling ease. "Doesn't that sound cool?!" Bentley enthused.

"...It actually does," Royce admitted, even surprising himself with his answer. 

"Hear that, Auggie? You didn't even have to mention dragons to convince someone that time," Kona snickered, firing the curly haired boy beside her a smirk. 

"Whatever," Zack scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You thought they sounded cool too," he added with an accusatory nudge of the blonde's elbow that had her cursing him under her breath for making her pencil skim across the page. 

Ignoring his friends' sibling-like arguing, so used to it by now that it honestly would have been stranger to acknowledge it, Bentley kept his attention, and his toothy grin, focused on his older brother. "I knew you'd like it! You're always borrowing those old fantasy books from the library and writing your own versions of them."

"Well- yeah, ok, but what does that have to do with this?" Royce stuttered, cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment despite Vivien's small, amused smile. 

"Well this is just like that! Gus wrote out our first campaign all by himself," Bentley gushed before leaning into the shying blond beside him. "That's like the story, right?" he checked in a hushed tone. And after receiving a confirmatory nod, he turned back to Royce with renewed enthusiasm. "The plot, the monsters, the bonus quests - he came up with it all!" 

Bentley pushed a stack of papers towards his brother, bound by treasury tags and bearing enough ink to have drained an entire pack of ballpoint pens. "Holy shit," Royce breathed as he picked it up and began flipping through the makeshift book, becoming more and more stunned with every turn of a page. "You wrote this whole thing by yourself?" he asked August, who timidly nodded. "In one weekend?" Again, the boy nodded, this time a little more eagerly. And Royce could see why. "...Wow," he marvelled, smiling as he watched the younger boy swell with pride. "This is really impressive, August."

"You put some serious work into this, huh?" Vivien noted.

"Yeah, I guess," August admitted as his steadily reddening cheeks were pulled aside by an appreciative grin. "It's not like I minded though," he went on to hurriedly explain. "It all came together pretty quickly once I got into it. Plus it gave me an excuse to shut myself up in my room away from my stuffy aunt and that stupid dog she carries around in her purse," he added, earning himself a bright laugh from Bentley that completely stalled his train of thought. Luckily, it was nothing that clearing his throat and refocusing his gaze on the blond's character sheet couldn't fix though. "I guess I just thought it would be something fun for us all to do together, you know?"

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it," Vivien said with a warm smile. But there was still a little, nagging thought hammering away at the back of her head, and she feared that if she didn't use this opportunity of an out as her last-ditch attempt at getting Royce alone before the end of the school day then that nagging thought would break right through her skull and puncture her brain with its pesky little pickaxe. And she needed all the brainpower she could muster to get through this, so she did not want to take any risks. "Anyway," she continued, snagging the attention of the table of eleven-year-olds as she clapped her hands together. "We'd better let you guys get back to planning. We wouldn't want to be the reason for you guys delaying your first adventure now, would we?" she asked rhetorically, firing a knowing look across at Royce that was not-so-subtly hidden behind a theatrical grin.

If Royce picked up on the intensity behind Vivien's gaze though, he didn't show it, instead remaining as blissfully oblivious as he always seemed to be when it came to her intentions as he took his turn to offer a fond smile to the table of his brother's friends. "You'll have to let us know how it goes," he said, before adding with a chuckle: "I'm invested now; it sounds awesome."

Breathing out a sigh of relief between her teeth as Royce rounded the picnic table to join her, Vivien kept her almost clown-like smile plastered to her face as she thanked whatever great powers were at work for making Royce ever so slightly more perceptive than the other, gormless teenage boys in their class. But just as she was inching her way back down the hill, and readying her opening line for the brunet once they were out of earshot of the eager little gremlins, one of them piped up with a perfectly pointed pin to burst her bubble. 

"Why don't you just play with us then?" 

Bentley's wide-eyed, hopeful grin was the only thing keeping Vivien from snatching up Kona's muddy jump rope and strangling him with it. Besides the years upon years of sibling-like friendship, obviously.

Forcing out a strained laugh, she managed a tight, "It's alright, Benny, we don't want to crash your fun." 

"You're not crashing anything; we want you to join in. Right, guys?" 

Ok, so Bentley can't read social cues… Good to know. 

It would have made things a hell of a lot easier if Vivien could have known about that before she set the wheels of her master plan into motion though, because right now she felt like they were so out of sync they were about to derail the handcar she'd strapped this grand idea of hers to. But even if she could have brought herself to get mad at Bentley, Zack jumped to the blond's defence before she even had the chance. 

"Yeah, we're gonna need all the help we can get because Kona can't add up for shit and I'm not about to let my guy Omar Scale Crusher die after I've spent all this time working out his stats."

"I can't add up for shit?! What the hell are you talking about? You're the one who got put in Math 2!"

"Only for a week! And I totally got a better grade than you on that test last week."

"No you didn't!"

"Did too!"

"Bite me!" 

As the pair energetically bickered about Zack's accusations, which Kona steadfastly claimed were built on entirely false foundations, Vivien found her frustration with the picnic table occupants crumbling away. After all, they weren't to know that she'd been practising for this lunchtime conversation with Royce for weeks. How could they? The only others she'd confided in were her three skating friends and the balding Big Bird stuffed animal from the end of her bed that had taken on the role of Royce during her many rehearsals. And she couldn't blame them for their excitement over the game either; even she had to admit that it sounded pretty cool. Plus, after hearing Riven rhapsodise about Hellfire's epic campaigns for weeks now, she was starting to get a little curious about the game and how it was played. 

"Omar Scale Crusher, huh?" she eventually chuckled, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Zack that soon ground his and Kona's squabbling to a halt. "How'd you come up with that?" 

"Isn't it sick? Auggie had this big list of names with cool meanings to help us decide."

After shuffling through the endless sheets of paper around him, August found the right one and went on to explain for a very enthusiastic Zack: "Omar means 'one who has a long life'."

"Yeah, so he'd better live up to his damn name! I'm not planning this whole thing out to have him die in the first round," he declared with a hearty laugh, before tagging on: "Plus my uncle's called Omar and he's awesome."

Vivien couldn't help her snort of laughter at the blunt innocence. "Very creative," she noted. "What is he then? Like a viking or something?"

"No, he's a wizard," Zack stated matter-of-factly. "'Cause why would I bother using a sword when I could just kill an enemy with magic?" 

"How come your guy's holding a sword then?" 

Royce's frank delivery, from over the younger boy's shoulder, had a laugh spurting from between Vivien's lips before she could stop it. And Bentley, August, and Kona were all quick to follow suit. 

However, as to be expected, the brash brunet soon scrambled a retaliation. "Well I'd still want one for backup."

"No duh," Kona chuckled as she finished shading in the metallic sheath of the dagger her character clutched in a leather clad fist. "Magic or not, you still need a weapon."

"Is your character a wizard too then?" Vivien asked Kona, but the incredulous snort the blonde let out could have told her all she needed to know on its own.

"No, Andromeda doesn't need to rely on magic to keep herself out of danger; her dexterity's off the charts." 

Before another argument could break out between Zack and Kona as a result of her roundabout dig at him, August decided to speak for the table. "Zack’s our mage, Kona's our thief, Ben's our Bard and my guy's a ranger."

"But you're the dungeon master too, right?" Bentley checked, mischievous blue eyes peeking out from beneath furrowed bows. 

August's own eyes were drawn to Bentley's the second that he'd opened his mouth, but the smirk tugging at his friend's lips was what captured his attention. "What's so funny?" he challenged through a chuckle that coaxed one out of Bentley too. "You don't think I could be a dungeon master?"

"I never said that," Bentley laughed. But the look the boys shared meant they both knew that's what his tone had implied.

"You didn't have to."

"Well can you blame me? It just sounds so menacing and scary. I know you read all those horror books and stuff, but come on, you're about as intimidating as Winnie the Pooh - who, last time I checked, was still tucked under your comforter next to your pillow and your old baby blanket."

Jaw dropped in incredulity, August lightly elbowed Bentley in the ribs. "I can so be intimidating," he retorted. But if he was pretending to be mad at the boy, his true feelings were soon revealed by the smile he couldn't seem to keep off his face.

"Yeah, well, we've yet to see it," Kona bluntly noted, which once again set Royce and Vivien off giggling at the sixth graders. 

"You sound like you've got a pretty well-rounded group then," Royce carried on, drawing the conversation back to August's point from earlier. "Are there even any roles left for us? Or are we going to have to start doubling up?"

"You can double up if you want, but there's still a bunch of classes that haven't been picked yet," August explained, flipping through the large book spread out before him until he got to the right page. "We've not got a druid, a cleric, or a fighter."

"What does a fighter do?" Royce asked.

"Fighters are weapons-oriented warriors, who fight using skill, strategy, and tactics," August recited from his handbook, bringing the group's attention to the detailed illustration of an armoured swordsman, wielding what looked to be an incredibly heavy shield with almost no effort at all.

The second Vivien's eyes met the page she knew it was game over; her imagination kicked into overdrive and tossed all other thoughts about how she could have been spending this lunchtime to the curb. Racing at a million miles an hour, her brain plucked ideas from seemingly thin air and began piecing together a muscular young woman, strong enough to knock an ox clean off its feet in one quick shove, although you'd never know it since her frame was cleverly disguised in roughened leather padding, tarnished silver armour, and rich, violet robes fashioned into a sort of cape. Her face was weathered, but kind, and her vibrant, emerald eyes sparkled with determination, and the promise of adventure. Like the picture in August's book, the woman carried a large, battle-scarred sword by its ornate handle, and kept a hefty shield vigilantly by her side, painted in, again, deep shades of indigo, violet, and the blood of her enemies, naturally. She also had a quiver of arrows slung over her shoulder though, nestled beside a crossbow, just peeking out from behind a head of flowing, chestnut locks. The heroine had no time for preening, so her hair was tousled with grease and grime from combatting the elements on her journeys, but as it fluttered in the wind, it was kept away from her face by intricate braids, weighed down by silver rings and stolen jewels of amethyst and topaz. She smiled at Vivien from the forefront of her mind, as if marking her territory there, and Vivien felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed out a quiet, and hopefully nonchalant: "Hmm…cool."

"That sounds like a good one for you, Viv. Strategy and tactics? You're great with planning stuff out," Royce noted. But one glance in her direction and his face broke into a knowing smile the second he clocked her eyes, glazed over in thought, and lips, parted in awe. 

"Yeah, and look, you'd make a great cleric," Bentley continued, pulling Royce's gaze away from Vivien, albeit reluctantly. Flipping the page of August's handbook, he excitedly tapped at a drawing of a tall man, draped in heavy, fur pelts and bronzed chainmail. A glowing staff was held in one hand, and a massive axe was thrown over his shoulder as though it weighed no more than a sack of flour. 

"Clerics are versatile figures, both capable in combat and skilled in the use of divine magic," August recited from the page after a light, nudge from Bentley. "They're also powerful healers."

"See? That's perfect for you! You're always helping patch us up if we fall off our bikes," Bentley enthused, undeterred by the amused chuckles that his brother unleashed as a result of what he thought was an adorably innocent explanation. 

"Yeah, and we could use a healer on our team, especially with those two and their lack of impulse control," August snorted as he gestured to Kona and Zack, who jumped at the chance to express their indignation. 

As the group of friends returned to jovially bickering amongst themselves, Royce and Vivien's minds were quietly whirring with ideas. Ideas which, upon glancing at one another, they soon realised were all too perfectly aligned. 

"What do you say then, losers?" Kona finally asked once she'd finished fighting her ground against the boys, snapping the eighth-graders out of their heads and bringing them back to reality with a knowing smirk. "Are you playing with us or not?"

Royce, as always, left the decision to Vivien. But the hopeful glimmer in his caramel eyes, paired with her own, itching curiosity made that decision all too easy. And besides, even if she wasn't spending time alone with Royce, she was still spending time with him. And that was good enough for her.

…For now. 

"Well… I guess one game couldn't hurt, right?" she said with a smirk that soon broke out into a grin as Bentley's face lit up like a firework display. And it only grew when she glanced across at Royce for one last confirmation that she'd made the right decision, only to find him beaming with almost as much enthusiasm as his brother. 

If this nerdy little game brought Royce this much joy, and was even half as much fun as it sounded, then Vivien knew it would be worth another few hours of crippling anxiety. Besides, she hoped that she could immerse herself in the story so much that she'd forget all about her predicament with the brunet anyway. But as they took their places at the picnic table, and Royce's sneaker brushing against her shin shot a jolt of adrenaline up her leg with such a force that she almost jumped straight back out of her seat, she knew that that was just wishful thinking. Covering up the brief waver in her cool, confident exterior with a quiet cough, she tried to refocus her mind on the endless streams of information August was unleashing on the pair of them.

"-and so the group our characters all belong to is called The Circle of the Emerald Torches, but part of the first campaign is about how we get our name, so I'll explain more about that later. Before you start, and before I give you your character sheets though, if you want to be in our party then you'll need to recite the Oath of Noble Heroes so that we know you're serious about this."

"Don't worry, we had to do it too. But it's so cool, you'll love it! And then there's a declaration of loyalty for you to sign somewhere too," Bentley tagged on before the boys started animatedly babbling amongst themselves about the ins and outs of their party's rules again. 

Shaking his head at the pair, Royce took the opportunity of them being distracted to lean over to Vivien and teasingly chuckle, "What the hell have you just gotten us into?"

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the boy, knowing that his enthusiasm for the game was a major driving factor in her decision to play, and that he was also well-aware of that fact, she looked him square in the face and hid her smirk behind a deadly serious, blank expression, "I'm pretty sure we just joined a cult." 

American History, Volume 2, lay open on page 38. And it had laid there like that for the past 45 minutes, having been abandoned by its current owner almost as soon as it had been removed from their backpack. Because instead of completing the assigned history homework, the desk's occupant was using their study hall period much more wisely: by shredding a solo, courtesy of Ozzy Osbourne, on possibly the most prestigious instrument of all: the air guitar.

Ethan's eyes slid shut, and a blissful smile curled his lips as he mashed the volume button on his Walkman with practised ease. Bar after bar of 'Crazy Train' pounded through his skull at a staggering volume, rattling what little of his brain was left in the mostly vacant space between his ears, helped along by the bopping of his head in time with the song's beat. When his fingers weren't plucking out riffs on imaginary strings, they were banging out the drumline on a drum kit that was just as real as his Gibson SG. And all the while, he was passionately miming the lyrics for his audience of the pencil shavings and dust mites that hugged the wall beside his desk. 

He felt the music in his bones. The bass line pumped through his veins. Every note that was played resonated through the chambers of his heart until it felt like the song was as much a part of him as his left arm. And the deeper he let himself sink into the music, the less aware of his surroundings he became - or the less he cared to remember them anyway. Until a sharp elbow to the ribs shattered his rockstar illusions, that is. 

Bleary brown eyes met earnest, steel blue, and held nothing but confusion for the several seconds it took him to realise that Miles’ mouth was moving without making a sound. 

“What?” Ethan bellowed, prying a wailing headphone speaker away from his ears as he leaned closer to the exasperated brunet. 

“Jesus, man!” Miles exclaimed under his breath as he reached across to his friend’s Walkman to frantically turn the volume down. “Are you trying to blow your eardrums out or something?” 

“That would be pretty metal, so maybe,” Ethan chuckled, entirely unphased. But Miles’ disapproving frown soon had him rolling out an explanation. “You’ve got a front row seat for my biggest show yet and you’re choosing to lecture me about volume control? I can care about my hearing when I’m in the retirement home.”

“You’ll be lucky if you make it to a retirement home," Miles snorted. "You've got the survival skills of a two dollar house plant."

Instead of arguing back, or even rolling his eyes at his best friend's dig, Ethan just continued chuckling along in agreement as he slid his headphones down to rest around his neck - still blaring out Ozzy Osbourne's vocals, although they were only just audible over the hubbub of chatter and laughter that filled the rest of the classroom. "What were you saying before anyway?" he went on to ask. "Did you want something?"

"Yeah, the answer to number four."

"Pfft, you think I've even made it past one?" Ethan guffawed, astonished and highly amused that Miles thought highly enough of him to assume he hadn't been shirking his responsibilities all afternoon. "I've got no fucking clue. What chapter are we on again? Abraham Lincoln?"

The mix of despair and disbelief Ethan was faced with when he glanced back across at Miles told him his guess might not have been as accurate as he'd pitched it to be. "...Are we not on Abraham Lincoln?"

"We haven't done Abraham Lincoln since freshman year," Miles deadpanned before letting out a chuckle of his own. "When was the last time you actually paid attention in one of Mr Bishop's classes?"

"Probably freshman year," Ethan noted with a laugh, slumping back in his seat and starting to rock on the back two legs of the flimsy, plastic chair. "I think the only chance I've got at retaining any of the information in that textbook for this month's pop quiz is if I eat it."

The look of reproach Miles shot the carefree stoner could have fooled any passerby into thinking that he was the boy's father, but he blamed that on the past however many years of having to act as a sole parental figure for two young boys - who, on several occasions, had actually proved to be far more mature than the lank-haired brunet before him. More often than not, Ethan felt like a third child he had to keep alive. And somehow, his lack of height was not one of the driving factors behind that reasoning.

"Oh come on, don't give me that look," Ethan groaned, ever the resentful teenager in their relationship. "You've not exactly been Mr Studious yourself today."

"What are you talking about?" 

"Well you've been stuck on that same question for the last twenty minutes 'cause you keep making goo-goo eyes at you know who," Ethan smirked as Miles' eyes widened in horror and his forehead started to prickle with sweat. 

"No I don't," he indignantly tried.

"I thought you said you were over her," Ethan teased.

"I am! It's not like that anyway," Miles muttered, then added. "And it's not been twenty minutes."

"It totally has."

"How the hell would you know? You've been listening to Motorhead since we sat down."

"Yeah but my fuckin' eyes still work," Ethan snorted, hitting Miles with a loving grin that had him rolling his eyes before Ethan had even finished his sentence. And yet, the boy's frustration did nothing to deter him from probing further. "What's the stalking for this time then? You know, if you're not trying to get in her pants anymore." 

Miles was at as much of a loss as Ethan. His eyes found the head of bouncing, blonde curls with almost no effort at all (likely a result of an entire study hall period of practice), searching for some sort of answer. But all he found was a dull, fluttering in his chest. 

Even the giddy, lovestruck butterfly that had been trapped in there for months seemed to have admitted defeat. 

Still, his gaze never wavered. He watched airy laughter spill from her glossy lips, and her nose crinkle beneath brilliantly blue eyes, framed by thick, black lashes and copious amounts of mascara. Whilst before, Miles could have eaten through a movie theatre's entire popcorn supply and still want to look just a little longer, in that moment he just felt empty. And that’s when he realised it wasn't actually Carrie herself that was occupying his mind, it was everyone else around her, and how she was treating them. Plucking a proudly presented flyer for a house party from one, impishly teasing another, waving at Sharon Frye on her way out the door, firing a flirty wink in jest at Steve Harrington after giggling at one of his jokes…

Miles was certain she'd looked at every other person in that room at least once since their study hall period had begun, and yet the closest her eyes had ventured over to him was when she glanced at the clock on the wall. Every thought in his head was plagued by her smile, or her voice, or her laugh… Had he ever even crossed her mind? 

"Do you think she actually cares about us?"

Miles hadn't been able to bring himself to tear his forlorn gaze from the blonde in question, but that didn't stop Ethan from snorting out an answer. "Well yeah, I'd hope so; we spend enough time with her." 

"Not by choice," Miles huffed. 

“Well she talks to us now, and that’s more than we could have said before we worked with her, so that’s got to count for something,” Ethan chuckled. “But if this is about what I think it’s about, then she absolutely cares about you, dude. Like way more than the rest of us.”

“You really think so?” 

“Dude, it’s like you two are glued at the hip. I can’t get you away from each other for shit once we close every night,” Ethan replied. And when Miles still looked unsure, he added, “Why else do you think I always get stuck cleaning the kitchen with Mick? She hates my guts!”

“No she does not,” Miles softly chuckled.

“Well I definitely don’t think she likes me, not like Carrie likes you anyway,” he retorted with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows. “I’m telling you, man. There’s something there. There’s no way she’d laugh at your crappy jokes like she does if she didn’t at least have a little interest in you - I don’t care if Mick thinks it’s bullshit, I know I’m right.”

Miles just rolled his eyes, but a hopeful smile desperately pulled at his lips, no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. “I don’t know, I think she probably just does it to be nice,” he mused, watching as Carrie animatedly responded to Rachel Price before turning back to resume her conversation with the girl sat beside her - the very girl that Miles still had an irrepressible urge to swap lives with: Juliet Harmon. Now faced with nothing but the back of her head, he quickly lost interest in the view. “…She seems to act like that with most people.”

“She definitely does not, man. Why do you think the entire marching band is scared to look her in the eye? She’s like one of the biggest bitches in school,” Ethan scoffed. But he paused when he realised Miles wasn’t laughing along with him. “Why does it matter how she acts around other people anyway?” 

“It doesn’t,” Miles huffed. “…Not really.” 

But the second he dared to make eye contact with his oldest friend, the floodgates opened and the truth came tumbling out. 

“I just…feel stupid for letting her get in my head, and for actually thinking that we had something special - that I was somehow different to all the other idiots who throw themselves at her to get a second of her attention. But here I am, thinking about her constantly, hanging onto every interaction we have like my fucking life depends on it, only for her to… Ugh, I don't know. I just…don't want it all to not mean anything to her, when it means so much to me - no matter how much I try to convince myself it doesn't. I mean, yeah, she's nice to me at work - really nice - but she barely even acknowledges me outside of All Skate… It's like I don't even exist, like she doesn't even realise I'm there. And it makes me feel like shit."

"She barely acknowledges anyone," Ethan absentmindedly mused. "I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's a lot easier said than done," Miles huffed dejectedly. There was something freeing about Ethan's nonchalance over Miles' feelings though; it made them feel less suffocating. And whilst he still felt entirely hopeless about the situation, he did feel a little bit of the pressure ease off as he rested his chin on his hand and let his mind start to wander. "...You think she actually considers us friends?"

"Sure; she calls us her work friends all the time."

"No but like her actual friends," Miles clarified. 

"Dude, I don't fucking know; the female mind is a mystery to me at the best of times, but hers is on a whole other level," Ethan scoffed in incredulity. "Do you not remember that like thirty minute debate I had with her about diet sodas? Actual insanity.”

Miles' quiet chuckling as he reminisced about what had started as an innocent question, yet progressed to a full-blown screaming match, with each participant equally as confused and frustrated as the other, was soon silenced by Ethan's next prompt though. "I know a way you can find out though…"

"...No!" 

"Oh come on, man. Don't be a sissy. It'll be so easy. And then you can stop getting hung up on all these bogus hypotheticals."

Miles' initial horror slowly dissipated as Ethan's reasoning started to lure out a far greater force from its hiding place in the corner of his brain: his curiosity. "...You really think I can just go up and talk to her? In class?" he asked, as his eyes once again found that jumble of golden curls. 

"Sure, why not? It's only study hall." 

Again, Ethan's nonchalance, which was only heightened by the fact that he was trying to balance a pen on his curled upper lip as he responded, did far more for Miles' confidence than any pep talk of his own could have. And besides, maybe he was onto something - maybe it really was that simple; it always was in his world. 

"It wouldn't be weird?" Miles double-checked. 

"Why would it be weird? All you're gonna do is talk to her. And we already established you two are friends, so what could go wrong?" 

Miles shuddered at the very thought. "So much."

Ethan glanced across at him, ready to fire out further encouragement like a sixth grader with a penchant for making spitballs, but when he clocked his friend's nervous fidgeting, he reconsidered his situation and gained a little clarity. "Ok…yeah, fine, stuff could go wrong. But are you gonna die?" he proposed.

"No," Miles begrudgingly mumbled.

"Are you gonna break something?"

"No, but-"

"Then how bad can it be?" Ethan cut in with a lopsided, optimistic grin before Miles could tie himself up in any more self-conscious knots. "Just get over there and scratch that itch that's been bugging you for weeks; it's not gonna stop until you do. And you'll feel so much better after."

It took Miles by surprise every time it happened, but yet again, it seemed as though Ethan might actually be…right. This question of Carrie's loyalty had been eating away at him for weeks now. And, as he'd stressed earlier, it was making him feel shittier and shittier with every day he let it drag on. Asking her outright was a definite way to get his answer… It was just going to require him growing some balls, as anything to do with All Skate's resident disc jockey apparently made his own shrink to the size of peas.

"...Just walk over and talk to her?" Miles checked. Although, between us, he was just stalling to give himself more time to muster some courage.

"Yeah, as a friend," Ethan confirmed. 

"You really think I can pull that off?" Miles asked with a dubious, but hopeful quirk of his eyebrow that had Ethan melting like a bomb pop that had been left out in the 4th of July sun.

"Absolutely," he grinned, totally enamoured by his friend's giddy trepidation, and the promise of a relationship he so steadfastly defended. "She's got a major soft spot for you, man. I see it like every night," he went on to reassure. "There's no way she's gonna blow you off. You'll be fine."

And as a result of that dopey grin, complemented by the ratty, chestnut locks, and vacant, dark chocolate eyes… Miles believed him. 

"...Ok, I'm going in," he breathed through a determined smile. 

"Atta boy," Ethan chuckled, fist-bumping Miles before tipping his chair back onto all four of its legs again, as though to signal the resolution of their predicament. "Go scratch that itch," he added, finishing their little handshake with a bolstering point before lifting his headphones back over his ears and disappearing back into his wildest rock star fantasies - totally oblivious to the disaster about to unfold right behind him as Miles took a deep breath and waded into the wild, uncharted waters of the female mindset. 

"So now that we know that y=7, we plug that into this side of the function, that we've already simplified, to give us this…which then means that we can carry this over here, giving us x=3." 

…Silence.

"Right?" Juliet checked, although the satisfied smile that had settled on her carnation pink lips as soon as she finished the sum was beginning to falter into one of desperation as she turned to her tutee. "Did you follow along ok that time?"

But all Juliet was met with was a glassy stare and an infatuated grin, smushed between two fists as its owner rested their chin on their palms. "You're so smart, Julie," Carrie breathed. 

Juliet just rolled her eyes, although she did little to hide the bashful blush tickling her cheeks. “Never mind that, did you understand how I worked it out that time?” 

"...Kind of?" Carrie tried, offering a lopsided, hopeful grin to try to lessen the blow.

If Juliet's exasperated huff was anything to go by though: it didn't work. But her frustration dissolved the second that she met Carrie's gaze. "Where did I lose you?" she asked with a gentle, patient sigh. 

"The whole reversing the function bit," Carrie admitted as she bit her lip and braced herself for Juliet's reaction. Although the blonde's expression never wavered, the dismay that flashed in her eyes soon had Carrie barrelling through an explanation. "I swear I was getting it before that this time, but then it all started to sound like you were talking in another language, and then I got distracted by that pretty way you write out the 'x' again, and then I just…"

"...Stopped listening all together?" Juliet teasingly offered with a fond smirk.

Carrie scoffed in mock-defence. "No, I listened the whole time, I just stopped taking it in," she went on to clarify. But as soon as she drew a giggle from Juliet's lips she melted into that same infatuated grin from earlier as she admitted, "I'd never stop listening to you. You know I could listen to you talk for hours."

"Even about algebra?" Juliet teasingly tested with an affectionate smile of her own. 

"Of course about algebra," Carrie gushed with a glittering honesty that soon had Juliet giggling again. "Believe it or not, this is the most I've ever understood a math module," she carried on, straightening up in her seat to help give her point a little more credibility, before tagging on a jovial, "And it's all thanks to you, smarty pants."

"Would you stop calling me that? It's so lame," Juliet protested, hiding her smile behind a frank eye roll. "And besides, I'm not that smart." 

"You so are; you're like the smartest person I know," Carrie gushed, never one to let her friends downplay their successes, much to Juliet's disgruntlement. The blonde's frown didn't deter Carrie from continuing to lovingly babble straight through her stream of consciousness though. "That brain of yours has to be huge - no wonder you get headaches all the time, it's because it doesn't have enough space in there."

Carrie's knack for making herself giggle never failed to make Juliet smile, but yet again she found herself trying to cover it up with a bashful roll of her hazel irises as she let out a sigh and attempted to get their conversation back on track. "You wanna try another question then?" 

"Don't try to change the subject," Carrie fired back with a mischievous grin. 

"I'm not, you are!" Juliet retorted, biting back an incredulous laugh. "We're supposed to be doing algebra, not Juliet 101."

Carrie's mischievous grin only broadened. "Now that's a class I might actually get an A in."

Rolling her eyes for the third time at her best friend's antics, Juliet teasingly tried, "What? Not an A+?"

"Maybe," Carrie smirked. "But then again, I might get distracted by my teacher." Her wiggling eyebrows soon had Juliet reprimanding her and attempting to draw her focus back to her school work, but Carrie's mind was already wandering off too far down a different path altogether. "...Do you think you'd ever wanna be a doctor, Julie?" 

The comment, that fell slap-bang in the middle of Juliet's offer to rewrite the steps of the previous algebra equation, baffled her into silence - so taken aback by the suggestion that she almost thought she'd misheard the golden-haired girl. "What? No," she spluttered, looking at Carrie as though she'd just sprouted a third nose. "Where did that come from?"

Juliet's confusion didn't seem to faze Carrie though, because her dreamy smile stuck it out through her whole, rambling explanation. "I don't know, I just figured you should use your big brain for a job one day. You know, like one that actually actually makes you think instead of just like a working a cash register, or stacking books or something. And you need to be super smart to be a doctor, so…"

Juliet was quick to shoot down Carrie's optimistic grin. "I do not have what it takes to be a doctor, trust me."

"Sure you do," Carrie defended. "I'd let you be my doctor."

"Oh well then hand me my diploma," Juliet sarcastically replied, once more fondly rolling her eyes and chuckling at her best friend's enamoured stare and incessant bolstering. 

"I'm serious," Carrie pressed on though, determined to get through to Juliet despite her doubtful smirk. "I'd trust you with my life, you know I would. I'd let you save my life any day of the week," she grinned. But, after giggling to herself and absentmindedly twirling her pencil between her fingers, when she finally latched onto Juliet's hazel gaze again, only to find it significantly less jovial, it was her turn to express her confusion. "What? You don't believe me?" she teasingly challenged, with a quirk of an eyebrow. 

But Juliet still didn't seem to be in the mood to joke back, as her lips fell in line with the horizon and her gaze darted to Carrie's right before finding her again. 

Ok, now Carrie was really confused. 

"Huh?" she murmured, clearly not as in tune with her best friend's thoughts as she assumed she was. 

However, this time, Juliet flicked her eyes to Carrie's right with a touch more resolve, and paired it with a slight, but very purposeful nod of her head in the same direction. And finally, Carrie seemed to get the message. 

Following Juliet's line of sight, Carrie turned to look over her shoulder, only to find herself face to face with a person that almost caught her off guard as much as Juliet's sudden shift in dynamic had. "Oh," was the first word to jump from her lips, startling her back into what Juliet lovingly dubbed as 'show-mode' as she rolled her shoulders back and fixed a brilliant smile to her face. "Hey, Miles."

The second that Carrie acknowledged Miles, any confidence he'd managed to trick himself into conjuring fled. And whilst he had a Herculean urge to do the same, he too plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile to his face as he finished his approach to the blondes' shared desk. "Hey, Carrie," he said, breathing a sigh of relief for even managing to get the words out. And yet, he still pushed a little further to add, with a nod of acknowledgement too, "Juliet." 

The entertained smirk that started pulling at the corner of Juliet's lips in response caught him off guard, and he felt his stomach gently clench in defence. But he chose to ignore it, returning his gaze to Carrie's bright smile - its familiarity putting him back at ease and igniting that usual fire in his chest that sent warmth spreading throughout his- 

Wait, why was she turning back around? 

"Right, where were we?" Carrie said, dazzling Juliet with a grin as she readied her pencil on the page. "I've got a good feeling about this next one; I think if you just take it slow-."

"Ahem," Juliet interrupted. Her gaze caught Carrie's once again and held onto it for a beat before she tilted her head forwards, signalling with her eyes that there was still something - or rather, someone - behind her. The confusion, almost disbelief, swimming in Carrie's eyes made Juliet have to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing, and locking onto Miles' look of bewildered dismay just made it even harder. But luckily, Carrie was quickly able to decipher her visual message once again, with little prompting this time.

Turning around to find that, to her surprise, Miles hadn't just been greeting her as he passed by her desk, he was, in fact, standing there - well, expectantly shuffling from foot to foot anyway - Carrie remounted her smile. Although now, Miles realised, it wasn't so welcoming. It felt almost…uncomfortable.  

"Oh, sorry. Did you want something?" she offered. 

He did - desperately so. And yet, he felt as though the sudden shift in tone had already started to write out his answer. 

The hairs on the back of his neck started to twitch as the walls of his stomach steadily closed in tighter. But, determined to stand by his heart, and prove to himself (and Mick) that his feelings weren't all built on fantasies he'd created in his head, he brushed the unease away and stood his ground. "No, not really. I just thought I'd…stop by…see how it's going."

Carrie's smile faltered again, giving way to further confusion. "...See how what's going?"

"...Study hall?" Miles said. But the response came out as more of a question than an answer, which he supposed was down to the fact that he wasn't even sure of it himself. And despite his hopeful grin, which he feared was now looking more like a grimace, he couldn't seem to stop trying to rub the growing discomfort from the back of his neck. 

God, he hoped that he didn't have any sweat stains. 

"Oh, uh, it's going fine," Carrie politely replied. Although her awkward fidgeting with her pencil's eraser told a different story. "We're just going through the algebra homework."

It was weird; it wasn't as though the conversation was making her seem 'off', it was like…the very fact he was talking to her was so distracting she couldn't settle. She was the centre of Miles' universe. And apparently he was just an asteroid in hers: a misshapen hunk of space rock, hurtling past in the blink of an eye, and completely blindsiding her with his very insignificant existence. 

A fellow asteroid must have collided with him at some point, because he could feel this weird twinge in his chest, by his heart, almost as though the impact had chipped a corner off. He swallowed thickly, pushing the creeping discomfort away. "The one for Mr Moreno's class?" 

"Mhm," Carrie confirmed with a nod. 

"Oh, nice…" Miles trailed off with an awkward chuckle and what he feared was now looking like a rather desperate smile. And he was sure his expression only got worse when his gaze was pulled off-course by Juliet, who gave him a look that made him want to give up altogether. How her hazel irises had managed to harness the ability to hiss 'you are totally blowing this' in his ear, he had no idea. And yet, the urge to prove her (and everyone else) wrong gave him the motivation to plough on. "Well, if you still need any help with it later, I don't mind going through some of the answers with you at wo-"

"It's alright," Carrie bluntly cut in, slicing out a chunk of Miles' self-esteem as she did so. "Julie's got it covered," she added, turning to dazzle the blonde with a brilliant grin. 

By the time that grin made its way around to Miles though, it felt cold. And it seemed suppressed, like she hadn't really wanted him to see it. What he feared was the beginnings of a smirk were tugging at the corners of her lips too. And whilst he wanted to believe that it wasn't at his expense - some cruel inside joke the pair of blondes had whispered with their oh-so talkative eyes in the second that Carrie's back was turned - something in the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. 

"Thanks though," Carrie lazily tacked on, with a brightness in her tone that just felt hollow to Miles now. 

"No problem," he breathed. But there was a problem, and he was staring right at her.

Miles tried to find it in him to mean the smile he sent her, but he just couldn't. Somehow, what was supposed to have been a simple conversation between 'friends' had left him feeling more insecure than ever. Why was she so difficult to talk to? And was she making it so difficult? If they'd been at All Skate, cleaning the rink after their shift, he'd have had no trouble talking to her - their conversations flowed like the Mississippi River when it was just the two of them. And yet here, he felt like he was trying to coax water out of a rusty garden tap in the peak of a summer drought. 

He couldn't find the words to piece together what he wanted to ask - he didn't think such a sentence existed, not one that he could construct anyway. Carrie seemed hellbent on getting rid of him, which did nothing for his creeping fear that she was only nice to him at work because she had no other option for company. And the damn heat radiating from Juliet's pitying smirk had so much sweat running down his back he contemplated running to the nearest bathroom to wring out his underwear. 

And somehow, those glittering, sky blue eyes of hers still threw him a line - a glimmer of hope to cling to. After all, she'd surprised him before - countless times - maybe she'd be able to do it again.

Just as Miles was moving to open his mouth to try one last time though, he was beaten to it. 

"Was there anything else you wanted? Or was that it?" 

Any hopes of a redemption for the blonde were snatched from Miles' grasp, and the reality of it felt like a punch to the gut. Thoroughly deflated, he accepted his fate with a heavy sigh. It may not have been the outcome he wanted, but at least he had an answer now, and there was a silver lining to that, he supposed. 

"...No," he breathed through a forlorn, but relieved smile. "That was…that was all."

Miles felt he must have imagined the concern that flickered in Carrie's gaze - wishful thinking, he supposed - because the airy giggle and laidback grin she flashed him certainly didn't marry up with it. "Oh, alright then. See you later!" she chirped with a wave as he started the walk of shame back to his desk. Again, just as he was turning back to offer a farewell of his own though, she managed to get her words in first. "Don't forget your thick socks."

Miles stopped in his tracks. Now he was more confused than ever. The cheeky glint in her eyes, the knowing smile, the reference to a throwaway joke from their closing shift last night… Everything he'd just come to terms with about her vehement disinterest in him had been called into question with those five, simple words, and a wink that just about made his heart stop.

…Maybe she did really care after all. 

With his heart leaping up from its dejected slumber, Miles shot her a grateful smile and chuckled an earnest, "I won't." Breathing out a contented sigh, mind already racing with ways to talk to her about this more that evening, Miles finally felt his shoulders relax as he raised the hand that had been rubbing the back of his neck his whole time. "See you la-"

Nevermind, she'd already turned around to talk to Juliet again. 

Again the brunet was flummoxed. The only thing he felt truly confident about as he slunk back to his desk was the very thing he'd been warned of before wading into that mess: the female mind was a mystery. And he had never felt further from figuring it out.

Turning back to Juliet, Carrie couldn't help but shake her head and chuckle under her breath. "That was weird," she noted, tilting her head in the direction of her retreating co-worker.

But Juliet's eyes had never left the bumbling brunet. "Mmm… He's kind of cute," she mused. Although her prompting smirk was lost on her tutee, since her sapphire gaze was immediately pulled to the back of Miles' head.  

"Yeah." Carrie's breathed response fell from her lips with startling ease, so much so that it even surprised herself. Hoping to catch it before it slipped into Juliet's ears though, she shook the starry-eyed gaze from her head and scrambled together a cover-up. "Uh, yeah? I can try to set the two of you up if you want. You know, put in a good word at work and stuff." 

If she expected Juliet to accept her optimistic offer with open arms though, she was soon proved wrong.

"Yeah something tells me he's not interested in me," she snorted.

Carrie looked at her, perplexed. "What are you talking about? Why wouldn't he be? You're like a total babe."

"Oh come on, Carrie. Please tell me you know that he's got a major crush on you," Juliet said with an almost disapproving frown. "Like major major."

Carrie scoffed at the accusation. "It's not major," she tried, rolling her eyes in a further attempt to downplay the gravity of what Juliet was implying. 

"Carrie," Juliet pressed as she knitted her brows. "The guy could barely speak."

Caving under the blonde's hardened gaze, Carrie let out a resentful huff. "Ok fine, so he's got a little crush," she finally conceded. "What's so bad about that? It's not like anything's gonna happen; he knows I've got a boyfriend."

"Mhm… And what does Eric have to say about Miles?"

Carrie rolled her eyes so hard Juliet thought for a second that they might never come back down again. "Why does it matter?" she groaned, her skin prickling with irritation. 

"Well he's not exactly got the best track record when it comes to being understanding about you hanging out with other guys," Juliet sighed, with a sneaking suspicion that her tutee's frustration had been triggered by the mention of her boyfriend's name alone: a welcome sign that their relationship was as healthy as ever. Not.

Carrie scoffed as a bitter scowl settled into place. "It's not like I'm 'hanging out with him', we just work together. I barely talk to him during my shift anyway, only when we're clearing stuff up at the end."

"Oh yeah?" Juliet started, curiosity piqued. "And what happens then?"

"Nothing!" Carrie insisted. "We just talk - you know me, I can't keep my mouth shut even when I want to, so of course I'm gonna talk to the guy." Letting out a sigh to try to blow off some steam, she softened under Juliet's gaze and allowed the blonde to lead her through her haze of thoughts. And if Juliet's gentle nudge in the right direction wasn't already enough to do the trick, one glance at Miles' retreating form completely burst the dam. "We've been talking for like the whole last hour of every shift since I started - about school, movies, whatever really - it's like the only thing in that dump that's worth sticking around for. I kind of just did it because I was bored out of my mind at the start, but turns out he's actually really fun, and sweet too - you wouldn't believe some of the stuff he does for his little brothers, Julie; I've literally gone and cried in the break room before after he was telling me about it. It's that cute." 

"You cry at everything," Juliet countered with a fond, teasing chuckle. 

"Oh come on, not everything," Carrie retorted. Naively hoping that their conversation on the matter had ended there, she let her eyes settle on Juliet's again, only for them to inch open the floodgates once more with a simple bat of her lashes and a tilt of her head. "We just talk and…goof around," she tentatively began - defensive, despite her nonchalance. "You know, make each other laugh about weird things customers have said, or stupid things we did. It's not like we're fooling around or anything. And before you say it, because I know that face: no, I am not leading him on. It's all totally platonic, I swear."

"Ok…" Juliet softly trailed off, taking a moment to choose her words before raising her next point. "Does Miles know it's all 'totally platonic'?"

Carrie let out a groan of despair, as she always did when her best friend lovingly lectured her. "I don't know, Jules. I'm not a mindreader. He's not grabbed my ass or spiked my water bottle, if that's what you're getting at," she grumbled, before promising, "I've got it all under control, I swear."

Somehow, Juliet didn't seem to be buying it; as impervious to Carrie's confident charm as ever. 

"So Eric's totally chill about this whole thing with Miles?" she tested, arching a perfectly plucked eyebrow.  

"He knows I work with him…" Carrie mumbled.

Juliet nodded understandingly - almost too understandingly - in Carrie's periphery. 

"...And does he know how he makes you feel?"

Daring to challenge Juliet's calculated point with ignorant defiance, Carrie whirled around to meet the blonde's smug expression with a gasp of indignation, and an argument that fell away the second she realised that she didn't have a single word in her head to back it up with. Admitting defeat, she sighed and let her body slump, along with her hopes of her vindication in her best friend's hazel eyes. "Ok, yeah, fine. I know Miles has a crush on me," she confessed. Although the guilt laced into her words steadily morphed into hurt the more she tried to defend herself. "And yeah, I do lean into it sometimes because it makes me feel good about myself. Is that really so bad? Is it such a bad thing to want someone to be extra nice to you for once? Or to give you some positive attention?" 

"No, of course not," Juliet assured, assuming a fierce determination of her own. "I just think your boyfriend should be able to do all those things and more, and clearly he's not."

Carrie sighed, exhausted by the very thought of him. "This isn't about Eric."

Juliet sighed back, exasperated by her best friend's submissiveness, especially when she was usually so domineering. "How can you still want to defend him, Carrie?"

"Because, I love him, Julie," Carrie replied, finally finding the contented smile the thought of him should have immediately slapped on her face. "And because he's a good guy."

"Really? Because he's been nothing but a dick to you lately," Juliet flatly countered, hoping that with a little pushing her friend would see sense. 

"We've just had a couple of arguments, it's not a big deal," Carrie casually defended. "And they're all resolved now, so I don't know what you still have to complain about."

"Just because you had make-up sex does not mean that the problems were resolved," Juliet rolled her eyes before fixing the golden-haired girl with a more earnest look. "Did he actually apologise this time?"

"We talked it out first-"

"Did he apologise?"

Carrie squirmed under Juliet's gaze before muttering a reluctant, "No."

"Ugh," Juliet groaned, rolling her eyes again as she wound up to unleash a rant she'd been working up to for weeks. But, to her dismay, Carrie's defences beat her to it.

"Neither of us did, really. We just agreed to forget it and move on."

"How is that resolving anything?" Juliet asked with an annoyed frown that Carrie was starting to take personally. 

"Well I hadn't thought about it until now, so it must have at least kind of worked," she attempted to justify. 

But Juliet's nettled scoff told her that her stance on the matter wasn't budging. "You and Eric might as well speak two different languages; I've seen a pig and a fly communicate better than you two." 

The comment drew a giggle from Carrie's lips before she could stop it. "Don't try to distract me with your cute, Southern lingo," she said as the amused smile settled on her face and she affectionately bumped her friend's arm - the act bringing both their tempers back down to Earth. Before Juliet could launch into another lecture though, Carrie hoped to diffuse the situation once and for all. "Anyway, we worked it all out and everything's back to normal," she said. Although Juliet's questioning glance made her correct herself, "Better than normal. In fact, we're going to go look for Halloween costumes together this weekend," she finished with an optimistic grin. 

Now that was an improvement. For the first time since they'd sat down, Juliet found herself pleasantly surprised. "The Barbie and Ken costume's back on? I'm impressed. You two really must be getting along." Knowing how excited Carrie had been about the idea, she couldn't help but smile at the prospect of it finally coming into fruition. 

"Oh no, the Ken idea's long gone. I think he's going as a firefighter or something now."

Juliet's optimism shattered in a split second, and yet she stayed frozen in place, mouth hanging open in disbelief. "...You're kidding, right?"

"No, but I don't really mind. I'll just find something else to go as," Carrie sighed through a small, indifferent smile. If she'd spotted the disgust hidden in Juliet's eyes after her last revelation, she chose to ignore it. "It'll be fun getting to plan out my own costume anyway; I've got so many more options now. And plus, the Barbie one was only gonna be a pain in the ass to-"

"You're not even doing a couples one?" Juliet asked, far too concerned with what she was learning to care about hearing out Carrie's excuses. 

"He thinks couples costumes are lame," she explained with a huff. "Or at least that's what Adam told him anyway. He said he wanted to just do his own thing."

"But Carrie, you've been excited about doing a joint costume with him for like a whole year."

"So?" Carrie asked, with an eyebrow quirk of her own, shoving the accusation aside as though she was kicking an ice cube under the refrigerator. "It's just a dumb Halloween party, it doesn't matter what we wear; everyone will probably be too drunk to even pay attention anyway."

"Yeah, but it matters that he doesn't care about stuff that's important to you. He never has, and it's selfish, Carrie - super selfish…" Juliet trailed off with a frustrated sigh, praying that she might finally get the ditzy DJ to see sense. "You need to stop defending his shitty behaviour."

"And do what?" Carrie mumbled, unknowingly giving Juliet just what she wanted: a chance to unleash her anger with the infantile blond bozo and the mockery of a relationship he had roped her best friend into.

"Hold him accountable," she urged, hazel eyes blazing with passion. "Relationships should not have to revolve around making excuses and placating your partner with blow jobs - it's a fucking joke. I don't care about all the 'good times' you guys have, or all the memories you've made; the way you've been treating each other lately is appalling, and you deserve way better," she said, pausing to let Carrie absorb everything she'd just thrown at her before delivering the finishing blow. "And I know you know that too, because you're already looking for it in someone else."

Carrie's blood stilled in her veins. Sometimes it scared her how deeply Juliet understood her, and other times it felt comforting. This was not one of those times. 

She took in a slow, shuddering breath as Juliet's words seeped into her skin, carrying a deep sense of guilt with them. As much as she wanted to denounce Juliet's observations and stand by her own, joyously declaring her undying love for her boyfriend at the top of her lungs…her mouth made no attempt to move from its crestfallen frown. It couldn't, because she knew she was wrong. 

The despondency in the blonde's vacant, blue eyes soon drew Juliet down from her soap box though. This time she approached with a gentle, almost apologetic, smile as she entwined their fingers and began rubbing circles into the back of her tanned hand with the pad of her thumb. "I just want what's best for you, Car," she quietly promised. 

"I know," Carrie murmured, mustering a grateful smile as she squeezed her hand back, as though to say a 'thank you' her mouth wasn't quite ready to commit to yet. "I'm fine, Julie, I swear," she went on to profess. But when she started to get a sneaking suspicion that the statement wasn't all that convincing, she decided to switch up her tactic. "Now can we please get back to algebra?" 

The genuine laughter that tumbled from Juliet's lips was music to Carrie's ears. "There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear you say," Juliet chuckled as she picked up her pencil again. 

"I'll do anything to get us talking about something else," Carrie admitted with a woeful chuckle of her own. "And besides, I think I've got a better chance of wrapping my head around this than anything to do with my love life at the moment."

"Boyfriends suck, huh?" Juliet snorted with a knowing smirk.

"Try all boys suck," Carrie countered with a smirk of her own, at last feeling as though some of her signature confidence was leaching back into her frame. Although the pair's giggles took a few seconds to die back down, a mischievous glint remained in Carrie's eyes before she let them glaze over in thought. Mind idly wandering down untrodden paths, a wistful sigh escaped alongside a rogue proposal. "Wouldn't it make life so much easier if we could take them out of the equation altogether?"

Carrie was too lost in thought to notice, but the words that left her mouth forced an entire systems reboot in Juliet's brain. She had to do a double take, certain that she must have misheard her, or had at least missed the joking undertone. But no, the glassy, pensive blue irises held nothing but sincerity. And that confused Juliet more than ever. Her mind whirred with possible explanations for the brainless musings that definitely didn't sound as though they came from a girl in a committed, heterosexual relationship, but before she dared to question her on any, a tanned hand, the size of a frying pan, pulled her prospective interview subject right out of her seat. 

Carrie's eyes widened as she was whisked into a pair of cotton-clad arms the size of tree trunks, hardly able to catch her breath before it was being exchanged for someone else's. A faintly stubbled smile pressed into hers several times before she fully regained her bearings and was able to catch the frying pan hand from travelling too far south of her waist. "Eric," she giggled once she finally managed to inch their lips far enough apart to mumble a greeting against his skin. A subsequent flurry of kisses kept her from elaborating any further though. It was a wonder they didn't pass out from lack of air. 

"Hi, beautiful," he eventually greeted with a smitten grin. But their lips didn't stay apart for long as the dopey quarterback seemed hellbent on keeping his coated in his girlfriend's saliva. "You have a good study hall?" he mumbled, nuzzling his nose against hers. His roaming fingers shattered any hope of his interest in her life being genuine though.

Even if Carrie had wanted to answer Eric's question, his tongue was shoved so far down her throat she couldn't get her words out. "Eric," she finally gasped, jerking her head back from his with a breathy laugh as she felt his thumb start to lift the hem of her cheerleading skirt. "You're gonna get us both detention." 

"I can't help it," he chuckled, pulling her back towards him for another seemingly endless stream of kisses. "I missed you." And whilst a stupefied grin played at his constantly interlocking lips, something didn't feel quite right with Carrie. Her kisses were lazy, almost reluctant, and whilst her body normally felt like putty between his palms, today it felt…stiff. She seemed distracted. And because Eric's head was only ever swimming with thoughts of her, this worried him. "Hey," he gently prompted, nudging her chin with his knuckle to bring her gaze up to meet his. "Everything ok?"

Carrie's breath stuck in her throat, too scared of getting caught in the crossfire of two sets of brown eyes to dare to leave. Eric's sat beneath a pair of thick, furrowed brows, marred with insecure concern, and she could feel Juliet's boring holes into the back of her skull, begging her to remember everything they’d just spoken about. Tensions were high in her usually spacious brain - thoughts flying back and forth too quickly for her to make sense of as she tried to let her conscience guide her in the right direction. And although she felt herself inching towards a blonde ponytail-bolstered confession, her conscience's valiant efforts were all for naught. Carrie's fingers found purchase in the bristly blond hairs at the nape of Eric's neck, her cheeks were dusted in the scent of spearmint and the sweaty must from his football helmet. The profound warmth of his embrace seeped into her bones, and she curled up into it like a cat in the glow of fireplace embers - helpless to resist. "Everything's great," she promised, drawn in by the comfort of familiarity. "I just missed you too."

Disappointed, but not surprised by her best friend's decision, Juliet sighed as she tore her gaze away from the stomach-churning couple and began gathering together her and Carrie's things. She'd get through to her eventually, she had faith in the pit of her steadily grumbling gut. She just needed to be patient…or to find something that could drive a wedge between them once and for all.

"Ethan!" 

The pint-size pothead almost jumped out of his skin at the barked greeting, which actually felt more like an accusation than a 'hello'. He didn't know what was more offensive, the girl's tone or the fact that she'd interrupted his concert-for-one. 

"Jesus, Mick! You scared the shit outta me!" he cried. 

Rolling her eyes, Mick let go of the headphone speaker she'd had to pry away from Ethan's ear after he'd blatantly ignored her fifth call of his name, letting it thwack the side of his head. The look on his face as he recoiled in bewilderment did have a faint smile tugging at her lips though. But it soon disappeared when he slumped back in his seat and readied himself to tune her out again. 

Moving to stand in front of his desk, Mick didn't give him a chance. "Where's Miles?" 

"What?" Ethan squeaked.

"Where's Miles?" she reiterated, crossing her arms across her chest and nodding at the empty seat beside him.

"He's talking to Carrie," he revealed with a blasé wave of his hand in the vague direction of the pair.

Even with AC/DC blasting through his headphones, Ethan swore he heard Mick's face crack.

"He's doing what now?" she demanded, flames roaring in the mahogany logs that made up her irises. 

"He's just asking her something, it's no big deal," Ethan said - although his attempts to reassure the brunette were ham-handed at best given his lazy grin and total lack of concern. 

This was further backed up by Mick's growing urge to strangle him. "Can I not trust you to do anything?" she hissed. 

"What did I do?" Ethan squawked in indignation.

"Nothing - that's the problem! All you had to do was keep his mind off her-" 

"I don't know what fucking mind-control powers you think I've got, Mick, but that was a bogus plan in the first place."

"Oh so what? You just weren't gonna go along with it at all?" Mick scoffed. "I just said to try to keep him distracted."

"And I tried, so I don't know what you're getting all pissy at me for," Ethan retorted. "What's so wrong with him talking to her anyway? I thought 'working through your feelings' was supposed to be a good thing."

Scowling at him for using her own advice against her, she snapped, "Talking to her is not helping him distance himself from her." But when her eyes scanned the room for that familiar mop of coffee brown hair, the sight it settled on made her heart drop to her collegiate green Campuses. "And neither is a run-in with Eric Brennan."

Trailing back to his seat, muttering to himself about the mystifying female mindset and what the hell all of that could have meant, Miles soon realised he wasn't looking where he was going when he collided with what felt like a wall of meat. 

"Shit, sorry," he muttered.

When he looked up and saw who it was that had almost knocked him off his feet though, he realised his assumption hadn't been too far off.

"Woah, watch it, man," Eric guffawed.

The amused twinkle in his eye, and the smirk that blossomed as soon as his gaze landed on him, made Miles' stomach twist. Something told him that this interaction wasn't going to be nearly as quick as he'd hoped. 

"Miles, right?" Eric went on to ask, eyebrow cocked in recognition. 

"Uh, yeah," Miles stammered, although he was more confused than concerned at this point. 

"Why you in such a hurry, bud? You got somewhere to be?" he continued, a charming smirk still sitting proudly on his chiselled jaw. 

"I'm just going back to my seat."

"Oh yeah?" Eric probed, steadily turning up the pressure. "And why were you out of it?"

Miles immediately regretted the exasperated huff that fell from his lips, but he couldn't help his frustration. "Why does it matter?" 

To Miles' surprise, the jock didn't snap back at his remark - there was no sign of meat-headed defensiveness at all. Instead, the guy just laughed. "It doesn't," he reassured with a jovial smile. "I just thought I'd ask 'cause, you know, from here it kind of looked like you were going over there to talk to my girlfriend." 

Any relief that jovial smile had filled Miles with steadily leaked out as Eric's words sunk in. "I was just asking her about our work schedule," he explained with a careful, albeit tight smile of his own. 

"Yeah?" Eric tested.

"...Yeah," Miles confirmed. Although he could feel his bravery slowly shrinking under the hulking weight of Eric's arched eyebrow, he stood his ground, hoping that a nonchalant tone and a set of squared shoulders was enough to convince the dopey blond.

"Oh well, that's a relief," he said with another booming guffaw. Miles' wishes were seemingly granted as the warning smirk slipped from Eric's face, replaced with a laidback grin. "There I was thinking you might have been trying to make a move on her or something."

Miles managed to eke out a chuckle, more at his own expense than anything. "I wouldn't do that, man," he promised through a freshly starched smile. "I know you're both very happy together."

Eric's shit-eating grin must have been powered by at least three AAs with the way it lit up his face. "That we are, my man," he proudly proclaimed. "And that's good to hear 'cause I know you spend a lot of time with her at the end of your shifts, and she says you two get along super well, so I'd hate to think that you were getting the wrong idea or-"

"Not at all," Miles assured, cutting the blond off before he could drive the knife any further into his chest. Fixing a plastic smile to his face to cover up the wistful sigh that escaped between his teeth, he delivered an admittedly painful, "We're just friends."

Eric's rich brown eyes seemed to scan every inch of Miles for any sign of a lie before he proceeded, and the brunet's lack of acting skills left him squirming like a worm on a hook as a result. But the satisfied grin that soon surfaced, dropping the tensed shoulders to help it rise, told Miles the quarterback probably needed an eye test. 

"Good," Eric said with a contented sigh. "'Cause you and I both know that it'd be stupid to think anything else, right?" he went on to cockily taunt. "Like, no offence, but she'd have to be fucking insane to choose you over me… Right, Miles?" 

Although his ego was severely bruised, to save his face from meeting the same fate, Miles forced himself to maintain a smile, albeit reluctantly. "Right," he confirmed.

"That's what I thought," Eric smirked, finally satisfied that Miles had taken enough of an emotional pounding if his lazy grin and affectionate arm bump was anything to go by. "Alright, nice talk, bro. I might catch you tonight if I drop by to see her, ok?"

"I'll be there," Miles verified with a strained sigh. Finally daring to drop his gaze from the sturdy blond, he made his escape without so much as a goodbye.  

Apparently Eric thought he could take a little advice on the road with him though. 

"Remember, watch yourself, Murphy," he hollered.

But the words didn't even register with Miles, because the swift shove between his shoulder blades was so jarring his entire focus was dragged to keeping himself upright. 

Miles kept his eyes trained on the scuffed linoleum as he hastily lumbered back over to his desk, cheeks burning with self-hatred as he tried to push Eric’s no doubt smirking face out of his mind. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he finally dared to lift his head again. 

“Are you ok?” Mick asked, expression overrun with an almost frantic concern. “What was that about?”

“I’m fine,” Miles brushed off, retrieving his threadbare backpack from its spot, slumped on the floor in one swoop. Haphazardly shoving the books from his desk into the main compartment, he mumbled a quick, “Can we just go?” 

But Ethan’s glassy-eyed intrigue held him firmly in place. “Yo, what happened, man? Did he bust you for flirting with her?” 

“No,” Miles sighed, wearily shaking his head at the stoner’s excitement. 

“Did you flirt with her?” he pressed. 

"No, I just- ugh," Miles huffed, quickly giving up on trying to explain the situation he didn't even fully understand himself. "It doesn't matter. Let's just go."

"I told you to just forget about her," Mick sighed. 

"Yeah, well, that's a lot easier said than done, Mick," Miles retorted, returning her disapproving frown with a defensive one of his own. 

"Did you at least get some closure?" Ethan offered as he rose from his desk - partly from curiosity, partly to try to prove a point to Mick. 

Whilst Miles' tongue instinctively prepared to shoot Ethan's optimism down, his brain jumped in to tell it to hold fire. And after a few, brief seconds recalling the interaction, his answer soon changed. "Actually, I kind of did," he admitted with a chuckle of incredulity. 

"You gonna try to talk about it more with her tonight then?" Ethan asked, smirking to himself at Mick's look of disbelief. 

"Fuck no," Miles snorted with a nonchalance that took both of his friends by surprise. "I just want to forget it ever happened- just…move on."

"From her?" Mick asked, trying to hide the hopeful edge in her tone with a gentle smile.

Sparing the blonde in question one last glance over his shoulder, only to catch the tail end of her and Eric getting pulled up for their excessive PDA by their (up until now) entirely uninterested study hall supervisor, he let out a wistful sigh. A chorus of voices swelled in his head - Mick's, Ethan's, Carrie's, Eric's - each one telling a different side to the same story. He couldn't have picked one to listen to if he'd tried. So, in the end, his own took over, steering his heart down a path that promised the least damage in the long term, and that Carrie's indifferent dismissal of him had already forged in his mind. "...That's the goal."

#I know this part may seem a little boring because there's so much talking and so little 'doing' #but i promise that these conversations are all setting important foundations for stuff further down the line #you'll just have to trust me for now though #plus a lot of *interesting* dynamics are established in this part #*wink wink* #and get excited because in the next part we're heading back to All Skate #and the *real* action's finally going to start kicking off... #also I'm super sorry about being so inconsistent with my posts #finding time to write over the past few months with my crazy schedule and pretty poor mental health has been virtually impossible #but I really want to be better about that by the time I go back to uni in september #so hopefully I can find more time for myself and get some real progress made on this story and ASDO #anyway i've rambled too much #i'll let you go but I hope you enjoyed the chapter #and i hope it was a nice surprise after all the chaos you've been going through lately <3 #p.s. i know the order of things gets a bit weird at the end but I didn't know how else to write it without it sounding super choppy #basically eric bumps into miles before he goes over to greet her after class #his whole chat with miles is happening whilst carrie's having her little heart to heart with juliet #just thought i'd mention it because I wasn't sure how clear it was and my 2am brain is not a trustworthy resource

[ladytauria]

to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)

still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.

cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching

editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)

i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.

Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.

Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.

There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.

There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—

He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.

Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.

The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.

Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.

And mostly empty, honestly.

The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.

He bites his lip.

Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—

Odd.

He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.

As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.

When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.

“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”

Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”

Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”

Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.

There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—

The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.

Tomorrow that might scare him.

Tonight—

His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.

He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.

“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”

Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.

His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.

Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—

Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—

It’s a really nice sound.

Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”

Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”

“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—

He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—

A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.

Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.

It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—

Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.

Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.

It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—

He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.

Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.

Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”

Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.

He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.

He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.

He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.

“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.

Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.

Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.

When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—

It isn’t.

It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.

“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.

Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.

He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”

Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—

Jason finds that he misses it.

Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,

Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.

Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.

It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.

A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.

It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.

Jason drifts.

He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.

“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”

Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.

He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.

He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.

“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.

Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.

His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”

Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.

It’s a relief to brush his teeth.

His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.

“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.

Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—

Hesitates.

He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…

What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?

He’s. He’s being silly.

There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.

Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.

Except—

He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Tears burn in his eyes.

It’s not fair.

He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.

God. He’s so fucking pathetic.

He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.

The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.

There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—

Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.

Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.

He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.

Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.

In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—

Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—

The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.

Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.

“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.

“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.

The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.

He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—

He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.

Jason rubs at his eyes.

No more putting it off.

As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—

Panic.

Even the thought makes his heart race.

Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.

Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.

And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.

Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—

He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.

Blankets next.

Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.

He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.

Pillows—

Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—

His nest is done.

He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.

It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.

His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.

Jason is so tired of crying.

He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—

Safe.

There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—

He’ll worry about it in the morning.

#jaytim #timjay #tauriawritesfanfic #aob dubcon fic #i'm so tempted to start posting even tho i usually prefer to wait till its done #ive broken everything into chapters; have a list of tags; wrote a summary... #i do not. have a fucking title tho #most of my titles were brainstormed for the 15k version!! which. hm. i *could* post that separately maybe...? #smth to think about #a n y w a y #hope u enjoy <333 #as soon as this fic lets go of the chokehold it has on me i'll get back to like #prompts & the other wips languishing in my docs #(and when i say chokehold i mean i started writing this around like... december 20th?) #(and you can thank abyss for THAT too bc this all spiraled from 8k of a genfic i showed them <3)

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part IX

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: None

Words:- ~ 1,2 k

About: The phone call with Atsumu! What could he possibly want from you?

Part I II -> Next Part

"Hello?"

"Y/n? It's me, Atsumu Miya."

You glance at Yachi with wide eyes, and she nods frantically, clearly excited by the call. She urges you to respond, gesturing for you to say something to him.

"Oh, yes. Atsumu. Is everything alright?"

"Everything's good. Don't worry. I just wanted to let you know that I've talked to my lawyer, and apparently, we both can't have the same lawyer for the divorce. I've contacted Samu's lawyer, though, and they're willing to help us out. I'll cover the cost, don't worry. They're discreet too, so we don't need to worry about the public getting involved." You try to focus on his words, but his voice flows like honey through the speaker, causing your heart to skip a beat. Yachi taps your shoulder, urging you to respond once again. You clear your throat and quickly start to answer.

"Oh. Thank you. I really don't know what to say. I've been thinking about the public, especially since I found out you're in the Olympic team. I was wondering if the situation would cause problems for you."

"No! No, yer not causing me trouble. It's not like we're under a dating ban. Most of us just try to be discreet about our dating life. Some fans are... a bit obsessed." There's a brief silence, and you debate if you should mention stumbling upon his profile and complimenting him for it. You're technically still strangers, yet it feels like you're the early stages of actually dating.

"But don't worry about that; your husband will take care of that, 'kay?" His tone turns playful, and you snort at the comment. "Okay. Let me know how I can help." You ease back into the couch, Yachi attentively watching you with a curious expression.

"Of course. You could start by telling me about your plans for next week. We need to talk to the lawyers; can you fit me into yer schedule sometime?"

"I have the next week off, so just let me know when works best for you." You smile at the thought of seeing him again, ignoring Yachi's encouraging grin.

"Sure. How about Wednesday? We can have dinner after the appointment; I can show you Onigiri Miya, if ya want? You can say no too; I just thought it would be a good idea to get to know each other. We started rather... unusually." Your cheeks heat up at the memory of how you technically met—waking up naked and married.

"Oh! That sounds lovely, actually. I've seen some pictures of Onigiri Miya, and I'd love to try Osamu's food."

"You've seen pics? Found my Instagram, didn't ya?" His teasing tone intensifies, and you feel even more heat rushing to your cheeks.

"I just- I wasn't trying to-" You stammer, the image of a shirtless Atsumu vivid in your mind.

"Just teasin' ya. Are you getting shy on me now? We literally slept in the same bed; I'd stalk my husband's Instagram too if I woke up married like that." He teases, and you can't help but get flustered.

"I wasn't stalking!" You clarify and clear your throat uncomfortably. "Did ya make sure to follow me? I wanna stalk my wifey too." He laughs, clearly unfazed by the situation, and his lightheartedness quickly transfers to you. "I didn't. I just had a short look; I don't know if I remember your username."

"Oh? You only remember the food on my page? Guess that's the only thing I'm good for. Only known for being the brother of the famous Osamu Miya, chef, and successful restaurant owner. I'll ask Samu to post some pictures of me to gain more followers." He sighs dramatically, and you snort at his exaggerated acting. "Did you just laugh? You seemed so tense before; I'm glad yer feeling better already."

"Thank you. I really appreciate everything." You smile, and even though you can't see his face, you're sure he's smiling too. "And I'll make sure to follow you. Maybe it will help raise your popularity- I want your volleyball career to thrive, after all." He laughs at your words, and you notice Yachi looking at you with raised brows, clearly curious about what you're talking about.

"Maybe I can finance us someday with my volleyball skills. Stick along, wifey. I'll get you an even prettier ring then." You blush feverishly and cough nervously while glance at the ring on the couch table. "The rings don't look too bad actually. The diamond looks almost real."

"Oh, about that. It is real, so make sure to wear it often to show off."

It takes you a few moments to process his words, and you take a sharp breath through your nose as you look at the ring. "What do you mean it's real? Like a real diamond?" Yachi stares at the ring too, and her mouth is agape as she hesitantly reaches for it, holding it in the light. It shines beautifully, and you lean forward to inspect it closer.

"Yeah, real diamond and all that. I found a receipt in my pocket. The rings are from a real jewelry store. I got the certificates for them too. I'll give you the one for your ring when we see each other again."

"I don't know what to say- Atsumu-" You hesitate, gazing at the ring once again. The diamond is not small, not overly huge, but tastefully big enough to shine brightly. "Don't mention it. We'll talk next week? I'll message you the time. I can pick ya up, or we can meet up there; I'm fine with both."

"Okay. Thank you. See you next week, Atsumu."

"See ya, wifey."

You hang up with a smile and stare at the screen for a few moments, until Yachi starts to laugh right next to you.

"'See you next week, Atsumu'- the way you made sure to say his name, ohh, y/n, you're crushing on him."

"I don't even know him, Yachi! And we're in no position to be liking each other; it's just business!" You shake your head and furrow your brows.

Atsumu is a nice guy. Funny, charismatic, kind. And extremely good looking. You know that you realistically have no chance to score a catch like him, and yet, you find yourself married to him. You wonder if he is regretting the whole situation, even though he seems to play it cool. He's on top of his career and you're just distracting him right now in this important phase. He's probably just worried about his reputation, worried that you'd go to the media and claim that he had forced you to do something. He might just be nice to you because he's scared- scared that you could potentially ruin his career. You need to make sure to always remember that and not to let his words get to you.

You'd have to make sure you don't fall for him— or else you'd end up with a broken heart.

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #atsumu #atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #here you go! <3 #I hope you enjoyed this part! <3 #let's see what the next chapter will bring us! #maybe the next irl interaction of y/n and Atsumu~ #this feels like slow burn #like damn #they haven't even kissed yet xD #I don't really know how long this will be #but you're in for a long ride! <3 #I hope you're enjoying this little project #I'm still really into this and I'll make sure to update at least once a week #next part probably on Thursday! <3 #LOVE YA! <3 #Sleep well everyone! <3

[johnsbleu]

Hold My Hand: John Wick x Reader Chapter 139

warnings: none hmh masterlist

Peeking into Ronan’s room, you see that she’s still fast asleep in her crib, so you head downstairs to get some coffee. You pour yourself a mug of it, pour maybe a little too much creamer in it (John will definitely give you shit about it), then you walk over to living room and look out as the snow falls down. You notice birds flying back and forth to the bird feeder, but the food is running low. When you take your walk with John and Ronan in a bit, you’ll get some seed to fill it up. Looking over your shoulder, you smile when you see John coming downstairs, and he immediately walks over to you and wraps his arms around you tight.

“Good morning,” he whispers, his voice deep and soft from sleep, then he kisses your cheek a few times, “Merry Christmas.”

You inhale deeply and tilt your head back, “Merry Christmas.”

John perks up when he sees that you have coffee in your hand, and you hand it up to him so he can have a sip. He scrunches his face up and gags, sticking out his tongue out as he hands it back.

“Did you put the whole bottle of creamer in there?” he laughs, and you let out a small laugh as you set it down on the table. “Wow…”

Called it.

“I put a little too much, but I didn’t want to waste the coffee.” you laugh, picking it up to take another sip. You squint one eye as you swallow it, and John shakes his head. “Okay, yeah, I should dump it out.”

John laughs as he nudges your chin, “Let’s go get some new coffee. Watcha thinkin’ for breakfast?”

You follow behind John to the kitchen, then you pour your coffee out, “Well, Ro is going to get a wonderful breakfast of milk.”

“What? No eggs and toast for her? No big breakfast buffet?”

“Nope, maybe by next Christmas,” you say, and John chuckles. “Uh, anyway, I know we have some cinnamon rolls that I bought at the bakery yesterday.”

John nods as he walks over to you and smiles, “Why don’t we just do that?”

“Sounds perfect,” you whisper as John leans down to kiss you. You close your eyes and press your lips to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, smiling when he hugs you tight, “Merry Christmas.”

“Can’t believe this is our third Christmas,” he says, and you lean back against the counter and laugh, “And our first as parents.”

You laugh quietly, “This time last year I was stressing out how I was going to get away from you long enough to take a pregnancy test.”

“Wow,” John looks around as he thinks, then he nods, “Seems so long ago but not at the same time. It didn’t even cross my mind that you could be pregnant. I mean, I had hoped obviously, but that day, it didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Good!” you laugh as you look up at him, “I’m so glad that you were so surprised, and I’m so glad that we have a bathroom in the basement because there’s no way you wouldn’t have heard me. I was like, screaming and crying into my hand. You saw it from the video obviously.”

John chuckles as he cups your face, squeezing your cheeks in to pucker your lips, “It was cute.”

“I can’t believe she’s almost four months old. In two weeks, she’ll be four months, how the hell do we have a four month old baby?”

John shakes his head as he laughs, “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know where the time is going either. It’s flying by.”

Looking up at John, you hold his gaze for a moment before you look down and play with his fingers, “I got you a few things, do you want to open them first?”

“Uh,” John looks over at the baby monitor and nods his head, “Yeah, she’s still asleep. There’s a few things I have for you too.”

You smile as you look up at John, “Did Santa like his cookies last night?”

“He most certainly did,” he whispers in your ear as you laugh.

“I meant the actual cookies, Wick.”

John laughs, “Yes, he did. Can’t wait for Ronan to be old enough to know about Santa and we can decorate and make it look like he was here.”

“It’ll be the best.”

Last night before bed, you realized that you never even put cookies out for Santa. Obviously Ronan is too little to understand the concept of Santa, but hey, it’s your first Christmas as parents. You completely forgot to get cookies for Santa, so you got a box out of the cabinet and set them on a plate with some milk. John was happy enough to eat the cookies, but they ended up being a little stale. He didn’t mind, of course.

John walks over to turn on lights on the tree while you get the fireplace started, then you walk over and sit on the couch with him. You lean your head against his shoulder as the two of you sit in silence and listen to the sound of the fire place crackling and the faint Christmas music coming from the stereo, and you start to smile when John wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“It really is so weird to think about Christmas last year,” you whisper as you close your eyes, “I was so damn nervous to take a pregnancy test. I wasn’t nervous to tell you, of course. I knew you wanted a baby just as bad as me, but…”

“Yeah,” John nods, looking down at you, “You didn’t want it to be negative.”

You nod, “But we got our little Christmas miracle.”

“I honestly don’t know how you didn’t tell me right away.” John laughs as he looks over at you, “I don’t think you’ll be able to last the next time.”

“Oh, hell no. I’ll maybe be able to last the day, two at the most. But yeah, definitely not waiting longer than I need to next time,” you say, then you shake your head, “I’m not just gonna blurt it out though. I still want it to be a special surprise for you.”

John smiles, “Yeah, I like that.”

“Baby number two is…a long ways from now though.”

“Definitely,” John nods, then he exhales, “Already got my hands full with you and Ro. I don’t think I can handle another baby right now, definitely can’t handle you pregnant again.”

You laugh loudly as you sit up and shove his shoulder as he laughs, and he pulls you into his arms and holds you as he lays down on the couch with you in his embrace.

“I’m just kidding. You were honestly perfect during your pregnancy.”

“Oh, you’re definitely remembering wrong. I was insufferable!” you say, and John firmly shakes his head as you sit up a little, “Jonathan, I cried over everything, craved every donut in Nassau County, and did not smell my best.”

John laughs, “Yeah, you were quite stinky towards the end there.”

“Hey! She was sitting on my organs!” you say as John laughs, “Don’t get me started on smells, Wick.”

“Okay, okay!” he laughs, then he pulls you down to lay with him, “But you really weren’t as bad as you think you were. Plus, I don’t know if you know this or not, but you were the sexiest pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a small laugh, “Well, what about now?”

“Now you’re the sexiest non-pregnant woman.” he says, and you cock up your eyebrow, “I mean that. You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“I’m sure glad you think so, because I think you’re pretty damn sexy yourself.”

John laughs as he pulls you closer, and you lay on his chest and lean down to make out with him for a bit while you can have each other to yourselves.

__

Ronan is currently bundled up all nice and warm for your mid-morning walk, and she looks so cute in her stroller as you push her down the street. You smile as you look down at her, then you stop and reach down to tuck the blanket around her more before you look over your shoulder at John with Bleu.

John looks up at you and laughs, “He can’t find the perfect place to piss, I guess.”

“So picky,” you joke, then you lean down to talk to Ronan, “Hi, pretty girl. Are you so excited for Christmas? You can’t eat anything or open anything, so that’s no fun, but you can look!”

You look back at John as he walks over to you, then he wraps his arm around your waist and leans over to kiss your temple before the two of you continue down the street and around the corner back to your house. John waves at a family building a snowman in the front yard since you got some fresh snow last night, and you wave at them when they look at you.

John laughs when he sees Jimmy outside with Finn as he pulls him around in a sled, “Merry Christmas.”

Jimmy looks up and waves, “Hey! Merry Christmas. Tess just went to your house.”

You look over as Tess comes down your driveway, and she smiles and waves as she quickly rushes over to hug you. You stumble back a little, then you laugh when she leans down and smiles at Ronan.

“Hello, gorgeous!” she smiles, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “What time are you guys going to mom’s?”

“Pretty soon. I made that hash brown dish that John and Jimmy love and put it in the oven just before our walk.”

Jimmy perks up and pushes his stocking cap out of the way, “Did you say hash browns?”

“Yeah, she made a huge pan,” John says, then he laughs as he looks over at you, “I am stuffing my face tonight.”

Tess looks over at you and smirks, but you put your hand up and push Ronan’s stroller away before she can say something inappropriate, which causes Tess to laugh.

“I should go check on it. We’ll be at mom’s in a bit.” you say, and Tess waves at you before she kneels down in the snow next to Jimmy and Finn.

You push Ronan’s stroller up the driveway as John straggles behind you since he’s still talking to Tess and Jimmy, but you just want to get Ronan inside since it’s a little cold. Her little nose is so pink from the cold, so you definitely want to get her warmed up.

Opening the door, you look back to see John let Bleu off his leash and bolt into the yard, and you smile when you hear John laughing at Bleu when he rolls around in the snow. You close the door to keep the cold out, then you immediately reach down and get Ronan out so you can warm her up.

“Oh, goodness, you’re so cold.” you grab her blanket and wrap her up in it, then you walk over and sit down on the floor near the fireplace. You place Ronan in your lap so her back is resting against your chest, then you lean forward a little and see her look at the fireplace as the fire slowly dies down. “We gotta get you warmed up.”

John exhales loudly when he comes through the door, then he laughs when he sees you sitting with Ronan in your lap by the fireplace. He sits down behind you and wraps his arms around you and Ronan, and you shiver when you feel how cold his cheeks are.

Since you didn’t open presents earlier, you figure you might as well do it now. Ronan obviously can’t open them, but you’re excited to see what stuff John got for her.

“Should we open some stuff now?”

“Yeah,” John smiles, then he kisses your cheek before he stands up and helps you get up. He walks over to the tree while you sit down on the couch and place Ronan in your lap, then he comes over and sits next to you with a present. “For you, little lady.”

You smile as you look down at Ronan, then you reach over and pull the paper off a little before John rips the rest of it off since you have Ronan in your lap. He pulls the paper off and throws it to the floor, then he opens the box and reaches in to pull out some books.

“Ooh! Books! We love books, don’t we?” you say, and Ronan kicks her legs a little as she smiles. “These are great books, babe.”

John smiles proudly, “Thank you. Look how cool this one is. It’s a bathtub book. It’s black and white, but when you put it in the water, it becomes colorful.”

“Shit, I won’t lie, I’d like a book like that,” you say, and John laughs.

“I’m really excited about the one gift, so let me just get it and then we’ll just open everything.”

“Okay,” you smile as you look at him, then you reach for his hand and pull him over to kiss you before he gets up and gets the big box by the tree. You gasp quietly as you look down at Ronan, “Ro, it looks like daddy got you something big!”

John puts the box in front of you and smiles as he watches you reach forward to rip the paper from the box. You sit back and read the box; a jumper chair, then you look at John and laugh.

“Oh, she’s gonna go nuts for this!” you say, then you point at her legs, “She’s already kicking all the time. The legs don’t stop--it’s the Wick genes.”

“Yeah, I thought this jumper chair would be good for her!” he says, then he points at it, “I got her the rainforest one. I was going to get one of those that you hang in the door, but I’m worried that she’ll fall. She’s quite chunky, so I didn’t want her to…break it or something. I don’t know! I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

You nod, “Makes sense. She’s gonna love it.”

“I’ll get it set up for her later when we get home.” he smiles, and you nod your head as you hold his gaze. “You look so beautiful today.”

You scoff, “I haven’t even showered yet.”

“Still look beautiful,” he whispers, and you laugh quietly, “Can I get in on that shower with you in a bit?”

“Once she’s down for a nap, absolutely.” you laugh, then you look down at Ronan as she kicks her legs, “Dad! More presents!”

John chuckles as he gets up, “Okay, okay!”

Bouncing your knees, you look down at Ronan as she just sits in your lap, then you smile when John sets several presents on the coffee table that are for her. He grabs a small box and furrows his brow, then he holds it up and looks at you.

You nod, “For you!”

“I’m intrigued, it’s so small,” he laughs as he walks over to sit with you while he opens it. He pulls the paper off of it and pulls the top of it off, then he laughs, “What? These are so cool.”

You smile as John holds up the black knotted cufflinks, “You like them?”

“Yes, these are so cool,” he says, taking one out to look at it closer.

“You have so many cufflinks but when I went Christmas shopping with Tess, we stopped in this jewelry store to get something for Jimmy’s mom and I saw those. I didn’t even think, I just pointed and paid for them.” you laugh as John leans over to kiss your cheek, “We said we wanted to go on a fancy date, and I thought these would be perfect for it!”

John puts the cufflinks back and leans over to kiss you, “I love them. I can’t wait to wear them.”

“I’m glad.” you smile as he takes Ronan from you, then you shift on the couch. “What are you opening next, bug?”

Ronan babbles and looks up at you, then she scrunches her face up and sneezes a few times.

“Oh, bless you!” you laugh as you reach for a tissue to wipe the spit off her chin. She sneezes again as you and John laugh, then she lets out a little sigh as she leans back against her dad’s chest. “Oh, did that one really wear you out?”

“Is she getting a cold?”

You shrug, “I doubt it. She’s just a little sneezy today. I mean, if she is, we can take her in. It’s probably just the candle.”

Leaning forward, you put the cover on the candle to snuff out the flame, then you smile as you look over at Ronan flinging her arms around and nearly hitting John in the face. You laugh as John leans back and widens his eyes, then you get up to get her bib since she’s drooling a little today.

“Hey,” John points to the tree, “That tall box. Open that. Be careful, it might be kind of heavy.”

You walk over to the tall box wrapped in red Santa paper, then you pick it up and carry it to the couch. Just as you get ready to sit down, John stops you before he gets up.

“Wait, there’s another box that goes with it. Hold on,” John grabs the box in his left hand and holds Ronan in his right, then he sets it down and sits next to you, “Okay.”

“What the hell is in this? It’s like 4 feet tall.” you say, then you gasp, “Is it a new vacuum? A mop? That really cool vacuum mop combo I mentioned?”

John laughs, “No, I would never buy you that for a present. Who the hell would want cleaning stuff for Christmas?”

You pull the paper off of it expecting to see what it is from the box but it’s just a plain brown box. You lay it down on its side, then you look up at John as he grabs the scissors and quickly cuts the thick clear tape.

“I have no idea what this could be,” you laugh, then you pull out the puffy foam that is protecting it. You furrow your brow more, then you gasp, “No fucking way!”

John laughs, “You know what it is?”

You pull out more foam, then you laugh loudly, “It’s a gumball machine! John, I mentioned this years ago! Like…right when we started dating!”

After placing Ronan on her play-mat, John walks over and helps you get it set up. He gestures for you to open the other box in the meantime, and you laugh when you pull out a large bag of colorful gumballs.

“This is just like the one my grandma had. When she passed, there was an estate sale, and this was the first thing to go. Someone snatched it up right away. She had it in the basement where the grandkids always hung out. Next to it was a little bowl of pennies so we could get a gumball whenever we wanted. We thought it was the coolest thing ever!”

“It is the same,” John says, and you look over at him and widen your eyes, “I tracked down the person who bought it.”

You gasp, “No, you didn’t!”

“No, I didn’t.” he laughs as you shove his shoulder, “But your mom mentioned it. You had mentioned that you wanted a gumball machine so long ago, and when your mom mentioned it a few months ago, I remembered. You obviously never told me why you wanted one so bad though.”

You smile as John gets the gumball machine all set up, “Yeah, I mean, it was just us wanting gum when we were kids, but we thought it was so fucking cool. There’s pictures of Tess and I standing near it because we were so obsessed.”

“Your mom showed me the picture so I could get the same one,” he nods, and you laugh a little, “You were practically hugging it in the picture.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug a little and gesture to the gumball machine, “It’s pretty cool.”

John nods his head, “It is pretty cool. It’ll look cool in the entryway.”

“Thank you.” you smile as you reach over to hug and kiss him, “This is so cool. Seriously.”

“I’m glad you like it.” he smiles, then he stands up and reaches for your hand to pull you up too. He hugs you tight in his arms and kisses your neck, then he smiles and leans back to look at you, “I love you, mouse.”

Letting out a small laugh, you nod and lean up to kiss him again, “I love you too.”

Ronan squeals loudly and cries as you and John look down at her, and she flails a little in place, so frustrated and sad to be left out. There’s nothing that girl loves more than getting snuggled by both of you. John reaches for her and picks her up, which immediately stops her crying.

“Oh, you just needed momma and daddy, huh?” he laughs, and Ronan begins to babble, “Oh, what’s that? You want more presents?”

You laugh as you tickle her belly before taking her, “Well then, hurry up, dad.”

__

Setting out some clothes on the bed, you bite your cheek and try to decide what you want to wear. The days of dresses and heels are over for now since soon you’ll be chasing Ronan around and trying to get whatever she’s not suppose to have in her hands. You don’t mind it, but you have to admit, you’ll really miss wearing sexy dresses and heels. And yes, John still gawks at you all the time, but you do miss the way he would make a huge deal about you when you wear a nice dress and some heels.

John’s hands on your waist pull you from your thoughts, and you lean back against his chest and close your eyes when he leans closer to your ear, “Shower?”

“Yeah,” you suck on your bottom lip and nod before you turn around and look at him. You wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you up, then you cup his face in one hand as you kiss him endlessly. “I love that we can still find time.”

“Always,” John smiles as he sets you on the counter, then he moves to the shower and starts it. “I know you can’t help yourself.”

You scoff as you hop down and pull your shirt off, “Right, it’s me.”

John smiles and laughs as he gets the temperature just right, then he looks over at you and whistles when he sees you naked. He smiles when you pull him closer by his pants, then he leans down to kiss you as you push them down along with his boxers. He pulls his shirt over his head and closes his eyes when you slowly stroke him in your hand, and you lean up to kiss him again before you get in the shower.

Pushing you up against the wall, John kisses you passionately before he starts to kiss your neck and chest. You close your eyes and suck on your bottom lip as he moves lower, then he stands up and smiles when you open your eyes. He holds your gaze as he slides his hand between your legs, then he leans down to kiss you as you moan softly.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you look at him, reaching out to stroke him in your hand. You put your hand over your mouth as you begin to moan, then you look up at him and smile, “You’re amazing.”

John laughs as he lifts you up and pins you between his body and the wall, and he smiles as he slips between your legs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you moan in the crook of his neck, “Take your time with me today.”

“Oh, I plan on it.”

__

Leaving the house usually results in you stopping at the end of the street and turning around because you forgot something, but thankfully you made it to your mom’s house in one shot. John got all of the presents packed in the car, and you got everything that Ronan will need for the rest of the day since you’ll probably be at your mom’s until at least 7 or 8 tonight.

As John pulls into the driveway, you see that Tess is already here, so you know Finn will be super excited to see Ronan even though he just saw her last night when you all went out to look at Christmas lights.

“You two get inside, I’ll grab everything.” John says, and you nod before you get out and walk around to get Ronan from her car seat.

Quickly heading inside, you smile when you’re greeted by Sadie who is so happy to see Bleu, and you hold Ronan with one arm as you try to get your shoes off. You decide to get her out of her snowsuit first, then you hang it up and look over when you see your mom coming to greet you.

“Hi,” you smile, then you hold up Ronan a little, “Can you take her?”

“Of course! What kind of silly question is that?” your mom says, and she kisses her cheek as she walks back into the living room.

The door opens behind you so you hop off to the side a little and look at John as he scrunches his eyebrows and looks at you in confusion.

“The floor is wet and I don’t want my socks to get wet.” you say, then you take off your shoes and quickly jump to the carpet as John laughs. You look up and watch as he sets the box of presents down, then he takes his shoes off and jumps over to the carpet next to you, and the two of you start to laugh.

You wrap your arm around John’s bicep when he gets the presents, then you walk with him to the living room and immediately smile when you see Jimmy holding Ronan.

“Merry Christmas,” John smiles, then he walks over to set the presents under the tree, “Smells great in here, mom.”

You gasp loudly, “My hash browns!”

“I got ‘em,” John smiles, “They’re in the car, I just forget to get them. I’ll go grab them.”

Your mom pats the spot next to her on the couch, so you walk over and sit down next to her and rest your head on her shoulder. John ruffles your hair as he walks past, then you sit up and smile when your mom asks how your Christmas has been so far.

“Good,” you nod as you take Ronan when Jimmy hands her to you, “Santa didn’t get fresh cookies last night though. Her first Christmas and I already ruined it.”

“You did not.” John laughs as he walks over, “Santa loved the stale cookies, he told me himself.”

“Next year, he’ll for sure have fresh cookies and milk.” you shake your head and exhale, “I just had so many things on my mind, it just slipped past me.”

Your mom laughs, then she nudges your shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better, one year I forgot to even put out Santa gifts. You woke up and didn’t even notice. I frantically called Claire and told her, so she took a few gifts that were for you from her and wrote that they were from him instead. Later when we went over, Tess opened her gifts from Santa too, just to make me feel a little better. Your mother was an angel, Tess--still is.”

Tess smiles and lets out a small laugh, then she reaches up and plays with the pendant on her necklace, causing you to furrow your brow a little. She must have gotten a new necklace for Christmas, so you lean over and look at it. You smile as you read ‘I love you’ written across it in small letters, then Tess smiles as she tears up.

“It’s my mom’s handwriting.” she says, then she flips it over, “And our mom’s. Jimmy found this site where you send in a picture of someone’s handwriting and they put it on a necklace. So, this side is my mom, and this side is our mom.”

You look over at Jimmy and smile, “That’s beautiful.”

Tess sniffles a little, “I can’t believe they’ve been gone for so long.”

“I know,” your mom says, rubbing her hand over Tess’ back to comfort her. “They’d be so proud of you though, sweetheart. So proud of the wonderful woman you’ve become.”

You smile as you look over to see John laying down on the floor to read a book to Finn, so you get up and allow your mom and Tess to have a few moments alone. You sit down on the floor and hold Ronan in your lap, then you smile when Finn reaches over to hold Ronan’s hand. You nudge John a little to get his attention, and he smiles when he notices.

“So, mom, how is your first winter in New York?”

Your mom laughs, “Very mild. I’m not used to the winter being in the double digits unless it’s negative.”

“Yeah, I was actually really surprised that we got some snow.” you look over at John and laugh, “I went to take the garbage to the curb the other day and John nearly had a heart attack when I just walked outside in a sweatshirt.”

“It was 30 degrees!” he laughs, and you roll your eyes, “How were you not cold?”

You shrug, “It’s that Midwest blood. We’re used to it. Plus, honestly since having Ro, my body temperature is way higher.”

John leans down and tickles Ronan’s belly as she chews on her fingers, “You threw momma’s body temp all off!”

“I didn’t expect it to rain as often as it does either,” your mom says, and you nod your head, “I was so excited for some snow the other day, then it melted the next morning with the rain.”

“It’s been a pretty rainy fall and winter.” Jimmy chimes in, “I’m sure Y/N doesn’t mind.”

You laugh as you lean against John’s shoulder a little, “I love it! It was pouring outside the other day and--”

“I had to beg her not to put up a tent and sleep out there,” John cuts you off, and you shrug bashfully. “It was freezing out.”

“She’s always loved the rain. Slept like, well, like a baby whenever it stormed. Tess would crawl in bed with me for a while, but not this one, well, she’d eventually come in there since she’d realize Tess was gone, but yeah, she always slept so well when it rained. Speaking of…” your mom gestures to Ronan, “Sweetheart, how is Ronan’s sleeping going?”

You hold Ronan’s hands and turn to face your mom a little, “She’s having a little bit of a sleep regression right now, so she’s constantly eating, which reminds me, I should probably get a bottle ready.”

“I’m on it,” John smiles, then he pinches Ronan’s cheek as he gets up.

“Our little bug is just having a growth spurt,” you say, then you lean down to look at her, “We just moved her into her own room the other day since she’s getting too big for her bassinet, and she loves it. She slept through the night the first night in there, then she woke up, I think, once or twice the next few nights. But she’s getting to be such a big girl!”

John sits down next to you and hands the bottle over, “It’s nice that Ronan is in her own room so if I wake up earlier, I can get her without waking this one.”

“Yeah, that’s nice, I won’t lie.” you laugh, then you shrug a little, “It is nice to be able to just sleep in our room with just the two of us again.”

“Ooh,” Tess teases, and you roll your eyes.

You shake your head and laugh, then you look down as you get Ronan cradled in your arms so you can feed her, “It’s nice having our own space again. Our bedroom looked like a baby bomb went off and now we’re able to have our space again, and we don’t want her to sleep in our room for too long because her room is pretty damn cute, plus yeah, mom and dad need some alone time.”

John lets out a small laugh as you look at him, then he leans down to kiss Ronan’s forehead, “She has her four month appointment soon, so we’re excited to see how much she weighs and see how long she is. I think she’s gonna be pretty short.”

“I think so,” you laugh, then you squeeze Ronan’s chunky thigh as she looks at you, “Short like momma.”

Your mom smiles when you look at her, then she furrows her brow, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

“Oh,” you look down at your left hand, “John and I took it in to get cleaned, completely forgot to go pick it up, so it’s sitting at a shop in Brighton. We’ll have to get it when it opens next week. It’s weird to not be wearing my engagement ring or wedding ring. My finger feels so empty.”

John chuckles, “I hate it.”

“I do too,” you touch your ring finger and sigh a little, “I miss it too, but John did get me this really cute ring when Ronan was born so I’ve been wearing that as a little replacement. I just forgot to put it on after my shower earlier. Speaking of rings though, when are you two gonna finalize your marriage?”

Your mom exhales as she looks at Dan, “Whenever he wants.”

“It’s up to you!” he laughs, and you smile as you look at them.

“We’ll figure out something soon,” your mom says, then she gestures to your dad, “He’s not going anywhere.”

Dan laughs as he shakes his head, “Of course not. Oh, my phone is ringing. Must be Leah on her way.”

You smile as you look over at John, then you look down as he rubs his thumb over your bare left finger and frowns a little. You let out a small laugh and lean over to kiss him a few times, and he presses a kiss to your ring finger.

“We’re getting that ring first thing when they open,” John says, and you nod your head as you smile and lean over to kiss him again.

__

Opening your eyes, you look over at the Christmas tree as it illuminates the living room, then you sit up more and smile when you see John getting Ronan into her snowsuit. You must have fallen asleep after dinner. Everyone must have left already. Jimmy and Tess are gone, Leah isn’t here with her boyfriend.

God, what time is it?

“Yeah, she’s been having some sleep regression, so Y/N hasn’t been sleeping too much lately. Ro was pretty good last night, but we were both so excited for Christmas, neither one of us could really sleep.”

Your mom chuckles, “She’ll need to go to bed early tonight. If you need any help, please don’t hesitate to call me. I’m always just a phone call away.”

“You’re gonna rock me to sleep?” you joke, and your mom laughs. “Nah, we’re good. I just didn’t sleep too much last night, but I think we’ll be able to manage. For now.”

“Don’t hesitate to call me though, okay?” she says softly as she cups your cheek, “Neither one of you. I’m here for both of you.”

John holds Ronan in his arms, then he bounces her a little since she’s slipping in and out of sleep, “Thank you for having us over and for the gifts.”

Your mom chuckles, “You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. We’re family, it’s what we do.”

You pull on your boots and get your jacket, then you walk over to hug your mom, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Drive safely. The roads are getting slippery.”

“Tell dad we said bye,” you say, then you laugh when you see him fast asleep in his chair. You hug your mom again, then you grab your bag and smile when she leans over to kiss Ronan’s cheek.

Giving your mom another wave, you hold the door open for John, then you walk out to the car with him. He gets Ronan in the backseat and buckled up, then he gets in the car and smiles at you.

“I got it all warmed up for you two,” he smiles, and you lean over to kiss him, “Mm, I think I need another.”

You cup his face in your hand as you kiss him, then you smile sleepily when you lean back, “So handsome.”

John chuckles softly, then he pulls on his seatbelt, “We better get you two sleepyheads home.”

“Yes, please.” you say, then you sit back in your seat and smile as John drives down the street and heads home.

__

Ronan is down for the night, and now you and John are just going to watch a movie. The living room is lit up by the Christmas tree and lights on the fireplace, and you can smell the cinnamon candle burning on the coffee table.

Sitting on the couch, you look over your shoulder and smile when John leans down to kiss your cheek. You tilt your head back more to kiss him, then you wrap the blanket around you as you shiver.

“Baby, are you cold?” he asks, and you nod as you look at him, “I can turn the heat up.”

“It’s okay. Maybe I just need some hot chocolate and a big guy to come hold me.”

John smiles as he leans down to kiss you again, “I’ll go make you some, then I’ll be right out. Get our movie ready.”

You sit up to get the remote and catch a glimpse of the slippers that John bought you, so you grab them and put them on. He also bought you a sweatshirt too, so you put that on before you sit back on the couch.

“Alright,” John hands your hot chocolate to you, complete with a handful of marshmallows, then he sits down with his own mug, “Oh! I forgot something.”

You grab the remote from the table and click through the TV to find the movie you and John talked about watching, then you look over at him as he comes out of the kitchen with a box and a huge smile on his face.

“Last one.”

You laugh as you sit down on the couch, “Is it more lingerie? By the way, I can, uh…wear that for you tonight if you want.”

John laughs as he sits down next to you, “It’s not more lingerie, but I sure like that idea.”

You take the box from John and set it between the two of you as you carefully open the top, then you smile when you see a small box of macarons. You pull some tissue paper out and hold up a cute notebook with the Eiffel Tower on it, then you set it aside to dig in the box.

“God, it’s like never-ending.” you laugh, then you grab a rolled up t-shirt. Unrolling it, you smile when you read the white letters across it, “Merci.”

“You’re welcome.” he laughs, and you roll your eyes playfully. “There’s more.”

After pulling out your passport, you look up at John and squint your eyes a little, then you reach in to pull out a pair of very sexy black heels, “What?”

John gestures for you to open the passport, and he smiles when you stare at him for a moment, “Just open it.”

Opening your passport, you put your hand over your mouth and quietly gasp when you see a little piece of paper with John’s handwriting:

Bonjour, peach! I hope you’ve figured this out--I’m sure you have, you’re a very smart woman--but we’re going to Paris. Just me and my girl. For an entire week! You do so much for Ronan and I, and I want to take a whole week and just cater to you and love on you, of course. Just me and you, eating macarons and bread all day long as we stare at the beautiful Parisian skyline. What do you say?

You look up at John and smile as you tear up, “Yeah! John, oh my god.”

“You like it?” John asks as you lean over to hug him, “I know Italy is where you wanted to go most of all, but we went there, and I know you said you miss wearing dresses and heels, and Paris is the perfect place for that. You’ll love it there.”

“Oh my god,” you lean back and wipe away the tears on your cheek, “This is so sweet.”

John smiles when you look up at him, and he reaches over to move your hair away from your face, “I know how hard it’ll be to leave Ro here for a week, but you deserve some time off from being a mom. Seeing you like that after Ronan was born, it just broke my heart. I don’t want you to ever feel like that again. I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”

You nod as you look down at your hands, “I’m happy, John. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he whispers as he moves the box to sit closer to you, “But you deserve to have some time for yourself, and we deserve some husband and wife time. Come on, you know you can’t wait to go eat breakfast on the balcony and stare at the Eiffel Tower.”

A smile spreads across your face as you look up at John, then you nod, “Yeah, it’ll be fun.”

“Just Mr. and Mrs. Wick time.” John whispers against your cheek, then he smiles when you look at him, “We deserve this.”

“We do,” you smile as you lean over to kiss him a few times, then you open the little box of macarons and hand one to John, “I don’t know who would take Ro though. Maybe my mom. I’d hate to throw another kid at Tess. Finn is…quite the handful.”

John laughs, “Jimmy’s DNA.”

“Yeah, definitely.” you say, then you look at him, “When are we going?”

“Whenever you want! I thought Valentine’s day would be good.” he says, and you perk up as a wide smile spreads across your face, “I can already see you wearing all kinds of beautiful dresses and outfits.”

You laugh, “Well, I can’t go to Paris and look like shit!”

“We’ll get you a beret too,” he laughs as he puts his hand on your head and ruffles your hair.

“Wait, Valentine’s day isn’t really fair. Tess and Jimmy will want to go out and so will my parents.”

John inhales deeply and looks down at you, “I already talked to your mom. She’ll take Ronan for the week. She said, and I quote, ‘Dan and I are old, what are we going to do anyway?’ So, they’ll take her.”

You chuckle a little, “I can’t believe we’re gonna go to Paris! Wick, what the hell?”

“You’re excited, huh?”

“So freaking excited! I can’t wait! We’ll have to get all dolled up and go somewhere fancy, even if we just walk down the street! And we’ll have to take pictures of everything, so we can show Ronan when she’s older. We’ll definitely need to take her there at some point though.” you say, and John laughs at your excitement, “Ah! I’m already running shoe options through my head.”

John leans forward and grabs the heels he put in the box, “These are going to look so good on you. Did I do a good job picking them?”

“Yeah, I like these.” you say, taking them from John, “You know what? These would actually look really good with that lingerie you bought me earlier.”

John holds your gaze when you look over at him, then he cocks up his eyebrow and nods to the bedroom as the smile grows on your face.

“What about our movie?”

“We have time for both.” he says, and you nod your head, “But I think I need you first.”

You laugh loudly when John gets up from the couch and scoops you into his arms, whisking you off to the bedroom.

__ let me know if you want to be added or removed from my taglist. i feel like i’m tagging people who no longer wish to be, so let me know!

@wheretheriversrunintothesea @youusunshineyoutemptress @sakurachan-9​ @samaraj  @hhighkey @aragornswife @tnu-ree @that-one-writer

#john wick imagine #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #Fic: Hold My Hand #i made some ig edits so i'll probably post those tomorrow or something #anyway let meknow if yall enjoyed this! i hope you do! #it's funny sometimes i feel so confident going into a chapter and thinking yall are gonna love it #then it only gets a handful of likes and no one really says anything lmao #but yeah i hope u all enjoy this and their cute little family #ok byeeee

[deaconsleatherpants]

Dead Boys Don't Cry - Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Everything changes for you forever, one dark night when everything comes to light. It's raining; your skin wet and cold - and all you want is for time to stop moving, but it's too late. After all, you're just a human, mortal and fleshy, caught up with monsters and other things you could never have hoped to beat with luck alone.

Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows (2014)

Rating: M (some moderate violence)

Relationship: Deacon Brücke/Reader

Chapters: 8/9

Chapter 8

( @brughy @strange-birdy-me @gigabats @smuggsy @papyblook )

#please do heed the warnings on the fic because this is where they come in. this is the angst chapter 😭 #I'll be honest this one's a little dark. dark and sad #so I completely understand if you want to give this a miss (and I am sorry 😩) I maintain that there’s a happy ending though #I’m nervous to post this; not only because it’s my first post after my mental health issues but also because of what happens in it 🙃 #I've had this planned since the beginning but still #but oh well I hope someone enjoys it anyway #just one more chapter to go 🥲 (and then let’s be real it’s onward to the Carl smutfic 🥴) #my writing #wwdits deacon

[writersdrug]

Simon Riley x Dog Sitter! Reader pt. 2

<- Previous - Next ->

Warnings: light cursing, light nsfw, Simon being the tiniest bit of a creep

A/N: so originally this was just a fluffy thought I had a few weeks ago... it's slowly turning into a longer, multi-chapter series, and Simon is a bit darker than I had intended him to be... but the story is still going to stay relatively normal (there will be full NSFW further down the line, lol)!

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

--------------

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

------------

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley x reader smut #ghost x reader smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #cod fanfiction #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod x reader

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part two

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, very soft!joel, flirting, kissing, hallmark movie tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, reader's sister is pregnant, hurt/comfort, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unproteced piv sex, angst (but you know there will be a happy ending, this is Hallmark, after all)

WC: 12K

A/N: I am so overwhelmed at the response I received for part one. No contest, it's my most successful story to date, and I can't thank you all enough ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this part just as much. Please read the warnings, this has some (very sweet and soft) smut at the end, so if it isn't your thing, feel free to skip it.

Series Masterlist

Joel sat in his truck, the engine long cooled down by now, as he stared blankly at his garage door, waiting for the stupid grin to leave his face before he went inside to face his brother. But he had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, and he was still smiling behind the back of his hand.

That date with you was perfect. Well, he could have done without getting knocked on his ass by some kid, but it worked out for him in the end, so he didn't mind.

Goddamn, did you make him feel good. There was no way he would be able to sleep that night, he was sure of it. Not after the way you looked at him, touched him, kissed him. A big part of him wondered for a long time if he would spend the rest of his life alone, believing that lightning doesn't strike twice, that he would never find anyone who would look at him and want him the way you did.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him you didn't live there, that you would be going back to New York in a couple short weeks. He couldn't let that bring him down just yet, that was a problem for another day. Right now, his only problem was resisting the urge to drive back to your house and scoop you up in his arms so he could make you feel as good as he felt.

It was close to midnight, so he caved and went inside, hoping his brother would be too groggy to interrogate him. When he walked in and saw Tommy and Sarah lounging on the couch, wide awake and watching some action flick, his face fell.

"Hey, it is way past your bedtime, the hell are you doin'?" Joel scolded, sliding off his boots.

"Dad, c'mon, it's the weekend," Sarah whined.

"Don't care, you know the rules," he told her, trying to sound firm, but he had such a soft spot for her that he never succeeded in sounding threatening.

"But it's a special occasion, I wanted to hear how your date went," she grinned, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. Joel's jaw dropped and shot a glare at his brother while stretching his arms out at his side in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, she practically dragged it outta me," Tommy smirked.

"Unbelievable," Joel muttered, collapsing on the end of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

"So?" Sarah pushed, tucking her legs underneath her excitedly.

"I ain't talkin' about this with you," he said, biting his cheek as he stared at the TV.

"Why not?" she pouted, but Joel just shook his head.

"Go brush your teeth," he said.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. "But I'll get it out of you one day."

She stomped upstairs and it wasn't until Joel heard the water running that he turned to his brother.

"What the hell, Tommy? You know I didn't want her knowin' about that," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, relax," Tommy said, stretching his arms above his head. "She's sixteen, Joel. She's smart. She figured it out herself, I just confirmed it after gettin' the third degree."

Joel sighed and tipped his head back onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Christ," he muttered.

"What's the big deal?"

Joel sat up and opened his eyes.

"Big deal is, she lives in New York. There's no future there, we were just hangin' out, and I don't need Sarah gettin' her hopes up," Joel explained, trying to downplay his feelings, but his chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving one day.

"Ever hear of long distance?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That never works," Joel replied, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe you should make it work," he said, sitting up and muting the TV. "You know, Sarah just wants you to be happy, Joel. We both do," Tommy said somberly. "Told me tonight she's worried about you bein' all alone when she goes off to college."

"I'll be alright," he said gruffly, although the same thought was plaguing his mind recently, as well.

Tommy stared at his brother a moment as Joel watched the TV, pretending to follow the story even though there was no audio. He decided to drop it for now and changed the subject.

"So, you gonna tell me how it went or what?"

Joel bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from smiling, but he failed. Tommy noticed right away and grinned, leaning forward to tap his knee.

"I know that look," he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, alright," Joel finally said with a smile. "It was great. Really fuckin' great."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy yelled, and Joel immediately shushed him, pointing upstairs.

"She's funny and she's sweet, we had a real nice time," Joel said, his grin permanently etched on his face now.

"I figured it went well since you got home so late," Tommy replied with a wink.

"I ain't gonna sleep with her on the first date," he whispered, just in case Sarah was listening. He settled back into the couch as Tommy turned the TV volume back on, letting the movie play for a minute before adding, "She's a good kisser, though."

"Oh, I can't wait to meet this girl," Tommy chuckled with a shake of his head. "Haven't seen you smile this much in years."

"Yeah, well," Joel replied noncommittally, still smiling like an idiot and staring at the TV. He decided to stay downstairs that night, finishing the movie and then starting another one on the couch long after Tommy left, unable to quiet down his mind long enough to fall asleep until nearly three in the morning.

You woke up the next day, stretching your arms above your head with a big yawn, not ready to get out of bed yet but the voices downstairs told you it must have been late. With a groan, you reached over and snatched your phone off the charger. When you saw you had a text waiting for you, your heart skipped a beat until you read Sydney's name and not Joel's. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, noting it was close to ten in the morning, before sliding open the text.

Sydney: sorry forgot to reply yesterday. I saw will at black & blue, he was hammered and falling all over the place

You scowled, not interested in whatever your ex was up to, so you replied with just the thumbs up emoji and set your phone back down.

Staring at the ceiling, you dreamily thought about your date with Joel. God, he really took you by surprise. You were proud of yourself for taking that first big step forward and putting yourself out there again, but you had no idea it would feel like this. You weren't even sure you ever felt like this with Will. Even when things were good, Will never treated you the way Joel did last night. He was so earnest and respectful, opening doors for you and actually listening to you talk about work. And he didn't even try to feel you up, either, although you probably wouldn't have minded. Maybe it was those Southern manners you were missing this whole time.

With a groan, you dropped your phone back on the nightstand and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, wrapping yourself in your robe, still not expecting it to be so cold in Texas. Even though it was December, it was unusual.

You made your way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee, tossing a wave in the direction of your parents sitting with your sister and brother in law in the living room.

"She lives!" Cassie exclaimed with a smug look on her face. You held your mug up to your lips and blew on the liquid, frowning when the whole family was looking at you with matching, goofy smirks.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" your mom asked innocently. You squinted at her as you sat down, not buying it.

"How was your date?" your sister asked. You took a sip of coffee before replying.

"Good," you said simply, nodding your head. Your mom and dad exchanged a look and you frowned again, getting annoyed.

"What?" you asked loudly.

"Nothing!" your dad said, looking back down at his newspaper. Who even still gets the newspaper delivered anymore, anyway?

"Josh, what's going on?" you asked your sister's husband, knowing he was the weakest link. He glanced nervously between you and Cassie.

"They saw you and Joel on the Ring camera," he blurted out, and your family all groaned in unison. Your face flushed beet red, gawking at them all in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched.

"We didn't mean to, Bucky. Dad was reviewing the footage because he couldn't find the newspaper this morning and, well..." your mom trailed off, trying to hide her smile.

"Oh my god," you whined, tucking your legs to your chest and hiding your face.

"Looked like the date was a little more than good," Cassie teased, and you smacked her on the leg.

"I can't believe this," you mumbled to yourself, hiding your face behind your coffee mug and praying someone would change the subject. "How much did you see?"

"Just from when he pulled in the driveway til when you went inside," your mom said with a shrug.

"That's, like, everything, Mom! Oh my god!" Your face was hot with embarrassment now.

"He looks like a good kisser, is he a good kisser?" Cassie asked.

"Shut up!" you whined, covering your face with your free hand.

"There's nothin' to be embarrassed about, he was a gentleman. Held the door open for you and everythin'," your dad murmured, and you groaned.

"Can we talk about literally anything else, please?" you begged.

"Of course!" your mom said, her eyes flicking around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you gotta see the the smile on his face after you went inside, it was so cute," Cassie said, pulling out her phone.

"I'm going upstairs!" you announced, jumping up from the couch.

"Wait! Are you still coming by later to help paint the nursery?"

"I don't know, are there any cameras there?" you shouted over your shoulder as your climbed the stairs with your coffee to hide in the sanctity of the guest bedroom.

"Well, no. Only because I haven't set the baby monitor up yet," Cassie called back and giggled when she heard you slam your door.

Grumbling to yourself, you flopped back into bed and picked up your phone, looking for a distraction from your embarrassment. You quickly found one when you saw you had a missed text from Joel.

Joel Miller: Question for you - when is the earliest you should text someone without looking too pathetic after you've had the best date of your life?

You grinned as you typed out a response.

You: answer - whatever time you sent this text :)

Joel Miller: Oh, good. Thought I scared you off, sent that about ten minutes ago.

You: sorry, I was downstairs talking to my family, forgot to bring my phone. And I don't think you could ever scare me off

You almost told him about the doorbell camera fiasco, but decided against it. Picking up your mug, you tried not to stare too hard at your phone as you waited for a reply.

Joel Miller: What are you doing later?

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again so soon, then quickly stopped yourself, remembering your promise to your sister.

You: I told my sister I would help paint the nursery...

Joel Miller: That's a shame. I was hoping you could teach me something again.

You: oh? lol

Joel Miller: I just realized how that sounded - I meant wrapping Christmas presents for Sarah. I'm awful at it and I have another hunch gift wrapping is a secret talent of yours.

You giggled and rolled over in bed, your embarrassment long forgotten now.

You: you might be right... how about tomorrow?

Joel took the porch steps two at a time, eager to see you again and it hadn't even been a full two days. His finger barely pressed the doorbell when he heard your voice call out I got it! and the door swung open. You smiled up at him, your eyes lighting up before dropping your gaze to his mouth.

"Hi," you said breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, swallowing roughly.

"Have a nice time, Bucky!" your mom's voice rang out somewhere behind you as you shut the door quickly. Joel grinned, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth before leaning in. You put your hand on his chest and tilted your head back before grabbing his hand and leading him to his truck. Confused, he followed behind and tried not to stare too long at the way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass.

You led him to the passenger side of the truck, but when he reached out to open the door, you snaked your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for a searing kiss only when you were sure you were hidden from view.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I missed you?" you whispered.

"No," Joel replied, shaking his head and trying to calm his pounding heart. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

"Me, too," you admitted softly, gazing up at him with your beautiful eyes all wide and burning with desire.

He cradled your face in his calloused hand, the other flattened firmly against the truck door behind you as he stared into your eyes, fighting the urge to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist so he could pin you against his truck and let you feel just how badly he missed you.

Then, you heard your dad's SUV unlock and your eyes widened in panic.

"Shit," you muttered. "We should go. I think they're heading out."

"Alright, maybe I should say 'hi' real quick," he said, pushing himself off the truck and letting his hand drop from your face.

"No! That's okay, we'll be stuck here forever if you do," you said hurriedly. He gave you a curious smile but agreed before opening the door for you and hopping into the driver's seat.

He waited until he backed out of the driveway and was heading down your street before shooting you a sideways glance.

"Everythin' okay?"

You sighed and rubbed your palms over your face before clearing your throat.

"So, remember the other night on the porch, after you dropped me off?"

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I remember," he teased.

"Well," you began. "My family saw us on the doorbell camera the next morning," you cringed.

He laughed, throwing his head back just a bit so he could still keep an eye on the road, and shook his head.

"Oh, I hate those fuckin' things," he said, but he was still laughing.

You grinned, your nerves and unease dissipating quickly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, then turned his head briefly to look at you. "I'm sure we put on a good show."

You giggled, your cheeks tinting pink, and turned your head to look out the window.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "I've waited long enough and I gotta ask."

You swiveled back towards him, waiting for him to continue.

"What's the story with the nickname?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

"It's so unbelievably stupid," you said, but he shook his head.

"Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes, but your playful smile gave you away.

"It's Buck, or Bucky. Short for Bucket," you began.

"Bucket?" he repeated, bewildered.

"I warned you it was stupid!" you protested, and he chuckled. "Anyway, when I was little, my sister and her friends had a sleepover one time, and I overheard them swearing."

"Okay," Joel said slowly, nodding along while he kept his eyes pinned to the road.

"I always looked up to my sister, I was like her shadow when I was younger. So, when I heard them swearing, I wanted to be like them, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I follow," he replied, still not sure how the story related to your nickname.

"Well, thing is, I misheard them. They were saying 'fuck it', but I heard 'bucket'," you explained. "So I went to school and, thinking I sounded cool, I would say 'bucket' to all my friends. We were little, they had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained to them it's a swear word. Before I knew it, I had the whole class saying 'bucket' any time someone dropped something, or got a bad grade on a test, or whatever."

Joel howled with laughter, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he tried to make it safely into his driveway.

"The principal called my parents and told them what was happening," you continued, joining in and giggling. "They got me home, and-" you doubled over, clutching your stomach as Joel put the truck in park and slumped over the steering wheel, his body shaking as he laughed.

"And I had to tell them the whole story, about why I kept saying it and-" you wiped the tears from your eyes as you took a deep breath. "And - oh my god - my sister got grounded for two weeks-" Another fit of laughter washed over Joel, tears streaming down his face.

"Wait, wait," he gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "You got in trouble in school, and your sister ended up gettin' punished?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, still giggling.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, panting as he leaned the back of his head against the seat rest. "Can't believe you thought that was stupid. That's gotta be the funniest thing I heard in a long while."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day," you said, still grinning.

He rolled his head back towards you, his soft gaze drifting up and down your frame quickly before stopping on your eyes.

"You really do, y'know," he said quietly, and you furrowed your brow, tilting your head in confusion.

"Brighten my day," he clarified.

You bit your lower lip and smiled, looking away as the flush began to return to your cheeks.

"Come on, charmer. Why don't we go teach you how to wrap presents?"

You never really gave much thought as to what Joel's house would look like, but once you saw it, it immediately felt like him. It was a smaller, two bedroom house. When you first walked in, you entered a living room with a leather couch and an oversized recliner. A big screen TV was front and center across from the couch, with a few framed pictures of Joel and Sarah mounted on the wall next to it.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Joel asked, making sure to slide the coat from your shoulders before shrugging off his own.

"Maybe just water," you said, following him into the kitchen. You gasped when you saw his cupboards and immediately rushed over to them while he pulled two bottles of water from the stainless steel fridge.

"Oh my god, Joel," you whispered, running your fingers gently over the designs. Each one looked different but somehow they all were cohesive. Some had small flowers or butterflies carved into the corners, while others had simple, yet intricate designs grooved into the wood.

"Had to practice somehow," he said, feeling his cheeks flush as he walked over to hand you your water.

"God, it's so beautiful," you said breathlessly, unable to look away from the dark, stained wood. Your fingers danced over some stars etched into one of doors, your eyes wide with awe, but he was focused entirely on you. He couldn't get enough of watching the delicate features on your face light up whenever you found something new that pleased you.

"How long does this take for you to do?" you asked, finally dragging your eyes away to look up at him. Your throat tightened when you noticed the heat behind his stare, your pulse fluttering in your neck.

"Depends," he murmured. "Some are faster than others, but I prefer to go slow and take my time. Anythin' worthwhile takes time. Gotta show it respect, gotta care for it."

His low and sultry tone made your face flush, forgetting for a moment you were talking about woodworking.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, clearing your throat. Suddenly, you were feeling short of breath. "That makes sense."

He gazed down at you for another moment, his eyes slowly raking over your face as if committing it to memory before speaking again. Your entire body felt hot, and you cursed yourself for wearing such a thick sweater.

"Ready to go upstairs?" he murmured, still staring at you in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Huh?" you whispered, completely entranced by his deep, brown eyes.

"The presents?" he reminded you with a small smirk.

"Oh, right," you said, finally blinking and looking away. You shakily opened your water bottle after he turned around to lead you to the stairs, your mouth suddenly extremely dry.

As you walked up the steps, you tried to get a look at the pictures that lined the wall, but it was difficult to do without tripping. You thought you had finally gotten your head on straight after that moment in the kitchen, but when you realized he was leading you to his bedroom, you felt the tremble return to your hands.

"Sorry, had to hide everythin' in my closet, she's too nosy," he said over his shoulder.

"No problem," you squeaked, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed. Your eyes briefly drifted over the end tables filled with personal effects. You thought you saw a chapstick, a cord for a phone charger, and a worn paperback book, but you didn't want him to catch you, so you looked away quickly.

He opened his closet and you were surprised to find his clothes packed away so neatly. For a bachelor, he kept a really clean house. He pulled out the bags of gifts from the shelf above his clothes, then the wrapping paper, which was leaning against the corner.

"D'you think we got enough room?" he asked, glancing around at the floor.

"Yeah, of course," you said, sitting down crossed legged on the carpet. You reached out for the wrapping paper and rolled it out in front of you as he sat down at your side, taking out her gifts one by one. You felt yourself involuntarily clench as you watched his large hands deftly lay out each item on the floor, his muscles twitching slightly under the tanned skin of his exposed forearms.

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I spoil her, I know, but she's such a good kid, I can't help myself."

That was definitely not what you were thinking, but you chose to keep that to yourself.

"I think it's sweet," you told him. "You seem like a really good dad."

Now it was his turn to blush. He tried to turn his head away so you wouldn't see, murmuring his thanks as you each picked an item to start. After a quick tutorial, which included way too much tape and ripped paper, Joel finally seemed to get the technique down. It only took until about halfway through the pile for you to muster up the courage to bring up a topic you couldn't help but be curious about.

"So," you began, hoping you came off nonchalant. "Is Sarah with her mom this Christmas, or..."

Joel's fingers fumbled for a moment with the wrapping paper, but he quickly recovered.

"Uh, no," he replied, keeping his eyes cast down on the shoe box in front of him. "She's not in Sarah's life anymore."

"Oh," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice, but you didn't push him any further. Your mind was scrambling, trying to think of something else to talk about, when he sighed and leaned back, abandoning the gift.

"I'm sorry, this is all so new to me, I probably should've told you about her sooner," he said, feeling guilty, but you quickly shook your head.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he said, cutting you off. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your body so you could give him your full attention, leaving the hair dryer you were wrapping on the floor next to you.

He drew a shaky breath in and looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

"There's not much to say, really. I'm still not always sure what happened," he began. You nodded, staying quiet and letting him take his time. "We were together since high school, ended up stayin' together after graduation. Sarah was a surprise, we were both still so young but we made it work. It was hard, but once me and Tommy got the business goin', it made things a bit easier."

Your fingers tangled together in your lap as you listened, refusing to say anything until he was done. His gaze drifted towards a fixed point on the wall as he continued.

"From what I gathered, she felt like havin' Sarah so young robbed her from doin' certain things in life," he said heavily. "Said she couldn't do it anymore. Didn't want her life to pass her by and be full of regret."

You bit your lip. The pain was clear as day on his face and it was making your chest ache.

"Well, anyway. I thought maybe she would go off for a couple months, do whatever it was she thought she was missin' out on. Parties, college... other men," he added the last part quietly, and you dropped your gaze to the floor. "Get it out of her system, y'know? But she just... never came back. Eventually, the calls came less and less, and I put two and two together. Didn't even get a courtesy call before I got served with the papers."

He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to look like a blubbering idiot in front of you. You reached your hand out and placed it gently on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He dropped his hand from his face to cover yours, staring at your coupled hands for a moment.

"Joel-"

"It was just so fuckin' hard on Sarah, y'know?" he said, his voice cracking. "I had no idea what to tell her. She cried almost every night, askin' me why her mom didn't love her anymore."

"Oh, Joel," you whispered, unable to hold back any longer. You closed the small gap between you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into your chest, your fingers gently raking through his hair. "I'm so sorry," you told him, burying your nose in the hair on top of his head, breathing in the citrus scent from his shampoo.

He didn't say a word. He just tugged you closer and closed his eyes, leaning into your comforting touch with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out. "I'm throwin' way too much at you, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Shh," you whispered into his hair, then tilted his face up to look at you, his dark brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek when he pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

"It's okay," you repeated, wiping away the tear with the pad of your thumb before placing another gentle kiss against his lips.

He hummed contently against your mouth, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck and pressing his lips more firmly against your own, scared to let you go because if he did, he was sure he would fall apart.

Your grip on his hair tightened as he leaned forward, one strong arm wrapped around your midsection and the other pressed against your back. You mumbled something against his mouth when he tried to lay you down and knocked over a small pile of DVDs.

"Fuck," he whispered and, oh god, the way he said it made your legs turn to jelly and your cheeks flare with heat.

Frustrated, he tightened his grip around you and lifted you up, refusing to break the kiss. A tiny, high pitched squeak slipped past your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips, letting him carry you to his bed.

He laid you down carefully on top of his plush, navy striped comforter. You sighed into his mouth, your legs loosening around his waist and falling open while you dragged your hands out of his hair and down to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to keep him close. He hovered above you, balancing all his weight on his elbows while his fingers played with the ends of your impossibly soft hair.

He slipped his tongue easily past your lips with a low groan, the noise going straight to your core, making the ache between your legs almost painful while your tongue danced with his, the two already so familiar with each other.

You tipped your head back with a gasp, desperate for air, but he kept going, unable to stop himself. His lips brushed against your jaw before his teeth and prickly beard scraped against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. You let out a needy whimper and arched your back at the sensation, pushing your breasts into his broad chest as goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, his voice thick and muffled against your neck. Baby. Jesus, this man was unraveling you so fast, it was making your head spin.

"I-I know we said this was casual, but-" the words got trapped in your throat as you cut yourself off, unable to finish your thought.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "Fuck, I know."

He lifted his head away from your neck as he stared down at you, patting your hair back and away from your face as he panted slightly for breath.

You looked up at him, eyes watering as you tried not to think about your time coming to an end in a couple short weeks. You could tell he was thinking the same but didn't want to say it, the pain behind his eyes was obvious.

He blinked a couple times, the clouds clearing as he forced himself to focus on the present. He had you here in his arms, in his bed, underneath him right now. And he was going to be damned if he didn't soak up every single second.

He leaned back down and locked his lips on yours again, this time moving slower, more gentle and tender. He wanted to treat you right. You deserved it, and he wasn't going to give you anything less than what you deserved while he still had you.

You loosened your grip on his arms and allowed your hands to drift to the buttons of his flannel, slowly and shakily undoing them. His heart began to slam against his chest when he realized what you were doing, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

He pulled his head back when you were about halfway down his shirt, looking down hazily at your fingers working open the buttons as he desperately tried to think straight.

"Dad?" Sarah called from downstairs, the front door slamming shut. "Are you here?"

"Shit," Joel mumbled, scrambling off of you as he clumsily tried to redo his buttons. You jumped off the bed, leaning over so you could see into the mirror above his dresser, raking your hands through your tangled hair and quickly fixing your sweater.

"Yeah!" Joel shouted back, glancing over at you to make sure you were decent. "Sorry," he whispered, but you just grinned. Then his eyes fell to the half wrapped presents on the floor.

"Wait! Don't come up-" he called out as he heard her skipping up the steps. Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind you both just in time.

"What? Why?" Sarah asked, then froze when she saw you. She looked up at Joel, then back to you, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Ohhh..." she said with her hands on her hips. "Now I see."

"N-no, it's not what it looks like, she was just helpin' me wrap some gifts," Joel stammered, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You shifted your weight nervously as you looked back and forth between them.

"Then why are you missing a button on your shirt?"

You both glanced down at his flannel, and she was right. He missed fixing a button in all the chaos. Your face flushed beet red as you stared at the ground while Joel hurriedly fixed the button, cursing under his breath. When you dared to look back up at his daughter, she was smirking playfully at you. Joel cleared his throat.

"Sarah, this is-"

"Yeah, I know, I remember from the party. The pretty dress, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Nice to see you again," you said awkwardly.

She nodded, still smirking and looking at you and Joel. You could tell she loved catching her dad in this uncomfortable situation.

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Uncle Tommy is waiting for you in the driveway, said he needed your help unloading some work stuff out from the back of his truck," Sarah said.

"Ah, dammit, alright. You okay for a couple minutes?" he asked you, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," you said. He nodded, walking down the hall past Sarah, muttering "be good" to her as he walked by.

You listened as Joel made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaving you and Sarah in silence, still staring at one another.

"I'm sorry, we really were wrapping gifts," you assured her.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Last year he used duct tape on my presents, I know he needs the help."

You giggled, causing her to laugh, as well.

"Do you play an instrument?" you asked, just noticing the case on the floor next to her feet.

"Yeah, violin. I had practice after school today," she said, picking it up.

"Oh, cool. I played piano growing up, but I was never any good," you said, sliding your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"I have my school's Christmas recital on Friday," she said. "My first solo."

"Oh my god!" you said, clapping your hands together, genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! You must be so excited!"

"Yeah, at first, but now I'm getting nervous," she said, glancing down at the case in her hand. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Duh. Absolutely," you said with a grin. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her face again.

"O-okay. This is my room right here," she said, turning to her right and opening the door. "Sorry it's messy, my dad's gonna kill me."

"It's totally fine," you said, walking in and sitting down at the edge of her bed. You glanced around the room as she set up her music stand. On the pink walls, she had posters up of her favorite bands with a calendar and string lights draped across the room.

"I really like your room," you said, squinting to look at the stickers and drawings she had on her headboard.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "My dad let me do whatever I wanted."

You were about to comment on the various trophies she had on her windowsill when Sarah spoke again.

"Just so you know, I don't mind that you're seeing my dad."

Your eyes shot up to hers in surprise, not sure what to say. You hadn't really had a chance to talk to Joel about your relationship and how that would affect his daughter.

"He's been in such a good mood this past week, and he won't tell me but I know it's because of you," she said, pinning you with a familiar brown gaze.

"Oh, that's so sweet, Sarah," you said, finally finding your voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she said. "I just want him to be happy again."

You dropped your gaze to your lap, your chest tightening at the thought of Joel being so lonely all these years.

"Me, too," you whispered, still looking down. Sarah regarded you for a minute before slapping her palms against the tops of her thighs and leaned down to pick up her violin.

"You ready?" she asked. You looked up and nodded, giving her an encouraging smile and sat back to listen as she began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of 'Silent Night'.

Sarah got about halfway through the song when she hit the wrong note and abruptly stopped, dropping her chin to her chest in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Joel heard you say softly as he walked back up the stairs. He paused at the top, right outside Sarah's room to listen.

"It's okay to make mistakes. Just go slower, take your time. Anything worthwhile takes time," you told her, and he smiled when he heard his earlier words to you repeated back to his daughter. He took a step forward to lean against the doorframe and watch the two of you, your back to him as you sat on her bed.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before lifting the violin to her chin and starting over.

Joel listened to Sarah play the same song he's heard a million times already in just the past month alone, but kept his eyes trained on you. The way you gave her your full, undivided attention and encouraged her with a smile or a thumbs up when she would glance over at you shyly made his chest ache.

When Sarah successfully finished the song with no mistakes, you jumped up from the bed, clapping and cheering for her, making Sarah giggle and hide behind her hands.

Fuck, this was going to be so hard.

"Dad?" Sarah asked the next morning over her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, baby girl?" he replied, frowning as he pulled his bread from the toaster. He sucked his fingertips into his mouth, trying to bring some relief to the quickly reddening skin.

"Can your friend come to my recital tomorrow?"

Joel froze, his fingers still pressed against his tongue as he slowly turned around to look at her. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he replied.

"You don't think she would wanna go?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

"No, it's not that, I'm sure she would," he said, trying to find the right words.

"Then what's the problem?"

Joel sighed and picked his mug up from the counter, then walked over to join her at the table.

"She doesn't live here, baby. She's goin' back to New York in another week or so, I don't want you gettin' too attached," he finally admitted, watching Sarah closely as she considered his words.

"Well, you guys like each other, right?" she asked, and Joel smirked.

"Yeah, but it ain't that simple."

"Yes, it is, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes and dipping her spoon back into her bowl. "My friend Katy was dating this guy last year and he switched schools over the summer. They're still together, it doesn't matter," Sarah said with a shrug, taking a bite of cereal.

If the topic didn't fill Joel with a sense of dread, he would have chuckled at the comparison, but instead he just sat there quietly, watching his daughter as she finished her cereal and scrolled on her phone.

Sarah pulled on her backpack and was sliding on her sneakers to catch the bus when she called back to Joel over her shoulder.

"Just ask her, okay? Please, Dad?"

Joel sighed, hanging his head between his shoulders and paused his hands over the dishes in the sink.

"Alright," he relented, and he heard Sarah clap her hands behind him before slamming the front door shut.

You: good morning :)

Joel Miller: Good Morning, sweetheart. I didn't think you would be up this early.

You: couldn't fall back asleep. What are you doing

Joel Miller: Just getting to work. Why couldn't you fall back asleep?

You thought about it for a minute from under the pile of blankets on your bed, rolling to your side before answering.

You: I was thinking about you...

Joel Miller: Good thoughts, I hope?

You: VERY ;)

His throat went dry when he opened the text. He glanced around outside his car window, making sure he was still the only one on the job site before replying.

Joel Miller: What are you trying to tell me, baby?

You smirked and bit down on your lip.

You: I was wishing you were in bed with me right now

"Shit," he muttered to himself, glancing around once again before adjusting his pants.

Joel Miller: Me too, what are you wearing?

The answer came back almost immediately.

You: nothing

He groaned and rubbed his palms roughly over his face.

Joel Miller: You're killing me, baby. I have to get working in a minute.

You: i'm sorry ;)

You: I promised my parents I would go to dinner with them tonight, but are you free tomorrow?

Joel took a deep breath, trying to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts from his head when he remembered his promise to Sarah.

Joel Miller: It's Sarah's recital tomorrow night. She asked me to invite you this morning, did you want to go?

He nervously chewed his cheek for a moment before sending another text.

Joel Miller: No pressure, I can tell her you're busy.

He sent his second text right as your reply came through.

You: I would love to!

He grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. Tommy's knuckles tapped on the outside of Joel's window, making him jump. He held up a finger before sending you a quick answer.

Joel Miller: Sounds great. I'll pick you up. Try to go back to sleep. Dream of me.

Joel opened the door and slid his phone in his back pocket, a stupid grin etched across his face as he joined his brother in the half-built storefront they were working on.

"Oh man, you got it bad," Tommy said with a chuckle when he saw the look on Joel's face.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" you asked Cassie as you stepped out of the bathroom modeling the sixth dress of the day.

"I liked the red one better," she said, glancing up from her phone.

"Are you sure? This one is a little more chic," you said, twisting around to look at your backside in the mirror.

"It's a high school recital, Buck. I don't think anyone is expecting 'chic'," she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I just want to look nice, is all," you said, sitting next to her on your bed in a huff. You tapped your phone screen, frowning when all you had was another text from Sydney and nothing from Joel. You opened it up anyway, curiosity getting the best of you.

Sydney: OMG!!!!!!

You sent back three question marks and locked your phone with a sigh.

"You still wanna get together next week so we can look at apartments online for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said sadly, looking out the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you told her. "Just not ready to go back yet."

"Could that be because of a certain sexy contractor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up," you smirked, tossing a pillow at her lightly.

"Ooo you like him! Lookit how red you're getting!"

"I'm gonna kill you when that baby's out, you know that, right?" you giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Cassie said, looking back down at her phone as the smile slowly faded from her face. "You know you don't have to go back, right?"

"What do you mean? My job is there, my life is there... everything is there," you replied. "Of course I have to go back."

"What life, though?" she asked, and you frowned at her. "Seriously, Buck. Aside from your job, which you hate, what's left?"

"Well, my friends are there. And I don't hate my job that much. I mean, everyone hates their job a little bit," you said with a shrug.

"Is this what you expected to do when you were in college? Is this what you wanted?" Cassie pressed, sitting up on the bed. "Are you even happy?"

You paused, letting her words roll around in your head for a moment.

"Well, I mean..." you trailed off, not sure how to answer her question.

"If you have to think about it this long, I think you know the answer," your sister said quietly. You groaned and rolled off the bed.

"I'm going back. I have to. I can't just give up because some guy broke my heart," you said, turning around so she could unzip the back of your dress.

"I'm just saying, think about it," Cassie replied. "I wouldn't hate it if my child's aunt was in their life more than twice a year!" she called after you as you shut the door to the bathroom.

Joel eagerly jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell, very aware of the camera this time while he fiddled with the cuffs on his dark red button down shirt. He heard high heels clicking on the other side of the door and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, which quickly vanished when you opened the door and he saw the dress you were wearing.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile, pulling a soft looking white cardigan on over your shoulders.

He thought he had greeted you. He could have sworn he said something, anything, that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, but apparently nothing came out because you scrunched your eyebrows together when you saw his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.

"Yeah, it's just - Jesus, you look so good," he managed to finally say, tilting his head back to stare up at the roof of the porch for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," you said with a giggle. "You don't look half bad, yourself."

He rubbed his forehead, exasperated and flustered before pulling you quickly into his arms and latching his mouth onto yours with a groan.

"Joel," you pulled back breathlessly with a small smile and leaned your head to the side, trying to silently remind him of the doorbell. His eyes raked over you hungrily before shaking his head and pulling you back into a deep kiss.

Fuck the camera, let them see.

You giggled against his mouth, causing him to smile and break the kiss.

"Come on, I wanna get good seats," you said, rubbing your thumb over his lower lip to wipe off your lipstick that transferred. It caused his stomach to clench. That sweet, little intimate gesture made him ache for more so badly that he could hardly breathe.

He walked you around the front of his truck, opening the door and giving you a hand so you could hop onto the seat, the gorgeous red dress you were wearing hugging your curves just right and distracting him to no end.

On the walk around to the driver's side, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself over and over that tonight was a big deal for his little girl and he needed to stay focused.

As he drove down the street, he realized that his hand instinctively found yours across the seat, his body craving the warmth and softness of your own. How on earth was he going to go back to the life he had before, now that he knows what it's like to bask in the heat of your touch?

Once he got to the school, he found a parking spot and jumped out of the truck. You had figured out by now that he preferred you to wait so he could open the car door for you, so you did. Swinging your legs over the side of the seat, you slid down into his waiting arms, your hands gently coming to rest on the tops of his shoulders. He gazed down at you with his arms loosely hanging around your waist. You saw his adam's apple bob in his throat while he let himself get lost in your warm, beautiful eyes. You lifted a finger from his shoulder, tracing an invisible line down the side of his cheek as you stared up at him with your plush lips parted so invitingly that it made his knees weak.

"Joel! Hey!" Tommy's voice called out from behind, snapping you both out of the moment. Joel sighed and untangled himself from you, taking your hand and leading you forward so he could shut the door before turning around to find his brother.

You could see the family resemblance immediately as Tommy approached you with a wide grin. His hair was a bit darker and a lot longer, and his beard was less full than Joel's, but he had the same soft, brown eyes that you had grown to know and love.

Love? Oh, no.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel said as he got closer, his hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. "This is-"

"Oh, I know who she is. How're you doin', darlin'?" Tommy asked, pulling you into a bear hug, taking you by surprise.

"I-I'm good," you squeaked shyly once he released you. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been dyin' to meet the little lady who's got my brother all wrapped up," he replied with a grin.

"Tommy!" Joel seethed warningly at your side, but you just giggled.

"I'm just messin' around. She knows that, right?" he said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet. "Supposed to snow next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I heard we might get a couple feet," Joel said, steering you toward the doors to the auditorium. "Better get your shovel ready."

You settled in between the two brothers as you found a decent spot in the fourth row. Joel draped his arm around the back of your chair while he chatted with Tommy about work. You inadvertently leaned to the side and rested your shoulder against his chest as you glanced around the room, admiring the lit up garlands around the windows and Christmas trees on the stage with fake presents underneath.

When their conversation died down, Tommy pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media, holding it low between his spread knees with his chin tucked into his chest.

Joel tilted his face forward to press his lips on the top of your head, breathing in a deep and contented breath. A small smile played across your lips as you turned your gaze up towards him, resting your cheek gently on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile and planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, and as each of you slid your eyes closed for a moment, Tommy angled his phone to snap a quick picture, smiling to himself and making a mental note to show his brother later.

The lights dimmed and you all straightened up in your seats. You listened to the music teacher make a small speech at the beginning and politely clapped afterwards. You saw Sarah twice throughout the concert as part of the orchestra, smiling at how focused and beautiful she looked in her white dress. As the concert wound down, Sarah finally came out on stage for her solo, and the three of you eagerly leaned forward. At the last minute, you remembered to pull out your phone and start a video, telling yourself you were doing it for Joel so that he could be in the moment, but you knew you would end up watching it by yourself when you went back to New York City.

The performance was flawless. When it was over, the three of you lept up from your seats, cheering, jumping and clapping, making her wave and blush as she exited the stage. You sat down, giggling, as the people surrounding you gave you all polite smiles and chuckles, then quieted down for the finale.

When the lights came back up, everyone stood from their seats, murmuring and laughing while waiting for their kids to come out from backstage and take pictures. You saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye and moved out of the way just in time for Sarah to run and jump up into Joel's arms, burying her face in his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around her tightly, murmuring praise in her ear. You felt warmth spread across your chest as you watched them have their moment, the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile with your hands clasped together against your chest.

He let her down gently and she turned to give Tommy a quick hug. He spun her around, making her giggle and fidget with her dress before she turned to you.

"You came!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such affection from her, but you quickly returned the hug.

"Of course I came! Thank you for inviting me," you said, pulling back with a grin. "You were absolutely perfect, I took a video, I'll send it to your dad so he can show you later."

"I did exactly what you told me, I slowed down and took my time," she beamed, and it gave you a new feeling deep in your chest that you never felt before.

"That's great, Sarah," you replied, your throat tight with emotion. Tommy dropped his gaze from you and ticked his jaw to the side, finally understanding why Joel was hesitant to let Sarah know about the two of you.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, turning away from you. "Can I sleep over at Katy's? She's having a bunch of girls over and her mom said it was okay."

"Uh, sure, baby girl. Don't you need clothes and stuff?"

"I have stuff I keep here in my locker for gym," she said.

"Well, alright, lemme talk to her mom first," he replied, glancing around the room.

"Thank you! She's right over here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Thanks for coming!" she called back last minute over her shoulder to you and Tommy, and you both smiled and waved as she dragged her father across the room.

"She's so talented," you said, turning to Tommy. He looked down at you and gave you a weak smile.

"Yeah, she's somethin' else," he said with a nod. "Hey, listen. I'm havin' a get together next week at my house. Little Christmas party, I guess. I invited a guy I met at your parents' house - Josh? He's comin' with his wife, Joel and Sarah'll be there, I'd love for you to come by if you can."

"Josh is my brother in law," you clarified for him. "That sounds great, I'll be there, thank you."

"You're welcome," Tommy said, then his brows pinched together as he opened his mouth again to speak. "Joel might kill me for sayin' this, but you gotta know how happy you've -"

"Ready to go?" Joel asked, sneaking up beside you. Tommy cleared his throat and gave his brother an innocent smile.

"Yep," you replied, dropping your hand to find his at your side, lacing your fingers together and giving him a gentle squeeze.

After saying goodbye to Tommy, Joel slowly led you through the parking lot to his truck, desperately trying to think of something else you could do, not ready to drop you off yet. He knew the time you had together was coming to an end, and he wanted to soak up every precious second. Especially after the way he saw you with Sarah: so warm and sweet and patient. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his daughter's eyes light up that way.

He prided himself on being a good father since his wife left. Always making sure to put Sarah first, that she got everything she could ever want or need. Especially his love. When his ex abandoned them, he made sure Sarah got every ounce of love he had, hoping it would help make up for the loss. But as hard as he tried, he could never fully fill both roles. There were just some things that a mother provided for her daughter that Joel couldn't give.

He didn't realize it until he saw you with Sarah earlier that night, and then it felt like everything shifted into focus for the first time in his life.

He held out his hand to help you get back into his truck, making sure your legs were safely tucked in before he gently shut the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead for a moment in complete silence, the keys still in his coat pocket while his mind reeled.

"Is everything okay?" you asked timidly. He blinked and turned to you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He swallowed and looked at his watch.

"You wanna get coffee or somethin'? I know it's gettin' late but I'm sure some place's open," he said, deep in thought as he considered the cafés nearby.

"Don't you have coffee at your house?" you asked shyly. His eyes snapped up to yours and he saw the flush creeping up your neck and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Oh.

"Yeah, yes," he croaked, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's do that. I have- yeah, good idea," he stammered, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

You smirked as you watched his shaky hand turn the key in the ignition. He twisted around to back out of the parking spot, and this time you gave into temptation, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could slide over and tuck yourself under his arm. He immediately pulled you closer, not even caring that you weren't wearing your seatbelt. He would make sure to drive safe. Nothing could possibly ruin that night. He wouldn't let it.

At stop lights, you would run your hand up his chest and plant small kisses against the corner of his mouth, filling him with a radiating bliss he never felt before.

Once you got back to his house, you shrugged off your sweater and trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. You leaned against the wall and watched as he opened one of the cupboards - the one with the small birds carved into the bottom - and pulled down a can of coffee.

"I don't think I have any decaf," he said turning to look at you.

"I don't want coffee, Joel," you said lowly. He swallowed roughly and put the can on the counter.

"What d'you want, then?"

You pushed yourself off the wall and slowly walked towards him, his eyes skating up and down your body as you approached. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tilted your face up to gaze at him, your mouth hovering over his own.

"I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as your lips slotted against his, his rough hands immediately coming up to cup your smooth face, holding you firmly against his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of kissing you. If he could do it every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He knew it seemed crazy. He knew you just met, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel.

"Let's go upstairs," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded in a daze and let you lead him coyly up the steps, then turned around to walk backwards down the hall towards his bedroom so you could pull him tightly against your body. His big hands gripped your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for its mate.

You reached behind you blindly, your hand fighting with the doorknob as his big frame caged you in against the wood, his masculine scent invading your senses and making it difficult to think. Finally, the door swung open and you both stumbled in, a giggle erupting from your throat as your fingers got to work undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

You hurriedly tugged his button down off, leaving it in a heap on the floor as you slid your palms underneath the white t-shirt he had on, feeling the warm skin of his stomach and chest for the first time.

"Off," you whispered, your heart getting stuck in your throat when he yanked the shirt over his head, leaving his upper body completely bare to you. Your mouth went dry as you drank him in, then lunged forward, your lips brushing up his sternum until you reached his collarbone. You sucked on a bit of tanned skin there with a moan, then slipped your tongue out to press wetly against the red mark you left, feeling drunk off the taste of his sweat.

He gently pushed you backwards so he could ease you down onto his bed, his breath growing erratic and desperate with each little bite you left on his chest. God, has anyone ever desired him this much before? Has he really been missing out on this his entire life?

"Baby, we're gonna have to stop soon if you don't want this to go any further," he murmured. He found himself in the familiar position of hovering above you while his hand slid down your leg and toyed with the hem of your dress.

"I don't think I can take much more, tell me to stop," he whispered when you didn't answer, running the tip of his nose softly against your cheek.

"I don't want you to stop," you gasped as his fingers slipped underneath your dress. You tilted your head back and moaned when you felt his fingertips brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

His mouth hungrily devoured the exposed cleavage of your breasts, growing frustrated with the fabric of your dress keeping him from seeing all of you.

"Sit up," he demanded, leaning back and pulling his hand from between your legs. You obeyed, and he made short work of your zipper, pulling it all the way down so you could shimmy out, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You let yourself fall back gently on the bed, spreading your arms out above your head so he could see every inch of you in the moonlight.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He kept waiting for his alarm to go off and reality to slap him across the face, but it never came. His heart was pounding so fast, he was sure you could hear it as he leaned back down and nibbled at your exposed jaw while his calloused hand cupped your soft breast, his thumb flicking over your hardening nipple.

You scraped your nails over his shoulders and down his chest as you arched your back, pressing into his hand, needing to feel the heat of his skin against your own. Your stomach flipped as you made your way down to his belt, and with shaky fingers, pulled hastily at the leather.

Yanking the belt through the loops with one swift motion, you flung it across the room, making him chuckle against your skin. When you started to work on popping open the button on his dress pants, a devastating thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Shit, wait," he said, putting his hand on top of yours. You frowned up at him, your chest heaving, as you gave him a confused look.

"I don't have any protection," he said through gritted teeth. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut angrily. "I-I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and I never thought... fuck," he said, clenching his jaw.

You weighed your options for about half a second before tugging his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"I'm still on birth control," you told him, searching his eyes. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, we don't have to," you said, but in your head you were chanting please, please, please.

"Are you sure?" he asked, panting for air. "I don't wanna make you feel like -"

"Yes," you said, cutting him off by grabbing his face. "Yes. I'm sure, Joel. Please," you whimpered, pulling him back down to you, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

"Please," you whispered again, tipping your head back as his lips left a trail of soft kisses down your throat. "Please, Joel, I need you."

His mouth stuttered against your neck. Hearing you beg and say you needed him when he never thought he would ever be needed like this in his whole life made his mind go blank.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay, baby."

He tugged at the zipper on his black pants and pulled them off as quickly as he could without leaving you. You reached down to help him, hooking your fingers over the band of his boxers and shoving them down. He kicked them off before yanking down your panties, dropping them on the floor next to his clothes.

You eagerly spread your legs so he could settle his hips between them. You glanced down with a small gasp when you saw the size of him and you felt your cheeks flare. Jesus Christ.

He didn't seem to notice your reaction when he was too wrapped up in staring at the wet heat between your legs, pulsing and waiting, just for him. He slid a finger gently between your folds, making you moan and your back arch. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were to his touch.

He readjusted so he was kneeling between your legs. His palms slid up your calves, past your knees and to your inner thighs, pressing them down into the mattress so you were spread wide.

He lined himself up at your center, glancing up at you quickly to make sure you were ready. You swallowed and nodded, your eyes filled with desire, desire for him, something he still couldn't fathom but decided not to question. He pressed forward gently, notching himself against you before falling forward on his elbows.

He kissed the tip of your nose as he eased himself inside you, pausing when he heard you gasp and felt you tense under him.

"More," you finally croaked, your nails coming up to rake against his scalp. He let out the breath he was holding and pushed in further, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open as he felt you slowly stretch around him so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

"Oh, god," he sighed, dropping his face to the crook of your neck after he fully sheathed himself inside you. He dragged his mouth across your chest, leaving a wet trail from his tongue and red marks from his scratchy beard in his wake. He waited until he felt your muscles relax under him before he slowly rolled his hips, dragging himself in and out as his teeth scraped over your tightening nipples. You moaned his name softly, the sound permanently etched in his brain, a sound he will refuse to forget for the rest of his life.

He began to roll his hips faster at your encouragement, becoming obsessed with the way you felt and the sounds you made, and it was all for him. He spent so much of his life giving to everyone around him, he never truly felt like anyone was able or willing to give him what he needed in return until now. The recognition was depressing and freeing at the same time. Now that he finally had what he always wanted, what he always needed, he was going to lose you and there was nothing he could do about it.

Each moan from your throat and each kiss from your lips dragged him down deeper and deeper until he collided head first with the stunning, yet so painfully obvious, realization that he was deliriously in love with you. It was insane, he knew that. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Joel," you gasped, pulling him out of his trance and back to the present.

"Yeah, baby? I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered, planting soft kisses all over your face.

You bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The sheer intensity behind his gaze coupled with the agony of only getting to experience this for one more short week made tears burn in the backs of your eyes.

You felt your orgasm begin to swell deep in your belly while your breath became more ragged and your vision went spotty. It shouldn't feel this good. This was cruel, to be able to experience something like this just to have it brutally ripped away from you. It wasn't fair, yet you never wanted it to stop.

He could feel it. It's been years, and it was never, ever like this, but he still knew. The way you whimpered and clawed at his back while your walls squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pass out.

"Open your eyes," he panted. "I wanna look at you."

You forced your eyes open, now unable to hold back the tears that pooled there as two drops trickled down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair.

"It's okay, I got you," he whispered lovingly, staring deep into your eyes, seeing everything you didn't dare say out loud.

"You can let go, baby," he told you, his hips snapping against you ruthlessly, desperate to come at the same time.

You felt the wave rip through you like fire, the power and emotion behind it unlike anything you ever felt before. More tears poured from your eyes as you cried out his name, your thighs squeezing his hips so tightly you weren't sure you would be able to stand after.

He followed seconds later with a deep groan, spilling himself deep inside you while murmuring praise and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Why're you cryin', did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it broke your heart. You shook your head, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, but fresh ones just took their place.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, leaning up a bit as he softened inside you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you blubbered pathetically. He took a shaky breath in and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know, baby, but we'll figure somethin' out. We gotta," he said with a sigh.

"I can't lose you," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

"You'll never lose me, I can promise you that," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against your swollen lips.

He waited until your tears slowed down before sliding out of you with a hiss. Rolling off to your side, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close against his chest, and as you finally drifted off in his embrace, he thought about all of the options available before you, determined to find a solution.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @wonyoungismind @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin - lmk if i missed anyone, if your name is crossed out it means it won't let me tag you

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel x reader #joel x reader smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #the last of us game #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #hallmark christmas movies #hallmark #christmas #joel miller christmas

[thebigbiwolf]

Spittle - Part 2/2 (Astarion/F!Reader)

Summary: The chocolate seems innocent enough - if you look past the Infernal writing on the wrapper, and with so few pleasures in the wilderness, you all but jump at the chance to sneak yourself a small treat.

Unbeknownst to you, the bar is infused with succubus spittle. Just one square is rumored to contain enough potency to send a mortal into the throes of ecstasy.

This is what happens when you eat half the bar.

Fic Tags: Sex Pollen (kinda), aphrodisiacs, a bit of dom!Astarion, unprotected piv, overstimulation, he talks you through it (iykyk),

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, No use of Y/N, magical influence

Read Part 1: Here

Read on AO3: Here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Wow. I'll try to make this brief. First of all, I just want to say thank you all so much for your continued support. I know this took me forever to write, but I've been going through a lot of emotional turmoil with school and some health issues with my animals. Your patience means so much to me, and I can only hope this lives up to everyone's expectations! This is my first time writing smut, and ngl I feel a bit like Icarus, so let me know if y'all liked it. Last, but not least, thanks again to my bestie/beta @imaginarydromedary for holding my hand through the shame.

Astarion sits quietly beside the fire, absently picking the dirt from beneath his manicured nails. The night had unfolded like countless others before it: boring, mundane. Uneventful.

Perhaps he should retire early. The Realm According to Bumpo sits patiently atop the desk in his tent, and if he heads to bed now, he could potentially finish a chapter before his watch begins.

He stands, patting the dust off his trousers, just as Shadowheart emerges from your tent. He initially doesn’t pay her any mind - fails to notice the concern etched across her face. 

“Astarion.” 

He snaps to attention, recognizing the fear in her voice.

Astarion’s stomach sinks when their eyes meet. Shadowheart isn’t normally one to succumb to panic, but she looks as though she’s just stumbled out of a wolf’s den.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. She - I’ve never seen…” Shadowheart pauses, taking a steadying breath. “She’s feverish. She was fine only hours ago. I heard a cry from her tent and feared something was amiss. When I found her, she…” The cleric hesitates, eyes contemplative - as if weighing exactly how much she wants to reveal. 

“Out with it, damn it!”

“Is there any chance she’s been poisoned? You two stayed behind, back in the village. Did she come into contact with anything that might have pierced her skin?”

“Poisoned? No, she -” Astarion retraces the events, turning over your brief conversations in his head before landing on the only noteworthy detail he can think of.

He taps a finger on his chin, a thoughtful smile creasing his face. “Unless, of course, the Infernal chocolates didn’t agree with her.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” 

“The chocolate she found at the apothecary. I assumed she hid it away so she could enjoy her little treat, unbothered. There was Infernal text on the wrapper.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, jaw slack with disbelief. “And you didn’t think to mention this earlier?”

Astarion shrugs, unfazed.

“Where’s Wyll?”

He rolls his eyes. “How should I know? I’m not his keeper.”

“Astarion!” 

“Oh, come on. That chocolate must have been at least a decade old. Are you certain this isn’t just some sort of stomach bug?”

The cleric shoves past him, groaning in exasperation. She shoots him a glare and mutters, “I’m certain,” before jogging in the direction of Wyll’s tent. 

“Infused with succubus spittle. Just one bite will have you and that special someone rolling around for hours. Consume responsibly." 

Astarion giggles boyishly. “An aphrodisiac? How fun.”

Wyll squints as he silently reads the next bit to himself, fingers tracing the text. He turns to Shadowheart, jaw tightening, "How much of this did you say she ingested?"

"I only found half the bar."

Wyll’s expression grows more serious. "This says the recommended serving size is one square… How many squares were left?"

“Oh, gods…” she breathes, "Six."

The three exchange silent, worried glances.

“Could she die from this?” Shadowheart asks, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Wyll’s lips press into a thin line. In truth, he doesn’t know the answer. He could ask Mizora for guidance, but the devil’s been awfully silent after his recent failures. He isn’t sure she'd be willing to answer him, let alone grant any favors. Still, it may be worth a call.

Just as Wyll’s about to suggest it, Astarion heaves a deep, dramatic sigh, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“Alright, I know what we’re all thinking. I’ll take care of this.”

The other two regard each other, thoroughly confused.

“Look," Astarion explains, I may not be well-versed in magic, or magical remedies, for that matter, but now that we know what’s causing this… I think it’s obvious what needs to be done.”

“You’re joking.” Shadowheart laughs, incredulously.  

“No,” he continues, “We can’t just sit here and hope for the best. We need to act quickly, and let's just say, this fits into my... skill set.”

“So, you’re going to, what? Have sex with her? You think she’ll be capable of saying anything but yes, given the state she’s in?”

Astarion shoots her a glare. The mere thought that he’d ever so much as suggest doing something like that - bedding you when you’re too weak to reject him - the very idea of it makes him sick. 

He isn’t that evil. 

“Watch your tongue,” he spits at her, “before I do us all the favor of removing it.”

“Hang on, you two,” Wyll interjects, “Astarion, I think you might have a point. You would know better than anyone whether she’s in a right enough state of mind to… consent to this. You’re closest to her. She trusts you.” 

He turns to Shadowheart, “It’s worth a try.”

Astarion notices two things as he pulls back the flap of your tent.

The first is that it is unseasonably warm. Scorching hot, like summer. A stark contrast from the welcoming cool of the early spring night behind him. 

And second, that the air in the tent is heavy - heady with the scent of sweat and something else he can’t quite identify. It's clouding his senses, making his head swim. The taste of it settles on his tongue, like salt on the rim of an otherwise very sweet drink.

The moonlight at his back casts a dark shadow over your sleeping form. Astarion hesitates for a moment, taking in the sight of you, vulnerable and oblivious to his presence, feeling too much like a wolf looming over a snared rabbit.

You twitch, grimacing in pain. 

He frowns. This wasn’t the way he wanted to go about seducing you. His plan was much more sophisticated: a carafe of wine, a few honeyed words leading to a night of passion, your endless thanks, all culminating in some well-earned release and his assured protection.

A mutual exchange.

But, this?

He’s roused from his thoughts by another grunt, escaping from between your clenched teeth.

Whatever you’re going through, it looks like hell.

Ugh. You know what? Fine. Maybe this isn’t the way he envisioned it, but when has life ever blessed him with a perfect scenario? He’ll offer his… services, and respect whatever answer you give him. If you refuse him now, he can always try again later. Under less perilous circumstances, provided you survive the night.

And if not, well, he's never been one to play the hero, but at least he tried. 

He steps further inside, closing the entrance behind him. The moment he seals the tent shut, there is a palpable shift. The space feels infinitely heavier, laden with unnatural energy, reminiscent of anticipation, but just slightly… off.

He breathes, trying to focus on anything but that intoxicating scent. The haze of it is maddening.

The elf sits on his knees beside you, hands resting in his lap. 

He clears his throat, hoping the sound would be enough to wake you.

There’s no response. 

He whispers your name.

Nothing.

No choice, then.

He drums a finger against your bare arm.

The cleric was right. Your skin is so hot, it borders on scalding.

Finally, you begin to stir.

-

Again. It happened again. 

As soon as you closed your eyes to rest, you saw him - That thing that wore his skin. You felt his hands and mouth as he ravaged you until you fell apart beneath him, above him, wrapped around him, like he was everywhere all at once. 

He was demanding as he took pleasure from you. Ravenous. Mocking your cries, your begging.

The hours stretched into what felt like lifetimes, and you’d nearly given up hope, resigning yourself to the idea that this was your new, endless reality. 

Until suddenly, you hear a voice that pulls you from the dark recesses of your subconscious-- the very voice being used to torture you

Your name, uttered quietly by Astarion. Just Astarion. No second, more sinister layer beneath it.

Your eyelids flutter, then widen as a chilling realization washes over you. 

He’s touching you. The pads of his fingers are both a balm and an irritant, soothing and igniting the flames licking at the corners of your mind.

“You look like you’ve seen better days.” He teases. 

You recoil from his touch, sitting upwards and crawling back away from him. 

He can’t be here. He, of all people, can’t be here.

And yet, something within you is screeching in delight.

'That’s him, isn’t it? The object of your desires? How fun!’

You swallow. Hard. 

“Astarion, I -” 

He holds up a hand, silencing you. “I’m aware.”

“Shadowheart informed us of your… predicament,” he continues, “I can’t help but feel partly responsible, seeing as I was there when you found the chocolate -”

“The chocolate? Is that - wait, what?” 

Shit. Your head is pounding. 

You press your palms against your eyes and groan. 

“I’ll spare you the details, but that chocolate was laced with succubus spittle - a highly potent aphrodisiac - and you, my dear, have consumed enough to bring an entire brothel to its knees.”

Your eyes snap open, meeting his own. There isn’t an ounce of humor in his tone. No sign of his usual mischief.

Gods, he’s being fucking serious.

“Now, as amusing as this might be if it were anyone else, I’d prefer it if our party’s leader made it out of this alive, and that leaves us with a choice."

You gaze at him silently, waiting as the candlelight paints his sharp features in warm hues of amber and honey. 

'He’s quite handsome. I see why you like him.’

“You can ride this out alone,” Astarion explains, “Shadowheart will return with her best salves and more potions for the fever. We’ll hope this passes quickly, but Wyll’s translation suggests the amount you consumed could leave you in this state for up to a week.”

Your stomach churns. You’re going to be sick.

“And the alternative?” you manage to ask.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining with your own. Your skin prickles at the contact.

“The alternative is that you let me help you through this. Consider it a repayment, of sorts, for gifting me your blood. I’m somewhat of an expert on… well,” he lets out a humorless laugh, “let’s just say, I’m the best chance you’ve got.”

Maybe it's the blood roaring in your ears, or maybe you’re still dreaming, but it sounds like Astarion is offering to… fuck you?

“I’m sorry, what?”

He groans, visibly frustrated. “Sex, my dear. If the magic is compelling you to have it, I think we should listen.”

‘Handsome and smart.’ 

You hiss, “Would you please shut up?”

Astarion squints. “What was that?”

“Nothing, sorry.” You clear your throat. “Listen, I - I get what you’re trying to do. I appreciate it, really, but -” 

Pain lances through your abdomen, a sharp, icy shard that interrupts your words. You clutch at your side, releasing Astarion’s hand before falling helplessly on your back, twisting in agony.

He inches closer, voice tinged with urgency. “We’re running out of time. If you want my help, it's best to ask now, because as much as I love the idea of you begging for me to bed you, I won’t be comfortable doing this unless you agree to this while you’ve still got your wits about you.” 

Tears sting the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision at the edges. He’s right. You don’t think you can endure this alone, and as much as you fucking hate to admit it, the damned succubus magic - that thing - is right.  

You do desire him. You’ve wanted him since the moment you met beside the nautiloid. Now here he is, offering to alleviate your suffering.  

There’s just one part of his offer that you can’t quite come to terms with.

“I didn’t let you drink from me because I was hoping you’d repay me.” Your voice warbles, wet and stressed, “I can’t have sex with you if it’ll just be part of some ridiculous transaction. Not with anyone, and certainly not with you.” 

His expression softens as your words sink in. It’s a confession, of sorts. The kind he’s wholly unfamiliar with. It stuns him almost to the point of speechlessness.  

“My apologies. Believe me, it was more of an excuse than anything. I didn’t mean to suggest…” He lets his words trail off, shaking his head. You two can revisit this conversation later, when time isn’t of the essence. “It doesn’t matter. I want to do this. Let me help you.” 

The sincerity in his voice sends a shiver up your spine.

It’s clear he means this.

He means every word. 

You nod. “Okay.”

Astarion clears his throat, rolling the tension off his shoulders. 

“Good. Now that we’ve got that taken care of,” he says as he throws one of his legs over your waist, straddling you, “Why don’t you lie back and let me take care of this, hm?” 

His posture is relaxed. Confident. He regards you with hooded eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk. It’s quite the sight, one you’d enjoy significantly more if your body wasn’t busy screaming for his attention. 

His deft hands make quick work of the laces of your shirt, and with every string that loosens, your composure unravels further. You squirm, unable to resist the heat that teases your skin and the growing itch beneath it. 

As if Astarion can sense your rising panic, he places a cool palm against your burning cheek, his touch both gentle and practiced as he rubs smooth circles at the dip of your temple. 

“Relax, dear,” he whispers, both a request and a command. The gentle lilt in his voice masks the underlying authority, but your body obeys all the same, tension releasing from your muscles. “I’ve got you.”

Astarion quickly rids you of the offending fabric, chest and stomach now bared to him. His eyes scan over your form with focused intensity, lips pinched between his teeth, like an artist deciding what to make of their blank canvas.

“Normally, I’d take my time with this,” he admits, “but given the circumstances…” He swiftly undoes the buttons of your trousers before yanking them off along with your smallclothes. One single, fluid motion. 

He can’t hide the mild shock that follows when he sees the state of you - dripping wet, red and pulsing with need. 

He dips the tip of his finger between your folds. It glides over velvet skin, coating the digit in warm, wet slick. A strangled, pitiful noise escapes from your throat.

For a moment, Astarion’s calculated expression falters, surprised by the rate at which your body opens itself up to him. A glint of hunger lurks beneath the surface.

“This may be easier than I thought.” He says with a smirk, more to himself than to you. 

He presses two digits in, slow and intentional. There’s no resistance; A knife through warm butter. You’re dripping down his knuckles, gripping around him like a vice. He slides all the way in until the heel of his palm meets your clit. 

“Breathe.” 

Not even realizing you’d been holding your breath, you release it with a shutter.

“Very good.” He punctuates his words with the slow drag of his fingers. Long, languid movements. He’s taking his sweet time with you, pulling scandalous little cries from your lips. It’s like he’s toying with you - seeing how long you can hold out before breaking. 

It doesn’t take much time at all.

“Astarion -”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

“Please, what? What do you need, darling?” His eyes are fixed on your own, grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. A cat playing with a cornered mouse.

“More. Anything.” 

He hums in approval, then wets the pad of his thumb on his tongue before drawing circles exactly where you need. Heat coils at the base of your spine, forming a ball of tension that threatens to snap. 

The sheer intensity of it is enough to scare you, caught between the urge to chase the sensation or flee from it. “Astarion, I -” 

He ignores your warning as if he hadn’t heard it, plunging his fingers into your heat and curling them - expertly caressing a spot that threatens to shatter you. Your hands fly out, gripping the fabric of his shirt, the sheets beneath you, anything in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Go on, love. Let it out. I’ve got you.” 

Your body seizes as your orgasm tears through you, igniting every one of your oversensitive nerves. Back arching off the bedroll, several strangled sounds - almost pained - rip from your throat. The pleasure threatens to tear you apart, but the thick fog of lust occupying your mind begins to subside, offering the slightest bit of clarity as you twitch beneath him. 

Astarion grabs you by the jaw, tilting your head this way and that, admiring his handiwork. He's quite pleased with himself, with the mess he's made of you - jaw slack and brows pinched. He coaxes out the aftershocks, watching you squeeze around his fingers.

"There,” he gives you a playful pat on the cheek, "You're looking better already." 

"You're - agh - enjoying this too much."

"I never said I wasn't going to enjoy it." 

A beat of silence passes between the two of you as he allows you to catch your breath. For a moment, you think the coast is clear - that maybe, this was as far as things had to go. This was what the magic was compelling you to do, or at the very least - it was close enough. You fulfilled its wishes. Surely.

But then he pulls out of you, and the second you feel the vacuum of emptiness where his fingers once were, that voice in your head is screeching like some sort of petulant child. It pouts, waggling its non-existent finger in your direction. The demanding bitch. 

Part of you, instinctually, realizes that this is just the beginning - that you’re simply at the edge of the shore watching the tides recede while a devastating wave builds somewhere in the distance. 

“What is it? Does it still hurt?” Astarion asks, breaking the silence, and you realize that no, it doesn’t. Not like before, at least. 

You shake your head.

“Good. I’d wager that means this is working.” He smiles triumphantly, working the laces of his own clothes, and ridding himself of the final layers between you, revealing an intricate network of muscle beneath. For a man who’d supposedly been starved for the last two centuries, he certainly doesn’t look the part.

Astarion nudges your legs apart with his thigh, then settles between your knees, dragging the head of his cock between your folds. He hums in approval, admiring the sight as he coats himself in your slick. It practically drools out of you.

There’s no resistance when he dips himself into your entrance. 

His eyes scan over your face, searching for any discomfort, but all he finds is need. 

So, he presses in further. 

“Shit, you -” 

He hisses, sucking in a sharp breath as he bottoms out, then takes a moment, eyes pinched shut, collecting himself. 

He slides out, just an inch or so, before plunging back in, buried as deeply as he can reach. It’s so damn easy, the sinfully wet mess you’ve left all over his cock allowing him to glide in and out, tilting his hips with each thrust.

The stretch of him is perfect, like you were made for this - made to take him. His length rubbing and dragging against your walls acts like a balm, relaxing your body as you swallow and grip him in scorching heat. 

He grabs one of your thighs, pressing it into your chest - the new angle allowing him to sink even deeper into your core.

It isn’t long before you’re begging him for more, digging your heels into the curve of his back.

Astarion starts pounding into you - a new, brutal pace spurred on by your encouragement and the wet, filthy slap of his skin against yours. The sounds reverberate off the canvas of your tent, blending with your choked sobs. You just know your companions are going to have something to say about this in the morning, but you honestly can’t bring yourself to care. 

The only thing that matters now is the man above you - his nails digging into the flesh of your ass, whispering how good you feel. How well you’re taking him, “Like you were made for this - for me.” His grunts are like music to your ears, drowning out all other thoughts as his chest vibrates against your own.

It’s all too much. 

Your orgasm sneaks up on you before you have a chance to warn him, but he feels the way you flutter around his cock and acts on instinct - snaking his fingers between your bodies and rubbing your clit in quick circles. 

You throw your head back with a cry, shaking beneath him, and grip him like a vice as you come. The force of it slams into you, hot and devastating, tightening every muscle within its wake. You wind your limbs tightly around the hard planes of Astarion’s body as he rolls his hips into you, slow and deep. 

You can feel him twitching inside you, his rhythm suddenly stuttering with each thrust. Something tells you he’d come now, if you’d allow him.

But where?

'Where else?'

The very idea of him not spilling every drop he has inside of you disturbs you nearly to the point of panic, and with that, you finally understand what this damned succubus has been demanding of you this entire time.

“Astarion, please. I need you.” 

“Where?” he asks, voice muffled, panting hot and open-mouthed against the swell of your shoulder.

“Inside,” you beg, “Please. Please -  It’s alright.” 

He shudders, surging up into you one last time with a strangled grunt. Holding onto your hips, he pulses within you, the warmth of his release filling you to the brim, until a thick white ring of come forms at the base of his length. You can’t help but clench around him, moving to match his previous pace and trying desperately to wring as much out of him as you can, until it begins to seep out onto the sheets beneath you.

It isn’t until he stills inside of you that you release your hold on him. The two of you take a minute to collect yourselves, waiting for your heart to settle and listening to Astarion’s ragged breaths. 

He lifts his weight off of you with a grunt, settling back on his knees. 

“That was - agh,” he shivers as he pulls out of you. You don’t even want to look at the mess.

“I’m going to have to burn these sheets, aren’t I?” you ask, sitting up on your shoulders.

He throws his head back with a genuine, hearty laugh, and cards his fingers through his dampened hair. 

This is the most relaxed you think you’ve ever seen him - not a scowl line in sight. He rolls his shoulders, and sighs at the subsequent pop before turning his focus back on you.

“I’ll have you know,” Astarion muses, “I’ve done this more times than I can count— but this, my dear,” he chuckles, “This was one for the books.”

“So, was sleeping with me everything you could have possibly imagined?” It’s an obvious joke, given your tone. An offer to squash any chance of this happening again, should he wish to. An exit. 

He hums playfully. “Well, next time I think I’d prefer the subtle influence of wine over a mind-altering aphrodisiac, if it's all the same to you.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

Did he just offer to do this again? Well, not exactly, but -

“And how are you feeling?” Astarion asks. 

Better, is the honest answer. Slightly confused and deeply embarrassed, but better. 

The apologies you’ll have to make after the night’s over seem endless, both to him and to Shadowheart for all the trouble you caused. Not to mention the others, who’ve probably had the sound of your squealing burned into their memories forever. The idea of it is daunting.

“Because if you’re still reeling from any nasty, lingering effects,” he continues, “I’m sure I could be… persuaded to help again.”

Oh.

Hm.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

-

Tag List (sorry if I missed anyone! I only added you if you explicitly asked to be tagged): @daedriclys @captain039 @sushiumex @sugasweettea @marauders-moon @starlightelegy @ablxssm @the-lake-is-calling

#bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #astarion #astarion acunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion x you #spittle

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter Four

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, profanity, age gap, sexual tension, size difference/kink, praise kink, fingering, alcohol consumption/drunk character, mating, oral sex (both receiving), p in v, virginity loss, blood, marking/biting, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 15k (i think, i dont even know at this point)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Guys, I'm so sorry this one took so long. I hope it's worth the wait. I tried to proofread this but the app keeps crashing and I lost my progress thrice. So forgive me for any typos and errors. I'll probably go through it with fresh eyes tomorrow and fix them. Enjoy 🤍🤍

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

<- Previous Next ->

“Not today, tahni. I must get you back, now.”

----

You protest, not wanting to go back to the prison with your less-than-understanding father and his two soldiers keeping an eye on your every move. You try to convince Ralak to have a conversation with your father, but he insists that won’t do anything. Jake is a man of action, and he would need to prove himself to Toruk Makto – prove that he is worthy of mating with his daughter.

To do things ‘the right way’.

All it took for you to behave was him grabbing your hand, pressing it against his warm, half-hard cock while he looks you dead in the eye.

“Tame Tsurak. And this is yours to do whatever you please with.”

“Oh?” Your lips pucker as you husk the word, brow raising in astonishment.

Of course, Ralak would turn this into a lesson of some sort, saying something along the lines of you being a fast learner and would only need a day to learn. It was laughable really – him saying that you need a week to learn the sign language of his people but less than a day to tame a skimwing.

He clicks for his swimwing, watching as it glides quickly through the water towards him. He takes a few steps back, making space for the large creature to come to a standstill. Ralak approaches it cautiously and respectfully, hand reaching behind him to grip and stroke the length of his kuru.

You’re only now just getting a good look at his kuru, it’s much longer than yours given the stature of this man. His tendrils are a deep pink, very composed and calm, much like Ralak himself. They dance slowly, sporadic movements gaining direction once they sense the kuru of the Tsurak in proximity.

“Bond carefully. Tsurak are not like ilu.” Ralak says, pupils constricting momentarily as the tendrils slowly entwine with one another, making tsaheylu with the scaley, large beast. It shivers vigorously as their breaths synchronize, two beasts becoming one. Ralak takes a sharp breath before swinging his leg over the creature, settling himself graciously on its back. “They deem if the rider is worthy.”

“Oh. I see...” You nod slowly, nerves fraying from the thought of not being worthy enough to tame one.

Ralak motions you to mount the Tsruak, patting it’s back behind him. “Come.” He holds your hand, helping you on before wrapping your arms around his waist. “Hold tight.”

With that, you’re off. The beast glides easily, and slowly through the water, never going underneath. Ralak spends the ride teaching you about the techniques to apply when bonding, mounting, and riding a skimwing. Even how to hold the harness properly, so you’re not pulled off by a water drag.

“Most important. When you dive back in, maintain a good position.” He rambles, demonstrating the diving movement with his hand, fingers pointing downwards.

You listen, but you’re focus is primarily on the way his waist feels in your arms. You savour the sensation, feelings of self-doubt making you think that this may be the last time you’ll touch Ralak in this way. You rest your face into the dip of his back, ear pressed into his skin as you listen to the thump of his heart.

The words echo in your head. “...to do whatever you please with.”

You could do this. You can do this. You’ll do it for him. For your mate.

Ralak slows to a halt a far distance away from your family marui pod, exchanging glares with your two older brothers. Though they were younger than Ralak, he still treats them as equals, respectfully signing ‘I see you’ to them both. Reluctantly, they return the gesture, maintaining their downward glare to the giant. Neteyam stands tall, chest puffed out to appear bigger, whilst Lo’ak’s arms are crossed over his chest, shifting his bodyweight from one leg to the other.

You scoff. Two idiots doing their idiot thing.

“We will meet again, my love.” You whisper, planting a kiss on his back before dismounting the creature to swim around to the mangrove roots.

“My tanhi.” He hums lowly, watching you swim away and climb up the root to the backside of the marui pod. He turns around, diving under the water to leave before your father’s arrival. Your brothers help you up, pushing you inside the pod by a hand on your back.

“You smell even worse.” Neteyam makes the snarky remark whilst grimacing, turning his head away from you.

“Yeah. He’s not joking, sis.” Lo’ak adds with a chuckle, leaning in to get a better whiff. He pulls back dramatically, letting out a loud ‘whoof’ as he turns his head away too.

“Ha-Ha.” You say, imitating the sound of a laugh. “Thanks guys.” You mutter sarcastically, although you really did owe them.

The sound of your father flipping back the flap of the marui averts your attention to the door. All three of you stand in formation, acknowledging the former marine’s presence. He walks past you, lips pursing into a thin line once your scent wafts past him.

“Jeez, y/n. Ya need to take a bath or something. Preferably before tomorrow ‘cause that’s when training with Tsireya starts.” He shifts his glare to his sons, patting them both on the back as he praises them for doing a good job watching you. Another scoff bubbles up your throat, prompting you to roll your eyes and find refuge behind your privacy curtain.

----

Swish. The sound of your privacy curtain being yanked aside, allowing slivers of the first rays of sunlight to shine against your cheek.

“Get up, kid. Time for your lesson with Tsireya.” Jake’s voice beats against your eardrums.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Never have you had a lesson this early. Nor have you had someone wake you up for one. And how many times did you have to speak to your father about privacy? That’s why you sat down for a week straight making these curtains. And by the way everyone keeps yanking and tugging at it, you’ll have to make another sooner than planned. You lift your head groggily, rubbing your right eye with the ball of your palm. Groans of irritation rumble up your throat as you roll over onto your side to ignore your father.

“Hey. Don’t make me come over there.” He jesters, hoping to lighten the mood.

It only makes things worse. How could he joke after locking you away and having his two watchdogs guard over you? He’s taking away the one good thing for you in this wet-land and thinks a joke will make things better?

“Leave. I’ll come out soon.” You mumble into your pillow.

Jakes brows lower in defiance for a moment, and relax when he realises that you’re just hurting. Regardless, this is what he thinks is best for you. You were still his ‘babygirl’. He takes a few steps back before turning around to walk out of the marui. Once you hear his footsteps die out, you rise from your cot and get ready for the day.

----

“Wow, y/n. You have improved so much since I last taught you!” Tsireya exclaims, surprised by your skilful movements.

“Yeah. Ralak was a good teacher.” You smile, tugging the fishnet towards you. Your lips flatten into a line when you realise how that sounds. “Not saying that you weren’t or anything.” You add quickly, staring wide eyed at Tsireya.

“It is okay.” She giggles, two dainty fingers covering her lips.

“Yeah. There’s just something about him. He’s… different.” You smile once more, slowly wrapping the fishnet around on itself, “A good different!”

“I know Ralak, y/n. He is... like a brother to me. Although we don’t talk very much...” Tsireya says, swimming towards the spears on the shore. “I am surprised you two got along for this long.”

Your brows twitch. Brother? What did she mean by that? What does she think even happened?

“I’m going to mate with him.” You blurt out, earning an astonished expression from Tsireya. “When I pass my iknimaya, of course.” You say, knowing that’s not what she’s concerned about.

“You two got along that well?” She questions, reaching for the spears.

“You could say that we confessed to each other in the heat of the moment” You mumble as you work your way to sit on the shore.

“So, why am I teaching you?” Her movements come to halt, inquisitive gaze flicking down at you.

“Dad found out. He is forbidding me from seeing him because I haven’t passed my iknimaya yet.” You twirl a strand of wet loose hair around your pointer finger, “He didn’t even care to ask about the situation. Or if I even need lessons anymore.” You shake your head, watching the hair unravel from your finger.

“I see. I think you two would be good for each other.” She shrugs, staring at the spears for a moment before throwing them back into the sand. She looks at you and smiles, “Has he taught you about our dances?”

Gaze snapping up to hers, a smile stretches your lips as your brows raise in fascination. “Dances?”

Tsireya offers her hand, and you take it, letting her help you up. “Mhm. Our way of dancing. It is very... sensual. It is said that eywa speaks through the soundwaves of the music.” She walks you over to a clearing near the shore.  

Apparently, the musical instruments are sacred, some parts of it harvested from the spirit tree.  And when they are played, the way of Eywa can be felt by those that listen, expressed in bodily movement – dancing. It’s movements manifest erotically, acting as a mating ritual.

It draws in the fated or desired mates of those that partake in the ritual, driving them to find one another and dance together.

“Teach me.”

----

The days go by slowly as Tsireya shows you the sinuous movements of the Metkayina. She explains that it is much like the way of water, gliding and flowing freely with the music. One must allow the music to flow through the body in waves, to slip into a trance like state for your body to sway with the rhythm.

It takes you about a week to learn all the movements. It posed to be an even more difficult task without the music, and just Tsireya’s humming. Of course, this music is only only played on the night of an iknimaya celebration.

Tomorrow is your iknimaya, and Tsireya decides it’s best to run through a few pointers on taming a tsurak. Taming one is not something you practice doing, not like an ilu. You attempt it, and if denied, it is because you have much more to learn. You may try again after further training.

“Your grip is the most important thing. Once it loosens, it is ove –”

“Girls.” The olo’eyktan’s voice booms above you, averting your attention to the three casted shadows on the shore. Your eyes trail up the silhouettes to see Tonowari, your father, and... Ralak. Your heartbeat quickens, body heating up from sensing its desired mate in proximity. You try to play it off, looking down at your knees buried in the sand.

“Father.” Tsireya shuffles to her feet, signing ‘I see you’ to the three men, acknowledging their presence.

You follow slowly after her, eyes now locked onto your feet. “I see you.” You gesture, finally lifting your gaze up to the three men.

Ralak’s brows twitch as his cold eyes trail up your body, doing their best mask his excitement from seeing you. You look beautiful – dressed in clothing native to his people, pearls embellishing your top and a string of shells sewn to the band of your tewng [loincloth]. Braided hair with bright red flowers twisted into it, his chest tightens from seeing you like this.

This is the first time you’ve seen him in a week. He looks... dishevelled. Nothing like he usually looks. Hollow eyes, body enveloped with bruises and scabbed over wounds, you can sense the fracture in his spirit. He looks so, so worn. A heated wrath simmers your blood, making you red in the face.

What have they done to you, my love? You ask him through concerned eyes, breaking your stare to seethe at Tonowari.

Jake could see the upset on your face, lips pursing into a thin line as he squints his eyes, telling you to drop the attitude. But you were vexed with him too. Did he really think you’d be an obedient little soldier? You scoff at the thought, rolling your eyes to land them back onto Ralak, who is also giving you a look.

Now that’s different.

All it takes is a quick raise of his brows and a slight shake of his head to quell your attitude. You huff a small sigh of defeat and drop your irate stare to your feet once more, holding your tongue. You wanted nothing more than to lash out at Tonowari, despite him being the olo’eytan. But you understand that this would only make matters worse.

Jake witnesses this, feeling a little embarrassed about your blatant disregard for his order and not Ralak’s. But he can’t ignore the smidge of respect he’s feeling towards him right now. To be able to handle your rebellious attitude with a simple shake of his head is impressive.

“Iknimaya is tomorrow.” Tonowari speaks, eyes drifting towards the discarded spears.

He’s clearly speaking to you, but you’re too caught up in your own head to even hear him.

“Yes, father. I am confident that she is ready.” Tsireya answers quickly, using her tail to nudge the back of your leg.

“Yes – yes sir. Your daughter taught me well.” You say a little too composed, avoiding eye contact all together.

“Good. We will be on our way then.” Tonowari nods, turning his heel to leave.

Jake follows behind him, throwing one last glare in your direction, whilst Ralak lingers for a second or two. He does one last scan of your body, before locking eyes with you. A soft smile pulls at his lips as he slowly retreats.  

It’s like all the negativity bubbling in your being washes away in an instant, leaving you standing there with a dumb smile on your face. He spins around, walking nonchalantly behind the two olo’eyktans, arms tucked behind his back.

“Did he just – smile?” Tsireya asks, a little dumbfounded.

“Mhm.” You hum, smile only growing wider.

----

That night you walked home beaming, smile plastered on your face with your ears flickering wildly. It had been so long since you’d last seen him that it was so uplifting to see that sweet, sweet smile again. You haven’t felt this happy since Jake separated you two, and honestly you couldn’t bring yourself to go home and see him.

Despite your strict curfew, you find yourself alone sitting in the wet sand, watching the sun set, bright hues of red and orange lighting up the sky. You bring your knees to your chest and rest your cheek between them, thinking about tomorrow.

What if I can’t do it? You sigh, feelings of self-doubt crashing in like the waves at your feet.

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice booms behind you.

Of-fucking-course you’re going to come find me.

“What?” You mumble into your knees.

Jake’s purses his lips before letting out a small sigh, shoulders relaxing as he seats himself beside you. “Feelin’ ready for tomorrow? Not nervous, are ya?”

“Ha. Yeah. I had the best teacher in Awa’atlu.”

“Babygirl.” His voice softens as he tries to look you directly in the face. The fact that it’s been over a week, and you’re still upset tells him that he’s really hurt you.

“Not your baby anymore.” You mutter under your breath, turning your head to look the other way.

“Yes, you are... ‘nd you always will be. Even when you have your own.” He speaks gently, resting his hand on your upper back.  

You shrug him off, causing his hand to retreat entirely. He reflects for a moment, on how his actions have made you feel. Has he been too harsh on you? Was the ‘tough love’ act too much? The rift that’s he’s driven between the two of you is just too thick and he must remedy it.

“Look. I’m – I’m just tryna look out for you.”

“Excuse me?” You lift your head up and look at him with an expression of disbelief. "Look out for me? Or coddle me? Cut the shit, dad. I know you’re trying to keep me from him.”

"Language!" Jake hisses, “And I am looking out for you, whether you wanna believe it or not.”

“So what? How far are you gonna go to keep me from him? Gonna make us move again? Fresh start, somewhere else?”

Jakes voice is low now, a dangerous growl as he grows frustrated with your venomous words. “Everything I do is to protect you kids. Your safety is everything to me, y/n. I just want what’s best for you.”

"Ralak is what is best for me. He's good to me. Patient with me." You croak, lump forming in your throat. "And - I love him, dad."

Jake quickly stands, letting out a scoff. "No. You don't. You barely know the guy!”

"I do. I know him more than anybody. He's a gentleman–”

“Y/n” He starts, “We’ve only been here for a few months. He’s your teacher. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Why are you settling for the first one you meet?”

“Dad, just – stop! He’s a good person. And when I tame tsurak tomorrow... I will choose him.” Your voice fades away as you utter the last four words, heated tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Yeah. If you tame it. I didn’t even tame it myself the first try. You really think you can?” Jake spits, growing frustrated with your defiant attitude.

Ouch. You didn’t even have the words to respond to that. Your own father taking a jab at your competency, knowing it’s one of your biggest insecurities. And to instil is own personal doubt into you is on another level of petty.

And just like that, the rift grows wider.

Your bottom lip quivers, revealing the small dimples in your chin. You stare up at him glossy eyed, tears welling up so much you could almost see the way it makes your eyes glisten. His gaze softens, as if he were just hit square in the jaw with words he just uttered to you.

“Y/n, I’m s –”

You shake your head in disbelief, brows gathering so tightly it hurt. You walk past him, shoving him with your shoulder as you make your way towards your marui. You can hear him calling after you, hollering whatever things first popped up in his head that could possibly make it right.

“Babygirl, please! You know I didn’t mean it like that. Just try to see where I’m coming from!”

But you ignore him and keep it going. Slumping into your bed, you lay your head on your pillow and close your swollen, wet eyes in hopes to get some rest for your big day tomorrow. The day that would change it all.

The day of your iknimaya.

----

It wasn’t only your iknimaya today.

Much like when you tamed your ikran, you stand in a line of other younger na’vi, who have been waiting patiently for their chance to prove themselves. Eager and excited to earn their place in the clan and mate with another.

They all speak amongst themselves, whispering harshly and huddling together to hear one another. They’re discussing pointers, reviewing techniques, and sharing tips they’ve learned from the more experienced warriors. It’s a bit annoying, in all honestly. They all seemed to have a completely different motive from you. An intrinsic one.

Whereas your motivation is standing in waist deep in the water, effortlessly holding the thrashing, winged beast in place. His hands grip the harness tightly, whilst Tonowari and another warrior secures the mid and hind section of the skimwing.

You watch as the other young na’vi attempt to tame the tsurak before you. Some pass, some fail, tsurak swimming with such force that it leaves the rider disoriented. Some even begged for another chance, while others accepted their defeat with a tail between their legs.  

It makes you nervous. And the more you stand and stare at the thick skinned creature, the more is registers how big it actually is. It’s enormous – the length of six na’vi. Yet Ralak holds it down firmly, arms growing veiny from the sheer grip he has on it. It writhes beneath him, prompting him to restrain the beast even further.

You’d never seen Ralak ‘in action’ before. To you, he’s this big, soft giant, patiently tolerating your less than composed attitude. A man with simple goals, and simple desires. Not this strong, war machine he has been turned into. But you can’t ignore how seeing him like this makes you feel.

A strong and competent man.

But the more the creature thrashes around in his grip, the more your shot nerves fray. Just as you feel the nerves creep their way up into your chest, tightening it with no mercy, Ralak locks eyes with you. A stoic expression, with eyes that said so much. Ocean blue eyes, telling you ‘I’m right here. You can do it. Do it for me. For my big coc-’.

“You got this, kid. I mean – y/n.” Jake’s sudden voice interrupts your... train of thought.

If you hadn’t just been eye-fucking the man he’s keeping you away from you would’ve probably warmed up to his... attempt to make things right.

You let out a loud scoff and roll your eyes before diving into the water. Your fingers pierce the surface of the water, slender body moving through the water quickly and making the lap in one breath.

Turning your head, you quickly realise why they had you so far up in the mangroves. It was a test. A breath test. But what confirmed your suspicion is the look at your fathers’ face. An expression of surprise – shocked to see you even swim much less hold your breath for the entire lap.

Did he really have that little faith in you? You shake your head in disbelief, landing your stare on the spectators – the olo’eyktans’ family and other superior hunters and warriors. All of which stood high up in the mangroves, observing your every move.

How intimidating.

You exhale slowly, hoping to steady your galloping heart, but your efforts are to no avail. It feels as if its leaping from your chest the more you near the writhing, restless beast. And the closer you get, the louder its low, deep rumbling grows.  

You’re about chest-deep in the water now, bouncing on the tips of toes as you inch closer and get a better look. You scan its entire body, starting at the white caudal fin, up to its furled wings and long snout – which houses at least a hundred jutting-out, needlelike teeth. Overall, its menacing demeanour makes your stomach sink.

Shit. Can I really do this? You think, shaky hand reaching behind you for your kuru as you continue to study the beast’s tough exterior.

“Y/n.” Tonowari saying your name snaps your eyes up to him smiling down at you. “Make the bond.” He gestures over to Ralak, who’s holding tsurak’s kuru in one hand, and the harness in the other.

He can tell from your body language and the glint in your eye that you’re nervous and having doubts. It’s the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, just like you did whenever you were getting frustrated during your lessons.

You settle yourself beside him, feeling his warmth radiate off his body onto yours. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to each other. You’re not even touching, yet it feels so good. So right. You allow yourself to sway with the current of the water so that your shoulder brushes against his arm, sending your freckles flickering in broad daylight.

His chin remains tucked into his chest, arm extended towards you with the beasts’ kuru in hand. “Remember what I said.” He mutters under his breath, low enough for only you to hear.

You glance up at him briefly, trying your best to recall what he’s said to you about tsuraks. Your brows pinch in ponder as your pink tendrils dance wildly when they near the creature’s kuru. Was it something about the bond? Or was it how to grip the harness?

Ralak leans in, pretending to bring the kuru closer to your short stature. “yours to do whatever you please with.”

Oh. That.

You recall when he pressed your hand against his half-hard cock and told you it was all yours if you tamed tsurak. Just thinking about how warm it felt in your hand ebbs away the fear you’ve harboured in your chest, replacing it with a new feeling of determination.

Trying to withhold the smile creeping up on your face, you watch as your tendrils intertwine with the tsuraks’, kurus bonding together with a quick pull. A shiver runs through the creature as it snarls and growls, and your pupils dilate and constrict, breath hiccupping as you sync together.

You can feel it’s strength – it’s prowess. The way it breathes under and out of water. The way its left wing is injured from the na’vi that kicked it when tumbling off. The frustration brewing in its stomach. The exhaustion he’s feeling.

Instinctually, your hand caresses the length of his slippery snout, razor sharp teeth grazing your darker blue skin. “tam tam, tam tam [calm; there there]” You coo quietly, sliding your hand up his snout to grip the harness tightly. To your surprise, he settles immediately, sensing your empathy towards his state.

A sense of mutual respect.

Taking this as your signal to mount him, you hoist yourself up onto his back, being extra careful not to touch his wing. You find yourself struggling, being so far out at this height was only another obstacle in your way. Without warning the tsurak sinks into the water, lowering itself for you to haul your leg over its back.

“Irayo [thank you].” You whisper through a smile, settling yourself comfortably on the woven saddle.

Finally lifting your head up, you’re met with the stare of two surprised men, and one proud man. Ralak has this smug look on his face, like he knew all along that you would be able to make the bond in this way. And that – that’s just what you needed.

The three men let go of the beast, backing away with their hands in the air, allowing you space to ride. You tighten your grip one last time – something you recall being the most important thing, and think, go.

The tsurak takes off at full speed, caudal fin swishing from side to side, providing thrust to propel you forward. The sheer force of his jerky movements has your grip loosening already, audible swoosh of his tail growing louder the more wobble side to side.

Easy. Easy.

He steadies instantly, providing you with enough time to tighten your grip and position yourself properly on his back. You’re mindful of his injured wing, grounding the heel of your non-dominant foot beside his good wing. With your other leg, you settle your knee into his back, finding balance in your own body.

The shimmying comes to a halt, leaving you gliding effortlessly through the water, swoosh of his tail steady and low. You pull up, prompting his wings to splay out, revealing their vibrant red and orange colours. Soon the whoosh of his flapping wings drowns out the noise of his caudal fin propelling you upwards and out the water.

“There you go.” You think out loud, steadying yourself mid-air.

It’s an exhilarating feeling. The cool wind in your face and the way the sun rays heat up your skin. It almost feels like your ikran. A big smile spreads across your lips as you give his gill a gentle, reassuring tap. That’s when you feel the dull ache in your left shoulder worsen.

“Tam, tam. [there, there]” You repeat, recognizing his pain. That’s your cue to prepare yourself for the hardest part – the dive. This is the part which typically ends with the force of such a plunge knocking the na’vi off it’s back. The true test.

With a quick, deep breath, you tighten your grip around the harness one last time and dive onto your stomach, hugging his lower back with your knees. You tuck your chin to your chest and brace yourself for impact. The tsurak tucks his wings flush to his sides and plunges in, long snout piercing the water’s surface with ease.

The force of the plunge is indescribable. It’s almost like the feeling you get when you plummet down the hallelujah mountains on your ikran. But more intense. The water adds extra resistance, knocking you back to the point of your knuckles almost dislocating.

Despite that, your grip remains strong as you hurtle through the water, tilting to the side to avoid the reef. The slight sting of your lungs act as your cue to make a sharp turn and head back. You ascend slowly as you dart through the water, resurfacing completely before the three men.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding with an audible haa as you bring the beast to a halt. You wipe the water from your face and try to catch your breath, looking up to see Ralak with one of the biggest smiles on his face – the first of its kind. And you couldn’t quite tell if the shock plastered on the other mens’ faces are for you or for him.

You return the smile as you gently pull away your kuru from the tsuraks’ and dismount him. “He is weary. And injured. Left wing.” You pant, meeting eyes with the giant beaming with pride. “Let him rest, Lak.”

“Ah.” He chuckles breathily, using his tail to caress the back of your leg. “I will be sure to do that, my Tsurak Makto.”

Cheeks heating up to a dangerous degree, you avert your gaze elsewhere, only for it to land on the Olo’eyktan himself. He, too, is smiling wide, moving towards you with an extended arm. You link arms, slender fingers wrapping around his strake.

“You are Metkayina now, y/n. Soleia [congrats; you did it]” Tonowari declares.

“Thank you, sir. And your daughter –”

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

You look over into the mangroves and see your father with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding and smiling. He’s impressed, to say the least. But not only with you and the way you absolutely mastered the taming of the skimwing, but also with Ralak – who is clearly to thank for that.

----

With night being only a blink away, things move quickly. Na’vi men and women rush to begin the preparations for the iknimaya celebration on the open, sandy area on the beach. They haul in large, tightly strung instruments, scrupulously carved flutes, drums made from animal skin, and horns made from bone, setting them up on the large, flattened rocks.

The clans’ best singers apply various colours of tsamopin [warpaint] to their skin, accentuating their features, while the elder, wiser na’vi prepare the native dishes for the feast. Fruits, vegetables, grains, and meat are cooked to perfection and spread carefully for everyone to have a taste. Bottles of fermented fruit garnish the spread. Others hurry to ornament the space with harvested bioluminescent flora from inland, and light the bon fire.

Tsireya approaches you with a full, large basket tucked on her hip. She smiles as she places her free hand on your back, guiding you and the small group of four other na’vi who passed their iknimaya to a secluded marui. Propping the basket between two jutting mangrove roots, she retrieves a handful of different coloured beads and shells.

As tsakarem [Tsahik in training], it is Tsireya’s duty to seal the iknimaya by rewarding those who passed with a few artefacts to signify their adulthood. “For your songchord.” She speaks, distributing the beads among the five of you before fetching the special pieces of clothing.

“You have all passed your iknimaya.” She speaks softly, distributing the clothing to the others. “Soleia! [congrats; you met the challenge] You may all receive your inking at the ftxozä [celebration]”

She comes to you last, carefully handing you a woven palm leaf. “I am proud of you, y/n.” She whispers, watching as you quickly open the woven packet, revealing your first Metkayinan article of clothing. Your eyes widen as you hold it in front of them.

Seven warbonnet fern leaves stained in crimson coloured ink, strung tightly together with fishing line. It’s beautiful. The leaves are long and pointed, meticulously placed to provide enough coverage for your chest. You rest it against your chest, raising your brows at Tsireya for her opinion.

She clicks her tongue, hand flying to grip her chin as she ‘thinks’. “Hm... He’s definitely going to rip that off of you.” She teases, fingers covering her mouth to hide her giggle. You laugh, probably a little too loudly given the four pairs of eyes staring at you both.

“The sun is setting, everyone! Get ready, wear your pen [clothing] with pride, look your best, and most of all, have fun!” Tsireya shouts happily, gesturing with her hand for them to hurry.

Everyone rushes to get ready, slipping in their pen and putting on their best face. You observe their hasty, excited movements, when the last rays of sunlight avert your stare to the horizon. You catch sight of the sunset, something you rarely got to see back home. The big, blood orange orb sinks beneath the horizon, turning the water a hue of orange.  

Your gaze follows the ginger ripples of the water up to the beach, where you’re met with the sight of a blazing bonfire, flames growing as tall as some palm trees. A breath-taking sight. The skilled pamtseotu [musicians] work at their instruments, nimble fingers plucking the taut strings, and the wax coated bones beating away at the drums.

You admire the glow of the people as they enjoy themselves. Two elderly women trying to hear each other over the loud da-dum of the drums. A few young adults having their first sips of pxir [beer; liquor]. Parents with their sleeping babies strapped to their backs sharing a dance under the moonlight. Ao’nung and Rotxo eating as much as their cheeks can hold. Ralak – oh.

Ralak talking to your father.

----

Ralak’s POV (starting from iknimaya)

“While I am sure she has taught you well, Ralak is the one to thank here.” He rests a firm hand on Ralak’s shoulder.

Ralak remains silent, yet his mind is loud. He has so much to do – so much on his plate. But all he can think about is you. How you bring light to his small, dim world. How your presence alone uplifts the weight on his shoulders. And oh, how the past few weeks have been tortuous for him.

Tonowari, the man that took him in after the passing of his parents, had him hard at work since you weren’t allowed to see him anymore. Tonowari isn’t oblivious to what’s going on. He can tell the situation for what it is, but out of respect for Jake he made the arrangements for Tsireya to teach you instead.

Ralak has been waiting for the right time to speak with Tonowari about the matter. The matter of asking for your hand. Although he wasn’t necessarily asking Tonowari for permission for your hand, but more so permission for himself. Permission to dedicate his time to his mate, his family – to his dream, mundane life.

He watches you swim back to the mangroves, and with an injured tsurak there’s a bit of time between you and the next contender. Tonowari instructs for the other warrior to tend to the tsurak, and for a moment, it’s just Tonowari and Ralak.   

The two giants exchange glances, standing in silence as one waits for the other to speak. Ralak knows it’s the perfect time to do it. You’ve just passed your iknimaya and they’re alone and far from any company.

“Sir.” Tonowari turns to face Ralak, knowing what’s coming next. Ralak slowly raises his head, tilting it to return the gaze. “I want to mate with her.” He speaks assertively, showing his seriousness through a stern gaze.

Tonowari nods a few times, breaking eye contact as he momentarily drops his head. He knows what this means – what he’s truly asking for. Freedom. Less duties. More time put into building the family he’s always wanted. To rediscover his days as a fisherman. To live his simple life.

Tonowari looks at Ralak, hand swiftly moving to firmly grip his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You have my blessing, son.” Ralak smiles, using his free hand to clasp Tonowari’s. “But you must speak with Toruk Makto first.” Tonowari booms with laughter, pulling his hand off Ralak’s shoulder.

Although Ralak is almost as much as a giant as his mentor, he found Jake to be intimidating. He has extreme respect for Jake, admiring how family oriented he is. Which is why he wants to do it right. “I will. Tonight.”

--

Ralak hauls in a lengthy, wooden table, plopping it down in the open, sandy area. An elderly woman approaches him, thanking him with a gentle hand to his back and a gummy smile. Her free hand holds a bowl containing a mixture of diced fruits. He quickly takes it from her, placing it carefully in the centre of the table.

“Allow me. You rest.” He says with a thick accent, linking arms with her to walk her back over to the seating area.

“Tak. Always such a kind boy.” She whispers softly, patting his hand before letting go and taking a seat.

Jake and Neytiri are assisting with the seating area, rearranging the order of things. Ralak gestures a respectful greeting to them both, bowing his head before the former Olo’eyktan. Neytiri gives him a warm smile, acknowledging his kind gesture towards the elder.

She has always disagreed with Jakes decision to separate you two, insisting that he is too harsh on you and that you have already passed your iknimaya back home. She had taken a liking to Ralak since the day you rode an ilu after only a week of lessons.

“Sir. May I speak with you?” Ralak asks politely.

Jake lets out a hesitant sigh, looking at his mate who’s shooting him a deathly glare. He purses his lips into a thin line and gives Ralak a firm nod, gesturing with his hand that they go somewhere more private to talk. He follows Jake willingly, walking with him to the shoreline.

They stand in silence for a moment, much like he did with Tonowari earlier. Ralak takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. He turns to look Toruk Makto dead in the eye, mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“I would like to apologize for the way things turned out. It was never my intention.” Ralak speaks, holding eye contact with the great warrior – who is visibly biting his tongue for the sake of not being strangled by his own wife. “Your daughter. She is truly the best thing that has happened to me. Kind. Caring. Understanding. Yes, she has her moments.” Ralak widens his eyes, quirking his brows before smirking a little. “But I love those too.”

“Uh-huh.” Jake gives him a small nod, doing a ‘come on’ motion with his hand, implying he should get to the point.

A little intimidated, Ralak averts his gaze to his feet and speaks quickly and confidently. “I want to provide for her. Protect her. With my life. I will give her anything she desires. Everything she needs. I will give her a good life.” Ralak’s eyes snap up to meet Jake’s. “But only with your permission, sir.”

“You gonna look me in the eye this time and make that promise?” Jake raises his brows, wrinkling his forehead.

Ralak clears his throat, straightening his shoulders to stand at full height, towering over Jake. “I love her. I will take care of her. Give her everything. If you’ll allow it.”

There’s a moment of silence – other than the increasingly loud thump of the drums – where Jake and Ralak stand face to face. Jake process all what Ralak has said. He’s never heard so many words fall from this man’s mouth before. Jake’s shoulders drop as he heaves a sigh, perked ears now relaxing against his skull. Hands flying to his hips, he looks away briefly before looking back at Ralak.

“She’s my babygirl. You know that, right?” Jake growls through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir.” Ralak is quick to answer.

“I swear, if you let anything – and I mean anything happen to my babygirl...” Jake’s voice his dark and gruff, laced with uncertainty. 

“Understood. And, agreed. If anything happens to her, you have every right.” Ralak assures the former Olo’eyktan, grimacing at the mere thought.

“Right. Then you have my permission, Ralak.” Jake nods, extending his arm to the taller na’vi. Ralaks ears bolt upright, overjoyed to hear the words. They join arms with an audible smack, sealing the deal with a firm shake. “Go on. Go find her.” Jake nudges over to the mangroves with his chin, “Before I change my mind.” Ralak bows his head slightly and parts ways to look for you.

---- End of Ralak’s POV

Shit, I should go. You think, turning on your heels to go find Ralak. By the time you’ve turned around, everyone is gone except for Tsireya.

“Come, let’s get you ready.” Tsireya grins wide, slowly creeping towards you with her handmade palette of colours.

You pull your head back, a downturned smile spreading across your face. “Where are you putting that? What is that?”

“Just a little something for your cheeks, come on.” She smiles even wider, dipping her finger into the creamy concoction.

“Eh. Not my thing.” You pull your head back even more.

“Ralak will like it.” She sings, wiggling her pink stained finger in the air.

You let out a small sigh of defeat and lean forward. “Fine. Only a little, okay?”

“Mhm!” Tsireya squeals, beaming with delight as he smears the creamy mixture on the apples of your cheeks. “There. And a little for your lips, too.” She says, quickly swiping it on your lips before you can refuse.

You grunt in response, popping your lips to distribute it evenly. “Well. How do I look?”

“Sevin [pretty], and you’ll look even better when you put that on.” She stares at the crimson strained top in your hands.

You slip into your top, fixing the leaves into position to cover your nipples, and do a twirl for the chief’s daughter. “Well?” You ask with open hands.

You didn’t think that cheeky grin could grow much wider, but it does. A grin so wide that it’s ear to ear.“Fyole [perfect]. Now let’s go get your mate.”

Maybe her giddiness is just catching, but hearing one of the most beautiful girls in the village call you fyole makes you grin too. She tugs at your arm, urging you to follow her down the webbed pathway towards the sandy area.

As you both make your way down to the beach, the faint whoof of the drums deepen in bass, and the plunk of the stringed instruments grows higher. And soon you can make out the song that’s playing. It’s the same song that Tsireya has been trying to hum to you for the past week. You keep your chin tucked to your chest, gaze locked to your feet as you follow behind Tsireya.

Once you see the silky sand spill through the cracks of your toes, you look up to see that you’re both standing at the edge of the crowd. People are packed tightly together, sweaty bodies pressed firmly against each other as they move to the beat.

The ambiance is electric, you can practically see it jolt through the crowd. Different colours glow around the moving bodies, it reminds you of your dream hunt.

Tsireya grabs a hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly to bring you out of your deep thought. “Remember what I taught you, yes?” You stare at her wide-eyed, knowing what she’s going to tell you next. “Dance with me, vultsyìp [stick].” She sings the last word teasingly, tugging you into the crowd behind her.  

As much as you loved the music, you’re focused on Ralak. You want to find him, be with him. You look around as you both weave through the crowd, bumping into people having a good time, drinking, and dancing. You swear you see a few people laying in the sand on top of one another, bent into positions you’ve never seen before.

Tsireya can sense that you’re a little anxious. Perhaps you feel out of place, or maybe you’re just a little stunned by the way of her – your people dance. She looks back on you and gives you a reassuring smile, squeezing your hand tighter as she burrows you both through the dancing crowd.

Finally coming to a more spacious area, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You slump into her, chin resting on her shoulder. Her lips brush against the shell of your ear. “Let him come to you.”

You pull back, looking around to see if he’s anywhere nearby before leaning back in to speak into her ear. “How will he know where to find me?”

Tsireya laughs, lifting a hand from your waist to tap her flat nose a few times, signing ‘smell’.

You nod slowly, trusting her word, despite you being in a large crowd that reeks of pxir[liquor], and – sex. You take a deep breath, smelling an array of scents all mixed, and overlapping one another. It’s almost overwhelming, leaving you feeling all hazy and dazed.

“Now dance with me!” She shouts over the boom of the music, sliding her hands down your waist to grip your hips. A giggle bubbles up your throat, the aphrodisiac properties of the music now taking affect. It sets a fire in your body, heating you up from the inside out and making your hips move in her grip.

It’s a little frightening, feeling your body move on its own, much like it did during your first heat. You try to fight it a little, feeling a little timid from how the music is affecting you in this way. But you recall Tsireya explaining to you that it’s something to do with ‘the way of Eywa permeating through the music’ – or something.

Tsireya realizes that your movements are bit rigid and broken, plagued with uncertainty. “Let go. Feel the music.” She urges you, guiding your hips in the direction of her motions. You allow yourself to let go, closing your eyes to immerse yourself in the trance of the music, moving freely to the rhythm.

With each beat of the drum comes a quick roll of your waist. And soon you’re dancing on her, vibrations of the instruments rippling through you. It comes naturally, body moving in a sinuous manner against hers. At the same time, it’s such a foreign feeling, as if your pores are dilating and releasing your essence into the air.

Meanwhile, Ralak is searching for you at the edge of the crowd, peeking over the sea of people. His eyes quickly scan the waves of dancing na’vi, looking for his tahni. His deep blue tahni. He had no interest in going into the crowd, much less surrender himself to the hypnotic ways of the music.

But he has no other choice.

He nosedives into the crowd, working his way between people as they increasingly get more and more suggestive with their bodies. One cannot simply walk through this without being affected to some degree – the pink tinge of his cheeks is evidence of it.

A hand instinctively flies to his nose to block out the mixture of scents bombarding him. Pxir. Sex. Desperation. Its almost contagious. Only making him want to be with you even more. Nearly to the point of desperation. He needs you. To be around you. To touch you. To be inside you.

Until it just becomes too much. Too much that a simple hand overing his burning nostrils won’t suffice. He drops his hand in defeat, allowing the mesmeric fumes to engulf him. It’s nauseating, yet his want for you grows stronger, to the point where he could swear to Eywa herself that the scent is slowly morphing into yours.

And yours only.

Ralak closes his eyes, inhaling so deeply that his chest tightens – all so he can savour your sweet, sweet aroma. He succumbs to it, nose following the scent to the source like an ilu being lured with a piece of fish. When he opens his eyes, he sees you. Clear as day.

There’s an aura around you, glowing so bright it’s almost blinding. It’s like the light in the darkness – all over again. Just like the first day he met you. The day you brought meaning to his life after losing so much.

Right there.

In awe, he watches your little body move effortlessly to the rhythm, slender tail swishing excitedly behind you. It’s the way you look – all flushed and flustered, dressed in the clothes of the Metkayina. He swallows thickly at the sight, influence of your pheromones making it that much harder – literally. He’s so hard it hurts, balls tightening and pulling so close to him that he shifts his weight to the next foot.

Yet his eyes dare not move. They bore into you so deep that even you can sense his stare. Your body knows he’s close, speeding up with your lewd movements, luring him in even more. And it works. He can’t help but move a little closer. Just to get a better look at you. At how you’ve learned the dance of his people, moving just like one of them with no difficulty.

And then you feel him.

Pressing against your body from behind, his warmth only heating you up more. You can smell him – no need to turn around to check who it is. You lean back into him, back of your head slumping into his chest. Everything’s so hot – so heavy. He leans down, pressing his soft, warm lips against your throat, using his tongue to taste the sheen on your skin.

You exhale an audible haah, chest heaving harshly as your nipples harden into peaks underneath your new garments. Tsireya lets you go, retreating into the crowd to leave you both alone. His hands quickly replace hers, wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you in closer to his hot body.

That’s when you feel it, hard and firm, pressing into your lower back. Then your breaths turn raggedy, becoming louder. You can’t help but grind into it, feeling him bend his knees, body receptive to your movements. And soon he’s grinding into you too, bodies falling into synchrony.

“So this is what you have been learning. Hm?” He whispers gruffly into the shell of your ear, following your every move as you lower yourself even more.

“May-be” The word comes out broken from the pace your body is setting for him to keep up with.

“All for me?” He chuckles, greedy hands lowering to your thighs, fingers smoothing over your clammy skin.

“Mmn – mhm.” You purr, thighs squeezing together as you shimmy your hips into him, providing your throbbing clit with a little friction.

His hands swipe underneath your loincloth as they glide back up to your hips, his lips pressing into your neck once more. He peppers hot, wet kisses down to the tips of your shoulders and up to the back of your neck. It sends your freckles flickering under the moonlight, surely gaining more eyes on the two of you.

But neither of you cared. Not in this moment.

“Feel me.” He growls, sinking his fingers into your hips to shove you into his pelvis. “Feel what you do to me.”

You can hear the frustration in his voice, he’s so wound up that you can just tell from the way he’s manhandling your hips. “Oh, fuck.” You gasp, rubbing yourself against his hardened bulge, tail wrapping around his thin waist.

Calloused hands work their way up your stomach, fingers grazing over the dip of your navel before finding purchase under the strings of your top. He hooks his thumbs under the twine, running them along its length. You bow your back against him, pushing back into his crotch.

“My beautiful tahni.” He groans shakily, resisting the urge to pin you down and take what’s his, right here, right now. “I have missed you.”

“Ma’ Lak.” You moan softly, feeling so out of it – so hazy and light-headed.

“Do me the honour of being my mate.” He tries to speak politely, keeping his voice steady and calm, rough grinding smoothing into gentle swaying.

“Say that again for me.” You pant through a smile, dipping your head forward to give him better access to your neck.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as pointed canines graze over the nape of your neck, eager to sink into your supple skin. You spin around, drawing a little blood when they scrape against your skin. He shoves a knee between your legs, spreading them apart to press his pelvis firmly into yours. “Mate with me, woman.”

“Oh, yeah? Right here?” You tease, tugging at his queue to bring it over his shoulder.

“You’re trouble. You know that?” He chuckles breathily, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck, breathing in your hypnotic scent.

“I’ve been told.” You let out a soft giggle, twirling the end of his kuru around your finger.

Eywa, did that feel good.

“Come.” He says quickly - impatiently, hoisting you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist. He stumbles over to the shore, still feeling the effects of the melodic music coursing in his bloodstream. Quickly calling for his tsurak with a tik-tak, he watches as the large beast glides through the water towards him.

In an instant, Ralak bonds and mounts the beast with you stuck to him, holding you close with one hand and gripping the harness tightly with the other. You bury your face into his chest, basking in his natural scent as you try to calm down. But you’re so on edge and need some sort of release soon.

“Need y-you. S-so bad.” You moan needily, breath hitching as you grind the soft flesh between your legs against the tautness of his tewng [loincloth].

Ralak’s brows pinch tightly together, huffing a breath of hot air through his nostrils. His restraint is dwindling by the millisecond. He needs you. Craves you. Hungers for you. And he can no longer withhold himself, not when you’re still grinding into him, even though the music has faded out.

“I know. Almost there. A little longer.” He hums breathlessly, beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

Ralak’s so flustered and hot that he can barely maintain control over his winged beast, making the ride to the cove of ancestors rough and bumpy. The burning need to possess you – dominate you – only grows stronger with each huff of hot air you breathe onto his bare chest.

He wants so badly to just drill himself inside you, right on the back of this tsurak. Leaving his cock buried deep in your tight, wet heat for the remainder of the ride. So that when you do arrive, he can lay you down on the nearest rock and have his way with you.

But he won’t. Not for your first time. Not before you mate.

Your breath rasps in your throat, nimble fingers working away at the knot above his tail. It’s as if you could hear his thoughts already, telling you to take him right here, right now. Or perhaps it’s the way his painfully hard cock almost bores through the thin cloth, right into your sopping cunt as his hips buck into you. Both of you reek with desperation, a scent so pungent any passer-by would gag. Yet he still finds the self-control to reach behind him to rest a gentle hand on your wriggling fingers.

“Wait.” A single word parts his flushed lips, gruff and strained. It’s all he can get out in his state of mind. He wants nothing more than to just do this the right way. The way he’s been planning for years on end. You whine a little when he pulls your hand away, plunking it back onto your slippery thigh.

“Please.” You mewl, fingers now burrowing between your pelvises to slip under the band of his loincloth, pulling it down just enough to unsheathe his thick cock. It’s slaps against his flexed abdomen, tip of his glossy, reddened head poking right below his crossed ribs. It’s all swollen and throbbing, sticky from how much precum he’s leaking all over himself.

Denying him the chance to refuse, you shove your clothed cunt against his slickened length, humping into him with ease. He tries to bite back a sudden groan, tightening his jaw so much he may fracture it. His breaths turn raggedy as he rests his chin on the crown of your head.

Eyes becoming so lidded, he doesn’t even realise that you’re finally here. The cove of the ancestors. The most sacred places in the village of Awa’atlu, where na’vi go to mate. You’re blissfully unaware of your surroundings, trying to stick your hand in your crotch to shift your loincloth to the side.

“I said. Wait.” A gruff, stern voice sends a shiver down your spine.

And fuck – it only makes you hornier, sending your hips in a thrusting frenzy, doing their best to line his cockhead up with your dripping entrance. You can’t quite catch it as it keeps bucking and slipping over your puffy clit. You grunt a frustrated ‘mmph’, irritated that he isn’t sliding in like you thought.

Ralak is struggling to maintain his composure. Half of him wants to chuckle at your futile attempts to fuck him, and the other half wanting to just ram his cock inside you for being so stubborn. He takes a deep breath in, holding it to reground himself. He exhales a sigh of relief once he bumps into the rocky cove of his people’s most sacred place.

“Eywa – tahni.” A tortured groan evades his lips when he forces himself to shift his pelvis away from you as you persist with your efforts to hurt yourself. He inhales deeply, slowing his galloping heart. “Be a good girl for me, hm? We are here now.” He croons at you, wrapping your hands around his neck and supporting your back as he dismounts his tsurak.   

The bioluminescence of the water glows behind you as Ralak walks you both towards a nearby sea cave. Directly below you is the spirit tree – its fronds and filters luminating the area radiantly. You try to squirm out his grip, feet dangling above the cave floor from the way he refuses to let you go.

“Not here. Too rough.” He grunts as he hoists you back up and walks further into the large, open sea cave. Its floor is completely flat, with all sorts of flora growing between the cracks of the rock. The deeper you venture in, the greener it becomes. Until eventually, all that covers the floor is a thick bed of green, silky moss.

Little creatures buzz around, luminating the darkness of the cave, exposing the markings on the wall from previous mating sessions. Etched swirls, zigzags, and other patterns to signify a new union. There’s no doubt that this little ‘hidden’ spot is a popular place for na’vi to mate before Eywa.

You calm down a bit, influence of the music wearing off now that you’re both so far away from the celebration. At this point you just feel a bit buzzed, melting into Ralak’s grasp as your tense muscles relax. But your droopy eyes snap open when you feel him unwrapping your legs from his waist.

“Here.” Ralak husks, voice deep and thick with arousal.

He lets you down gently, snaking his arms around your waist to pull you in for a kiss. His lips crash into yours, so heated and frantic that there’ll for sure be bruises there tomorrow. His eager hands explore your body, releasing all the pent-up feelings he’s been holding back for the past few months.

Hearts thumping wildly in your chests, you pull away and share the same breath, panting open mouthed before your lips meet again. His hands find themselves cupped around your reddened cheeks, impatiently pulling you in closer until your bodies are flush against one another.

Webbed hands work their way down the column of your throat, calloused thumbs gently pressing into your windpipe. You let out a choked gasp, mouth hanging open as his hands continue their way down to your chest, fingers parting the blood-red leaves to expose your stiffened nipples.

Rolling the tiny, sensitive peaks between his thumb and index fingers, he quickly moves his kisses down your jaw and up to the lobe of your ear, biting it as gently as he can. You stand there open-mouthed, breath catching in your throat momentarily.

You exhale as you rub your thighs together, smearing your sticky arousal all over them. It spreads your scent into the air, causing Ralak to pull away from your ear and takes a deep breath in. He releases it with a lengthy ‘ahh’, face growing hot from the way you smell. You can see him clench and unclench his jaw as the lump in his throat moves from how hard he’s swallowing.

Cerulean eyes pierce into yours, a moment of stillness passes by where his face morphs into the same face he makes when he’s trying not to succumb to that animalistic urge to ravish you on the spot. But it’s been too long. No amount of clenching and gritting could help him.

Not tonight.

He grabs you by the jaw, pulling you up on the tips of your toes to kiss you – hard. His lips crush yours frenetically, letting go all his worries and apprehensions. Truly indulging himself in the moment. In you. He fills his lungs with your arousal – your aphrodisiac. Getting high on you and allowing his body to speak for him.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, he backs you up against the wall, hand flying to the back of your head to cushion the impact. Your tongues roll over each other, taking in the feeling of every tastebud. Both his hands slip down to yours, lengthy fingers enfolding your wrists as he brings them above your head, pinning them to the wall.

He quickly binds your wrists together, securing them tightly with one hand whilst he shoves his free hand between your slickened thighs. A small, shaky gasp breaks the kiss, thick fingers tugging down your soddened garments. You help him by shimmying your hips, allowing the flimsy material to drop to your ankles.

Now you’re just irresistible.

His fingers graze past your plump, smooth folds, before finding their way in between them. “Ralak.” His name slips out, all breathy and small. You say it so nicely, so sweet and innocent, and his ears can’t help but flicker at the double syllabled word. Eywa, he loves it so much that he makes it his mission to have you scream it by the end of the night.

But not yet.

He brings his digits to his nose, inhaling as deep as his lungs can go, closing his eyes to relish in the sweet, sweet scent of your arousal. And when his eyes open, you swear you see them shift in colour, darkening to a cerulean blue. There filled with greed, gazing longingly at you as if you were something to devour.

And that’s when he takes his fingers into his mouth, having his taste of you. Tongue weaving through the cracks of his digits, he licks them clean, using his thumb to wipe the corners of his mouth before popping that in too. There was something about the way he did that, sucking on his fingers as if you were the best thing, he’s ever tasted in his twenty-four years of living.

It makes you want to taste him too. Back bowing against the jagged wall, you try to wriggle free from his grasp, prompting him to loosen his fingers. In an instant you sink to your knees, staticky hands latching onto his thighs as you press your face against his half-covered bulge. His hand flattens against the wall, supporting his weight as he peers down at you wide-eyed.

You walk your fingers up his thighs, tucking them under the band of this loincloth to yank it down. Out springs his twitching cock, rock hard and throbbing from how swollen he’s gotten from sharing a few kisses. Your eyes cross as you look at it for the first time up close.

It’s... thick. So thick you can’t close your hand around it, leaving a spacious gap between your fingers and thumb. It only gets fatter towards the middle, then tapers off into his mushroomy head, curved and ribbed. His ridges are pointed, yet soft, spanning around and down the underside of his cockhead.

It curves upward, jumping to the rate of his heartbeat. A single bead of precum oozes from his slit, dripping off his cockhead in a thin string. Your tongue darts out, flattened with the tip of it touching your chin, eyes locked on his as you wait patiently for your fill. And when it finally drops onto your tongue, your tastebuds dance from the slightly sweet taste.

His brows jump at the sight, eyelids fluttering a little too quickly to be considered calm and collected. You can’t fight the smug look creeping on your face when you lock your jaw and swallow it with glee. Oh, to make a big, grown man like him crumble.

Naturally, you want to see how far you can push him. You wrap your dainty fingers around his cock, hold it taut to expose his throbbing head. Unsure of what you’re doing, you give him little kitten licks, playing with the little ridges underneath the tip of his cock.

His head slumps forward, thick strands of loose hair swaying side to side as his core flexes and unflexes. He’s biting his bottom lip, struggling to hold back that low grumble deep in his chest, hand balling into a fist against the wall.

And when you finally take him into your mouth, engulfing him in wet heat, his hips thrust. Hard. He didn’t mean for it, you just feel so fucking good around his cock, swollen lips stretching to their limit just for him to fit. Your eyes water, tip of his cock prodding into the back of your throat, corners of your mouth burning from the sheer size of him.

The way you’re looking up at him all glossy eyed and innocent, trying to absolute hardest not to gag on not even half of his cock sends him over the edge. He tightens his fist, knuckles scraping against the rocky wall, surely becoming bloody as he fights the urge to thrust into you one more time.

That’s when you hear the rumble in his chest, the steady, low growl traveling up his throat. Perhaps it was meant to scare you, or maybe it’s the face he’s making – narrowed, beady eyes and thinly pursed lips. Make you sit in the dip of your feet and be the good girl he wants you to be. But it only makes you wetter, thick strings of your own slick oozing onto the mossy floor.

You take him deeper into your mouth, mushroomy tip making its way down the tightness of your throat. The hot tears stream down your cheeks, washing away the rouge to reveal an even pinker tinge of your skin. The saliva pooling in your cheeks spills out the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin with nowhere to go.

Instinctively, you swallow.

An innocent reflex, as innocent as the glazed eyes that peer up at him. He lets out a sudden, sonorous groan, brows pinching so tightly together it creases his forehead. It’s so sensitive, so tender, that his hips snap back, cock pulling out your mouth with a loud pop. His bloodied hand flies down to your pinch your chin, pushing you away from him all together.

“’m sorry.” You apologize through a hoarse voice, thinking you’ve hurt him.

He shakes his head, thumb swiping the drool on your swollen bottom lip. “Don’t.” He exhales, chest rising and falling from how hard he’s breathing. You watch this gentle giant crumble to his knees before you, chin tucked to his chest to hide his face. He swallows harshly, clearing his throat as he slowly raises his head and looks up at you through hooded eyes.

“Tsaheylu.” He says breathlessly, heated ears laying flat against his head. He catches his breath as he shuffles closer to you, hand reaching for his kuru. All that’s running through his mind is that he must do this right. And with whatever remaining restraint ebbing away, he must do it now. “Tsaheylu, tahni.” He repeats quickly.

Ralak holds his kuru upwards, exposing his pink tendrils as they dance wildly before your eyes. There’s a moment of silence, where you both take in the lilac hue of his kuru. You nod franticly as a hasty hand reaches behind you, quickly tugging your queue in front of you. You hold yours next to his, revealing your wiggling tendrils.

Your eyes widen when you realize that they sense one another – an invisible force pulling them together. You glance up at him, wondering if he’s feeling the tug too. He’s watching intently, ears twitching and eyes tinted purple from the hues of your kurus coming closer together all on their own.

Looking back down, you witness your tendrils excitedly intertwine with one another, kurus meeting with a quick, harsh tug. His eyes slam shut, ears practically disappearing as they embrace the curve of his skull. He exhales loudly, head dipping forward as his brows gather tightly.

Your breath catches in your throat, body waiting for him to take a breath. When he finally does, you gasp for air, filling your lungs in synchrony with him. His eyes pop open, pupils so blown that only a thin ring of blue remains. Your tail swishes wildly behind you before curling around your waist to tickle his thigh.

A faint ring buzzes in your ears, fading out into a vague, echo of his voice. You can hear his thoughts, feel the way your tail brushes against his skin makes him hot and bothered. You can feel his tightened chest, thick with emotion and overwhelm. And if you close your eyes and focus enough, you can feel his deep-rooted trauma – his past.

But you can also feel his present. His future. The way he desires you to be the one to bear his children. To make his marui into a home. His immense adoration for you and only you. and the more you tune into your mate, the more you feel his immense restraint and composure, the way he’s forcing himself to be gentle.

It’s all too much at once, yet not enough all together.

“I love you.” You blurt out in unison, urge so strong it’s exigent.

The tightness in your chest grows ten-fold, spreading to your core. Eager hands caress one another’s cheeks, pulling each other in for another heavy session of kissing. You break the kiss with a shove to his chest – your futile attempt to push him onto his back. He’s unbudging, strong and solid, even in such a carnal state.

“Lie down, Lak.” You pant, still out of breath from such an intimate experience.  

Ralak nods, slowly leaning back to prop himself up on his elbows. Loose, curly strands of hair sticks to his temples, inebriated gaze boring into yours. You climb between his legs, settling yourself comfortably in the dips of your feet.

His neglected cock twitches madly, pre-cum practically flowing down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. You swallow thickly at such an enticing sight. You want to taste him. To return the pleasure he’s always ensuring for you. Now that you’re here, between this gentle giant’s legs, you realise that you’ve never even stroked him before.

Shaky, inexperienced hands wrap around his girth, experimentally gliding up and down its length a few times. You can feel every vein, every ridge pressing into the palm of your hands. He’s so rock hard that it looks painful. You can tell in the way he grimaces, peering down at you as you pump him without rhythm.

Holding his cock out the way, you lean in do something you’ve been thinking about since the day of your first lesson. Lick his tattoo. It’s raised and warm, even a little veiny too. You trace each stripe with the tip of your tongue, trailing it down to the base of his cock. Nuzzling your face into the space between his thigh and balls, you fill your lungs with his musky aphrodisiac.

“Eywa. You smell... so fucking good.” You exhale, licking his cock from base to tip. He shudders before you, lying down flat on his back and covering his face with his hands. You can tell you’re doing a good job, the little groans evading his mouth confirming that for you.

Taking him into your mouth, you suck on his mushroomy head, swallowing all the slick that pools in your cheeks. Its mostly sweet, with a little bit of a salty aftertaste. You mindlessly play with the ridges under his tip, liking the way they feel against your tastebuds. He seems to like it too, hips jolting forward with each swipe of your tongue.

“Muntxate [wife]” He growls the word, hand flying from his face to grab a fist full of your hair.

Yes, my love? You think, knowing he’s hearing your every thought and feeling your every emotion.

“Keep doing that and I’ll cum.” He warns you, tone of voice gruff and serious.

Good. Cum for me.

“Ssst–ah.” He lets out a shaky breath, hand beginning to pull your head off him. You quickly clutch his wrist, picking up the speed of your tongue whilst bobbing your head on his cock. “Tahni. Tahni. Tahni.” He groans, each word becoming more and more guttural as they slip off his tongue.

Let me taste you, Muntxatan [husband].

“Shit.” He whispers, caving in on himself as his other hand flies to your head, stopping you from bobbing your head all together. With a quick, single swipe of your tongue, his head pulsates feverishly, spurting ropes of warm, thick cum in your mouth. It pools in your cheeks, stuffing them until they burn from how full they are.

You swear you can hear the da-thump of his throbbing cock, balls pulling closely to his core. You hum triumphantly, proud of yourself for making him cum. You pull off with a subtle pop and a loud gulp, swallowing his huge load with greed. Wide eyes stare down at you, processing what you just did.

Seconds of silence fill the air, two freshly mated na’vi staring into each other’s eyes.  

Within seconds he’s pinning you down on your back, assaulting your throat with rough kisses. His core ruts against yours, sweaty, inexperienced bodies bumping into each other. Everything moves so quickly that you can barely process how he’s got you pinned down on your back underneath him, trailing wet, feverish kisses down your chest. You go to slip out of your top, only for a large hand to stop you.

“Keep it on.” He grunts into your skin, tip of his tongue leaving a trail of saliva down the centre of your stomach. Eyes flicking up to yours, his predatory, lustful gaze bores into you, soft lips pressing into your abdomen. They flicker from side to side as they admire your luminous beauty, flushed lips sucking bruised-like marks into your dark skin.

Little broken mewls part your lips, hips lifting slightly as he peppers gentle kisses below your navel. He maintains eye contact with you as he works his way down to your hipbones, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your hips, he works his way down to your soft thighs, tip of his tongue swiping against your skin – salty from the sea. He lingers there for a while, breathing deeply to savour the sweet scent of your heat that’s so, so close to him.

He lingers there, waiting patiently.

Waiting for your permission as he begs you with his eyes to let him have a proper taste of you. To have his turn. One side of your mouth pulling coy smirk, you weave your fingers through his hair to push his nose between your folds. He wrenches your thighs open, pinning your legs to the mossy ground as he begins to devour you.

Tongue parting your pussy lips, he greedily laps up the sweet nectar dripping from your slit. He grunts into your cunt, sucking on your clit, all swollen and puffy from being so neglected. His hips buck into the mossy bedding beneath him, chasing the feeling that’s transferring to him through the bond.

You yelp out when you feel his finger stretch you out, sinking inside you at a torturously slow pace. He doesn’t want to be too rough with you as it’s been a while since he’s touched you in this way. But you reassure him with a tug at his wrist, shoving his finger knuckle deep inside you.

But it’s just not enough.

“M-more, Ralak. Please!” You cry out, extreme pressure in your chest coming to a head.

Feeling the taut tension, Ralak quickly obliges, sinking another digit inside of you as he assaults the little bud of nerves with the flat of his tongue. Your toes curl at the same time he curls his fingers inside you, prodding them deep into that gummy part of your heat. The pressure feels like electricity, surging through your core and to the tips of your extremities.

He loves how you’re squirming around, hips sputtering to chase your orgasm all on your own. He’s so proud of you, working for your own release like the good girl you are. Praising you with a quick pat on your thigh, he quickens the pace of his fingers, working out a squelch with each thrust.

You begin chanting his name over and over, voice waning with each syllable, until its nothing a tiny, pathetic whimper. Your head spins and your heart skips as you clench tightly around his digits. Your legs tremble, working their way towards one another to close around his face.

“Gonna – oh f-fuck.” You let loose a sudden whine, shoving him into your pussy when you feel the final shockwave ripple through your being, leaving you a shaking mess at the mercy of his two fingers and tongue. Following your every jolt, he hums a victorious groan from the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering helplessly around his fingers. He pulls away with a ‘pwah’, using this opportunity of pure, unadulterated pleasure to stretch you out even more.

“Good girl. And breathe for me.” Ralak coos, sliding his third and final finger inside you. The stretch stings, causing you to wince for just a moment. He quickly curls his fingers, causing another wave of white-hot pleasure to ripple through you, masking that string just right.

Ralak gently moves his fingers inside you, just enough to get you used to the such a big stretch. The sharp sting fades away, leaving nothing but small shocks of electricity surging through your swollen pussy. Slumping your head back into the pillowy moss, you focus on steadying your breathing. Your vision is blurry, and things are becoming hazy, but you don’t want this moment to end.

“Lak... Want more. Please.” You moan weakly, eyes crossing before they roll to the back of your head. You’re already all fucked out from his fingers alone yet you’re begging him for more. And he can see it, too. The way you’re just so spent, body trembling beneath him as he continues to stimulate your rubbed out sweet spot.

“I am not like you, tahni. I only have three.” He chuckles softly, curling them inside you as a reminder.

“Ngh! Y-you know what I mean. I want you...” Your voice falters, hand reaching down to grab his erection, a little surprised that he’s still this hard. “I want this. Please.”

His features soften, apprehension filling his lower stomach just from the jaded look you’re throwing his way. “Are you sure? We can do it another time.” He insists, feeling how tight you still are, despite taking three of his fingers.

“No, please no.” You pant as you shake your head lethargically, shimmying your hips closer to his. “Need-you-to-fuck-me!” You cry out, stringing the desperate words together so quickly it almost sounds like one.

“Tahni.” He utters just over a whisper, staring down at you with eyes of concern. Not only can he see the exhaustion on your face, but he can feel it too. It travels in waves through the bond, right into him. And after such a long day, iknimaya and all, it’s expected. “It will be too much for you right now.”

“You said, ‘anything I please with’. Right?” A tremulous, soft voice reminds him of his deal, knowing he’s a man of his word, albeit few. He chews on his bottom lip, a little impressed with you. He heaves a heavy sigh of defeat, positioning himself between your clammy thighs as he hoists your legs over his.

“Tell me if it hurts. Okay?” He leans over you, using a thumb at the base of his cock to line it up with your entrance.

You nod lazily before tucking your chin to your chest to witness you become one. The crown of his cock prods at your tight opening, looking massive in comparison. For a second you even question yourself how that will fit inside you. It’s way bigger than his three fingers combined, not to mention, much, much lengthier.

It bucks against your innocence, slipping and gliding over your sticky clit. You both grunt in unison, tension snapping just to rebuild all over again. His hips snap back, all four fingers now gripping the base of his cock.

An unexpected wave of anxiety crashes through you, making you cling onto your mate. You bury your hot face into his shoulder, completely abandoning the plan to witness it strip you of your innocence. He can feel your hesitation through the bond, holding his position in case you change your mind.

“Do it, ma’ lak. Put it inside me.” You mumble quietly into the dip of his collarbone, inching your hips closer to his.

He pushes into you slowly, breaking past the resistance of your tightness, mushroomy tip liding in with an audible pop. You bite down onto his shoulder, hard enough to sink the full length of your canines into his cyan coloured skin, staining it red with his blood. It muffles your pained, little cry, tear drops crashing onto the swell of your cheeks.

Fuck, it hurts.

It hurts so much that it makes your body shake and shiver underneath him as it tries so desperately to adjust to his size. It burns and stings and oh – it’s just too much. It feels as if something were lodged between your joints, snapping you open with such force.

His movement comes to a standstill, as if he were frozen in time. He grimaces, unsure if its from the way you’re pinching him or if its from how deep your little canines are sunk into him. Or maybe it’s your pain transferring to him, but he feels it too.

“You okay? Feeling pain?” Ralak’s voice is tender, a gentle hand moving to release your bite.

You unlatch from his shoulder, leaving open puncture wounds for blood to trickle down his chest. The pain fades at a torturously slow rate, but any little movement causes a new wave of fire to shoot down your legs. Surely, just like with his fingers, if you stay here for a bit, it’ll fade completely.

“No. Haah. Just give a m-minute.” You pant out a lie, breath hitching at the last word.  

“Y/n. I can feel your pain.” He utters breathily, pulling out as gently as he can.

“Don’t. Please, I want this.” Your voice is breathy, yet strained, legs quickly locking around his hips to push him in a little deeper. You let out a sudden, high-pitched whimper, burning sensation worsening. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, sending little vibrations up his spine.

“You’re shaking. Another time.” Ralak says sternly, unhooking your legs from around his hips.

“No, please.” A pathetic little plea falls from your lips.

He shakes his head, grinding his teeth together to deal with the guild bubbling in his chest. “Your body isn’t ready.” He mutters, pulling out tenderly. The more he moves, the more the scent of blood fills the air. He can feel it trickling down his back, but it’s the least of his concerns right now.   

“I-I am ready. Please Lak, just give me a moment to –”

Ralak looks down as he pulls out, head snapping back up to reveal the panic etched into his features. “You – oh Eywa. You are bleeding, tahni.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” You coo with quivering lungs, cupping his cheek to make him look in your eyes. “Really. Look at me, Ralak.” You give him a wobbly smile, only for him to pull away from your grip.

“I am hurting you. Look.” Two fingers pinch your chin, pulling it down to avert your gaze. A thin layer of blood coats your inner thighs, some smearing on his too. Your eyes snap back up to his, which are glazed over with panic and guilt. He pulls out of you fully, sitting in the dip of his feet to have a proper look between your legs. “I am so sorry tahni... I-I thought I stretched you enough.”

“Lak...” You whisper shyly, trembling legs slowly closing to hide yourself from his eyes.

“We must go.” He declares, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he makes his way out of the cave. Calling for his tsurak, he glances down at your face to see it screwed with discomfort. The guilt weighs heavy in his heart, driving him to act quickly.

So quickly that you don’t even realise that you’re already on the back of his tsurak, soaring at full speed through the water. You were truly fine, just a little sore and uncomfortable, but certainly nothing that required this level of speed. The ride back is uncomfortably quiet, Ralak trying his hardest to regulate his emotions. You can see the restrained look on his face, tightened brows, and thin lips.

“I’m alright, my love. You don’t have to go so quickly.” You try to reassure him with a small voice. He huffs a sigh in response, clenching and unclenching his jaw, biting back his feelings to focus on remedying the situation. “’ts not your fault.”

Eyes slamming shut, he shakes his head slightly, as if he were saying you were wrong. He holds you closer, opening his eyes to glance down at your blood-stained thighs. Eyelids fluttering, he looks back out into the distance, watching his marui pod appear larger and larger as he approaches it.

Within seconds he’s dismounted his skimwing, and takes large, quick strides to the cave. Your legs dangle over his forearm, other arm supporting your back as he carries you bridal style into the water. A shaky hand reaches for his kuru, holding it in the air to expose his pink, tendrils.

“Tsaheylu, Lak.” You groan needily, wrapping your tail around his thigh.

“Soon, tahni. Let me clean you first.” He hums tenderly, glancing down at your body one last time before slowly submerging you in the water.

The lake is always warmer in the nights, glowing around you from its bioluminescent properties. Supporting your back with one hand, he carefully parts your legs and cleans you gently. Your eyes remain locked onto his face, his clenching jaw, his flattened ears – the way the column of his throat protrudes when he swallows.

The guilt is evident on his face, and it worsens the more he looks at what he’s done to you. And when he moves down to the flesh between your legs, you can’t help but jolt, legs closing around his hands as you wince a little. His head whips towards you, worried eyes boring into yours. You give him a quick smile, nodding that he can continue.

Hand parting your legs once more, he ensures to be extra gentle and tender, even leaning in to see if he’s doing it right. After he’s finished, he bathes the rest of your body, rinsing the sweat and grime out of your hair after such a long night.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to –” You mutter, trying to stand so you can have your turn at bathing him.  

“No need.” He says quickly, scooping you back into his arms with ease, making his way up to his marui. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine, Lak. Honestly. You could’ve kept going, I just needed a moment.” You blubber out, trying to wriggle from his clutch.

He scoffs, shaking his head as he ducks under the flap to his marui. “You are like a baby.” He walks over to his bed and lays you down carefully, treating you as if you were really wounded. The leaves of your top stick to your breasts, wet and saturated from such a long bath.

“And you were about to fuck –” You mutter under your breath, to be cut off by Ralak’s glare. You let out a small sigh, a little frustrated from how the night played out. He walks towards a shelf on the opposite side of his marui, giving you the opportunity to sit up, and scoot over to the edge of the cot to get up.

His ears perk up from the shuffling sounds, but his back remains turned to you as he mutters the word. “Sit.”

Defeated, you plop back down onto the soft bedding, thumbs twiddling with one another as you wait for him to come back. Meanwhile he extends his arm to the top shelf, back muscles flexing as he retrieves two wooden drinking bowls and a bottle of liquid.

It’s mauve, and iridescent, swirling around as it sloshes from side to side. He pops it open with his back teeth, spitting the cork into a woven basket on the floor. He plans to cut it into two later, saving a piece each for your songchords.

Sitting next to you on the end of his cot, he hands you the wooden cup, nudging it closer to you with raised brows for you to take it from him. Reluctantly, you take it, a little confused as to what he’s giving you to drink. He pours the thick liquid into the cup, stopping after a few glugs. Then he pours himself one, too, waiting until the liquid touches the lip of his cup.

“Drink.” He orders, bringing his cup to his mouth as he waits for you to do the same.

Bringing it to your lips, your face screws with disgust, head turning away to get the smell out your face. You lower the cup into your lap, looking at him with an expression of perplexment.

How could he drink such a foul-smelling thing?

“Erm, no thanks... I’ll pass.” You barely get out, afraid to take a breath in.

His ears flatten in frustration, lip twitching ever so slightly. He knows this will help with the pain, so why are you being so stubborn? He doesn’t utter a single word, beady eyes piercing into yours.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll drink it... Eywa.” You say the great mother’s name like a curse, bringing the cup to your lip.

You take a sip, face contorts with revulsion, eyes watering as the liquid burns on the way down your throat. Your tongue darts out in repulsion as your eyes flicker up to him, brows raising inquisitively to ask if you drank enough.

His lips purse, and he shakes his head slightly. “All.”

You heave a sigh, rolling your eyes a little before bringing the cup back up to your lips once more. You feel a single finger rest under your hand, nudging it upwards to tilt the cup all the way back, encouraging you to take a swig. You knock it back, gulping down the viscous liquid and stick your tongue out for proof.

He nods in approval, slight smirk curling the side of his lips. He knocks his back in one go, letting out ‘ahh’ after the liquid travels down his throat. Not even a wince. He seems to enjoy the burn.

For you, the after taste is even worse, making your nose scrunch and the tears overflow from your eyes. He’s quick to wipe them away with his thumb, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear before retracting his hand entirely.

“What did I just drink?” You croak, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fermented fruit. Pxir...” He looks at you, “Liquor.” Ralak takes the cup from you and refills it, as well as his.

Plunking it back into your hand, you look at him through pinched brows. “What does it do?”

He brings his to his wet lips, exhaling a sigh of guilt. “Pain. It will help with the pain.” He sighs, throwing his head back and swallowing the pxir in one, loud gulp.

Your features soften when you realize how he knows such a thing. “Is this what you had when you did your own tattoo?”

“Yes. Not the same. But the same effect.” He chuckles a little, impressed by your ability to put things together so quickly.

“Ah. I see.” You say, looking at the liquid as it swirls around in your cup. “So if I drink enough of this, you’d do my tattoo for me?”

“Sure.” He utters, fighting the little smile creeping on his face as he watches you chug the pxir. “But tomorrow. I have already caused you a great deal of pain today.”

Another sigh makes its way out your nose. You give up entirely, handing him the empty cup and laying down in the bed. Your bed. In your marui pod. Wondering, heavy eyes begin exploring the pod all on their own. It feels like the stilts holding the roof up are spinning, making you feel a bit woozy.

“Ralak. I feel weird.” You hiccup, heavy lidded eyes threatening to close for good. “All... bubbly.”

“Ah. My tahni.” He hums softly, sliding into bed next to you. “It will do that to you. Get some rest, okay?” He rakes his fingers through your hair, using his fingertips to massage your scalp.

“Lak. I want – I want to try again, doesn’t hurt anymore.” You blabber incoherently, trying to open your legs for him. Reminded of the pain that he brought you, Ralak shakes his head, closing your legs gently and covering you with the sheet. Snuggling into his warm chest, your eyes fall shut for the night.

“Another day.” Ralak whispers, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

Unable to sleep, he spends the rest of the night swigging straight from the bottle, bathing, and checking up on you. You’d wake every so often to him parting your legs, checking to see if you were alright.

He thought nothing of it, just one of his duties as your mate to care for you. But you’d be quick to shove away his hand, mumbling to him not to look despite the coy smile on your face, all from knowing he cares that much.

When he finished the bottle, he was woozy enough to crawl back into bed with you and snuggle behind you. His eyes finally closing when the first rays of sunshine beam through the marui pod, the same rays that wake you up.

--

#ralak #ralak smut #avatar smut #awow smut #metkayina #metkayina smut #metkayina oc #oc smut #avatar oc smut #awow oc smut #sully reader #sully reader x oc #oc x sully reader #oc x sully reader smut #na'vi smut #na'vi x reader #na'vi x sully reader #na'vi avatar #Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan #smut #metkayina x omaticaya #metkayina x omaticaya smut #metkayina x fem reader #virginity loss

[evertidings]

— MARCH 2024.

accomplishments.

erm. hi. it's been a while, i know. i skipped last month's update, so i'll give you a lengthy one for march. truth be told, i haven't been able to touch when twilight strikes for a while. this is not because i don't want to, but mostly because i've been busy with school and/or have been struggling with writer's block. because of this, i made the decision to scrap what i had written for chapter eleven and start (kinda) from scratch. now, before you go and panic, let me explain.

the reason i've been taking so long on this chapter is that, well, i screwed up. i found a (rather large) plot hole that i've been trying to fix, and the solution i came up with was, uh, interesting. definitely not my greatest idea. but because i had already written so much, i kept pushing forward, hoping that things would straighten out and i'd miraculously like the chapter by the time i finished. haha, very funny. as you can tell, that didn't end up happening. i didn't particularly hate what i wrote, i could just tell that it was absolute bullshit. and while sometimes that works, it just was not doing it for me here. so i cut it.

i was able, however, to save a bunch of it for the new draft, so i didn't completely start over, but i am definitely down a lot of words compared to what i had written initially. i'm not super bummed out about it, but i am upset that that means i'm again behind on getting this out to you. i know it's been a while since i've published any updates and hearing that i've pushed things back is probably not very fun, but i promise, now that i've got my plot hole sorted out, things are going much smoother.

i'm currently in the thick of final exams so i haven't been able to write as much as i've wanted to lately, but the good news is that i'm graduating (WOOOOO!) so i won't have any more school work to distract me anymore. once mid-april hits, i'm free everybody.

(on that note, thank you for being so patient and sticking by me. i see new fans joining every day and it warms my heart that so many of you continue to enjoy this story. i appreciate you so much more than you know).

#update #when twilight strikes #the midnight hours #interactive fiction #twine game

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-four | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | murder, getting away with murder, minor character death, pinv sex, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), riding, fingering (f. receiving), hints of edging, blood kink if you squint, creampie, virgin! Coryo lossing virginity | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 the end

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 the last chapter! I probably won't do an epilogue, i am not entirely sure on it yet! But this wraps up their story!! I hope you guys liked it! Make sure to reblog and give ne your feedback!

beta read by an angel (TRUTH) @nowitsmissing

thank you to everyone who was on this journey with me... I love you guys!

masterlist | navigation

Coriolanus finds Lucy Gray near the hanging tree. It was nearly evening. Lucy Gray's eyes were red. Coriolanus ignored the pity he felt. Soon, Lucy Gray would join Sejanus Plinth.

“Lucy Gray,” he hissed, taking her attention away from the tree.

“You'll need to leave,” he said, his voice faking desperation, “to the North. Sejanus would have wanted that.”

“What about you?” Lucy Gray asked, “What about the Covey?”

“The Covey will live, Lucy Gray, you know that. They're strong. They're survivors,” he replied, “as for me, I wish to leave with you. I can't stay in the place that took my friend.”

Coriolanus' eyes quickly filled with tears as soon as he finished. “It's all my fault,” his lips utter, “if only I could have stopped him.”

Lucy Gray looks at him, her face stricken with grief. She doesn't say anything but lets the tears fall down her cheeks. She pulls Coriolanus into a hug.

“The Peacekeepers will look for me, I'll stay in the cabin for the night,” Lucy Gray said. There was a cabin, near the lake, over the fence of the district. Nobody ventures that far except the Covey. Coriolanus and Sejanus only found out about its existence due to their connection with Lucy Gray.

He remembered all the moments he spent there with the Covey. It would be a good place for Lucy Gray to perish. Around all the greens and the music of mockingjays inside the forest.

“I'll meet you there tomorrow in the morning with supplies,” he said, holding Lucy Gray's hand, even giving it a friendly squeeze. He was afraid he was overselling the act but Lucy Gray was too sad to notice how over-the-top friendly Coriolanus was acting.

Lucy Gray nods and turns to leave. Her legs were shaky as she walked. Sejanus and Lucy Gray had to keep their relationship a secret for obvious reasons. But everyone would point at her for the mayor’s daughter's death. It didn't end with Sejanus Plinths' death. It won't because the mayor is trying to root out every single rebel, and surely he won't keep alive the girl his daughter hated so much.

Coriolanus finds his way back to the base. It's night by the time he returns. He climbs up the stairs and walks down the hallway to reach your room. He knocks and waits for you to open the door.

You do.

Coryo tried his best not to get distracted at the sight of you. You were looking so pretty. You look beautiful to him all the time. “Hi,” he gasps out.

“Hey,” you smile, giving him space to walk inside the room. Peacekeepers knew by now that something was going on between him and you. They knew better than to gossip about it though. It was clear you had the power to do anything you wanted. And everyone knew not to mess with someone from the Capitol.

That is why Coriolanus knew even if he spent the night here. He won't get in trouble. He pulls off his Peacekeeper uniform and wears one of the big, oversized sweatshirts you bought from the Capitol. The softness of the fabric makes him shy. He felt like a boy again. It was a feeling he never thought he would enjoy. For a moment, he could pretend he was in the Capitol, in his home, before the games had ever happened.

“You look comfy,” you tease him, as you find your home in his arms.

“I am,” he murmurs, his lips kissing your temple.

“I talked to Lucy Gray,” he informs you, “You were right. She's going to the north and she'll stay in the cabin for the night.”

“Hmm,” you hum, as you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, your lips pressing soft kisses to his pulse. Your arms around him, and his arms around you. Both of you caging each other. The heat of both of your bodies mingled into a pleasant warmth.

“Well, then my revolver will come in handy soon,” you whispered, a bit tired.

“They let you bring one here?” He questions.

“Special privileges,” you replied.

Any other day Coriolanus would feel jealousy pulling at his heart, a frown formatting on his face. Today, he just… didn't care. He didn't care that you had more benefits than him. He didn't care that you lived better than him.

You're his.

Could anything be better than that?

He doesn't think so.

“Typical,” he said, his head now on your shoulders.

“Uh huh,” you add, “Stay the night.”

“Of course, dove.”

You lay down on the bed beside him. His arm was thrown over your waist, and your legs tangled with him. You gently let your nails scratch at his buzz cut. He sighs, relaxing from your touch.

“Tomorrow is a big day,” you remind him, “We'll have to finish everything by noon and catch the train in the evening.”

“We?” He questioned.

“I talked with Dr. Gaul,” you revealed, a bit hesitant, “She wants you back.” You frown, “Don't let the news deter from our plan Coriolanus, it's important we leave no strings behind.”

Coriolanus blinks, trying to take in your words. A smile splits on his face. He couldn't believe this, he had thought he would have to wait for months before Dr. Gaul let him get back to the Capitol. Snow thought she would be petty like that. But you somehow managed to convince her otherwise. It was shocking, to say the least.

“I will go to the Capitol with you tomorrow,” he said. He repeats, “I'll go to the Capitol with you tomorrow!”

You giggled, “Yes, Coriolanus. You thought I would leave you behind? It took some… it doesn't matter. We'll have our happily ever after.”

“I can't believe it,” he whispers, his eyes shining with joy, even with the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes sparkling.

“You should,” you whispered, “now sleep, darling. It's a big day tomorrow.”

Coriolanus couldn't believe it. He pressed your lips against yours. “Thank you,” he lets out, “I love you.” Coriolanus takes your hand, and presses a kiss to your wrist, on the number tattooed on your skin. “I love you, my dove,” he whispered.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” you whispered.

Coriolanus pulls impossible closer as if he were trying to mold both of your souls together. “I am glad you're mine,” he said. He kissed your forehead. “You're mine forever,” he whispered, a hint of darkness, and obsession creeping into his voice.

It made you bite your lower lip as you heard the possessiveness in his voice. “I know,” you replied, “You're mine too.” You add, your voice muffled as your face was pressed into his chest, “Nobody can take you away from me ever again.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the morning, both of you quietly wake up in each other's arms. Coriolanus yawns, “Good morning, dove.” You hum something Coriolanus couldn't hear in reply.

It was so early that the sun had just begun to rise. However, he could hear the sound of rain. Coriolanus quickly gets out of the bed. He softly pats you on the cheek, smiling as you continue to fight the battle against sleep.

“See you soon,” he whispered, taking the revolver you had in your drawer and walking out of the room. He finds himself on his bunk bed, everyone else is sleeping, and he quickly begins to pack things inside of his bags. The supplies he told Lucy Gray about. When he is done, he briefly stops by in front of Sejanus Plinth's bed.

There was a box in which Sejanus Plinth kept his belongings. Coriolanus opens it to find letters, medicine, and two photos. One of Lucy Gray. Another was of Coriolanus and Sejanus, a photo taken from the time during the broadcast of the 10th Games. It seemed like yesterday.

Coriolanus Snow had no explanation for the tears that fell down his cheeks. Sejanus Plinth was dead. Snow had given Dr. Gaul the gun, and you made her pull the trigger. It's in her hands the blood of Sejanus truly was. Not on him nor you.

Coriolanus wipes his tears away. “She's coming soon to you, buddy,” he whispered to the picture. He wondered if Sejanus would thank him for his next actions, or curse him. Coriolanus doesn't think about it much, he leaves.

Soon enough, he reaches the cabin. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out. Lucy Gray opens the door, giving Coriolanus a polite smile. Lucy Gray lets him inside. He enters, looking around the old cabin he has been inside of many times. Coriolanus sets his bag down. Wondering about what he should do next. Should he wait for you? Should he take out the gun and shoot now?

Before he can decide his next actions, Lucy Gray pulls out a knife. “I think I’ll go dig up some Katniss since we got the fire going anyway. There’s a good patch by the lake.”

“I thought they weren’t ready,” he said. Katniss was another word for swamp potato. It grew around here, but just a few days ago Lucy Gray told him it wasn't ready for harvest.

“Two weeks can make a lot of difference,” she said.

“It’s raining,” he objected. “You’ll get soaked.”

She replied, “Well, I’m not made of sugar.”

Coriolanus lets her walk outside. It was a form of mercy, trying to give her some time to run. He knew that Lucy Gray's survival instincts were good. That was the only reason she had survived the arena.

But she won't be able to survive him.

Coriolanus follows her trail after a moment passes. She wasn't down the lake as she promised, but her footsteps were towards the forest. Coriolanus smirks as he takes the revolver out, and gets the gun ready for a shot.

“Let the hunger games begin,” he whispered, “may the odds be in your favor.”

Coriolanus continues to follow her trail quietly and quickly, using the training of being a Peacekeeper. His gun pointed in front of him, ready to be shot the moment he saw her. “Lucy Gray,” he calls out, his voice warm as if he wasn't going to murder, “Where are you? We need to leave soon.”

“Lucy Gray!” He turns when he hears footsteps and shoots, hoping not to miss. The shot met with flesh, the sound booming in his ear, much more overwhelming than the tap tap of the rain. He walks towards the body that is now in front of him. Red blood mixed with the rainwater on the ground, staining the greenery around them.

He shot her right in the chest.

Lucy Gray was dead.

She joined Sejanus Plinth in the afterlife and will spend the rest of eternity cursing Coriolanus. Snow couldn't find himself to clear. He felt relieved. No one can drag him down now. The only way for him was to climb the ladder and reach the peak. Coriolanus uses his feet to turn her dead body around. There was blood dripping down her lips, her dress red and her were nearly closed. She was nothing more than a dead body. Gone was the songbird.

Now it was time to get rid of the body.

He was grateful that the rain would cover the tracks. But he had to be careful as it was easy to slip and get hurt himself. He drags the body without any rush, he thinks of you, waiting in the cabin for him to come back. Both of you will go back to the Capitol. Snow will be together with his family, in the future you'll also become his family. Everything was going to be fine.

This was nothing but a simple stepping stone.

He could feel his arms getting tired but he continued to drag the body by her arms until he reached the edge of the lake. There was a boat. He wondered briefly if he should just take her on the boat and cross to the middle of the river to let her drown. But decided that it would be too much trouble, and pushed her to the river. A big splash occurs. And he could see Lucy Gray slowly but surely falling to her end.

Lucy Gray was gone from this world forever.

He throws the revolver into the river as well. The body would decompose in a matter of days. Everyone would think of her as a traitor. Even if the Covey comes to visit the lake again, they'll never know it's their beloved Lucy Gray's grave.

Coriolanus Snow reaches the cabin and opens the door to see you holding a Peacekeeper’s gun. The same gun he had used to shoot Mayfair and Billy Taupe. “Guess Spruce hid it here,” you grin at him. You were slightly wet from the rain, unlike him, he was soaking wet.

“Yeah,” he lets out, his shoulders relaxed, his face mirroring your smile. “We'll have to throw those in the lake too.”

You chuckled, “Let's not leave any stones unturned.”

Coryo couldn't take it anymore, the adrenaline was too much. “We won't,” he said, as he walked towards you until your back was on the wall. He takes the gun from you and throws it to the side. Neither of you flinch from the loud noise, the two of you too focused on each other instead. He closes the space between the both of you.

“But for now, I want you,” he adds, “No- that's not right. I need you, here.”

He doesn't wait for a reply. He crashed his lips to yours. You find yourself kissing him back. Your tongue exploring his mouth, he sucks at your bottom lip. Not caring that his teeth are digging into your flesh too harshly, that he's responsible for the coppery taste that occurs while you continue kissing.

“You sure?” You gasp as you break the kiss. A string of saliva connecting you both. Coriolanus doesn't reply, he finds his solace from the taste of your skin. He pressed his lips to your neck, sloppily kissing down your pulse. You softly moan, tilting your head to give him more access.

Coryo takes full advantage of that. He was going to claim you any way that he could. Carving his initials on your skin wasn't the only way after all. Cumming inside of you, giving your pretty red hickeys, the print of his fingers on your hips, even the soulmate tattoo you have on your wrist. All these are ways for him to fucking own you.

And own you he shall.

He bites onto your neck as if trying to tear out your flesh. He wants to consume you, soul and all. You cry out, your back arching. Your hips meet his, and he presses his hard bulge against you. He finds himself in between your legs. Your clothed cunt against his denim-cladded cock. You begin to grind against him, as he continues the assault on your neck.

The teeth mark he placed on your skin will remain for days. It will bruise on doubt. Coriolanus didn't have it in him right now to be gentle. He was too fucking drunk on you for that. All of his desires were rushing through, breaking his walls and overwhelming his mind.

“Fuck,” he curses as he realized his lips are red from your blood. His bites had broken your skin and now tiny droplets of blood were forming. He licks them all up and murmurs an apology. He pressed his lips on yours, painting your lips the same shade as his and making you taste yourself. His hips had slowed down the grinding against you.

He steps back and begins to undress. He lets his t-shirt and jeans fall to the ground. He takes his thick cock out of the confines of his boxers. He grips the base of length, trying to control himself as he watches you follow suit.

He pulls you against him again and nods his head towards the floor. You understand his intention and lay down. He bites his lip, sudden nerves overcoming him. He doesn't know what to do despite the raunchy stories he has heard from his fellow Peacekeepers.

Is he supposed to hold your hand or your hips? Should he just push in? Isn't he supposed to prep you first? Or are you wet enough? Fuck… it wasn't the first time he was intimate with you. He hadn't gone all the way but he was familiar with your body. But most of the time he was overwhelmed with his desire to think about what to do or not to do. This time his mind was clear, he was focusing solely on you and he wanted you to experience nothing less of ecstasy from his touch.

“Coryo?” you question, bringing him out of his internal monologue. “Is there anything wrong?”

“I-” he doesn't want to admit, but he knows he has to, “I don't know what to do right now.”

“You can do whatever you like. I'll tell you if you mess up, sweetheart.”

“I know,” he sighs, his eyes on your tits, he licks his lips, “but I am-” He swallows, trying to explain, “I want you. I don't know how to take you. Everything feels like too much or too little.”

You sit up. You gently cradle his cheeks in your hands. “We have all the time in the world, Coryo. What do you wanna do first?”

“I-” He doesn't form a full sentence, instead he kisses you. His hand is on your nape and another trailing down your body as he softly nips at your lips. He dips down his hand in between your legs, he pressed his palm onto your cunt. He lets himself be coated by your arousal. His breath hitches as he feels your heat in such an obscene way.

“Oh,” he whispered as he pressed a single finger inside of your walls. “I missed this.” He remembers the night when he first felt your tight, slick walls like this. He was rough that night, a bit mean too. Coriolanus wasn't going to be the same today. He plans to worship you.

He begins to slowly thrust his index finger inside of you. His head on your shoulder, his lips kissing any inch of skin he could find as he continues to stretch you out with a single finger. Then he adds another one, he was met with resistance, but he pressed his thumb to your clit. That makes you gasp, your cunt squeezing around his fingers when his thumb begins to draw small circles on the bud.

“Relax, dove,” he whispered, giving you goosebumps.

He doesn't begin to move his fingers even when you whine impatiently, your walls twitching around his digits. Once he deems that you're relaxed enough, he begins to slowly push inside of your pussy, as deep as his fingers could reach. He was trying his best to get you ready for his cock.

His fingertips begin to press into your walls, trying to find that one spot that would get you drunk on him as much as he's drunk on you. He knows he found the spot when he feels your walls pulse around his digits like it had a heartbeat of its own. You gasp his name and he smirks. He whispers to your ear, “That's it, huh?”

“Yes!” You moan, “Faster!”

Coriolanus Snow obeys because he can never say no to you. He begins to fuck his fingers inside of you faster, slipping his ring finger inside of you as well. He thrusts his digits fast and hard, he groans as he sees your pussy stretched to accommodate his long digits. He keeps his fingers slightly curved so that with each thrust he would press into your g-spot.

“Fuck, fuck, you're so pretty.”

Coriolanus couldn't be sure if he was saying that to you, or your cunt. He continues to keep up his speed, the sloppy, wet sounds of your pussy louder than of the rain. Coriolanus could hear you moan his name as he feels your pussy get impossibly tighter around his digits before your walls begin to spasm all over, locking his digits in. He doesn't pull them out, instead, he continues to press hard onto your spongy pleasure spot until you whine his name.

Your juices were now all over his fingers. He didn't waste a second to taste them. He looks into your eyes as he licks his digits clean. He runs his tongue between the spaces of his fingers, making sure he doesn't miss a single spot. When he's done, you pull him in for a kiss. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself, you find yourself in his lap, his back pressed to the wooden floor.

Your hand pulls at the dog tag he wore. You use the necklace like a leash, pulling at it like he's a dog you're commanding. You wrap your fingers around it, your thumb caressing the metal pendant. “You're mine,” you whispered in wonder, “You taste of me.”

Coriolanus nods, agreeing to whatever you say. He just wants you! That's it. Ruin him. Ruin him for everybody else forever! You have that power. Take it and use it, that's all he wants.

You raise your hips, taking his cock in your hand. You pressed his tip against your clit, you gasped as you slowly began to rub his cockhead against your pearl. His pre-cum coating your bud, and soon all over your cunt. You were teasing him every time you let his cockhead get near your slit, but you don't let him slip inside of you. He lets out a whimper when you do it again.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyan

“Please-” he whines, “stop teasing.”

“Make me,” you smirk.

Coriolanus finds out how easily he could make you. He switches the position within a split second, his hands on your hips as he uses his weight to press you down. You don't fight back. He growls out your name, his eyes flashing in annoyance as if in retaliation he kisses you roughly.

“Don't-” kiss, “Play-,” kiss, “With-” kiss, “Me.”

“Not when I have waited for you for so long,” he adds.

His fingers pressed into your flesh. He gets a hold of his length and pressed it to your slit. “Can I?” He asked you, he wanted your permission. He needs your ‘yes’ before he takes you as his forever.

“Of course, Coryo.”

He begins to push in his tip, his length slipping inside of you with ease. He gasps as he feels your warmth all over his cock. The feeling is so overwhelming that he has to stop midway to not cum right away. He squeezed the base of his dick before he continued to push inside of you again, slowly inch by inch. He breathes through his mouth, his eyes closed as pleasure fills every corner of his mind. You felt perfect.

“You feel so good,” he whines.

His cock twitched inside of your walls. He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to use pain to distract himself from the mind-blowing pleasure. Meanwhile, you clenched your pussy as if to see how much his cock had stretched you. The two of you gasped from the feeling.

“Fuc- ah!”

Coryo pulls out a few of his inches and begins to thrust in. You moan out, feeling pleasure in your veins and seeing stars in your eyes. Snow's hands were on either side of your head as he balanced himself above you. His dog tag dangles in front of your lips as his hips continue to move. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing his cock even deeper into you. Coriolanus lets out a groan from the feeling.

“I won't be able to last long,” he admits, his cheeks getting red. Despite the overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't help but feel ashamed about how heavy his balls were with cum ready to be released inside of you.

“You will,” you whispered your hand on his nape. You squeeze it. “You will last as long as I fucking want, Coriolanus,” you said to him, pulling him down to meet your lips. The kiss was messy and open-mouthed. Another hand of yours was on his shoulder, your nails digging into his skin. You were marking him in your own way. With long, red scratches.

Coriolanus slows down, ready to please you however you want. You moan into his mouth and he eats the sound up. Coriolanus thrusts his hips faster, unable to truly control himself. How could he when you made him feel this good? He couldn't decide on the pace. He wanted this to last hours. He wanted to cum.

He kept switching between fast and slow until he found himself with his back on the floor. You are on top of him, your hands holding his hands above his head. “Be a good boy,” you said to him before you began to ride him.

You grind yourself against his cock, letting his cockhead kiss your spongy spot with each movement of your hips. Your arousal was coating your thighs and now it was on his skin as well. You were so wet and messy. Coriolanus loved it. You use one hand of yours to play with his balls. Coriolanus could feel his eyes rolling back.

“Don't- I-” he cries out in bliss when you squeeze his balls gently. You hush him with a kiss, your hips moving according to your will. You had set the perfect pace. It wasn't too much for either of you, letting the pleasure be prolonged.

He knew you were close with the way your push was contracting on his shaft. He knew you were close because your eyes were closed and fuck, you were cock drunk on him. He knew you were close because you had slowed down, and now rocking your hips back and forth. The hold you had on his hands had loosened. He breaks free without a fuss and places his hands on your hips.

He begins to push his hips up, fucking his cock into you. You whine, your eyes opening as you see him take control again. His teeth pulled at his lower lip, silencing his groans as he continues to fuck into you in this position. You use one of your hands to rub at your sensitive clit, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

You tense, your pussy tightening around Coriolanus’ cock. Your only warning was the moan of his name as your cunt begins to spasm around his dick. Coriolanus lets out a deep groan, his lower lip bloody from how hard his teeth dug into the flesh. He fucks you throughout your orgasm.

“Get off,” he whines, “I can't cum inside of you.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?”

Coriolanus doesn't realize he's coming inside of you until he feels like jelly. He had stuffed you full of his thick, hot cum without a warning. But you had already stated you didn't give a fuck. So he supposed it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he had you now.

Forever.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Hours later, you and Coriolanus find yourself at the train station. Ready to go back to the Capitol, once and for all. Commander Hoff had personally come to escort you both.

Coriolanus was about to enter the train. You were already inside. But Commander Hoff stops him, “Son.” Coriolanus stills, waiting to hear what Hoff has to say.

“Don't let her go. You don't know what she had to keep you safe.”

Coriolanus looks Commander Hoff in the eyes and nods. “I won't,” he promises, knowing damn well he will keep it with his life. Coriolanus gets inside the train after saying goodbye. He stops before he opens the door to the cabin you were sitting in. He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to look at his wrist. He grins as he sees the scar reverted to the number most important to you.

It was today's date.

Coriolanus slides the door and walks to his future.

Coriolanus walks to you.

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[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 FIRST LIGHT

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai severely overestimated his self-control. it takes approximately six days and thirteen hours for him to break, seeking you out again. when he does, he knows that nothing will ever be the same. {wordcount: 14.5k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART TWOOOOOOO, we have one of my fav parallels in this one, i know you guys will catch it immediately but u still must tell me when you do. also, there's another hint about badlands!reader & dazai's relationship in this chapter that happened after the events of the last installment so u must let me know if you catch that too. reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

He understands now the temptation that Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden with the forbidden fruit dangling right in front of her face. Traditional interpretation of the Bible places the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden on day six of creation; Dazai’s restraint has thus far rivaled that of the two Biblical figures. He’s on day six now, in fact; it’s been exactly six days, twelve hours and forty six minutes since he met you in the hallway of the club and each passing second has been more agonizing than the last. 

He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last. 

His office is dark and suffocating, the atmosphere so cold and unwelcoming that it has him craving the return to your warm and homely apartment so intensely that he thinks it might be making him sick. He turned off the light earlier when he felt a migraine coming on, hoping that the darkness would let his eyes and mind rest enough to catch it before it fully came on, but he’s realized that it probably wasn’t the light causing his headache, rather it was you.

He sighs as he tilts his head back, willing the migraine to go away even though he knows it's to no avail. But he can’t even rest his eyes in peace, because every time they slide shut, the image of you burns the inside of his eyelids—your soft gaze and bright smile, the way you held your hand out to take his and the way your lashes fluttered as you leaned into his touch. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty seven minutes. 

He thinks he would prefer the nightmares of his other lives to this. At least with those, they fuel his drive to press forward with his master plan, the reminder of your fates in the other worlds would scorch away any desire to seek you out in fear of bringing it upon you again in this one.

Now, every night for the past six days he’s been plagued with dreams of you—pleasant dreams. Dreams that when he wakes from them, he finds his cheeks wet and his chest heavy with such an intense longing for you that it makes him physically ill. He dreams of having you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as you do your best to study even with him making every effort to distract you. He dreams of watching sunrises with you, seeing the way the early morning colors wash over your face, your skin glowing and eyes glittering in such a vivid way that Dazai swears he can even picture it now. He dreams of a ring, and he dreams of his palms sweating as he walks with you down to the beach you met on to watch another sunrise, and he dreams of getting down on one knee in front of you just as the sun breaks over the horizon. He never dreams of a wedding, so Dazai theorizes that you never made it long enough for one to take place. 

And the realization of that alone should be enough to make the yearning for you evaporate but it’s not, because dangerous thoughts have been circulating through his head since the night he left you. Thoughts of how maybe this could be different. Dazai is the boss of the Port Mafia in this life, he has enough resources to protect you—more money than god and enough armed forces behind him to rival the nation’s government. He has the power to keep you safe in this life, more than he ever had in any other. 

If there was any life that he could be with you and ensure your safety, it’s this one. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty nine minutes.

Does he really want to give this up?

Dazai rests his arms on his desk, lowering his head down, eyes sliding shut again. He can see you again, the image of you from last week, laughing wildly at something he’d said—he can’t even remember what it was, he was so nervous that he can’t even recall half of the night, but he doesn’t really care at all what he said anyway, too enraptured by the way you react to it. 

He wonders if you’re there now. At the bar. Because what he does remember, of course, is your teasing grin as you tell him that of course, you’re scheming out a second meeting between the two of you because naturally you’ve decided that you already like him. And he remembers the hope thinly veiled behind your eyes, as you look over him, knowing that if the two of you are to meet again, it would be reliant on whether or not he decides to come back to the club, because you’ve already made your intentions clear.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty minutes.

Dazai’s throat feels swollen, his nails dig into his palms. He imagines you waiting there, he imagines the disappointment on your face as you slowly realize he’s not going to show up. And you’re so damn beautiful, radiant even beneath the shitty lighting of the club—he’s sure you saved a seat at the bar for him, and you’ve probably had dozens of interested men who’ve offered to buy you drinks, asking if you’d come to the club alone. And you’ll probably turn them down at first, telling them that you’re waiting on someone, but he wonders how long it’ll take for you to finally take one of them up on their offer after you’ve realized that Dazai isn’t going to show. He wonders if you’ll follow them out to the dance floor, he wonders if you’ll give them the same teasing smile you gave him. He can picture slim fingers caressing your hips, pulling you closer. He can picture your lashes fluttering as they lean their head down to ghost their lips against your neck, swaying to the music. He doesn’t want to picture anything else, but his mind, as always, betrays him. 

He wonders if you’ll take them back to your apartment—would you get right into it or would you sit and talk with them for a while? His head spins as his thoughts take an increasingly more dangerous spiral. It’s a bitter cold night out, maybe you’ll take the opportunity to make them the hot chocolate you’ve made him hundreds of times, thousands of times before—no, he corrects as the lines start to blur in a treacherous way, you’ve never made it for him in this life. Maybe it’s so cold out that you’d forgo small talk altogether, instead seeking out the warmth of someone else’s body—you’d take them by the hand, lead them into your bedroom and lay them back on your bed. 

Would you be gentle with them? Like you were with him? No, he reminds himself again, you’ve never been with him like that, not in this life. The pages of the Book pile around him, memories flooding him with an intensity that he’s never experienced before; he can hardly even remember what his reality is, all of the others blending and shifting together in his mind, making it impossible to decipher the lines between them. 

You’re dragging him to the beach to watch your first sunrise with him and you’re telling him that you want to see as many as possible with him—he wants to tell you that he thinks he might love you but he doesn’t know how to say it  You’re laying him back against a bed, asking him if he trusts you—of course, he does, how is that even a question? You’re leaning your head against his arm, standing before a familiar grave and accepting him for all that he is even after he strips bare down to all of the worst parts of himself for you—you shouldn’t, he wants to say desperately, but instead he’s telling you that he loves you, even though he knows it might kill you. And then-

And then he’s ripped violently from his fall into the pages of the Book as his phone vibrates and it’s not him anymore, it’s someone else, someone unworthy and undeserving, a stranger that you’d turned to because Dazai wasn’t there.

Dazai nearly heaves. He never should have indulged in you that night. He should have known he was never going to go back to normal after it. The difference between the memories and actually having seen you and heard you and touched you and smelt you was so much more severe than he ever could have expected. Now, the memories aren’t enough; he wants a life with you, he wants it to be his reality. He thinks that it’s not fair that he’s the only one who can’t be with you. He wants to make new memories with you so he no longer has to struggle with the blurred lines, so he doesn’t have to yearn for a life that he’ll never be able to experience, having to watch every single other Dazai get to have what he can’t.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty eight minutes.

He can do it, his thoughts are a bit manic as he tries to ground himself after the spiral. He has the knowledge. He has the power. He has the resources. If there’s any life that he’s able to be with you and keep you safe, it’s this one. He doesn’t have to hide from you, he doesn’t have to deny himself of you to protect you—he has the knowledge, he has the power, he has the resources. He can keep you safe. Instead of being the only Dazai who never gets to be with you, he’ll be the only Dazai who can actually spend his life with you—a long one, a happy one. He’ll have what none of them did. He can do it.  

Before he can stop himself, he speaks.

“Gin-chan,” Dazai calls softly, knowing that he doesn’t have to speak any louder for the girl to hear him. As soon as he hears the door to the backroom open, he continues with, “Have Albatross be ready downstairs with one of the cars.” 

“Of course. Where to, sir?” 

To Gin’s credit, she doesn’t sound at all caught off guard by Dazai’s sudden request, as if it’s normal for Dazai to randomly decide to leave the Port Mafia base even though he can count on one hand the number of times he’s left the base since he ascended to the position of boss four years earlier. 

“... The club we own in Naka,” Dazai says after a few moments, fingers thrumming against the mahogany of his desk for a moment before he adds, “... Don’t tell Chuuya.”

“... Yes, sir. I’ll have Albatross get everything ready immediately.”

At exactly six days and thirteen hours, Dazai’s self-control shatters. 

You sigh. 

The seat next to you remains damningly empty despite the many attempts of handsome strangers trying to join you at the bar. You’re sure you must’ve turned down half a dozen by now in hopes that the stranger from last Friday will end up showing up but those hopes are very quickly disappearing. You want to convince yourself that maybe you’ve just missed him—it’s a rather large club, after all—but it’s not half as packed as it was last week; you think that if he were here, you would’ve spotted him by now. Or he would have spotted you.  

Dazai Osamu, you remember his name, eyes sliding shut briefly as you take a sip of your water, wondering if you should just switch to alcohol and drink your sorrows away, seek out one of the men who��d approached you already so you don’t end up spending the night alone. The thought leaves you unsatisfied, a pout rising to your lips around the rim of your glass as you finish off yet another glass of water. 

You swear that you’re not usually this pathetic—especially not over a man—but there’s just something about this Dazai Osamu that has you acting up. Like honestly, who even are you? Going to the club alone on a Friday night with nothing but some faint hopes that the man you’d met here last week would show up too? It’s so embarrassing, you think you might die—but somehow you’re not embarrassed enough to leave because you’re still hoping that he shows up. 

God, you think again, who are you anymore? You barely even know this man. You know his name and you know he’s handsome. And that’s just about it, but here you are, sitting bummed at a club because he isn’t showing even though he has absolutely no reason to. 

The bartender raises his eyebrows with a small smile and you pass the glass over to him, letting him refill it. He’s the same one from last week and he recognized you as soon as you took a seat at the bar, making sure to get you what you need and keep you company whenever there’s a lull in patrons flagging him down. It’s a stark contrast from the treatment that you got early in the night last week, where it had taken you twenty minutes to get a single drink and even then you could barely hold his attention long enough to tell him what you wanted. You can’t help but notice that he seems hyperaware of the open seat next to you.

As the bartender passes you another glass of water, you flash him a wavering smile, unconsciously sparing another awkward glance to the empty seat next to you. While the club isn’t quite as packed as it was last week, it’s not exactly empty and you’re starting to feel bad hoarding the seat when plenty of others probably want to sit down too. 

“I’m sure he’ll show,” the bartender tells you before he’s waved down by another patron. You wonder if he’s guessed who you’re waiting for or if it’s just meant to be some general comfort. “Probably just running late, he’s a busy man.”

Oh, you think, eyes widening, but before you can question him as to what he means, he’s rushing to go refill the drink of a blonde man on the opposite end of the bar.

A busy man. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu? 

Even in your drunken state, you knew from the moment you met him that there was something off about him. The way he held himself, the way he looked at you, the way people treated him—it all screamed danger. Once you’d sobered up, you remembered all of the things you didn’t notice while you’d been intoxicated. You remembered the way people would rush to get out of his way or show him complete deference, eyes a bit wide and faces a bit pale. You remembered the way Takeda looked sick and scared when Dazai told him to go, and Takeda is usually a bull-headed and fearless man, it takes a lot to make him back down. You remembered his driver—he had a driver!—and how when he stepped out of the car to open the door for the two of you, you swore you caught a glint of gunmetal holstered at his waist before Dazai gave him a cold look and he quickly covered it up.

And you’re not usually a girl who seeks danger out, for as much as you went on your spiel about living life on the edge the last time you spoke to him, you’re usually a pretty careful person. If you were smart, you would have woken up the next morning and pretended that you were too drunk to remember the night before, forget all about Dazai Osamu and his dangerous smile and intense gaze. 

But you aren’t smart, evidently, because instead of forgetting about him, you spent half of the next day mourning because he didn’t even leave you his number and the other half of it scheming out the best way of running into him again. 

You sigh, resting your cheek on your hand as you prop your elbow up on the bartop, idly tracing the rim of your glass.

What is it about you, Dazai?

One meeting and you’re captivated. He must be some kind of witch, or siren, there’s no other explanation for how you’re so utterly enchanted by him. He spoke your name with the familiarity of a lover, watching you with gentle eyes even though they become cold and empty whenever they avert to someone other than you. And you—you felt as if you’ve known him your entire life. You’ve never had such an instant connection with someone like that before, you’re convinced that it’s fate at work, even if he’s adamant against the thought.

You want to see him again. You wonder if it was maybe just your drunken brain misconstruing things, although somehow you doubt it. You need to talk to him again to know if the connection is real, and if it’s real-

“Is this seat taken?”

At first, the voice doesn’t register as familiar, so you let out a soft puff of air, trying to figure out if you should deny another person. But as you turn to face the newcomer, your eyes widen a bit as you catch sight of the long, burgundy scarf hanging in your peripheral, stark against a long, sleek black suit jacket.

Your lips part in shock, head snapping to the side so you can fully look at the person to your left. Dazai Osamu stands there, hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his jacket, head tilted to the side, a small smile curving at his lips and a soft look in his eye as he looks down at you, comforting and warm compared to the cold emptiness you vaguely noticed from him at certain points last night.

You try to say no, it’s not taken, but no words leave your lips, so instead, you shake your head, eyes following Dazai as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. The bartender rushes over, all but abandoning the couple he’d been helping on the opposite side of the bar, pouring Dazai an expensive glass of whiskey and giving him a nod before going back to who he’d been helping before. Your eyes follow the man curiously before you turn your gaze back to Dazai, not speaking for a moment as you observe the way he stares down at the glass of whiskey for a second, the warmth in his eye slowly dissipating.

You don’t like it, and not because it makes you uncomfortable or anything, but rather because you just don’t like how alone he seems. So, you lean forward, smiling, and say, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Dazai turns his gaze back to you and the warmth returns, pools of honey rather than the endless void. You melt beneath it. 

“I vaguely remember a beautiful woman mentioning scheming out a second meeting,” Dazai drawls, dark eye lidded as he looks down at you, a half-smile decorating his face. “It would be quite remiss of me to be the cause of her failure.”

Your cheeks feel a bit a hot as you grin down at your drink. “While we’re on the topic of things I may or may not have said last week, I have to be honest with you. I totally lied about something,” you say with a laugh, leaning on the bar. He raises his eyebrow curiously. You give him a sheepish smile as you continue with, “I have absolutely no idea how to charm someone, drunk or sober, I was entirely speaking out of my ass, so keep your expectations low.”

The smile that curls to the corner of his lips is soft enough to make your heart skip a beat. “I think you just being yourself is plenty charming,” he murmurs.

You let out a noise caught between a groan and a whimper, face going hot. “Oh my god, you’re the charmer,” you accuse loudly, burying your face in your arms. “I’ll never survive. Handsome and charming, a deadly combination.”

As you peer your eyes open to look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his smile briefly falters at your words. You promptly decide to change the subject with: “Thank you for making sure I got home safely last week.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says, one pale, lithe finger tracing along the rim of his glass. Your eyes linger for a moment on the digit, mind wandering, before you force your gaze up; you can see the bandages peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his dark coat as your eyes drag his arm back to his face. There’s a knowing expression on his face, the smile on his lips a bit more sensual. Your breath catches as you avert your gaze, feeling quite like you’ve just been caught doing something bad.

“Sure I do,” you try to make the words sound casual and easy but despite your most sincere attempts, your voice is strained. “Not many people would go out of their way like that for someone they just met.”

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. You’re not sure what he finds amusing, but you decide you don’t care because you very much prefer it to the distant look that had been painted in them before.

“An unfortunate world we live in, then,” he says softly, but there’s a lilt to his tone that makes you feel like he knows something that you don’t. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it though as he asks, “Are you going to have anything to drink?”

You startle slightly at the question, glancing down at the glass of water you’re drinking before you tell him with a laugh, “I don’t know if I want to force you to deal with me drunk twice. Didn’t I promise I’d stay sober this time?”

“If I remember correctly, you only said ‘not quite as drunk,’” he says, lips tilting up a bit and god, the way he’s looking at you has you flustered, gaze lidded and intense, as if you’re the only one in the room and not in a club with hundreds of other people. “Let me order you something, I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, that’s bold,” you warn, tossing him a teasing smile. “I'm very particular about my drinks, I’ll have you know. I’m almost curious what you have in mind that makes you so confident.”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Dazai says, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your decision.

You give a heavy sigh, pretending like it’s a difficult decision even though you know it’s not. “Fine, but only if you promise to cut me off after two. Whenever I hit three, I hit the floor.”

You extend your pinky toward him, waiting for him to take it, and when he does, you swear a jolt of electricity shoots up your arm. As he wraps his finger around yours, your heart skips a beat, your eyes meet his and you think you might get lost in the dark pools, you don’t think you would mind if you do and that scares you. You’ve never had someone make your heart flutter and mind haze like this, especially not so quickly.

“Promise,” he breathes out, barely audible above the thundering music and crowds. 

You dip your head down to press your lips against your thumb to seal the deal, and you think you fall even more when you don’t have to tell him to do the same, following your lead and kissing his own thumb to seal it. And you briefly wonder if this man might be your soulmate because he didn’t give you a single odd look and didn't hesitate for a second whereas when you’ve made pinky promises with some of your other friends and past partners, their expression always twists a bit in confusion or oddity at the second part.

Rather than letting go of your hand, he swaps to his other hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and resting it on your lap before he flags the bartender down—quite easily, might you add—and leans over the bartop to say something quietly to him. The man nods and rushes off, and you give Dazai a scandalized look as he turns his attention back to you, hyper aware of the warmth of his fingers against yours.

“You won’t even tell me what it is?” you gasp in mock offense. 

Dazai rests his other elbow on the bar top, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you through his lashes. You couldn’t drag your gaze away if you wanted to, tunneled onto him.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

“Quite confident for someone that hardly knows me, aren’t you, Dazai?” you giggle, raising your hand to cover your lips, and god, he looks so amused again, and so handsome. You might die. “That’ll be for me to judge.”

“Very confident,” he agrees, and you think he winks but you can’t tell because one of his eyes is covered by bandages. 

“So,” you begin, waiting for the drink. “You’re from around here then?”

You hope he is, at least, because you’d like to keep seeing him. Something about him is just so intoxicating, like a drug you just can’t get enough of. You think he must be, from the way he seems so familiar with the bartender and other patrons, but you could always be wrong.

You hope you’re not wrong.

“Mhm,” Dazai agrees, humming around the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. You hope the excitement you feel doesn’t flash across your face. “Yokohama born and raised… you?” 

Distantly, a part of you feels like the question is just an afterthought, as though he already knows the answer and you wonder if you’re that obvious, but you pay no mind to that, instead nodding. “Same,” you say, and then, “... I wonder if we have crossed paths before then. You’re so familiar, I can’t imagine that we’ve never met before… Maybe uni? Did you happen to go to UTokyo? I graduated there last year.”

Dazai seems to hesitate at the question, as if considering his answer. You wonder why, but he leaves you little time to figure it out because he finally replies, “No… I was in Tokyo for business for a while a couple years ago though.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?” you ask, leaning forward as you speak. “Where did you work? I know the area pretty well.”

He hesitates again, this time more blatantly, and you can see the confliction that briefly flashes across his face. How curious. 

“It wasn’t a particular storefront, or anything, just my line of work had me in the area for a while.”

You’re about to press into what his line of work is, desperate to know more about the man sitting in front of you, but you’re interrupted by the bartender returning with a martini so stunning that if it tastes half as good as it looks, you might fall in love. 

But you’re not going to make it that easy. 

“Go on,” Dazai says, leaning a bit back in his seat as he watches. He looks at you as if he already knows that you’re going to like it and you’re adamant on destroying his assumptions, you will hate this drink if it’s the last thing you do. “Tell me what you think.”

You lift the martini glass up to your lips carefully, the dark liquid so close to the brim that you’re nervous it will spill over the sides. He watches you expectantly, you pointedly hold his gaze as you take a sip of the drink and-

“Oh my god.”

Dazai looks utterly vindicated, raising his chin as you take a sip of the drink and stare at it in shock. It’s so… tasty. It’s creamy, and sweet, and you can hardly taste the alcohol but you can feel the tingle on your tongue and the light burn in your throat. All thoughts of the conversation you were having before the drink showed up disappear, and you’re focused solely on the glass in your hands and the man before you.

“So?” God, he’s evil. He almost purrs the word, as if he knows exactly what your response is going to be. He leans forward a bit, looking down at you through his lashes. “Give me the verdict, Your Honor.”

“It’s good,” you say, raising your chin in spite, hoping that your expression doesn’t betray but from the way his lips spread into a wider smile, you fear that you completely failed. 

“Just good?” Dazai croons. 

You pause for a second, debating on lying and telling him yes, just good, but the words you intend on speaking do not leave your lips. Rather, you say, “Okay. It may or may not be one of the best drinks I’ve had in a while. You have to tell me what it is so I know what to ask for.”

“Hmm.” Dazai lifts a finger to his chin, as if considering your words. “I don’t think I will.”

“What!”

His smile becomes a bit softer, his expression more teasing. “I think I’ll hold that information hostage, so you have to come out with me again if you want to drink it.”

A jittery feeling spreads through your chest, heart fluttering, cheeks hot. “Oh? Look who’s scheming out our third meeting already,” you taunt lightly. “How the tables turn.”

“Of course, I’m scheming out our third meeting, maybe our fourth and fifth too,” he mimics your words from last week shamelessly. “I’ve decided I already like you, bella.”

The pet name rolls off his tongue easily, as if it’s second nature to him, and your face is on fire but Dazai looks like he’s shocked even at himself. You fumble with your words for just a second, it takes you a moment too long to recover but you think that Dazai doesn’t even notice in his stunned state. 

You decide to return fire. 

“I hope all of our dates aren’t just going to be at clubs,” you tell him with a smile that edges on flirtatious, cocking your head to the left.

Your words hardly register until you notice that his cheeks have become bright and rosy, hand instinctively coming up to hide his face. He looks entirely like he’s at a loss for words, lips parting and closing several times. It’s so endearing that you think you might really die now, but then the gravity of your words hit you like a train.  

Oh god. A date? A date?? This is only the second time you’ve met, that was way too soon. You-

“I’ll make sure the next place we meet is somewhere special,” he finally says, voice smooth and gaze gentle and- 

And just like that, you’re a goner.

You’re not sure how long you sit there talking to him. Hours, probably. It feels like no time at all and forever all at once. You lose yourself in his gaze, and his smile, and you think the whole world could be burning around the two of you and you’d have no idea just because you’re so tunnel visioned on him. The music drowns out, and all you can hear is his voice. The people around you blur out of focus, and all you can see is him. 

It’s insane, you think. You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You’ve had so many flings and so many boyfriends over the years, but the way your stomach twists and turns and the way your head feels fuzzy with Dazai is so incomparable to how you felt with anyone else. 

You feel like you’ve known him forever. 

You feel like you’ve only just met him. 

How is it possible to feel like you know someone you’ve only just met so intimately? When you know you don’t actually know much about him personally but it still feels like you can read into the depths of his soul?

God, you don’t know, but you do know one thing, and it’s that you never want to lose this feeling. 

And that’s how it began. 

Every Friday for weeks, you find yourself at the club, sipping cheap martinis at the bar until a certain handsome man in a dark suit decides to finally grace you with his presence. Sometimes, the two of you would just sit at the club’s bar until the sun threatens to rise, when you finally go your separate ways and you make your way back to your apartment, falling asleep with a smile on your face and waking up with a giddy feeling still sparkling in your chest. Other times, he only comes by the club to pick you up, fulfilling his promise of making sure to take you somewhere nice when you find yourself fine dining at the fanciest rooftop restaurants in the city. 

He never stays over your place, even when he does drop you off. Sometimes he’ll hang around for an hour (you made him your favorite hot chocolate, he liked it so much that he nearly cried although he vehemently denied that was the reason why his eye got all misty), but he always leaves. You try not to let it bum you out, convincing yourself that it’s just because he doesn’t want to keep his driver waiting (albatross, you remember his name, he’s funny. you like him), but sometimes you can’t help the heavy feeling set over you when he makes his abrupt leave, wishing for just a bit more. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, for god’s sake. 

You also distantly note that you don’t really know much about him, even after all of these weeks his personal life remains a mystery to you. The closest you were able to get to prying anything out of him was when he showed up so late that you were on the verge of leaving because you doubted he would even show, he apologized and said a work meeting ran late. You asked him what about and he hesitated, as if he was about to say it, but then gave you some vague response and steered the conversation to something less personal.

That’s what’s happened every time you try to learn a bit more about him. You don’t really notice it in the moment because he’s smooth and charming about it, but he always manages to turn the conversation to you or some other general topic. You want to respect that he doesn’t want to talk about his personal life because maybe he’s coming to you to have some sort of escape from it, but you also want to know him beyond just the flirting over drinks and the slim things you can gleam from his reactions, words hidden between the lines of what he actually says.

Your friends think you’re crazy. They think he’s bad news. They’ve come with you to the club a few times to wait with you until he shows up and every time they see him you can see the weary looks that they shoot at one another. You don’t care what they think—or well, that’s a lie, you do care what they think, you’re just too enamored with Dazai for their words to have any weight. Which probably should be concerning, but that’s something for you to think about another day. 

Because now, you’re focused on him again. He’s been talking more tonight than he usually does—most nights, he’ll spend the majority of the time just listening to you, a soft smile on his face and a captivated look in his eye, but tonight, he’s been rather vocal, people watching with you and making sly advances that you think is just plain cruel considering he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

But tonight, you’ve decided, will be the night. 

You’ve been trying to figure out how to go about it, if you should just invite him back to your apartment—something you’ve done before, so there shouldn’t be any nerves but you still find yourself wavering because you don’t know how you’re going to proceed once you get to your apartment. You are not a seducer. You have no experience in seducing. In fact, you are usually the one being seduced. So every time your lips part to ask if he wants to leave the club, you find yourself withering and faltering, waiting for a ‘better’ chance as if one will magically arise.

It does. 

It’s when a fight breaks out on the dancefloor a bit too close to where you’re sitting, certainly the result of some sleazy man trying to put his hands on a woman who already has a date, when you finally force yourself to stop pussying out. You let out a shriek as you stumble forward off your barstool when one of the men careens a bit too closely to you, and it’s only by Dazai’s swift reaction, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you to him and steadies you, that you don’t go toppling onto the floor. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the fight escalate, a bit entertained now that you’re safe in his arms from becoming collateral damage, but Dazai looks distinctly unimpressed by the scene taking place a few feet away, lips twisted into a deep frown. You watch as he shoots a sharp look to one of the bouncers lingering by the door, and you note how the man immediately moves forward to break up the fight. Interesting. You’ve noticed that the people at the work tend to be respectful to him, but that’s the first time you’ve seen them seemingly take a silent order from him.

You steel your nerves and you decide to try your hand.

“Would you… maybe want to get out of here?”

You look nervous, Dazai watches you carefully as he leads you across the club to the exits, so he figures that there’s something else going on in your head right now. You’ve been quiet most of the night, he realizes, and he wonders if something is wrong. If something happened. His mind immediately catapults to the worst case scenario: that someone found out about the two of you, despite how careful he’s been in making sure that the places he’s brought you to were locked down by the Port Mafia before you arrived with him, and you’re being threatened.

His thoughts race. Albatross should still be waiting where Dazai left him, so if something goes wrong, he’ll be ready. Dazai glances at you again, and he slowly realizes that you don’t seem nervous because you’re fearful of something, and his anxieties slowly are edged away. 

But that only gives rise to new anxieties because then what’s making you so nervous then? What did you mean by get out of here? Do you want to go somewhere else? (but where, the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a risk there will be without him taking precautions beforehand like he usually does) Do you want to be dropped off back at your apartment? (that’s what he initially assumed, but he doesn’t want the night to end yet) Do you want to invite him to your apartment? (it wouldn’t be the first time, but it doesn’t leave him any less nervous. he’s terrified of making the wrong move) Do you want him to invite you to his apartment? (god, he hopes not)

The last option cannot happen. You’re already suspicious from the way the bartender and the other club patrons have been treating him the past few weeks, and now you’re doubly suspicious, Dazai can tell from the way your eyes squint as the bouncers at the entrance of the club nod their heads to him. If he brings you back to his place, the tallest of the five towers making up the Port Mafia base, there’s no way you won’t put together that something’s up with him and the last thing he wants is to scare you away. Even if you don’t know what the buildings are exactly, you’ll definitely question him about his occupation, go back to the dangerous line of questioning you’ve been treading on lately, and when he can’t give you a straight answer, it’ll become all the more apparent that it’s something shady and if you’re smart, you’ll make an excuse to leave and then never seek him out again.

Realistically, he probably won’t be able to hide this from you for long, but it just has to be long enough for him to woo you so the news isn’t so jarring that it makes you cut off all contact with him. Although, Dazai isn’t sure if any amount of time will make the knowledge that he’s a mafia boss not jarring enough to flee. His heart feels a bit heavy, wondering if this is all a mistake because how the hell is he supposed to just accept it when you inevitably decide to leave? And isn’t that what he should want, anyway? He wants you to keep yourself safe, no matter what the cost, and if you’re the one to cut him off, then he won’t be tempted to come looking for you again. He can protect you from the distance as he initially planned with the memory of the nights he’s spent with you pushing him forward. So maybe this is for the best.

You accepted all of the other Dazais, the traitorous part of his mind tried to convince himself that isn’t a hopeless cause, even though he knows that there’s a stark difference between who he is in this lifetime, the face of Japan’s underworld, drenched in blood and rotting from the inside out, and who he was in all of the other lifetimes, desperately trying to make himself a better man so that Odasaku would be proud of him. 

Maybe you’ll understand, he thinks weakly as the two of you leave the club. It’s drizzling now, and his eyes cut across the parking lot looking for Albatross, but his thoughts are lost—you understanding would mean he would have to tell you everything. He can’t do that. Not just because you would probably think he’s delusional, or psychotic, but because it would put the very fabric of this reality at risk. He can’t tell more people than necessary and stage five… 

His plan. 

Dazai’s gaze shifts back over to you, the sudden remembrance of what he’s been planning since he came in contact with the Book so many years ago spreading like ice through him. He should take you by the hand and lead you to the car, the rain is going to start coming down harder any second now, but Dazai is frozen because in his manic state, when he’d decided he can protect you in this life, be with you in this life, he hadn’t even given any thought to what would become of his plan, and he’s been so consumed by thoughts of you the past few weeks that it’s hardly crossed his mind.

He has to force himself to move forward, ignoring the way his mind is reeling—if he decides to live, what does that mean for Odasaku? For Atsushi and Akutagawa and Chuuya? For the world? Would he be condemning everything he’s worked to protect? He still thinks he can do it—protect you, that is—but would it be at the cost of everything else? He feels sick, trying to figure out if he’s going to have to plot out a whole new plan, as if this one hadn’t taken him years to come up with and implement. 

But you don’t move to follow him to the car where Albatross is waiting when he steps forward. Instead, you tilt your head up to the sky, lashes fluttering as rain begins to drizzle down from the dark sky. 

And Dazai’s spiraling thoughts halt. 

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re always beautiful, but he thinks there’s something magical about the picture of the small smile on your lips as rain drops slide across the smooth skin of your face. He tries to force himself to look away so he doesn’t seem creepy staring at you, but he can’t bring himself to.

You don’t seem to mind though, because you turn your attention to him, eyes lit up in a way that makes his heart race. “Dance with me,” you say suddenly, holding a hand out to him, the soft smile on your face is a bit mischievous now.

Dazai looks down at you, raising his eyebrows. “Here?” he asks, voice tainted with a hint of incredulity. “Now?”

“Mhm,” you say, unperturbed, holding your hand out more insistently. 

Dazai thinks he isn’t capable of denying you much of anything, but he can’t help but hesitate. Not because he doesn’t want to dance with you—he would sell what’s left of his wretched soul for just a single dance with you—but because the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a chance there might be an assassination attempt on him. Every time he goes out, he’s gambling his life. It would put you in danger, and it’s not like he brought Chuuya along for if something goes wrong. Albatross is capable enough, but his ability is not combat centric. 

Being seen with you in general could put you in danger, doubts begin to sprinkle through his head again, his heart lodged in his throat as remembers that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie aren’t the only threats to your life. He’s been as careful as he could be but even with all of the precautions in the world, there are still risks. He’s made new enemies in this lifetime, hundreds of them over the years, and if any one of them caught wind of you and his apparent attraction to you…

“If you wanted to dance, shouldn’t we have done that inside?” Dazai drawls instead, trying to play it off. Inside, where it’s significantly safer. Inside, where Dazai knows that there’s less of a chance of unsavory eyes falling upon the two of you because the club is owned by the Port Mafia and everyone let in is screened. Inside, where Dazai can still convince himself that he has the power to keep you safe. You’re entirely unbothered by his question, so he continues before you can shoot him down, “Where it’s not raining, and where there’s actually music.” 

“Haven’t you seen all of the romance movies?” you complain, smile widening. “Dancing in the rain is romantic, Dazai. Who needs music anyway? C’mon, dance with me.”

And how is Dazai supposed to say no to you when you look at him like that? Eyes wide and imploring, smile gentle—you look at him in a way that Dazai’s only dreamed of, and he knows that he’s a goner. Well, he’s known since he first met you, but it’s being made abundantly more clear right now with the way his heart, which he usually has such keen control over, beats rapidly in his chest. His lips part because he still wants to try to deny you—for your sake, not his—but no words leave them.

You don’t wait for his response anyway, hand darting out to catch his so you can drag him out into the parking lot. His eyes widen, stumbling forward and trying to catch his balance—you only laugh, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand finds his waist, spinning the two of you in a reckless circle. 

“Keep up!” you tell him with a smile that causes his breath to catch. 

Dazai thinks he might die. His head feels fuzzy as you lead him in a wide ballroom dance, sweeping across the vacant parking lot with ease. He thinks he must look like a fool being dragged along in your dance like a puppet, hardly able to keep himself from tripping over his own feet. 

He’s not sure how you’re able to keep yourself so graceful, heels splashing in puddles as you lead him through spins and turns and pivots, but Dazai thinks you’re beautiful. Again. Extraordinarily so, even. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, the drizzle quickly becoming torrential, and your hair is wet and matted to your face, mascara a bit smeared underneath your eyes, but you’re laughing, and Dazai thinks you’re divine. Heavenly. Too ethereal to be tainted by the likes of him and yet here he is, the putrid skin of his fingers intertwined with your untarnished ones. You raise your arm and his, beckoning for him to twirl beneath it.

He does, and it’s awkward and clumsy because he’s too tall to comfortably perform the move, but you giggle loudly so it makes up for the embarrassment. And for a moment, Dazai can almost convince himself that this isn’t a life where he’s been forced to let the dark consume him for the betterment of the world; rather, it’s a world where he’s gone unsullied by the dark, his blood still runs red and you’re beautiful and you’re alive, and he’s just a boy who’s fallen so terribly in love with a girl so far out of his league that he thinks he might be dreaming when you return his interest. As he spins, he notices that his cheeks feel a bit strained and sore, and he realizes that there’s a smile on his face that matches your own, the muscles of his cheeks and jaw unused to stretching in such a manner and he hopes, anxiously, that it doesn’t look quite as unbearable as it feels.

If it does look unnatural, you don’t seem to mind. The rain blurs his vision and he’s forced to blink away the raindrops that keep falling into his eye, and for a split second, you’re standing before him in a pretty red dress on a sidewalk, and he’s the one leading you in the theatrical dance, dipping you down as lightning webs across the sky above the two of you, and he’s about to beg you for a kiss, he knows it but then-

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when you pull your hand back from his, but you don’t give him time to mourn the loss of your touch because then you’re slipping your arms around his neck, loose and casual. You’re pressed up close to him, chest brushing his and head tilted back so you can look up at him—a slower dance, swaying to the music of the wind and rain—and Dazai can hardly breathe. You’re so close. So close that he could kiss you if he wanted to. God, he wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks but every time he tries to gather the nerve to do it, he backs out.

“Where’d you go?” you ask softly, and he can barely hear you as thunder rumbles in the distance, brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what you mean. You tap his temple twice gently, “Left me for a second there.” 

Oh, his throat feels a bit dry, realizing that you must’ve noticed when he started to slip back into the pages of the Book. Terrifying. Beautiful and terrifying, that’s what you are, if you can read him that well after meeting him once a week for a few weeks, he dreads to know how well you’d be able to read him once you start spending more and more time with him. But would it be so bad? To have someone that knows him so profoundly? He’s so alone all the damn time in this world, and you’re giving him a taste of a life where maybe he wouldn’t have to be. It’s terrifying. Tempting. He forces another smile onto his lips, and this time your eyes narrow, as if you know this one isn’t as genuine as the last. 

“How rude of me,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’s so close, he realizes again, hyper aware of the way his lips are almost brushing yours. He could kiss you if he wanted, he repeats, and he wants so badly but he doesn’t want to scare you away. “To leave behind such fine company.”

You don’t look content with his apparent attempt at avoiding the subject, and Dazai’s throat feels tight because it’s not really a conversation to have with you here. Now. Ever, really. 

For once, mother nature appears to be on his side, because before you can press on the subject, lightning strikes dangerously close to where the two of you are standing, making you jump, eyes wide. He takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you over to where he left Albatross earlier in the night. 

The car is already running, Albatross is leaning back in the seat scrolling on the phone and Dazai nearly commits an atrocity when he sees that the man has his gun laying haphazardly on the dashboard. As if Albatross can feel Dazai’s murderous intent, he looks up from his phone and his eyes shoot open when he sees you with Dazai and he scrambles to holster his gun back at his waist. 

Luckily, you don’t notice. Or maybe unluckily, because your attention is still fixated on him and Dazai is not ready to have that discussion with you because how the hell is he supposed to say “Sorry! Lost in some worlds that don’t exist, and just so you know, we almost got married in some of them! And just so you know, I got you killed in all of them!”

Yeah. That would go over well. 

Instead, he opens the door to the car for you, letting you hop in the backseat. He follows after. Albatross slides his glasses to the bridge of his nose, an unscrupulous smile on his face that instantly has Dazai suspicious. He hopes the man knows that no friendship with Chuuya will save him if he decides to purposely embarrass Dazai in front of you. 

“You’re back!” You recognize Albatross immediately, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. Dazai is almost jealous until he remembers that you’re still holding his hand. “You weren’t driving last time.”

Right. Because of the raid on one of the Scarlet Gang’s warehouses in Tokyo. A mission that Dazai definitely should have been more available for on the off chance that something went wrong, but he was far too busy indulging in you. In his defense, he had no doubts that the mission would go according to plan—the Scarlet Gang is dangerous, yes, and Kawabata is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s simply not Dazai.  

“D’aw, didn’t think you’d recognize me, doll,” Albatross grins, tossing you a wink. “Good to see you again too. You’re significantly more sober tonight, aren’t you?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit at the pet name, but he’s more focused on the way you throw your face into your hands with a groan, reminded of just how drunk you’d been the last time Albatross was playing chauffeur. You’re a messy drunk, he remembers fondly, he doesn’t remember ever seeing you drink in any of his other lives with you, and he feels a bit giddy at the thought that he gets to experience a side of you that the others never did. Even if he was spending half of the night holding your hair back while you threw your guts up, spluttering apologies through sobs and heaves. He would do it again. Without even the slightest hesitation, he would do it again. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” you ask, peeking one eye between your fingers to look at Dazai for confirmation. 

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to assure you that no, you weren’t that bad, because Albatross is speaking again. Of course. 

“You were pretty damn bad, doll,” he grins, and you groan even louder, leaning your body over to rest your head on Dazai’s bicep. Dazai’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat. “S’alright though, boss took care of you.” 

“Did he?” you ask with a teasing smile, eyes glittering as you look up at Dazai, who suddenly feels a bit embarrassed, but Albatross rescues him. 

Maybe he does deserve the vacation he’s been bitching about wanting. 

“Where to?” Albatross asks, putting the car in gear, gaze flickering between you and Dazai briefly. 

Dazai is about to tell him your apartment when he catches the sudden apprehension on your face. He hesitates and waits for you to say whatever you want to say, but you don’t, instead you let out a puff of air and let your eyes slide shut. 

“Where do you want to go?” Dazai asks you.

You still look uncertain, but then you finally say, “I was meaning to stop and get some groceries at the convenience store on the way home. There’s one a few blocks away from my apartment. I can just walk over there if you drop me off at my place though, it’s fine.”

As if. The idea of you walking anywhere so late at night makes his skin crawl, especially considering there’s been a rise of violent crimes in the city that the Mafia has yet to get a handle on. He needs to push for that to be taken care of if he has to worry about you leaving your apartment to wander around so late. He makes a note to himself to bring it up to Chuuya later. 

“We can stop there on the way there. It’s no trouble.”

Albatross gives him a look, as if he’s asking if the boss of the Port Mafia is really about to go grocery shopping with a civilian in the middle of the night, forcing the Mafia’s best getaway driver to be their chauffeur. Dazai only gives him a cold, sharp look in return—if you need groceries, then they’ll stop for groceries. Simple as that. In a life where Dazai thought he’d never even be able to look at you, the chance of doing mundane chores like grocery shopping with you is not something he’ll just pass by. 

He can pretend to be normal. If only for a little longer. 

Until he has to go back to the base, and his lungs are clogged with corrupted air, being slowly suffocated by his surroundings.

Until you figure out who he is, and he’s alone again, being consumed by the void in his chest once more. 

He hardly considers the fact that he’s going somewhere with you where his subordinates haven’t made extensive efforts to ensure that no one suspicious is around to see the two of you. 

“Alrighty,” Albatross agrees, backing down as soon as he sees the expression on Dazai’s face. “To the convenience store.”

Your eyes brighten, a smile lights up your face. “Thanks,” you say relieved, and Dazai wants to say that you don’t ever have to thank him for everything and that he’d give you the entire world if given the chance, but he thinks that might be a bit weird so instead he settles on just giving you a small smile. “I’ll make you the best hot chocolate of your life when we get to my apartment. Just wait.” 

Dazai’s chest feels warm. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Wait here,” you tell both Dazai and Albatross as Albatross pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and stops the car outside of your building. Dazai, who’d been about to follow you, pauses from where he’s ducking beneath the doorframe to step out of the car, looking at you and waiting for an explanation. “... My apartment is a mess… I, um, wasn’t expecting company. Let me just… tidy up before you come in. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dazai’s visible eye crinkles up in amusement as he sits back down in the backseat of the car and you immediately take off up toward the steps leading up to the second floor of your apartment, giddy and excited, grocery bag swinging and bumping against your hip as you make your way quickly up the steps. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You feel like a schoolgirl dealing with her first real crush, flustered and giggly, hardly able to hold a conversation without stuttering over your words. 

He’s just so… you don’t know how to describe it. Intense. But intense isn’t even the right word, because he’s not so intense that it makes you uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and that’s usually what you think of when someone is intense. Or maybe overwhelmed is a bit fitting, because you swear every time he sets his soft gaze down on you, your heart might leap out of your chest. Intense. Familiar, you don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone you’ve only met a few times your entire life.

Your fingers fumble as you try to unlock your door. One, two, three, it takes three attempts for you to finally slide the key into the lock, pushing open your door and stepping inside, free from the torrential rain and wild wind outside.

You sigh and rest your back against the door as you shut it behind you, eyes sliding shut. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

Someone important. 

Of course, you noticed how he was treated by the workers of the club—the bartender, the bouncers, even just the regular patrons. The restaurants he’s brought you to the past few weeks, they all treated him the same way. There were plenty of men there that were dressed in expensive clothes and held themselves highly, but none were treated the same way Dazai was.

Someone dangerous. 

You’d also caught a glimpse of the gun on the dash of Albatross’s car. (His driver, another point to note because who has a driver except very important people) Only three types of people have guns in Japan—military, police, and criminals, and you’re pretty sure he’s not part of the military or police force…

Someone you probably shouldn’t be so drawn to.

That should be enough to make you run. It really should be. You have no explanation or excuse for why you’re not besides the fact that you might not be as smart as you herald yourself to be. You shouldn’t feel giddy when he smiles softly at you, you should be nervous. You shouldn’t be longing for his touch, you should be avoiding it. Instead, you’re leaning against your door, smiling like an idiot after making him wait for you to clean up your apartment so you don’t embarrass yourself. 

Oh, you’re such a fool. But how could you not be with how he treats you? Tucking hair behind your ear, setting a gaze so soft on you that you think it might make your heart stop, dancing with you in the rain clumsily with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. How is it possible for you to reconcile the way the man acts with you to the way others treat him? Or maybe that’s just delusion speaking. It could be, honestly. You think if your brother was living with you, he’d be horrified, might lock you away for the rest of your life; you think your friends already want to put you in a psych ward and they’d only become all the more insistent if they knew half of the things you’ve noticed. 

But your brother left you and your friends don’t know, so nothing is stopping you from making what might be a terrible decision. 

You let out a breath as you push yourself off the door, placing down your grocery bags on the table by your door so you can scramble to pick up all of the stray clothes you’d tossed around your apartment as you frantically tried to find an outfit earlier in the night. You reach over to turn on your light, flicking the switch once, then twice, and then three times.

No way.

You sigh deeply, head falling back against the wood door of your apartment, knocking the back of your head against it twice in frustration. Letting out a irate puff of air, you push yourself off of the door and force yourself to get to work. It’s not the end of the world, hopefully it'll come back soon, the providers are usually quick with getting the outages fixed, even in your shitty area. 

You force yourself to move forward, frowning deeply as you scoop up all of the paperwork spread out on your coffee table, making sure to keep it all in order as you move them over to the desk you have by your window seat. You drop the pile down and cast your gaze out to all of the clothes strewn haphazardly around your apartment, cursing yourself for having been so messy earlier when you were trying on just about every outfit you own and then flinging them around frustrated when you decided they weren’t good enough.

You scowl as you bend down to pick them all up, deciding you’ll just stuff them messily in your closet and fold them later when you don’t have company. As you zoom around trying to snag all of the dresses and different pairs of bras and underwear scattered about, your mind races. Your stove should still work because your landlord refuses to install any modern appliances into your apartment, for better or for worse, so you have an old model that shouldn’t be affected by the outage. But you think it’ll be awkward sitting in the dark, you think you have a few candles stored away in your room—you’ll have to find them and set them up. 

Candlelit evening, how romantic! you think to yourself, a bit dreamily. You wonder if Albatross will be coming up to join the two of you in your apartment, you’d offered to make him a drink too but you figure it’ll be Dazai’s decision if he’ll be waiting outside or…

Or maybe, he’ll send him home. 

You get giddy at the thought—candlelights, slightly tipsy after a night out, you take a peek under your dress to try to figure out which underwear you’d decided on earlier and if you should change into a different pair but are delighted when you realize that you’d gone with your pretty red ones. 

You think he’ll like them. 

Hopefully. 

You like them, they’re your favorites.

Oh, you have to clean your bedroom too, you think to yourself in partial agony because you don’t know how the hell you’re going to clean up everything in there without making Dazai wait out there for an hour. You get anxious at the thought, worrying that if you take too long, he might leave, so you pick up the pace. You snatch the last stray bra hanging on the arm of your couch before taking off into your bedroom.

You hardly get a step into the room before you’re freezing in your tracks.

No way.

You stare at your bed, arms falling loose to your side, lips parted in shock. The clothes you’d cleaned up all drop aimlessly to the floor around you. Your bed is drenched with water—your sheets soaked, your mattress soaked, the ceiling heavy with rainwater from a leak you didn’t know you had.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out to yourself, unsure of what exactly you should do, never having had a problem like this before.

You think this is what you get, seeking out the cheapest possible apartment complex to stay in because you’re trying to save all of the money you have for school. Now, your mattress is ruined, your ceiling looks like it’s on the verge of collapse and oh my god, you left your laptop on your bed. 

A noise caught between a whimper and cry of frustration leaves your lips as you dive forward, fishing your laptop out of the massive pool of water flooding your bed. You hold it in front of your face between two fingers, watching as water drips from it down to the ground. 

There goes your laptop too.

You think you might be sick. 

Now, you have to deal with a landlord who is decidedly not helpful when it comes to issues in the complex and you have nowhere to sleep. Maybe you can call one of your friends to stay at their place, but it’s already the middle of the night and you know two of them have their own entrance exams tomorrow for the programs that they’re applying to.

Unless…

Your gaze shifts to the window in your room, looking between the blinds to see Dazai and Albatross still waiting outside in their car. 

Okay. Most urgent problem temporarily fixed. Maybe.

Dazai has a place. He has to. He’s clearly rich. It’s probably a much nicer place than yours too. You can go there, at least for the night. He wouldn’t just leave you with nowhere to go… right? No, of course he wouldn’t. You need to pack then, instead of cleaning. 

Okay, this is fine. 

It’s fine. 

It takes you about five minutes to grab a few spare pairs of clothes into the duffle bag laying at your bedroom door, occasionally tossing dirty looks at the leak ruining your bed. When you finish throwing your clothes in the duffle—unfolded and hastily, of course, they’ll be terribly wrinkled—you rise to your feet and swing the bag over your shoulder, making your way back to your door and grabbing your groceries. 

You don’t know what to say to him when you get back to the car. You’re probably being a bit presumptuous. Okay, a lot presumptuous—Dazai has never invited you back to his place, you’ve invited him to yours—but you don’t really have another choice.

You exhale as you step back into the rain, locking your apartment and making your way back down the steps to the complex’s parking lot. You don’t let yourself hesitate as you dart across the parking lot toward the car, fearing that if you take a second to actually think about what you’re doing—inviting yourself into someone else’s home!—you’ll probably back out.

You open the car door. You slide back inside, taking a seat behind the passenger seat. You drop your duffle bag on the floor between your feet and place your groceries back down between you and Dazai. You can feel both Dazai and Albatross staring at you. You stare ahead.

“... My apartment is flooded,” you finally say after a few moments.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, brows furrowing as he watches you. You can hardly bring yourself to look at him, trying to peek at him from the corner of your eye as best as you can without being too obvious about it. He’s not responding. Albatross isn’t moving the car. You’re getting the urge to bolt, to run upstairs and drown yourself in the puddle of water on your bed. 

Finally, Albatross clears his throat. “Boss?”

Dazai still doesn’t respond. You think you might be doubly sick now, and embarrassed. An awful combination, really. You know that he knows what you came back here hoping for, and you realize that he might just send you back to your flooded apartment instead because he obviously did not sign up for taking in some random girl that he’s met a few Fridays for the night because she has nowhere else to go. 

You finally turn your face to look at Dazai head on and you can feel that your eyes are glassy, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You don’t know how pathetic you must look for Dazai’s expression to shift the way it does, his conflicted expression crumbling as he turns away from you. You don’t want to know how pathetic you must look, you’d only feel even more humiliated.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally says: “Drive.”

Albatross’s eyes shoot open, he physically turns to look at Dazai, “But-”

You don’t catch the look that Dazai gives Albatross, too busy basking in the relief of having somewhere to stay for the night, but whatever it is, it makes Albatross turn back to face the wheel without another word, turning the car back on and shifting it into gear before pulling out of the parking lot. 

As soon as you’re on the move, you turn your attention back down to your phone, trying to figure out if you should message your landlord now or in the morning, dreading the inevitable argument you’re going to have with him. You fiddle with the device, occasionally sparing looks at Dazai, but the man is lost in thought next to you, visible eye distant and conflicted.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything so the whole drive to Dazai’s apartment is long and quiet. Even Albatross, who’s had no difficult sparking conversation the whole drive to your place, stays silent.

You’re bummed, all of the excitement you felt about bringing Dazai back to your place is long gone, feeling the stress of having to replace everything that’s been ruined by the leak and the anxiety of dealing with your landlord; all you want to do is sleep and die. Okay. That’s dramatic. But you’re exhausted and you really do want to sleep. Maybe not die, but definitely sleep. 

You lay your head against the window, eyes starting to droop shut, and you can feel Dazai glancing at you now but you can’t even bring yourself to look over at him. Instead, you keep your eyes trained outside the window, only perking up when Albatross finally starts slowing to a stop.

And then, you’re suddenly not tired at all. Your eyes widen as he pulls to the front of the tallest of the five black buildings that tower over the Naka ward, lips parting as you crane your head to look up out the window and then look pointedly back at Dazai, stunned.

Dazai refuses to meet your gaze, staring ahead. 

… You think that your instincts about this man must be spot on. 

Too bad you’re not listening to them.

“You’ve gone crazy.”

Dazai’s gaze draws up from the paperwork he’s definitely not doing, far too preoccupied with thoughts of you; it’s cold and cutting as it lands on Chuuya. His executive enters the room without any type of announcement, his voice just as cold as Dazai’s expression—he supposes it’s testimony to how angry he is, because Chuuya is only frigid in his anger when he’s really been pushed to the brink.

Naturally, Dazai only smiles, a slow and taunting one that he knows presses all of Chuuya’s buttons from the way the man’s bicolored eyes flash with fury. Chuuya storms over to Dazai’s desk, making his way until he’s standing right in front of him. 

“How so?” Dazai drawls, folding his hands over his lap as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side questioningly. 

“How so?” Chuuya spits out, slamming his hands down on Dazai’s desk. Dazai raises his eyebrows and then lifts his chin, looking pointedly down to where Chuuya’s hands are splayed against his desk. Chuuya doesn’t flinch—of course he doesn’t, he’s Chuuya—but he does pull his hands back to himself, albeit snarling as he does it. “The hell are you bringing some random woman back to our base? Back to your room? Going out alone the past few weeks when you know you’ve got a bounty on your head higher than most world leaders? I was letting it slide but this is too far, why the hell is she here? You’ve gone crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Careful, Chuuya,” Dazai warns, voice quiet, expression growing a bit flinty when he brings you up. Dazai doesn’t care if Chuuya wants to rail on him for being reckless, but he’s not allowed to drag you into it. He decides to not acknowledge the comment about you, focusing on the end of his tirade, “I was with one of the Flags, I wasn’t alone.”

“Albatross isn’t cut out for that type of combat and you know it,” Chuuya snaps, glaring at Dazai. “If one of those bounty hunters came after you, you both would’ve been killed. What’s gotten into you? Never took you for the type to be this reckless. You get a taste of a woman’s c-”

“I said careful, Chuuya. Know your place,” Dazai repeats, voice icy. The warning is gone, only a threat remains—Chuuya doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Dazai to know where he was going with it, the way the man’s eyes darted over to Dazai’s bedroom was more than enough to confirm it. 

“Is this a goddamn joke to you?” Chuuya asks, keeping his voice low, his lips flat and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. You’ve always been so careful, more than anyone else. What the hell does one random woman have that’s making you risk all of this?” 

“I’m not risking anything,” Dazai tells him coolly, “and she’s not just some random woman.”

Chuuya’s expression shifts, brows furrowing deeper; Dazai can see the tiny cogs working behind his eyes as he thinks. He wonders if Chuuya has been drinking tonight, catching the pink hue to his cheeks and the hazy look coating his eyes. 

No wonder he’s so angry then, Dazai muses, he must have been out with Kouyou when he got word that Dazai left the base again without any protection detail and then brought someone up to his room who in Chuuya’s mind, could be an assassin for all he knows. 

Suddenly, the confusion clears and something closer to realization sweeps across Chuuya’s face. His gaze turns back pointedly in the direction of Dazai’s bedroom.

“That’s her,” Chuuya says, disbelief dripping from his tone. “The girl you’ve had Kouyou looking over for years. What the fuck, Dazai? I thought the whole point of having Kouyou look after her was so that you kept away from her.”

Dazai stares at Chuuya, only for a moment, because then his gaze drifts back to the door leading into his bedroom, mind drifting. He supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised that Kouyou told Chuuya about it—Dazai wasn’t explicit enough with his orders, only telling Kouyou to ensure that Dazai himself never knew anything about her. Of course, the woman would bring it up to Chuuya, probably hoping Chuuya had some insight into why Dazai is so insistent on your protection. 

Chuuya didn’t, of course, but he guesses that only made the topic of you and Dazai’s apparent random attachment to you even more of an interesting topic for their wine sessions. Honestly, he’s surprised that Chuuya didn’t realize earlier that the girl he’s been seeing is the one he’s had Kouyou assigned to. Kouyou surely should have known by now.

You’re fast asleep by now. He got lucky because of how exhausted you were over the stress of the whole situation: he didn’t have to deal with the questions that he was certain would arise as soon as you caught sight of the Port Mafia base. You were all but falling asleep on your feet as the two of you stood in the glass elevator leading up to Dazai’s apartment, the penthouse in the centermost of the five buildings consisting of the Port Mafia base. Dazai thought he was about to have a heart attack when you swayed on your feet and ended up resting your head on his bicep, eyes drooping shut. You only managed a few sleepy protests as he led you to his bedroom, asking where he was going to sleep if you take his room (the fact that you worry about him when you’re even on the brink of falling asleep on your feet made his fingers tingle), but you gave in quickly at his insistence. 

He should feel some sort of pity, or sympathy, because he could see the weariness in your eyes and the fatigue plaguing your body. Dazai might not be capable of feeling pity or sympathy for most people, but if he could feel it for anyone, it would be you. But he does not, and it’s for a selfish reason, of course: your misfortune led to you turning to him for help, and the thought of that alone makes his chest feel light and giddy. 

Yes, he’s going to have to figure out some sort of excuse tomorrow for when you wake up and inevitably have questions—he is not ready for you to know about his position in the Port Mafia—but right now you’re sleeping in his bed and you’re relying on him for help. His fingers thrum against his desk, jittery with excitement, he almost forgets Chuuya is there until he hears the man let out a sharp noise of disgust at Dazai's apparent exhilaration. 

Distantly, very distantly, he knows this is bad. You’ve been smart and observant in every universe, you’re going to put together that something is seriously wrong—you were not supposed to come back to his place, but how was he supposed to say no to you when you were looking at him with teary eyes and nowhere else to go? The thought itself feels like sacrilege. 

“You know what we are and what we do,” Chuuya says, voice calmer now as he shakes his head and fishes a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with his free hand before he turns to leave. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you’re putting this girl in danger after the lengths you went to keep her safe. I don’t get it.”

He squints a bit as Chuuya’s words ring through his head. That’s what he had thought too, but he’s the last person to admit to Chuuya that he might be right. A cold feeling starts to set over him, spreading through his chest like ice. If he’s going to think about this realistically, you’re probably already in danger just from being around him. The likelihood of someone catching sight of the two of you the past few weeks is higher than he’s comfortable with, even with the precautions that he’s taken, especially with tonight outside the club and at the convenience store. The thought is terrifying, enough to immediately kill off the jittery excitement that had been running through his body. 

Dazai’s index finger traces the outline of his lips, his mind races. What does he do? If you’re in danger, he can’t just let you go back to your apartment and leave you undefended in a sketchier part of the city. His enemies will jump on it. They’ll target you. But he can’t just keep you here. It’ll be too risky, you’ll figure out who he is and what he does, and that’s not even considering the fact that maybe you won’t even want to stay. You might wake up in the morning and head to someone else’s place—you’d made a vague comment about not wanting to intrude and going to a friend’s house tomorrow but the thought makes his stomach twist a bit. 

God, he’s so conflicted. 

But the first thing to handle is making sure that you don’t go back to your apartment alone. The rest he can figure out later on—he has to decide if he’d rather try to keep you around the base and risk you figuring out what he does (god, he wants to keep you around) or if he should just send you off to a “friend’s” (he still stands by the fact that your ‘friends’ are shitty because what sort of friends leave their drunk friend alone at a bar with a stranger—even if he knows that he’d rather let the world burn than see harm come upon you, they don’t know that) with an extra protection detail. One that you wouldn’t know is there, naturally. 

But how does he make sure you don’t go back to your apartment after the leak is fixed? 

He thinks to himself, an idea coming to him swiftly. It’s a bit dark, yes, and he’s sure that if you knew, you’d run for the hills but… to keep you safe, he would do whatever it takes. Even if you’d hate him for it if you knew. 

But what you don’t know won’t hurt you. 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says before the man can leave his apartment. Chuuya stops dead in his tracks, not turning to look at Dazai, but waiting for whatever he has to say. “I’m going to text you the number of her landlord… make sure he doesn’t get her apartment fixed any time soon. And let Gin-chan know I might have a guest for the next few days so she’s not caught off guard tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffs. “You’re a freak, Dazai.”

Dazai only smiles idly to himself, eyes sliding shut as he leans back in the chair at his desk, Chuuya leaves without another word, Dazai loses himself in thoughts of you. 

A freak? Yeah, maybe. In love? Definitely. 

Should he convince you to stay with him? The thought bounces around his head frantically. He doesn’t know the answer. The more careful part of him screams no, tells him that it’s too dangerous to keep you around. It’s dangerous for you, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk you’ll be of getting hurt. It’s dangerous for him, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk he’ll be of getting exposed,

But the less logical part of him, the one that’s consumed by the idea of you, and the chance he has of being with you, is much louder. 

You came to him, he reminds himself. You found him. He tried to be good. He did everything he could to stay away from you, but you still found him. And you chose to seek him out again. You chose to. It’s easier to blame it on you, convince himself that you brought this upon yourself, as if you had any idea what sort of sick and fucked up person Dazai really is, as if you have any idea what’s happened to you in every other universe because of him.

He can never go back to how he was living before meeting you; he can’t. 

You came to him. 

Why should he have to let you go now?

With that thought in mind, Dazai thinks the answer to his question is made abundantly clear. 

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x yoju #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[mj0702]

The other Bronze – Pt.8

Okay... this is the last Barça part for now (hold your pitchforks - we will get back to Barcelona in the future)

I feel different about this chapter since there's less chaos and more feels but I still hope you like it❤️

I can't put into words how much I appreciate all your support especially @samkerrworshipper and @valewosomtb but also all you anons like my lunatic and gold star ❤️❤️ now go and enjoy 11k of Bronzeness

As soon as Keira and you entered her flat she retreated to the kitchen letting you standing in the hallway

“You need help Kei?” you asked knowing full well she'll decline since you got banned from kitchen duty after you nearly cut off your hand when you wanted to help her and Lucy one night (back in the day back in england) and the night ended in hospital

“You already know the answer to that, Bitsy... go shower...” you heard her yelling back as you heard pots clatter

“I showered at the Beach... with the sexy spaniard” you said now moved to stand in the kitchen entrance

“And then you went to have your little outbreak in the Sea... believe me... you'll want to shower or you'll wake up in the middle of the night itching and scratching your skin off... and I swear to god if you wake me up at 2AM because you decide it would be a good time to shower I'll have your head” the blonde englishwoman answered measuring some stuff for your requested Shepherds pie

“But I don't have my shower stuff here and yours is so... flowery” you whined

“Your choice Bitsy... but I really will have your head if you wake me up in the middle of the night...” Keira looked at you raising an eyebrow in challenge

“Ugh” you huffed pushing yourself of the doorframe as you dragged yourself towards her bathroom

“Good choice” you heard the blonde yelling after you and you could hear the smirk in her voice

“Good choice” you imitated her under your breath “I'm gonna smell like a fucking field of poppies”

After 20 Minutes you cracked opened the door of the bathroom a little bit to yell for Keira

“Keira???!!!” you yelled loudly so she would hear you in the kitchen

“What?” she yelled back and you could hear a nuance of annoyance in her voice

“I forgot clothes” you yelled as Keira stayed in the kitchen and you didn't want to leave the bathroom in your (her) towel

“Ugh kid... I still don't know how you survive without me constantly around” she said as she came out of the kitchen walking down the hall to get you some clothes

“I have a good system of supporting people around me... I refer to them as my cult” you said as she passed you “they make sure I don't die – they're too scared of you”

“I bet... let me guess... Mary, Millie, Rachel, Tooney and Russo?” Keira rolled her eyes knowing you have basically all her lionesses teammates wrapped around your pinkie and if you just look at them with HALF a puppy eye they all scramble to grant you every wish

“And Hempo and Meado and Scotto and Viv and Daan and Greensie and ChloChlo and Leila and Guerrero and Stina and Lia and Kimmi and...” you counted on your fingers smirking as Keira made her way back to you some shorts and a shirt in her hand

“God... you really always get whatever you want” she rolled her eyes but a smile tugged on her lips

“Not everything... otherwise you'd be a Bronze” you shrugged your shoulders as you took the pieces of clothing out of her hand and shut the door

“Don't do that Bitsy...” Keira sighed against the door “... it's not your fault”

“But it feels like it” you answered from inside the bathroom fighting with your balance as you tried to get into the shorts but struggled since you suddenly were overcome with a wave of dizziness

“It's not... stop telling yourself that... it just happened Bitsy...” Keira answered softly as she heard a crashing sound from the inside “You okay Bits?” she asked a little concerned

“All good” you said quickly picking yourself up from inside the shower you fell backwards into “Got stuck on the shorts”

“Dear jesus chirst kid.... I swear you're so clumsy at this point it's more luck than sanity that you're still alive...” the blonde huffed out

You tried to stand up again only to find the room spinning again so you decided to do something you hated doing

“Kei help please....” you said your voice low

Keira knew that when you actually asked for help it was a serious matter so she quickly pushed the door open to find you sitting in the shower back against the tiles

“What's wrong Bits?” she asked concerned crouching down in front of you

“Room's spinning” you mumbled

“You have a headache too?” the blonde asked already knowing what's wrong with you

“Little bit...” you answered honestly

“You have a sunstroke Bits...” Keira smiled lightly “Not used to the spanish sun...”

“Is not fun” you mumbled trying to contain the nausea

“Come on Bits...” the blonde huffed pulling you up into a standing position but keeping a good hold of you “... you gonna lay down on the couch and rest okay...” she said before leading you back into the livening room minus the shorts so you were just in your boxers and a sports bra

“My shorts” you whined

“First... these are MY shorts and secondly... you don't need shorts.. it's just me” Keira said softly before deposing you on the couch “Gonna bring you some water okay”

“Kei...” you whined “... I'm not feeling good”

“I know Bitsy... I know” the blonde sighed before getting you the promised water

“Why am I feeling sick?” you whined turning onto your side

“Sunstroke Bitsy... drink some water... it'll help I promise” Keira said lovingly as she stroke softly through your hair

You carefully took small sips of water as Keira decided to sit down by your head her hand never leaving your face. Softly stroking through your hair, over your forehead or caressing your cheek smiling softly as you continue to whine about how bad you felt

“Take a nap Bitsy.... that'll help too” the blonde englishwoman spoke lowly as she saw your eyes dropping

“You not mad anymore?” you asked half asleep

“I was never mad Bitsy... I was scared” Keira said softly “You mean the world to me, Bitsy and alone the thought of loosing you without being able to do anything scared me – really scared me”

“You mean the world to me too Kei... you're always there” you sighed as Keira started to lightly scratch your scalp

“I've seen you grow up Bits... you fought so many battles and still grew into an amazing person I can't nor do I want to imagen a world without you in it... you have so much more to explore and offer and seeing you out there... without anyone responsible near it squeezed all air out of my lungs Bits... you really can't do things like that” you heard the crack in her voice at the end and force your eyes open again.

Even with your blurred eyesight you could make out Keiras tears

“Kei...” you said lowly waiting for her to look at you “... nothing's gonna happen to me... the stupid always have the luck on their side... so I'm safe... won't leave you Kei... you're my sister too you know... and most of the time you're the better sister.. I love Luce really love her – but I love you just as much because I know you're always there for me... I promise I won't leave you Kei...”

“You can't promise something like this Bitsy... because if you ever break this promise I'm gonna break... not only are you like a sister to me, you are basically my child...” Keira said her voice heavy

“I never broke a promise with you” you said your voice insisted looking her straight in the eye “I never did and I never will...”

“I need you to PROMISE me to start thinking before you do things Bits...” the blonde said and you knew you would never EVER break that promise

“I promise...” you just answered and Keira could hear the honesty in your voice “But you need to promise to never leave me”

“I promise Bitsy... wherever I end up either in my career or afterwards... I'll be always there for you” Keira said softly

“Good... because let's be honest if I have to live of Luces cooking I'm gonna be gone pretty quickly because of food poisoning” you said as a matter of fact

“She got better... she doesn't burn the pasta anymore...” Keira smiled through her tears

“Kei... she was meant to BOIL the pasta... she's the only person I know who burns pasta in cooking water!!!! And she stuffed fish-fingers in a toaster and nearly burned our flat down!!” you exclaimed bewildered

“I know... she had some... questionable ideas” Keira tried to find the right words

“She has shit ideas when it comes to cooking,... I mean who thinks it's a good idea to serve RAW fish” you exclaimed loudly

“To her defence... sushi is raw fish” the blonde said

“WHEN IT'S FRESH IT IS.... this... thing was probably a week old... and on top of that she KNOWS I hate fish” you couldn't contain your outburst

“Fish is good...” Keira smiled knowing just how much you despise it

“Nope... nuh-uh.... it's disgusting... it normally looks at you when served...” you shook your head which reminded you immediately of your nausea again “Uh... wrong move” you mumbled

“Oh Bitsy...” the blonde sighed putting her hand against your forehead “You're burning up... I'll get you some paracetamol and then you'll have a nap... if you feel up to it later we can eat a little bit and then off to bed you scramble”

“Ugh please no paracetamol” you whined

“Ah yeah... I always forget that you always get sick from paracetamol... Aspirin it is then...” the blonde said pitiful as she softly stroke over your forehead experienced first hand before how bad a sunstroke feels

“Can I call G?” you whined miserable

“Of course Bitsy... why are you asking?” Keira asked confused

“Didn't know if you'd be a fan of me calling her... Lucy is not a fan” you mumbled your eyes already dropping again

“Lucy is very much a fan... but more and foremost she's your sister... she swore to protect you Bitsy” the blonde chuckled getting her phone from the side table dialling Georgias number

“Hey best friend... what gives me the unwanted pleasure of you calling me?” Georgias happy voice came out of the speaker and you could hear the smile in her voice

“You really milking that best friend card since Leah is out” Keira deadpanned but couldn't help but smile too

“I mean... I take what I can get...” the younger blonde said grinning “But seriously... what can I help you with”

“Not me.... but you could help your girlfriend out” Keira chuckled

“Ehrm... while you're there?” Georgia asked unsure and you could just picture how her cheeks flush and she rubbed the back of her neck

“Dear jesus... not like that” Kei exclaimed “What is wrong with you??”

“I haven't seen her in WEEKS, Kei... WEEKS...” the younger blonde insistent

“I don't CARE” Keira said back just as insistent

“G” you whispered exhausted

“Hey baby” immediately your girlfriends voice changed into a soft caring low tone

Keira left to finally get the shepherds pie into the oven but still was listening to your conversation with one and a half ear

“Not feeling good” you whispered

“What happened baby...” Georgia asked softly

“Parrently M not used to sun” you mumbled

“You're english... of course we're not used to sun...” your girlfriend chuckled lightly “... what you need from me baby?”

“Just talk... M sleepy” you mumbled your speaking slurred with sleep

“Usual topics?” Georgia double checked softly

“Mhm” you mumbled confirming

“Okay... sooooo... I kinda overslept this morning... but just like... 20 Minutes – still made it to training in time but I couldn't stop at that little bakery.. you know the one on the corner with the colourful dotty thingies on the windows... but I'll make sure to stop there tomorrow again...” Georgia began to lowly tell you about her day with all the little details as you slipped into a peaceful slumber

As your girlfriend heard your even breathing she stopped talking for a second before asking

“Keira?”

“Yes?” the blonde answered

“She asleep?” Georgia asked already knowing the answer

“What do you really want to ask, G? What's on your mind?” Keira chuckled

“How mad is Lucy?” your girlfriend mumbled concerned

“Lucy isn't mad... she's protective... I can promise you deep down inside she's relieved it's you... you're a good person, G and Luce knows that... and I'm happy it's you – because let's be real for a second... any girl Bitsy would have brought home would run for the hills after a “talk” from Lucy Bronze – you can handle that just fine. So Lucy isn't mad... but you're dating her baby sister... she swore to protect her no matter what since the moment she found out y/n will be a girl... and she waited 16 years to give someone “The Talk”... so she'll act all overprotective and threatening and what not but in secret she's happy for the two of you... just let her waltz over you with her “If you're hurting her”-talk and smile politely” Keira said knowing G needs some reassurance right now “Just... don't kiss her in front of Lucy right away... baby sister and all that”

“No kissing got it” G repeated nodding her head – even if no one could see it

“I didn't said no kissing... I said no kissing in front of Luce” the blonde corrected her younger friend

“Isn't that the same thing?” Georgia asked confused

“Gosh G... get creative... didn't YOU tell me about 30 minutes ago you haven't seen your girl for weeks” Keira huffed out as she left the living room with her phone to check on the shepherds pie

“I mean... yeah... but that would involve a lot more than kissing” G answered and Keira could hear her embarrassment

“I love you G, I really do... but I won't cover for you or get Lucy of your backs.... just saying” the blonde said as she pulled dinner out of the oven

“Can we not... talk about that... maybe?” your girlfriend asked even more embarrassed

“We're grown ups, G... we can talk about sex” Keira rolled her eyes before speaking to herself “Do I wake you up Bitsy or not?”

“Why do you want to wake her up? I literally just put her to sleep” Georgia ignored the first part and just jumped on the you-waggon

“She should eat... but as you said... she just fell asleep...” Keira mumbled looking over to your sleeping form

“Wake her... I still got time so I can bore her to sleep again” G said happily

“How often do you talk anyway?” Keira asked finding it quiet endearing how your relationship blossomed and she was very grateful that she was one of the first (if not the first) to witness it

“You mean like now? Or texting?” your girlfriend asked

“Like now.... you immediately knew what she needed – it's cute” the blonde grinned

“Every Day... even when I have games we make time... if it's just five minutes” Georgia said and Keira could hear how important it was for the younger girl

“Didn't peck you as a routine girl, G” Keira teased her friend

“It's important to her....” your girlfriend answered and her voice showed nothing but love for you.

“God G... you sound like your neck deep in love” the blonde chuckled but was met with silence from the other end

“G??” Keira asked kinda bewildered

“Yeah... still there” the younger one mumbled ashamed

“Talk to me G” the blonde encouraged her

“I know it sounds stupid but... god Kei I do love her... I know we haven't dated for long but... I can see her as my forever... I know it's early to say something like that but it feels so different with her... good different...” Georgia tried to put her feelings into word

“Calm down G... it's okay.. it's just me... honestly... I can see it too – you shouldn't say anything like that to Luce tho... at least not for the next... 10.... no... 25 years” Keira said softly and tried to lighten the mood a little bit

“It just... it scares me a little bit I never felt like this about anyone” Georgia explained

“G... if you know, you know... and it's okay to get scared or overwhelmed... but you need to talk to someone – ideally with y/n but you can always talk to me too... keep communicating” the blonde said trying to calm her friend down

“I just never felt like this... like... she's my air you know... god I sound so cheesy... but when I look at her nothing else matters... when she smiles it's like getting hit with a truck and Kei.... when she laughs... it's the most beautiful sound in the world” your girlfriend said and Keira could just HEAR the love

“Tell her G... tell her that every day... because even if they always act so tough... both of them Bronzes need to hear things like that” Keira said softly

“How do you know?” Georgia asked confused

“And she's back” the blonde rolled her eyes “Why do all of you always forget that I dated a Bronze.... for YEARS”

“Ah yeah... you dated the other Bronze” your girlfriend laughed

“Technically I dated the one Bronze... you date the other Bronze” Keira said

Suddenly there was a crashing sound from the living room followed by a whined “Keira” and Keira groaned

“She fell of the couch again?” Georgia asked knowingly

“Yep.... catch you later G... I have to go aid your girlfriend” the blonde huffed

“Tell her I love her, yeah” your girlfriend said hopefully

“Will do... see you in a few days in Camp G... and G” Keira said

“Yeah?”

“You're good for her... Lucy will see this too... so don't let Luce push you around... stand up for your relationship” the blonde said and her voice had a loving tone

“Thanks Kei... I mean it” your girlfriend answered honesty

“KEIRAAAAA” you whined from the floor of the living room

“COMING... jesus...” the blonde yelled back “See you in a few day G...” she said before ending the call

“What happened there Bitsy, hm?” the blonde asked you as she knelt down beside you

“Fell off” you mumbled

“I see that” Keira chuckled “You want to go back to sleep or eat a little bit”

“Shepherds pie?” you asked your eyes shining hopefully

“Waiting in the Kitchen” the blonde smiled as she pulled you up by your good wrist “After that you go straight to bed, do you hear me?”

“Yeah mom” you mumbled and Keira noticed you're definitely still asleep

Keira basically had to feed you since you nearly face planted into your plate several times before she dragged you back to her guestroom. As usual you didn't want to sleep alone so you just started to whine until the blonde gave in once again leading you towards her bedroom. You were dead asleep the second your head hit the pillow so Keira just threw a blanket over you and went back to the living room after she cleaned the kitchen and started packing for her (hopefully) call-up to national camp. Just as Kei was halfway through her packing her phone rang and Lucys name showed up on the display

“What can I do for you ex?” she grinned into the phone as she locked her phone in between her ear and shoulder to have her hands free

“Hello to you too other mother of my princess... Bubs around?” Lucy shot back but Keira knew she wasn't serious

“OUR princess, ex...” the blonde corrected grinning “Nope... your sister is dead to the world in my bed”

“I KNEW there was something going on... G is just a cover, innit?” Lucy exclaimed and faked being shocked

“Oh no... you figured us out” Keira answered monotonous and pausing for a second before starting to chuckle “What you need from her? Not that I could get her up anyway but I'm sure she'll be up at some point in the night”

“I actually need YOU” Lucy mused and Keira heard the slight begging undertone

“Oh my Luce... I thought we were past the sex with the ex act... does Ona know what you're proposing right now?” the blonde just couldn't give up such an opportunity to tease her ex girlfriend

“Oh my god... no... not for that... that front is very well covered thank you very much...” your sister stuttered shocked which caused Keira to start laughing “I need you to bring y/n with you to training tomorrow...”

“That's a given” Keira rolled her eyes “You think I'm gonna leave her out of my sight after the stunt she pulled today?”

“... as fast asleep as possible” Lucy finished her sentences ignoring Keiras interruption

“She definitely outgrown the dino-harness...” the blonde said knowing exactly what Lucy was planning

“I... modified it?” your sister said slowly

“Modified it?” Keira asked confused

“The buckle just works like I belt... so I strapped a belt into the buckle so it would fit...” Lucy said reluctantly

“She will throw a whole ass tantrum you know that right... and you want me to get involved as well” the blonde said warningly

“I know... but come on Kei... she proved today that she actually is not grown up enough to be left to her own devices...” your sister huffed out

“Did it accrue to you that she actually IS grown up enough and she just lets her guard down around you because she knows you're the only person in the entire world that will always be in her corner no matter what... I mean... except for me” Keira said and she knew she hit a nerve when there was no come back from the other end of the line

“I was scared Kei” Lucy admitted her voice low

“I know... I was scared too Luce... but she's growing up... you have to let her make mistakes” the blonde sighed knowing it was so hard to let you off the (imaginary) leash

“I know... but let me have my moment tomorrow.. I'm taking the blame... tell her you didn't knew” Lucy begged a little bit

“If she doesn't talk to you for weeks don't come to me crying” Keira warned “You have a girlfriend for that now... not my problem anymore”

“Deal... but I promise I'll get in her good books at end of training again” your sister said and Kei could hear her grin

“Do I want to know?? I feel a headache forming” the blonde mumbled

“I'll let her drive my Cupra... we just need to wait long enough till the parking lot is empty” your sister said excited thinking she could fulfil a wish for you

“Oh Luce” Keira sighed

“I know... she's going to be so happy” Lucy could hardly contain her excitement

“Oh you have no idea” the blonde tried to warn her friend without saying too much

What Lucy of course didn't knew was that Jill (Scott), Millie and Rachel gifted you 10 driving lessons for your birthday – but not just driving lessons they were stunt driving lessons. Of course it was mostly courtesy of Jill who knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy. So while your sister was under the dreamy impression that she would make you happy being the first one who's letting you drive (even if it was kinda illegal) you perfected the art of drifting, donuts and race gear shifting. And of course how to use the breaks – you weren't completely stupid. But it was the second best present this day. Jill even went so far in buying you race driver shoes – like formula one shoes.

“So you bring her in tomorrow?” Lucy asked hopefully

“Asleep as possible... I'll get her to Nuo around 8... you better be there and get her in that harness before she interacts with Mapí because that will kick-start her” Keira sighed again knowing tomorrow will be an absolute disaster.

“Thanks Kei” your sister said happily “I'll wait in front of the locker room for you”

“You owe me Luce...” the blonde replied

“What do you want?” Lucy asked interested

“I want to have Narla over Christmas” Keira said

“Hard bargain there, Walsh... but okay... but I get her new years” your sister huffed out

“Okay... 8 o'clock locker room.. if you're late I'll let Mapí talk to her” the blonde threatened playfully

“Aye woman...” Lucy answered and Keira could just picture how she put her hand up to a mock salute

“Hate you” the blonde grinned

“No you don't.... see you tomorrow Kiewa” your sister answered using a stupid nickname you once tried to get spread through national team

Keira just hung up continuing to pack some shirts before she called it a night too. She carefully entered her bedroom to find you still dead asleep but you moved to her side your nose pressed deep into her pillow

“Why can't you always be so sweet?” the blonde mumbled lowly a slight smile on her lips

As if you heard her you started to snore – very lightly which caused Keira to laugh quietly before laying down on your other side. Just like always you immediately noticed the “intruder” as you turned around still asleep as you cuddled up to Keiras side

“Bitsy come on.. wake up... we're leaving in five” Keira shook you awake next morning

“Nooooo...” you whined sleepily turning away from her “... five more minutes”

“We're leaving in five, Bitsy... come on... up and at em” the blonde didn't give up “Up... now... teeth, clothes, car” she said sternly

“Kei... nooooo” you whined trying to get away from her shaking

“Up NOW Bitsy” the blonde got even more firm – which she hated herself for

“Yeah okay... I'm up” you grumbled as you stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom

Exactly 5 minutes later you stood at the door where Keira was waiting for you impatiently. You had your shirt on backwards, Barcelona training kit shorts which were slightly too big for you and a England bucket hat on your head

“Is that my bucky?” the blonde asked confused

“Couldn't find anything else and I'm NOT sitting in the sun today... learned my lesson” you mumbled and Keira noticed how grumpy you were

“Come on Bitsy... I'll get you coffee at Camp Nuo” the blonde said hoping to get your spirits up just a little bit – at this point you'd probably rip Lucys throat apart with your teeth if she'd touch you and buckle you up in the harness. She decided to give Lucy a warning which your sister replied with a thumbs up

“Kay” you mumbled as you stumbled towards Keiras car

23 Minutes later you arrived at Camp Nuo and Keira manoeuvres you expertly through the long hallways

“Jesus... bet some people died in here trying to find a toilet” you grumbled as Keira pushed you around another corner which caused the blonde to chuckle behind you her hand never leaving the small of your back

“Not so bad once you figured it out... you were here before, you know.. you just were very VERY high... Alexia lost you twice – not that your sister knows but still... Capi needed to confine someone” Keira laughed

“I actually don't know... I was high... I know NOTHING from that day” you grumbled as you spotted your sister waiting in front of a door that looked just like the 500 doors you already passed.

“Bon dia Bubs” your sister smiled warmly

“Bon fuck yourself” you grumbled while you walked passed her thinking you need to keep going as Lucy grabbed your shirt to pull you back

“Locker room is this way” she said not letting you get to her nerves as you outright sweared at her.

Next thing you knew was that you were buckled up in something and as you looked down you spotted the familiar face of Bronzo the Bronto (courtesy of Dszenifer who thought it would be funny to name your dino-harness Bronzo). Before your brain could even recognise what just happened you heard Lucy victorious chuckle “Still got it”

“Wha... Wha... Wait what??” you stuttered as you tried to comprehend what just happened

“It's okay Bubs... just want you to be save” Lucy said lowly knowing this could go two ways. Either you accept it since you haven't even had coffee yet OR you could completely explode.

Your brain choose option two for you and you just started to sprint. Your sister didn't see that coming she was more prepared for you to attack her directly so you got a few meters between the two of you before Lucy grabbed the leash tightly in her hand trying to stop your running. What she also wasn't prepared for was the strength you could get out of your fury so Alexia was met with a angry faced running you as she rounded the corner as you basically dragged Lucy behind you who still tried to get you under control

“Bubs come on... calm down” your sister tried again “Bon dia Capi” she smile quickly at Alexia before she got dragged on

“I... don't even want to know” the blonde spaniard mumbled to herself as she continued her way to the locker room

“The Bronzes out there?” Keira asked as Alexia entered the changing room

“This way... Cariño seemed quite aggressive this morning” the blonde pointed to the right

“Yeah... Lucy jumped her with the dino-harness... did anyone had any blood on them?” Keira asked getting a little concerned when Alexia used “aggressive”

“Not that I saw... but the Cariño pulled Lucy around like she weight nothing...” the spaniard answered as she tied her cleats

“Yeah... y/n in a bad mood is someone you don't want to cross...” the blonde englishwoman said as she stood up from her cubical grabbing her water bottle

“And why exactly is Cariño pulling around Lucia?” Alexia now questioned as she copied Keira and grabbed her bottle as well when the two women make their way to the field

“You'll see” Keira grinned knowingly

“Bon dia” the two blonde smiled towards the media staff as they recorded the famous arriving of the players

“LEFT!!! TO THE LEFT!!!!” the whole team heard Lucys yelling and all heads turned towards the tunnel exit

“I'LL PRESENT YOU MY LEFT TO YOUR NOSE IN A SECOND!!!!! LET ME THE FUCK GO!!! THIS IS LITERALLY KIDNAPPING!!!” you shouted back and Keira heard that you were about to lose it

“HA!!!!!” Lucy exclaimed as she pulled you out after her “You admit you're a kid... so you get treated like one.... Bon dia” your sister smiled at the camera having the leash over her shoulder walking slightly hunched forward as you got pulled backwards.

“I swear to god Lucy... I rip you to pieces” you sneered as you passed the media staff

The whole team watched the interaction between the two of you and before you knew it you heard a loud laugh. Mapí just couldn't help herself as she saw you in the bright green dino-harness kicking and pouting like a three year old. You of course didn't think it was funny so you turned and sprinted past Lucy about to fight the tattooed spaniard as Lucy hauled you back

“Nooooo... we don't fight” your sister said sternly as she held the leash tightly digging her feet into the grass so you couldn't pull her along again

“She's laughing” you said accusing and even Lucy saw that your patience’s wearing thin

“Let her Bubs... come on... I even got you some coffee and ice cream” your sister tried to lure you away as Mapí stupidly opened her mouth

“You wearing a kiddie-leash” the spaniard laughed loudly as Ingrid stepped in looking at Lucy

“Where did you find that? That is a great idea!!” the Norwegian asked interested

“Bronzo? Bought it back in Lyon when missy here decided to go on a stroll while I was... occupied and I had to pick her up hours later at a police station” your sister grinned as she playfully tugged on the leash

“You weren’t “occupied” you were shoving your tongue down Keiras throat!!!” you exclaimed aggregated

“I think my life would benefit from something like this as well” Ingrid mused her eyes sparkling

“Why would we need something like this, mi amor?” Mapí now asked confused

Ingrid just raised an eyebrow expectantly at her girlfriend waiting for her to catch on – and finally she did

“NO.... I don’t need something like this... I’m no hija” the tattooed spaniard exclaimed annoyed looking at you pointingly as she referred to you as a child

“You sure sound like one at the moment...” the Norwegian grinned as Mapí pouted and crossed her arms over her chest before sticking out her tongue to you

You tried to get to her again as Alexia now stepped in and stopped you

“cálmate” the blonde spaniard said calmly and the usage of spanish got you out of your head

“Huh?” you asked as you looked at her confused

“cálmate” Alexia repeated softly

“Cellmate?” you asked even more confused “makes no sense dude”

“It means “Calm down” in spanish” the blonde answered her voice calm and low

“Ha... so calm mate is making sense” you said but weirdly you felt much more calm

“It kinda does, doesn't it” the Capitan still kept her voice calm as she grabbed your waist manoeuvring you to the side line without breaking eye contact as she feared you would jump on Mapí and kill her.

Everyone watched the interaction stunned as you just let Alexia carefully move you away from the team. Even Lucy and Keira couldn't believe it since it was normally a fight for hours till you calmed down.

“Shit Capi is good” Lucy mumbled loosening the leash so you wouldn't feel the pressure and would snap again

“Shut up before you shift her focus and we have another fight on our hands” Keira shushed her ex girlfriend warningly

Alexia manoeuvred you into a shady corner the leash now dragging behind you since Lucy had to let go of it to not disturb the little moment you have with her Capitan.

“Are you gonna be good and stay here or do I have to tie this leash to one of the posts?” Alexia asked you quietly but still firmly

“Not gonna run” you mumbled kinda ashamed and embarrassed being strapped into a kiddie-harness right in front of (yet again) world class players “So embarrassing”

“No need to be embarrassed Cariño... we just want you save” the blonde said quietly keeping this interaction as private as possible “And it makes Lucia feel so much better knowing you're save”

“She could just have...” you started but couldn't come up with a reasonable solution

“It's the best solution for now... and after training I'll let you chase Mapí for making fun of you, okay.. now please stay here – I give you the... depth of doubt and won't tie this leash up but if you disappoint me I won't hesitate to do so” Alexia said softly but it was a fair warning to you

“Benefit...” you mumbled not meeting her eyes “It's benefit of the doubt... but thank you”

“If you need something just yell or tell one of the staff members okay?” the blonde smiled warmly at you

“Is there coffee around?” you asked hopefully as the blonde started laughing signalling to one of the staff to come over. She quickly spoke to the young man in spanish and he jogged off back into the building

“Cortado is on the way” the Capitan winked “you remember “thank you” in spanish?”

“Moohtschas grazia or something like that” you said after a second of thinking and you could see Alexia visibly flinch at your butchering her mother tongue

“You have to speak softer, Cariño... spanish is a soft language – not harsh... try again... muchas gracias” the blonde encouraged you to try again

“That's what I said... Moohtschas grazias” you said confused

“You are to hard on the “s”... it's “s” like … sunshine... not “z” like... what's this white and black horse?” she tried to remember

“Zebra” you helped her out

“Sí... Zebra... again... muchas...” Alexia spoke slowly empathizing the “s”

“muchas” you tried to copy her pronunciation

“gracias” the blonde said slowly again

“gracias” you followed

“Bíen... muchas gracias” Alexia smiled proudly at you “Now be good and stay here” she said as she pressed a light kiss to your forehead and left you standing there rooted in place.

The only people who were allowed to give forehead kisses were Lucy, Keira, Sarina and Georgia. Alexia wasn't allowed and you were very careful when it came to physical contact. Keira of course kept an eye on you through warm ups and saw the interaction with Alexia. As soon as the blonde spaniard leant down to press a small kiss to your forehead Keira already moved towards you

“It's okay Bitsy... it's how the spanish are, okay... she doesn't mean any harm” Keira spoke calmly since she knew what physical contact – at least not predicted one – did to you.

“It's just the way they are around here, okay... they're very touchy feely... no need to freak out Bitsy okay” the blonde englishwoman kept talking until you looked at her

“She... she kissed me” you stuttered out

“I saw... but she doesn't mean any harm – it's really how they are here” Keira reassured you

“I... didn't like it... she didn't say anything beforehand” you said and the blonde could see how you were fighting an internal battle

“She doesn't know... no one knows you don't like contact like that” the blonde stayed calm through your conversation

“Why did she do that?” you asked confused

“She wanted to show you how good you did” Keira once again reassured you

“Ice cream would have done the job” you mumbled which caused the blonde to burst out laughing

“I know... but I can see some coffee coming this way... I bet it has your name on it” Keira smiled as she stroke through your hair and turned around to leave you to re-join training.

“muchas gracias” you said as the young man who grinned widely as he answered “De Nada”

You sat down on the ground sipping on your coffee watching the training going on as they switched from passing drills to 5 a side. You remembered these drills like the back of your hand and you already knew who would pass to whom and who would assist to who to get the ball into the back of the net. The drills they were playing were so predictable that you groaned internally. Just happens to not be internally – you groaned so loudly that even Jona turned around looking at you as if he tried to figure out if you're hurt again. He signalled Lucy and spoke to her quietly as her eyes snapped towards you before she came jogging over

“What's wrong Bubs... Jona said you might have hurt yourself he said you groaned quite loudly” your sister asked worried

“M not hurt... but this is so boring and your playing is so predictable...” you rolled your eyes

“What do you mean?” Lucy asked confused

“Okay wait...” you waited until the whistle blew again “Ingrid will pass it to Ona, Mapí tries to intercept but her footing is wrong so she won't get there in time. Ona will pass it as a high ball to that brown haired one who will TRY to get it down the middle with as a half-volley but Alexia stands to close so brown hair only gets the ball to bounce of Alexias hip... she will pass the ball to the right to flawless and flawless will cross it back into the middle to the blonde norwegian... who will make it look like she's going in for a header but she'll let the ball cross to the Jamaican spaniard who's already waiting at the back post... oh yeah... and Kei was open in the middle the whole time” you said and it happened exactly like you said just that you said it about 10 seconds before it all happened

“What the...” your sister listened to you as you predicted the whole tactic move before it even got played out now looking at you shocked

“Told you.. predictable” you shrugged your shoulders as Lucy waved Jona over to her speaking to him in spanish as now HIS eyes snapped towards you.

“Mind if we try something Bubs?” Lucy asked you smiling slightly

“I'm NOT trying your protein shakes again” you exclaimed

“No... I just want to show Jona something” she laughed as she nodded to her trainer.

Jona yelled something in spanish and the teams mixed up before he looked at you expectantly

“Tell me what's going to happen now, Bubs... I'll translate for him” Lucy encouraged you as you scanned the field and who the players were positioned

After a few minutes you looked at your sister “Team Yellow is going to score first... they have a technical midfield and even if Team Red has the better defence, they will concentrate on the forwards instead of the midfield and either Kei or tweedledee will score – team reds defence will probably only watch tweedledumb and Jamaican spaniard and forget about the technical finesse these two midfielders have... Alexia will realize it first but it will be to late” you shrugged your sister as she spoke lowly to her trainer who then turned around to blow the whistle.

Again you watched bored as the game rolled out just as you said – it was Keira who had the finishing touch on the ball to hit the back of the net. Jona turned around to you looking like he saw a ghost

“How did you know this?” Lucy asked you after Jona talked to her for a minute

“Predictable” you felt like a broken record “You guys focus too much on the forwards... you have an amazing midfield but you only go for the forwards... it’s a wonder you’re opponents haven’t figured it out already”

Lucy again translated what you said to her trainer who couldn't stop to look at you with a shocked face

“He wants you” your sister grinned

“Yeah no... I don't dingdongs... sorry” you waved off before yelling over to the field “Keira... rotate your hip more when you go for that high ball... and lock your ankle... you look like a fucking penguin trying to walk on ice”

“He wants you in his training staff you horny bitch” Lucy bit out

“Yeah... he can get in line” you mumbled watching Keira closely as she tried to follow through with what you just said

“What was that?” your sister asked confused

“KEIRA for god sakes... LOCK THIS BLOODY ANKLE... you locked it around my sisters waist enough times that I know you're able to do so!!!” you yelled again not happy with the outcome of your “pointers”

“Dear heavens” Lucy groaned as half the team looked at her while the other half looks at Keira “No more caffeine for you”

“It's not the caffeine that's the problem here...” you mumbled watching Keira step up to the ball again

“Then what is?” Lucy asked annoyed

“You REALLY want the answer to this question?” you raised an eyebrow at her

“On second thought...” your sister interrupted quickly

“Yep.. thought so...” you grinned fake “BETTER KEI!! Good job” you yelled out as the ball was nearly perfect

“Thanks Bitsy” the blonde yelled back smiling

“Always” you shouted before sitting down again

“What did you mean when you said Jona can get in line?” Lucy asked bringing the former topic back up

“You really think he's the first trainer that offered me a job??” you looked at her in disbelieve

“I... can't follow you” your sister said getting more and more confused

“The first one who offered was Sarina after the Euros... you think it was an accident to bring Tooney and Less in just after halftime? Second one was Alex Straus, third one was Emma, fourth one was Jonas, fifth was Gareth and on place no. 6 now the spanish guy... so yeah... he can get in line” you said seriously as you looked your sister straight in the eye

“I had no idea” Lucy said slowly compensating the information

“Yeah... it's not like I make a big deal out of it” you shrugged but Lucy knew you wanted to say something else

“You can always talk to me, Bubs” she said knowing you would need to hear it again and again and again

“Yeah... I know” you sighed

“Good... I'm going back to training okay... we have about 30 minutes left then we can go for ice cream...” she smiled softly at you before turning around leaving

“Hey Luce?” you shouted after her

“Yeah?”

“Can I have your phone please... mines dead again and I'm bored... you have games on your phone right?” you asked pouting a little for good measure

“Sure... pin is your birthday” your sister went over to her bag quickly and tossed you her phone

“Love you” you shouted after her.

Just as you wanted to start playing candy crush it started to ring. Caller was “Lionesses”. So you figured you could answer the phone.

“Lucy Bronzes phone... you're speaking with the better looking and younger version” you answered the call

There was a beat of silence before the other person started to speak

“Y/n??” you heard a confuses voice

“Hi Mama Rina” you said happily noticing Sarinas voice immediately

“I thought I called Lucy” the Dutch was majorly confused

“You did... I'm currently at the Camp Nope watching her train and I got bored so I got her phone to play candy crush” you explained as the smile never left your face.

“Oooooh okay... think she can make it to Camp next week?” Sarina asked and you could her smile through the phone

“Wait... I'll ask her...” you said before covering the phone with your hand “LUUUCCYYYY!!!! SARINA WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU ARE FREE NEXT WEEK FOR CAMP!!!” you yelled of the top of your lungs

“WHAT?” your sister asked confused

“NATIONALCAMP NEXT WEEK!! YES? NO?” you yelled again

“YES OF COURSE!!!” Lucy yelled already on her way over again

“She said yes... Keira is here too” you got back to the call

“Would you mind, Liefje?” Sarina asked you already pulling the phone away from her ear knowing you're going to start yelling in a second

“KEIRA??? NATIONALCAMP – YES OR NO?!” you yelled to the blonde englishwoman

“YES” Keira just yelled back not bothering asking why you asked her

“Kei said yes too...” you repeated the answer to the womans national coach

“Thank you, snoepje... I'll see you all in a week then” the Dutch smiled and ended the call

“Why are you on the phone with Sarina?” your sister asked

“She called...” you shrugged your shoulders “Flights will be send per email as usual”

“She called... okay...” Lucy said dumb folded and left again

Just as training was about to end and you roamed the side line a little bit – always under the watchful eye of Alexia, Lucy and Keira – Mapí tried to do a midfield shot on goal. Of course she booted the ball without any precision and the ball ended up in your direction

“Y/N!! WATCH OUT!” Keira yelled as she saw the ball rocketing towards you.

You lifted your head just in time to recognise the ball but you didn't have time to THINK what you would do. Your body reacted out of reflex and muscle memory. You stopped the ball perfectly with your chest before you volleyed it down the field with your right food and your precision was so on point that the ball came in perfect for Keira who stopped the ball with her foot mid air to turn with it and just tipped it into the open goal. Everyone on the pitch looked at you shocked and even you were shocked about what happened. Since you got your diagnosis with your third ACL you swore to yourself to never touch a ball again – and yet here you were assisting a “goal” for Keira and it was all Mapís fault. No one dared to move as they kept staring at you – and suddenly it clicked in your head. You looked at Lucy. You looked at Keira.

“Bubs no... it's okay... you're okay” Lucy tried to approach you slowly as she spoke softly seeing in your eyes exactly what your next move would be.

Oh how right she was – the second it really sunk in what just happened you bolted. You jumped over the barrier running as fast as you could. OF COURSE you forgot about the dino-harness. You just entered the tunnel as you got hauled backwards with such a force that you lost your footing and crashed into the ground. You just laid there as you tried to breath but your breathing became more hectic and rapid. Your sisters face appeared next to you only seconds later pulling you upon into a sitting position as she shuffled in behind you pressing your body back into hers as you tried to fight her grip

“It's okay Bubs... nothing happened... you're okay..” Lucy reassured you over and over again as you keep struggling in her arms trying to get free

“You need to breath for me Bubs... come one... deep breaths” your sister spoke softly ignoring the fact that you already hit her twice in the rips as she sat with you on the ground in the tunnel.

Suddenly Lucy heard fast approaching footsteps and the next second a panic stroked Mapí dropped to her knees in front of the two of you.

“Neña... Neña I'm so sorry... I didn't mean too... please” the spaniard begged you as she took your face in her hands seeing you so majorly distressed brought her to the verge of tears

You jerked back from her touch successfully head butting Lucy in the face who groaned painfully and felt hot liquid shooting out of her nose right into you hair as you kept your face away from Mapí. Your sister tightened the grip around you body basically switching to koala hug you from behind as tight as possible as you kept throwing your weight around

“Maps please... I know you're sorry and I know it wasn't on purpose but I need you to leave us alone right now” Lucy said through gritted teeth not because she was angry she just felt her strength leaving her arms and she knew the second she would let go you'd be gone and probably gone for days.

“I just want her to know how sorry I am... I really didn't mean to... Keira said I opened the box of Pandora” the tattooed spaniard said and Lucy heard the desperation in her voice

“I know Maps... I know it wasn’t intentional... and I promise you everything will be okay again – it's not the first time I'm going through this with her and she will calm down eventually... we just need space” your sister answered – even tho her voice got quite nasally – calmly to not set the spaniard off even more.

She could see how Mapí beat herself up but she was oh so thankful when she heard another pair of footsteps approaching and seconds later Mapí got hurled to her feet and dragged away by her girlfriend. As soon as the spaniard was gone from your vision you calmed down significantly reducing to a whimpering mess in your sisters arms

“I know Bubs... it's still too much for you and I know you need to work through it in your own time...” Lucy spoke quietly into your hair as she started to rock the both of you back and forth.

Lucy loosened her grip around you slightly to see your reaction but not too much if you'd try to bolt. Thankfully you exhausted yourself to the point where you just sack against her trying to find as much comfort in her touch as possible. You stayed like this for another 10 minutes with your sister mumbling sweet nothings into your hair before Lucy heard a low whistle coming from the tunnel entrance. As she looked up she saw Keira poking her head around the corner an eyebrow raised in question. The blonde knew from past experiences that you would get send right into another panic attack if there was anyone else except for Lucy around you. Lucy looked down on your hunched form back up at Kei and nodded. Keira approached the two of you carefully always ready to stop or even retreat if you showed any sign of discomfort

“That was a bad one” the blonde whispered as she slid down next to the two of you.

“I'm so thankful for that stupid leash... we wouldn't have found her for at least days Kei... if not weeks” Lucy whispered back as she adjusted your hold on you pulling you closer to her chest

“I know... but Mapí didn't mean too...” Keira said as she kept her voice low

“I know... I'm not blaming her or anyone... it was a stupid coincidence” your sister answered her eyes never leaving you

“She just broke down in the locker room... she's beating herself up really bad for that” the blonde whispered

“Ingrid with her?” Lucy asked alarmed not wanting Mapí to fall down into a mental hole as well – one mental breakdown was enough for one day.

“Course... Alexia as well... but she needs to hear it from y/n... it's funny isn't it? They know her for a few days but I bet my yearly salary that every single woman in that room would jump in front of a truck for her” Keira said and a low chuckle left her throat

“It's the Bronze charm... you fell for it too... twice actually” your sister smiled slightly

“You wish... you figured out already that G is a cover... you think I was after you?” the blonde teased back

“Keira Fae...” Lucy faked gasped shocked “... are you implying you were after my Sister the whole time?”

Keira just grinned enjoying the playful banter that just shows what good of a relationship Lucy and her were still having. A purely friendly relationship but still up for banter.

As you registered more of your surroundings you noticed that at one point Keira must have entered the scene and you blindly patted your hand towards her hoping she'd understood. And of course she did – she took your hand into hers without and comment making sure to keep a good hold of it.

“It's okay Bitsy... we're here” the blonde whispered calmly

You just sunk deeper into your sisters arms pressing your face into the crook of her neck feeling utterly exhausted

“You should get your nose checked out” Keira said referring to the dried blood on Lucys face

“Later... not important right now” your sister mumbled squeezing you tighter to her chest

“M sorry Luce” you mumbled against her neck

“S okay Bubs... you just got scared” Lucy mumbled back pressing a kiss to your forehead

“M sorry to Mapí too... probly scared her” you half-slurred as your body felt heavy your mind exhausted

“Don't worry about it... you can talk to her tomorrow on the phone, okay?” your sister reassured you softly

“Want to pologize n person” you said as your closed again

“Okay... but tomorrow... you okay moving to the locker room?” Lucy asked carefully

“Don't want to see anyone” you shook your head

“I'll clear it out” Keira said as she stood up “Give me five minutes”

After five minutes Keira came back around the corner nodding. Lucy tried to stand up but with you in her lap and sitting on the hard ground for nearly an hour she wasn't able too. Your hand clutched her shirt tightly fearing she would disappear once you'd let go

“Come here Bitsy... the old woman needs help to stand up” Keira said her voice teasing as she pulled you off your sister into her arms.

You were basically dead weight at this point only be held up by the blondes strength. As soon as Lucy stood up (with a loud groan) she lifted you bridal style and started to walk towards the locker room where Alexia waited outside the door. The blonde spaniards eyes grew wide in shock as she saw Lucys face but recovered quickly as she just opened the door to the mostly empty locker room in silence letting your sister carry you inside before closing the door behind you. Inside Ona waited with a water bottle offering it to you as Lucy placed you in a corner on the bench letting you lean against the cool wall.

“I'm just gonna jump the shower quickly Bubs, okay... is it okay if Ona has an eye on you or do you want her to leave” Lucy spoke softly knowing from past experience that you couldn't deal with loud noises in that state

“S okay...” you mumbled taking a small sip of the water

“Okay” your sister sighed relieved “I'll be back in a flash okay Bubs”

You just nodded sipping slowly on your water while Ona retreated to the other side of the room not wanting to invade your space or scare you. You were pretty impressed she knew what you needed – then again Keira probably gave her a run down. The all to familiar feeling of loneliness spread in your chest again and you just grunted hoping Ona would understand your silent request. She wasn't Keira so you had to make yourself known a second time – this time with a whine. Ona noticed you were slightly in distress but didn't knew how to react. Keira told her to be there but not too close. But after you whined out she kicked all plans out the window approaching you carefully sitting down two cubical away from you

“You need anything, Bebita?” the blonde freckled spaniard asked quietly

“Hug” you whined out

“Ven aquí entonces” Ona mumbled out and to both of your surprise you basically threw yourself into her arms.

That's how Lucy found you 10 Minutes later – you fast asleep in Onas arms who looked like she was hardly breathing not wanting to scare you.

“Welcome to the family” Lucy smiled as she passed you seeing how content you apparently felt in her girlfriends arms

“I didn't to anything I swear... she asked for a hug then threw herself at me and seconds later she was out like a light” the spaniard whispered her voice slightly panicked not wanting to set you off.

“Don't worry... she won't wake up...” Lucy waved off speaking normal volume “I know you didn't started it... but you have no idea what this means... you are basically now her sister too... she accepts no one other than Keira or me to touch her in that state... and here we are with her fast asleep in your arms... you made it Babe”

“Is this her way of telling me she's okay with me dating you?” Ona smiled

“It's more than that... she's telling you that she trusts you” your sister said as she put a new shirt on “You know if a physio is still around? Need my nose checked out – don't think it's broken but better save than sorry”

“Marc should still be around...” the spaniard answered “What's with her”

“Hope you're comfortable... I'll be back quickly” Lucy grinned widely before slipping out of the door before her girlfriend could protest

Outside she was met with Keira and Alexia both leaning against the opposite wall

“Wow... extra security detail... she's asleep – no need for bodyguards” your sister joked as she laid eyes on her two teammates

“How is she?” Keira asked cutting straight to the point

“Asleep... Ona seems to meet her standards when it comes to sleepability” Lucy smiled

“Good... keep me updated... and if you need anything” the blonde started already grabbing her things knowing there's nothing for her to do anymore

“I'll text you... thanks Kei... it really meant a lot... also means... thank you” your sister said honestly

“Always Luce... always... whatever you need... or whatever she needs” Keira smiled back warmly

“Kay... see you tomorrow Kei” Lucy hugged her ex girlfriend and pressed a soft kiss to her temple

“And what can I do for you Capi?” your sister asked expectantly after she turned around

“Let's take a walk?” the blonde spaniard asked

“I need to see Marc anyway...” Lucy shrugged her shoulders

“What happened?” Alexia asked straight away

“Panic attack” your sister answered as the two women walked down the hallway

“But why... nothing happened” the blonde asked confused

“For us it was nothing... for her it opened up old deep wounds” Lucy answered “I'm about 95% sure it was the first time she touched a ball in over three years. You see... you just went through an ACL tear and rehab yourself... you know what it takes and how it feels... now imagine being 13 and went through it twice already and you AGAIN tore your ACL... I still can remember the look she had on her face when I told her what the diagnosis was... she was just stoic... for weeks she didn't talk just basics... she hardly ate – just what Keira and I basically forced down her throat and there were a lot of panic attacks and nightmares... at some point she got better again – but she never worked it out... and I'm still waiting for the day when she finally breaks... that earlier was just a panic attack about touching a ball again”

Alexia listened carefully before looking at Lucy with a sorrow face

“No...” your sister immediately said sternly “We don't pity her of feel sorry for her... we're proud of her...”

“She didn't deserve that... that ball was PERFECT Lucia...” the blonde spaniard said and her voice was full of hurt

“I know... you haven't seen her play... how she ran circles around Jill Scott or Ellen White out dribbling them with such ease.. how she kicked a Gatorade bottle off the crossbar – from the other box just for fun... how she spend HOURS on the side line when I had training just playing keep ups... believe me Alexia when I say... I KNOW” Lucy answered and for a second Alexia saw just how hurt Lucy was for you “But she fought... three times she fought back... doc said she'd probably will have a limp all live – do you see her limping? No... because she fought... so no, we don't pity her... we're so SO proud of her”

“She is remarkable, just like her biggest Idol....” Alexia smiled but it had a sad nuance

“I wish I was half as Tough as she is” your sister smiled back understanding her Capitan immediately.

“Just keep being there for her Lucia... she doesn't need anything more from you...” the blonde squeezed Lucys shoulder lightly “And now get that nose checked... you looked... not very appealing”

“I looked like shit... but thanks Capi... see you tomorrow” your sister smiled as she went inside to the physio who told her a few proddings later that her nose was in fact fine

“Hey... I'm back” Lucy said lowly finding you and Ona in the same position she left you in

“Hola... you okay?” Ona asked smiling slightly as you drooled on her shirt your head laying on her shoulder

“Nothing broken... just bruised.... home?” your sister asked as she already packed up hers and Onas stuff

“You really want to move her? She's sleeping so peacefully” the blonde asked concerned looking down on you.

“You want to stay here all night?” Lucy asked back raising an eyebrow

“Let's get her home” Ona said after a second

“Yep thought so... You bags I her?” your sister asked smiling

“I bag and keys...” the blonde grinned “... you know since she's around I'm driving your car more than you do... I like it... she can stay” the blonde winked

“You wish...” Lucy huffed as she pulled you into her arms to carry you to the car “Let's go home Bubs” she whispered and smiled as you sighed out pressing your face against her neck.

#woso image #lucy bronze x reader #keira walsh x reader #barca femeni #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #lucy bronze #ona batlle x reader #alexia putellas x reader