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mint-yooxgi · 9 months

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{13} - Paradise Gardens - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Book Two to Hotel California

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humour

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Yeosang, Yunho, San, and Mingi)

Words: 10,500

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma and bullying: past suicidal thoughts mentioned, and mention of a lack of self worth, OC runs into an old 'friend' near the beginning, I think that's it honestly. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, I decided to split this part into two since I feel it makes the story flow better. I'm happy where I ended it, and I really hope you all look forward to the next few parts! There's quite a lot of story coming your way hehehe As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Also, gentle reminder that I don’t do tag lists.

Mini Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve

There’s a fond look in your eyes as you stand by yourself in front of the large window overlooking the newborns sleeping soundly before you. The hospital is quiet, given how early in the morning it is, a few staff walking behind you every now and then. Still, you cannot help but watch over little Elijah, even now, ensuring that nothing happens to him while his mother rests with his father in her hospital room.

Born a little over eight hours ago, well into the night, he sleeps soundly. A week late, weighing in at a healthy eight pounds, eleven ounces, they keep him wrapped up while Crystal recovers from giving birth the night before.

When you had gotten the call yesterday, you immediately rushed to the hospital with Seonghwa and the others. You met your parents here, waiting as long as you could before being sent home. Having wanted as natural a birth as possible, Crystal had been in for a long night.

Much to your content, you discovered Elijah had been born in the early hours of the morning, and had already been checked over for any ailments that might affect him after birth. He had none, and is perfectly healthy according to all of the doctors. A fact which makes you, and all of your family, happy beyond belief.

Currently, Vasco is with Crystal, staying with her after recovery while Elijah sleeps. San has went to grab you both coffees with Mingi, who you asked to stop by and check up on Crystal for you on the way to the café. You want to make sure that she’s fairing well while you check up on your baby nephew for the first time.

The other guys stayed home, per your request. Of course, a few of them had protested at that - Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong - considering you all don’t know what Malik or Dimitri’s next moves are. However, at your assurance, they backed off. Besides, you have both Mingi and San here with you, and you highly doubt you would be attacked in a hospital.

Still, you’re on high alert. Just in case.

Looking over little Elijah once more as he sleeps, you notice a figure come to stand beside you out of the corner of your eyes. He’s tall, but not as tall as Yunho, with dirty blond hair. He looks familiar, but you don’t pay him much mind. You just wish he’d stop glancing at you every few seconds.

The soft call of your name startles you, and you finally turn to get a good look at the man standing beside you. His blue eyes are hauntingly familiar.

“Hi, Jake.” You give him a small, albeit tight smile.

“I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure.” He smiles lightly back. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well.” You reply softly. “Yourself?”

“Never better,” his eyes crinkle slightly as he turns back to observe the sleeping infants before you. “Is one of them yours?”

He holds a paper coffee cup in his hand, using it to motion before him along the line of babies.

“Oh. No.” You shake your head. “Just a proud aunt watching over her nephew.”

The corner of your lips twitches upwards as you motion to Elijah sleeping soundly before you.

A moment of silence as you cradle your elbows in your hands, almost to the point of curling in on yourself. You clear your throat. “You?”

A brilliant smile lights up his features, his eyes crinkling at the sides as his chest puffs out slightly in pride. He nods in the direction of two girls sleeping side by side. “My wife just had a twins.”

“Oh.” You meet his gaze briefly, offering him a small smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He grins widely, ruffling his hair which already seems quite disheveled. “It would have been your sister, right?”

You blink, pulled out of your own thoughts for the moment. “I’m sorry?”

“Your sister who had the baby,” he motions lightly to Elijah with his cup again. “If I remember correctly.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You clear your throat once more. “It was her.”

“Tell her congratulations for me.” He nods.

You swallow the dryness in your throat, shifting from foot to foot. “I will. Thank you.”

You don’t think you’ve ever had an encounter where you’ve felt more awkward in your life. Sure, you could brush up against Mingi’s, or even San’s mental links right now, but it’s not like you’re in danger. You’re just more uncomfortable than anything at the moment, given everything he did to you when you were younger.

“Actually, it must be pure luck that we ran into each other today.” This time, Jake clears his throat, somewhat nervously.

You hum in response, shifting the slightest bit further from him without arousing suspicion.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the past lately, and it just reminded me that I never apologized to you.”

His statement catches you so off guard, that your hands end up falling to your sides.

“I was a huge asshole to you when we were younger, and I don’t know how much this will mean to you now, but I’m sorry. I wasn’t happy when I was a kid, and I felt you were an easy target to take that out on. I was always jealous of you, and I let that and my anger control my actions. That was not right.” He says, no longer looking towards you, but down at his hands with that coffee cup held in them for dear life. “I regret getting my friends involved to torment you, too. The feeling of them listening to me gave me a sense of power I felt I lacked in my life, and you were the unfortunate victim.”

You swear you’ve stopped breathing, whole body feeling numb as you refuse to so much as look in his direction. Jake was one of the ones who tormented you so much when you were younger, and gave you all of those self doubts, as well as an incredible amount of self hatred. One of the ones who made you believe you were worthless, ugly, and unlovable.

The worst part: he started out as one of your closest friends, too. A close friend who you had cherished above all else, just as you do with all the people you care about.

A worried call of your name greets your ears, and you turn to see San standing to your opposite side, a cup of coffee held in each of his hands. Mingi is nowhere in sight.

There is no hiding the narrowed eyed look San sends Jake’s way as the former comes to stand beside you. He places the cup of coffee in your hand gently before immediately wrapping his now free arm around your waist. Almost instantly, he pulls you into his side.

“You don’t have to forgive me.” Jake continues, and you feel San’s grip around your waist tighten. “It’s been years, and I would understand if you never did. What I did was vile, and inexcusable. Just know, that I am sorry, and I regret it all.” He swallows thickly. “I just thought you should know.”

With a firm nod in acknowledgement towards San, and without another word spoken, Jake takes his leave.

Your eyes follow after him down the hall, watching as he retreats around a corner and out of sight. You don’t even notice Mingi has come to join you until you hear his voice speaking to you.

“Who was that?” There’s a hint of a growl to his words, him taking note of the distressed state you seem to be in at the moment.

You inhale sharply, as if suddenly coming back to the reality before you.

“Starlight?” Immediately, worry takes over Mingi’s features as he looks at you.

Beside you, you can feel San physically trembling.

“Baby,” his voice is low in attempts to control his building anger, “What did he do to you?”

You shake your head, blinking a few times blankly. “Nothing.”

“Then, why was he apologizing to you?” Mingi’s brow furrows, stepping in front of you in order to gently grasp your hands still holding onto that cup in his own.

“That was Jake.” You blink, head still reeling at this turn of events. “He- he-“ You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves. “He was my friend. Once.”

The two males share a look.

“You don’t look like you’ve just been chatting up an old friend.” San glares off in the direction Jake had walked off in, as if he can still see the male behind the walls of the hospital.

“He was my friend,” you repeat, pursing your lips for only a moment, “before he started bullying me.”

You swear that were you not in a public place, both males would have let growls escape them.

“He made me feel worthless, and pathetic.” Your gaze is somewhat blank, as if recalling memories from your childhood that you have long since kept hidden. “I can’t count the amount of times he told me I was ugly.” You swallow. “And fat. And stupid. And that I would never amount to anything. That no one would ever care for me, so I should just runaway and die.”

You swear you see San’s eyes flash in the reflection of the glass beside Mingi’s head.

“He got his friends involved, and it was like a game to them who could berate me the most.” You don’t know how you’re still standing, or how you’ve managed to quell your building emotions for the time being, but you do. “He told me to kill myself more times than I can remember.”

You look down at that cup of coffee in your hands, finally taking note of Mingi still gently holding onto you. The way they both have trouble breathing, chests heaving with each breath, you just know that they’re both barely containing their anger for the moment.

“I told you once before how people would pretend to like me as a joke,” you exhale shakily, and you hear the faintest of growls come from the man still holding you to his side. “I wish I could say I saw through it every time, but sometimes having a crush can blind you.”

San nearly drops the cup of coffee in his hand. “You liked him?”

“I mentioned we started off as friends, no?” Your lips twitch upwards sadly. “I think that’s what made what he did worse. I let so many things slide because I just wanted his attention. It’s something I’ve always done. With him though, any attention was good attention to me. It didn’t take long for it to change. His younger brother always was rude to me from the start, but then he started in on the ‘fun’, too.”

This time, there’s no mistaking when Mingi’s eyes flash black right before you.

Quickly, you scan the hallway to ensure it’s still empty.

It is.

“He never apologized, or even acknowledged what he did to me before. He always denied it when confronted about it, too.” Your grip tightens slightly around that cup in your hands. “Until now.”

Raising a shaky hand to your cheek, Mingi cups your face tenderly in his palm. Gently, his thumb strokes over your skin, and you can feel the barely contained rage in his touch despite how delicately he holds onto you.

“We should tear him apart for what he did to you.” Mingi keeps his voice surprisingly low and steady. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “He doesn’t deserve to live.”

A low growl of agreement sounds from San.

Almost instantly, you’re shaking your head. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” San asks, pulling away from you in shock as he begins pacing in front of both you and Mingi in that little space between where you stand and the wall.

“He’s not worth it.” You reach out, and instantly San has his free hand in yours. “I never expected to run into him after all these years, least of all for him to apologize as soon as I did.”

“Are you-“ Mingi takes the time to study your features closely, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Are you okay?”

“Shocked.” You blink a few times in response. “Attempting to process things for the moment, but I think I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” San steps in closer, nothing but worry etched into his brow.

“Yeah.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t know, it’s almost… freeing in a sense.” You swallow. “It’s almost like getting a sense of closure I never knew I needed.”

Instantly, the two males seem to relax the slightest bit from your words.

“He seemed genuine when he spoke to you.” San adds softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Besides, I’m sure our dear Sannie here would have torn him apart in an instant if he sensed any malicious or deceitful thoughts towards you.” Mingi finally drops his hands, turning to glance off in the direction Jake went off in. “I know I would have.”

“You’re damn right I would have.” San hums in agreement.

A soft laugh escapes you. “That I do know.”

They offer you small smiles in response, an affectionate gleam to their eyes.

“His wife just had twins.” You motion to the two baby girls wrapped up in blankets near Elijah with your chin.

They spare a brief look in their direction before shifting their focus onto Elijah. Almost instantaneously, Elijah stretches in his sleep, a tiny yawn escaping him as he shifts his position.

You coo lovingly down at your little nephew.

“He’s perfectly healthy, as far as we, and all of the doctors can tell.” San is beside you once more, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“And Crystal?” You spare a glance at Mingi.

“A little tired, but recovering just fine.” He smiles at you in response. “I checked her over like you asked.”

“Good.” A soft smile pulls at your lips. “I’m glad.”

Slowly, the three of you begin making your way back down the hallway and towards the room Crystal is in. You plan to spend some time with her before heading back for the day, and getting some more training done with Yunho and Yeosang.

You’re almost at a point where you can start learning the basics of a few weapons, and you’re getting quite excited. Wooyoung is more than ready to start teaching you about different poisons, and he’s often hinted at certain plants which have high toxicity levels. For now, he’s still letting you have some space, not wanting to give you any ‘ideas’ for the next time he gets overtly clingy.

Not that you would poison him.

Similarly, Yunho has been helping you hone your mind, strengthening it before the inevitable happens once you become like them.

Once you become like them.

There’s a thought that has been crossing your mind more often than not lately. You know that they mentioned that it would consist of the merging of souls in a way - you give them a piece of your soul while they give you a piece of theirs in exchange - but you’re still not entirely sure what that entails. You’ve been meaning to ask, only, you haven’t found the proper time to do so.

Perhaps you’ll bring it up again, soon.

For now, you’ll focus on joking around and making your sister smile as you sit beside her hospital bed. Vasco managed to pass out in the one chair in the time it took for Mingi to come find both you and San, but you don’t hold it against him. The man has been up all night with his wife.

After about an hour, you notice Crystal starting to drift off to sleep, too, so you bid her a fond farewell for now. With a big hug and a kiss from you, you tell her to get as much rest as she can, and that you’ll be around to visit again soon.

The whole car ride back home is quiet. Both Mingi and San attempt to engage you in conversation, only for you to reply with small, one word answers. That is, if you don’t just hum in response. Your mind is clearly elsewhere, and worry furrows their brows as they watch you almost subconsciously drive home.

You seem distracted, and it’s enough to have the others observing you carefully as you walk through the house. The quiet is unusual for you after visiting your sister, and though you don’t appear angry, or upset, it’s quite unsettling.

Of course, it takes no time for both Mingi and San to be sharing what happened with the others.

Why am I suddenly getting flashbacks to that worm we disposed of all those months ago? Wooyoung nearly growls out in all of their heads.

Believe me, Hongjoong sighs. You’re not the only one.

So, why aren’t we doing that to this one right now? Perhaps even something worse?Jongho quirks a brow while staring down at the pages of his book.

She told us not to. Mingi replies. Said he wasn’t worth it.

But he hurt her. This time, it’s Seonghwa who responds. None of his brothers need to see him to know that he wears a frown on his features currently.

An expression mirrored by more than just one male.

She said it happened a long time ago. San adds. We don’t know the full details, just what she’s told us.

And that should have been enough to at least torment the fellow. Yunho says, as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

I don’t know, guys. Mingi sighs. She told us that she felt as if it was almost freeing in a sense for him to apologize after all these years. You know I’m all for eviscerating anyone that harms her, but if she says not to, I think we should listen to her.

We’re lucky she hasn’t found out about Calum, yet. Yeosang chimes in, an almost knowing hum to his words.

And she never will. Hongjoong confirms. Just like she doesn’t have to know about this ‘Jake’ guy.

His wife just had twins, Hongjoong. San states, rather firmly. Besides, do you really want to disobey Our Queen’s wishes like that so easily?

A moment of silence settles over all of them as San’s words sink in.

San’s right. Seonghwa finally breaks the building tension. We don’t purposely orphan children, or widow spouses. Nor should we go against her wishes.

Boo! You guys are no fun. They can all practically hear the pout in Wooyoung’s voice as he says this.

I suppose the circumstances were a lot different last time. Jongho sighs.

We could still torment him mentally. Yunho suggests casually.

Oh, I’m all for this! Wooyoung exclaims excitedly. I could mildly poison him. Make it a hindrance to his daily life for a week or so.

All fun ideas, Yeosang hums. But I think you’re all forgetting one important detail.

At his brother’s inquisitive silence, Yeosang is quick to continue.

She said, ‘no’.

“Is everything okay?” The sound of your voice, somewhat worried and soft, draws both Yunho and Yeosang out of their mental conversation with their brothers for the moment.

“Of course, Petal.” Yunho smiles at you. “We’re just worried about you, is all.”

“Me?” You quirk a brow in surprise.

“You seem distracted.” Yeosang tilts his head to the side slightly, almost curiously.

“You two have been standing to the side frowning like you can’t decide between cheddar or parmesan cheese for the past ten minutes.” You huff out a laugh. “If anyone’s distracted, it’s you.”

“We’re waiting for you to finish stretching.” Yeosang answers, attempting some form of causality.

“I finished stretching and doing some warm up exercises ten minutes ago.” You deadpan.

“Oh.”

That seems to shut them up for a good thirty seconds.

“So then, what would you like to work on today, Petal?” Yunho is quick to change the subject.

Immediately, you begin vibrating in excitement, grinning widely as your eyes shine.

“Let’s finalize your hand-to-hand combat training first before we pull out the knives.” Yunho chuckles.

A dramatic pout pulls onto your features and Yeosang elbows Yunho quite pointedly in the ribs.

“Don’t worry, My Dear, we’ll let you try some weapons later today.” Yeosang assures you.

Almost instantly, your mood perks up, and both of them are smiling fondly at you.

“I take it I won’t actually get any pointy objects to start.” You quirk a brow playfully.

The two males share a look before Yunho is shrugging. “If that’s what you want.”

“We may be overprotective, Dearest, but we’re not unreasonable.” Yeosang replies. “If any incidents occur, we can just heal you.”

“Or us.” Yunho adds at seeing your expression of disbelief.

A subtle nod of your head in amusement is all he gets in response.

“You’ve been working on building your strength with Mingi and San, correct?” Yunho is quick to ask, walking over to the sparring mats to your left.

A nod is all the confirmation he gets.

“Alright then, Dearest,” Yeosang smiles, moving over beside his brother before meeting your gaze. “Show us what you’ve got.”

“Are you suggesting I take the both of you at the same time?” You quirk a brow teasingly as you step onto the mats.

The low growls you receive in response are all the confirmation you get that they’ve taken the comment in a different way than what you originally insinuated.

“Keep thinking like that, I’ll easily distract the both of you.” You chuckle, a sultry pull to the corner of your lips.

“We can’t help it, Dearest,” Yeosang sighs, almost wistfully. “You have a habit of dropping the most interesting thoughts into our minds at the best of times.”

“Not the worst?” Your brows flick upwards suggestively.

“Sometimes.” Yunho chuckles, and at the way your mouth falls open in mock offence, he’s quick to add, “I never said it was a bad thing, Petal.”

“It’s just a little more difficult to…” Yeosang searches for the right word, “concentrate on the battlefield with certain additions to our physique.”

“Yes, I can quite imagine how painful it is to fight when you’re hard.” You grin, huffing out a small laugh.

“It’s certainly not the most comfortable thing.” Yeosang nods in agreement.

“You speak as if you have experience with this sort of thing,” Your eyebrows raise, amusement shining behind your eyes.

When both of them shrug, you cannot help the boisterous laugh that escapes you.

“I’d say Captain has the most, though.” Yunho adds, seemingly nonchalantly. “He can get intense on the battlefield. In more than one way.”

“Oh?” This piques your interest. “Then, I look forward to it.”

The way they both blink at you in mild shock has you giggling.

“What? Surprised it doesn’t phase me that much anymore?” You tilt your head curiously.

“A little bit,” Yunho blinks, loosening his stance in preparation to fight you.

“A girl has her fantasies.” This time, it’s your turn to shrug.

Two low growls greet your ears, the faintest tint of black darkening their eyes.

“Care to share, Dearest?” Yeosang begins stalking towards you slowly, like a predator would its prey.

You immediately begin countering his every move, watching Yunho carefully out of the corner of your eyes. “Perhaps I’ll just show you.”

His breath hitches, and you strike.

For the next forty minutes, the three of you spar together on the mats. A few times, you manage to pin one of them, only for the other to knock you right off your balance. You’ve only ever sparred with one partner before, besides last week when Jongho and Mingi decided to challenge you further. So, taking on multiple of them at a time requires even more quick maneuvers and thinking on your part, but you’re starting to recognize a pattern to their attacks.

You’re not sure if they’re doing it on purpose, or if they’re aware of it or not, but Yunho seems to be the one to observe the scene before moving, and only when it looks like Yeosang has created an opening for him to get through. That, or when you’ve managed to subdue Yeosang for the moment.

Yeosang, on the other hand, enjoys staying low to the ground, crouching as he goes in for the attack to throw off your balance. He’s nimble, and much more flexible than you thought he could be. A fact which intrigues you as much as impresses you.

Both never fail to praise you any opportunity they get.

During the second round, Yeosang accidentally manages to tear your shirt. The scraps of fabric hang limply off of your shoulders, exposing your torso and the sports bra you wear.

Luckily, for you, it seems to distract them for a moment. Out of shock or something else, you don’t quite know. Either way, you know an opportunity when you see one.

Using this to your advantage, you manage to land a solid roundhouse kick to the side of Yunho’s head, quickly subduing Yeosang in the next moment.

Your chest heaves as you pin Yeosang beneath you, a victorious grin pulling at your lips.

Just as you go to say something, a low groan from the male laying on his back to your left draws your attention.

“Oh shit, Universe!” You hop right off of Yeosang to inspect the damage you’ve done to Yunho’s cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replies, somewhat in a daze. His hand comes up to cup his cheek, almost affectionately. “Never better.”

“I just kicked you in the face, and you’re acting like a schoolboy who’s just received a cheek kiss from his crush for the first time.” You chuckle, noticing how Yeosang now kneels beside you with an almost pout on his lips. You quirk a brow, “What, you want me to kick you, too?”

Yeosang shoots you an innocent side eyed look, hope shining behind his orbs.

“I can’t wait to tell Mingi,” Yunho chuckles, pushing himself into a sitting position.

“I think Wooyoung might be more jealous.” Yeosang comments casually.

“You guys want me to harm you when we spar?” The appal is clear on your features.

“We don’t get hurt that easily, Dearest, but when it’s you that manages to surprise us, it’s incredible.” Yeosang tells you honestly. “Not to mention how much pride that fills us when you hit us in this context.”

“Not to mention incredibly sexy.” Yunho breathes, still stuck in that daze as the tips of his fingers gently rub over his cheek.

A brief conversation with Hongjoong about that scar that still sits proudly on his chest flashes through your mind.

“It’s impressive.” Yeosang concludes with a firm nod.

“Oh.” You giggle, a heat rising to your cheeks at their praise. “I still worry, though.”

“We know.” Yunho smiles at you, noticing how you gently pull his hand away to place a tender kiss upon his cheek. His ears flare bright red. “The feeling is, and will always be, mutual, Petal.”

You simply smile in response, helping Yunho back to his feet. Still, you cannot hide the concern in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, Petal.” Yunho chuckles, wrapping his one arm around you briefly in order to place a gentle kiss onto your temple. “Believe me when I say we’ve all suffered much worse injuries at each other’s hands before.”

You blink at him in shock.

“Remember how we told that you we don’t hold back on each other when sparring?” Yeosang chimes in.

Realization floods your features, nodding along to his words slowly.

“The bets were the worst.” Yunho hums, clearly reminiscing some past memories. “We would never kill each other, but we’ve gotten close to it a few times.”

Your brow furrows immensely in worry.

“Heat of the moment, Dearest.” Yeosang is quick to explain at the way your lips seem to part with a response. “It’s why we always had at least one of us to moderate the fights when we made bets on each other.”

“I still want to watch you guys fight one another at some point.” You comment, moving off to the side to take a drink of water.

“We haven’t forgotten, Petal.” Yunho grins. “We’re just saving it for now.”

You pout, somewhat dramatically.

“All in due time, Dearest.” Yeosang chuckles. “All in due time.”

You sigh, “I suppose it might be better for when I know how to at least use some weapons. I can study how you guys all use them, then.”

“Exactly.” Yunho nods, before catching himself. “Wait, what?”

“I thought I mentioned that I’m somewhat of a visual learner?” You tilt your head slightly in inquiry at him.

A flash of your hands weaving together those flowers in that clearing all those months ago flits through his mind.

“I remember now.” He hums, a loving smile gracing his lips.

A smile which you return.

Yeosang clears his throat, looking pointedly at Yunho. “How’s your head?”

Yunho spares a brief look towards you, a smirk pulling subtly onto his features. He licks his lips. “No complaints.”

The second that you spit out the water you’re drinking, Yeosang has jumped onto Yunho’s back, locking his arms around the elder male’s throat and choking him out. You begin coughing simultaneously as laughter attempts to escape you, Yunho thrashing around with Yeosang clinging like a koala to his back.

Finally, you manage to get your coughing under control as laughter takes over in full swing. Your eyes crinkle as you see the two of them continuing to play fight, Yunho soon tossing Yeosang over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and slamming the shorter male onto the mat below him.

The fact that they can hear how joyous you are in this moment makes each of their hearts swell. A sound neither will ever grow tired of. Knowing that they are the cause only serves to make them happy, pride swelling in their chests despite the circumstances that lead to this encounter. Well, at least for one of them.

You watch on with a fond look in your eyes as you lean against the side wall. That is, until a distant look crosses your features, and you seem to zone out for a minute or two.

“Is everything okay, Dearest?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that manages to pull you out of your thoughts.

You focus back in on your surroundings, noticing the worried tug of both his and Yunho’s brows, the two of them standing before you.

“Yeah,” you send them both a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine. Just thinking.”

“Now, who’s the distracted one?” Yunho jokes, moving beside you in order to nudge your arm slightly with his elbow.

Yeosang sends him a pointed look before turning back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay, Dearest? San and Mingi told us what happened earlier at the hospital.“

You take a moment to think, brow furrowing slightly as you look down at the ground.

“I just-“ you sigh. “I had so much pent up anger and sadness when I was younger for what he did to me. I never understood why he did it, and now that this has happened, I don’t quite know how to feel.”

“How do you feel, Petal?” Yunho steps in closer, placing a comforting hand onto your shoulder.

“Relieved, in a way.” You reply honestly. “Confused. Maybe a little angry, and a slight bit resentful still. It happened so long ago, that I didn’t think too much of the situation anymore. At least, I tried not to, but seeing him today just brought everything back. I’m still attempting to figure out if I’m actually passed everything with him or not, or if I just wanted to scrub it from my memory. I don’t think I can forgive him, though. Not after what he did to me.”

A brief pause.

“You know, I contemplating running away from home because of him. Just disappearing off the map, and dying in a ditch, because I believed him when he said no one would care.” You swallow thickly. “I was only ten.”

The way you see Yeosang’s eyes flash before you out of the corner of your vision says it all. You don’t even need to look at Yunho to know he does the same.

“Yet, hearing him apologize for things today…” you trail off, finally lifting your gaze to glance at both males standing around you. “Well, it’s like I told San and Mingi earlier today. It did feel freeing. It felt like finally getting an acknowledgment of everything bad he did to me, and him owning up to it. It’s- it’s-” you blink, your lips parting as they twitch upwards, “gratifying.”

Gently, Yeosang takes your hands in his own, yet you still manage to feel the subtle way he cannot control them from shaking.

“Is there-“ he swallows thickly, keeping his voice low as he clears his throat, “Is there anything we can do?”

You take a moment to stare deeply into his eyes, thinking of your answer carefully.

You blink lightly once more.

“No.” You shake your head. “No. I don’t think there is.”

“Petal-“

“The past can’t be changed now, nor do I want it to be.” You cut Yunho’s worried tone off. “I’m not the same person I was back then, but it’s made me who I am today. Yes, he hurt me.” You take a breath. “Am I going to let those old memories control my life? No. Besides, I’ve got more important things to think about now.”

“As long as you’re okay, Petal,” Yunho squeezes your shoulder gently. “That’s all we care about.”

“I’m okay, Yun.” You offer him a small smile before squeezing Yeosang’s hands back. “I’ll be okay.”

A comfortable silence settles over the three of you as you all hold onto each other so tenderly. You know both males will do whatever they can to comfort you, should you ask them to, but right now, you also have other things on your mind. Mainly, moving passed this and getting on with your new life.

“So…” You spare a glance at each male surrounding you. “Weapons?”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “What would you like to start with?”

“You’re letting me choose?” Your eyes widen, and you cannot help the way you begin to bounce on your feet.

At their nods, a large grin pulls at your lips.

“Is there something you have in mind?” Yunho asks, an eager tone to his inquiry.

Multiple weapons flash through your mind at once, and you bring a hand up to your chest in hopes to quell your racing heart. That’s when you remember the state of your shirt, or rather, your now non-existent shirt.

Humming in thought to yourself, you pull the last few scraps of material off of your body. Gently, you tuck the fabric beside your water bottle, leaving you in just your sports bra for the time being. Not that any of you really mind.

That’s when you get an idea.

“Well, it’d be best to start with something at least somewhat familiar, no?” You look between the two males before you.

“That would probably be best.” Yeosang nods in confirmation.

“Well, since I haven’t seen any of you use any of your weapons yet, I’ll stick with something I’ve used before.” You reply, a knowing grin tugging onto your features. “Could one of you please get me a bat?”

You can see the surprise on both of their features the instant you say this. Regardless, Yeosang makes a wooden baseball bat appear in his hand, presenting it to you almost immediately.

“A bat, Petal?” Yunho’s brow quirks.

“Listen, I don’t want to be playing around with something I don’t understand yet. No matter how badly I want to throw an axe, or stab something with a sword, it’s not worth the risk for my first try.” You reply, grabbing the wooden object from Yeosang’s outstretched hand. “This,” you shake the bat lightly, “at least I’m somewhat familiar with. The worst it can really do is break a few bones at the present.”

“Is that why you were going to use it to bash San’s kneecaps in with?” Yeosang’s eyes shine with nothing but amusement.

“I had a lot of pent up rage as a teenager.” You shrug, stepping back onto the sparring mat while letting the bat spin loosely in your hand. A blink, and you’ve allowed it to fall in a circle, the tip nearly touching the ground before you’re holding it upright in the air. “Reina and I spent a lot of time in rec rooms, smashing shit. Especially when the whole thing happened with her ex first year of university.”

“You’ve mentioned.” Yunho nods, recalling that conversation briefly in his mind.

“There’s a reason he takes my threats seriously.” You grin, stepping up before a fighting dummy.

You eye the test dummy, flipping the bat almost absentmindedly in your one hand.

“Should we be worried?” Yeosang chuckles, a pleasant shiver caressing his spine as he watches you handle that bat for the moment.

“It’s been a while, so potentially.” You shrug, solidifying your hold on the base. “The first few times I ever swung seriously, I kept accidentally letting the bat go. It would go flying across the room and into the wall.”

“We’ll stand behind you, then.” Yunho grins, an eager gleam in his eyes as he sees you beginning to weigh the bat in each of your hands.

Continuously, you do more spins with the bat, tossing it from hand to hand to get a better feel of the wood beneath your grip.

“I wonder how much worse my swing has gotten.” You say, almost absentmindedly to yourself. “It’s been a while. My aim’s also never been particularly good.”

“Oh, come on, Baby,” San’s voice suddenly coming from behind you has you jumping before you’re spinning around to face him. “You can’t be that bad if you’re confident enough to threaten me with it.”

Your eyebrow quirks, noticing all eight of them now standing behind you.

“You think we’re going to pass up the opportunity of seeing you hit something with a weapon for the first time?” Wooyoung grins, almost maniacally. “Not likely, Angel.”

“Didn’t realize I’d have an audience.” You mutter, tightening your grip on the base of that bat in your hand once more.

“We’re only here to encourage you, Starlight.” Mingi smiles, a proud nod to his head.

“Yunho also wouldn’t stop bragging about getting kicked in the face by you.” San adds, somewhat bitterly. “We’re also here to kick his ass afterwards."

You shoot a pointed look at Yunho.

“What?” He raises his hands in his own defence. “I told you already, Petal. It makes us proud knowing what you’re capable of.”

“He’s just hoping you’ll do it again.” Hongjoong hums, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Says the one begging to be stabbed all the time,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“Just say you’re jealous and be done with it.” Jongho snorts, leaning against one of the racks with weights on them.

“Okay,” you huff out a small laugh, turning back around to face the fighting dummy.

Lowly, you can hear them continuing to bicker behind you, and the fact that you can hardly feel their attention lingering on you causes you to relax. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with as much air as you can before slowly exhaling. Shuffling from foot to foot, you gently tap the tip of the bat against the side of your foot in preparation for what you’re about to do.

Raising the wooden object, you let it spin once more in your hand before you’re gripping it tightly in your hold. Lining up your shot, a crazed look takes over your features as you swing the bat to strike at the head of the dummy, letting your adrenaline drive you. The resulting crack fills the room on impact, and the dummy goes tumbling to the floor with little resistance.

Silence surrounds you, and all you can register is a loud ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with each breath. Your body stands over that fighting dummy, now laying face down on the floor, the bat resting at your side with the tip balanced upon the floor.

That felt good. Probably better than it should have for the moment.

You turn to face them, a gleeful giggle falling from your lips, “How was that?”

However, you do not expect the scene that greets you as soon as you turn around.

San has fallen to his knees, his chest heaving as his mouth rests open in shock. Wooyoung is right beside him, both his and San’s chests heaving as the younger supports himself using his one arm on the ground. Seonghwa has a hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, steadying himself while the elder can only stand there, stunned, with his eyes as black as night. To his left, Jongho stands, barely holding himself upright against that rack of weights for the moment as Mingi attempts to steady himself against the wall. Both Yunho and Yeosang are not fairing much better, appearing as if they’ve stopped breathing for the time being.

They all look about ready to pounce on you. In a good way, of course.

“Uh…” you blink at them in shock.

A loud crash is heard as Jongho finally loses his balance, a weight tumbling to the ground as it dislodges from the rack. It lands unceremoniously on his foot, of which he immediately grabs, hopping around as curses fall from his mouth.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Immediately, you attempt to rush over to Jongho, only to get stopped by two males.

The breath escapes you as you go tumbling to the floor, the bat clattering onto the mat beside you. You hardly register anything for the moment except the sight of the ceiling above you, and the sound of low, pleased snarls filling the room and surrounding you from all angles.

A male rests on top of you, and you can feel yourself laying on top of another, both with their faces pressed into either side of your neck. Their pleased rumbles reverberate through your chest, every exhale they make tickling your skin. You swear they both begin nuzzling into you, too.

“Geez, if this is how you’re going to react every time I smack something, I think we’re going to need to put some rules in place.” You joke, an amused chuckle spilling from your lips as you see Hongjoong finally pull back from your neck to stare into your eyes.

“My Love, you cannot blame us.” There’s a hint of a growl to his words as his gaze swirls with that all too familiar darkness that you’ve become used to. “You must understand, we’ve been dreaming of this moment for a very long time.”

“What?” The corner of your lips quirks upwards. “Me smacking something with a bat?”

“You using any kind of weapon.” Seonghwa answers, his chest rumbling beneath you once more as his grip tightens against your hips.

He shifts beneath you, and you swear that you can feel something hard already pressing firmly into your ass.

Your breath hitches slightly, and you swear you feel him smirk against your skin.

“So, you really could have done some damage to San that day.” Yunho observes casually with a hum.

“Hey!” Said male whines, finally managing to stand back to his feet.

“I would have paid to see it.” Jongho says, replacing the fallen weight back onto the rack.

“You were the one who gave her the bat.” Mingi recalls.

“And I’d do it again!” The youngest replies, quite eagerly at that.

“Okay, so make sure there aren’t any bats around when we do anything to piss her off.” Wooyoung nods, somewhat to himself.

“More like, make sure you hide all the bats when you inevitably annoy her again.” Yunho teases, the others snickering along in agreement.

“Hey!” This time, it’s Wooyoung’s turn to whine.

“Woah, let’s not rule out the fact that I’m not gonna go around smacking you guys for the hell of it.” You chime in, gently guiding Hongjoong off of you for the moment, much to his displeasure.

“So, you don’t want to smack our asses?” Mingi quirks a knowing brow.

“If anyone wants to smack someone’s ass here, Min, it’s you.” You playfully roll your eyes, noticing how he suddenly averts his own gaze knowing damn well that you speak the truth.

“How did we go from baseball bats to smacking asses?” Seonghwa exhales a long sigh, helping you sit up beside him.

“It’s good for moral support.” San quips, Wooyoung immediately nodding along enthusiastically.

“You want me to spank you?” You look at them expectantly, noticing how red quite a few of them begin to get at your words.

Mingi begins to splutter.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Wooyoung smirks deviously, jutting out his hip slightly as if to put his ass on display.

This earns him a smack upside the head from Jongho, who suddenly cannot seem to meet your gaze.

“I mean, if you want me to,” you shrug, unaware of the commotion you’ve just started.

San and Wooyoung now appear to be wrestling on the ground, arguing about who’s going to get felt up first. Meanwhile, both Mingi and Jongho keep pushing each other back every time the other takes a step forward and towards you. Yunho laughs off to the side while both Seonghwa and Hongjoong begin bickering beside you. The only one you have yet to hear speak since this whole fiasco started is Yeosang.

Turning your head, you nearly jump when you see Yeosang crouched beside you. Silently, he presses a finger to his lips, helping you to your feet as you both slip away during the chaos erupting around you.

Carefully, Yeosang leads you to an area off to the side. It’s quite a long area, acting as a shooting range for target practice more than anything. Given how close it is to where you just were, you’re surprised none of the others have noticed your disappearance yet. Looks like they’re too busy bickering with one another to take note of your absence.

“Yeo?” You blink at him curiously, noticing how he moves around quickly, gathering a few things before standing directly in front of you.

“I had to get you away before they noticed.” He smiles, resting a quiver of arrows against the bench closest to you.

A bow rests in his left hand. It’s simplistic in design, and quite slim, but even you can tell that it’s carved from wood despite the smooth, black paint that covers the entirety of it.

“Are you going to shoot for me?” You cannot hide the excitement in your eyes.

“Perhaps.” A teasing quirk to his lips upwards. “Or maybe I intend for us to shoot together.”

Your breath hitches, a large grin painting your features as you giggle gleefully.

“You know, I’ve always loved archery.” You comment, barely able to prevent yourself from bouncing on your toes as you watch him grab an arrow from the quiver.

“I remember.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Would you like to watch me-“

“Yes.” There is no hesitation in your response, even as you clasp your hands over your chest hopefully. “I mean…” You clear your throat, noticing how he blinks at you in mild shock. “Please. I would love to.”

With those final words, you motion for him to continue.

A kind smile and a nod are all you get in response as Yeosang takes his position on the little shooting platform. Still, he holds that bow in his one hand, placing the arrow into the little nook before taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then, with a smooth precision that you’ve become so accustomed to from him, he lifts his weapon, lining up his shot with the target at the end of the track.

Every movement he makes, every breath he takes, you observe carefully. Your eyes never leave him, noting how focused he looks in this very moment. The string of the bow is pressed against the corner of his lips as he draws the arrow back, arms not so much as wavering even in the slightest in their hold. The line from the tip of the arrow to the end of his elbow is steady, and if you didn’t know him, you’d swear he was a statue rather than a living person in this very moment.

A breath, and the arrow is loosed.

The tip spears through the air, landing in a dull thunk as it meets its target across the way. Naturally, it lands dead centre.

Nothing but awe paints your features as you see him turn to you. Adoration is clear in your eyes as you watch him step up to you, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” You breathe, your hands still clasped in front of your chest.

“That truly means the world to me coming from you, Dearest.” Yeosang smiles softly, bringing his free hand up to gently cup your cheek. “I’m just glad I can finally share this with you.”

“I won’t lie, I’ve been looking forward to this since you mentioned teaching me that day at the mall.” Your lids flutter shut, leaning into his touch.

“Really?” He tilts his head slightly, thumb tenderly stroking along your cheek. At the way you hum in response, he steps in closer, breath ghosting the skin of your lips. “I’m glad.”

Softly, your eyes open to stare deeply into his own. He seems to be studying your every feature, nothing but fondness reflected in his gaze as he cannot help but keep sparing fleeting glances down at your lips.

Your tongue darts out to wet them, and you hear his breath hitch slightly in his throat.

“I always enjoy spending time with you, Yeo.” The admission is but a whisper on your lips, scared that if you speak any louder, you’ll disturb the moment between the two of you.

Faintly, in the background, you can still hear the other seven bickering about something or other. Not that you’re really paying attention to them at the moment.

“The feeling is, and always will be, mutual, My Queen.” He breathes out, leaning forward slightly to rest his forehead against your own.

Your heart flutters.

“Yeosang?”

He hums, tilting his head slightly forward so that his nose brushes against your own.

“Kiss me.”

Like every time before, you do not have to ask him twice.

How the press of his lips against your own always feels just like the very first time escapes you. Always, he holds you gently, pouring everything he is into the movement of his lips over your own. He cradles you close, loving how your own hands find purchase on his shoulders to steady yourself as he kisses your breath away.

It’s slow, and loving. Nothing more expected than what the other is willing to give. All the same, it makes your heart race, nothing but love flooding your veins as he holds you to him gently.

Slowly, he retracts, only for you to quickly press forward to peck his lips a few more times.

He chuckles, “Dearest.”

“You can’t blame me.” You hum, eyes fluttering open as you loop your arms around his neck. “You’re addictive, Yeosang.”

A pleasant shiver caresses his spine as he growls lowly. “I could say the same about you, My Queen.”

You giggle, and it’s still one of the most melodic sounds Yeosang has ever heard in his entire life.

“Now,” you hum, taking a minor step back while unlocking your arms from around his shoulders in order to stare at him eagerly. “Show me how to do that, please.”

Yeosang smiles, his heart thundering inside of his chest. “It would be my honour.”

A dull thud from behind you both draws your attention to see the other seven seemingly wrestling with each other for the moment. Yunho seems to have pinned Mingi on the mat, both Wooyoung and San going after Jongho at the same time. Hongjoong and Seonghwa seem to be attempting to choke the other out while standing on their feet, locked in a stalemate of sorts as chaos thrives around them.

A low chuckle escapes you as you shake your head. “I have a feeling they’ll be busy for a while.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Yeosang grins right along with you. Extending his free hand out to you, his eyes begin to shine, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” You immediately place your hand in his.

Gently, Yeosang guides you up onto that little platform with him, making sure to line you both up with a fresh target on the track.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see his first arrow still sticking proudly out of that first target off to the side.

“How much do you know about archery?” He asks, nothing but curiosity in his gaze as he grabs another arrow from the quiver.

“Honestly?” You take moment to think. “Not much. Other than what you’ve already told me.”

He nods, stepping in beside you as he offers you the bow.

“The hardest part to begin with can be finding enough strength to draw back the string.” He explains, noting how you carefully observe the bow and all its intricate details as soon as you have it in your hands. Your wonder and awe makes his heart skip a beat. “We can practice that a few times before you attempt to knock an arrow.”

“Okay.” Your eyes dart back up to meet his gaze, and you hear his breath catch in his throat yet again.

With a little help from Yeosang, he’s able to guide you on how to properly hold a bow.

“Don’t be afraid of it, Dearest.” He instructs. “You can cause far more damage with a bow than it can ever do to you while wielding it.”

A nod from you is all he receives that you understand his words.

For a few minutes, he has you practice lifting the bow into a shooting stance, and drawing the string back as if you’re about to take a shot. Still, he holds that arrow in his hand, watching on with nothing but loving pride in his eyes as you follow his every instruction with the utmost care.

“You’re doing wonderful, Dearest.” He grins, his gaze dripping with affection as he watches you absolutely revel in his praise. “You’re picking up things very quickly, especially the basics.”

You giggle, a subtle heat rising to your cheeks. “Well, I did spend a lot of time pretending to be an archer when I was younger. I may not have known much, but some of my favourite characters are, so I wanted to be just like them.”

Yeosang quirks a brow, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you avert your gaze, somewhat shyly. “Katniss, Kagome, Legolas. I always wanted a bow from the woodland realm when I was small. I thought the designs were beautiful, and like I said before, I’ve always had a fascination with archery.”

“Remind me to show you my collection soon, then.” He hums knowingly, a fond look dancing within his eyes.

Your whole demeanour perks up even further, “Okay!”

“For now, how about we shoot your first arrow?” There’s nothing but tender love in his gaze as he looks at you, seeing as you begin shaking lightly in excitement. “Deep breath, Dearest. You don’t want to be shooting with a shaky arm.”

You grin, nodding eagerly.

Following his instructions and taking a deep, steadying breath, you manage to calm your nerves slightly. Still, you cannot deny the excitement that courses through your veins as he hands you that singular arrow.

Gently, Yeosang instructs you on how to notch it before drawing it back.

“We can practice with you drawing from a quiver another time.” He says. “For now, let’s just keep it simple.”

“Sounds good.” You smile.

“Okay, Dearest,” he motions towards the target with his head. “Whenever you’re ready.”

A nod is all he receives in response as you take another deep breath.

Looking towards your feet, you take a moment to steady your nerves once more. Shifting your gaze, you study that target across the way, relaxing your shoulders just as Yeosang has instructed you to do. Raising the bow, you draw the string back, lining up your shot as best as you can.

The feeling of his eyes watching you is a little nerve wracking to say the least. You can feel your hands shaking as you attempt to steady your aim, holding your breath as your eyes focus in on the target at the end of the track. With each second that passes, you find it increasingly difficult to maintain the pull of the string, that thin band threatening to snap forward and through your grip at any moment.

There’s a furrow to your brow as you concentrate, but even you can tell how shaky you’ve suddenly become.

Softly, Yeosang moves behind you, placing his hands on your waist in comfort.

“Breathe, Dearest.” He whispers lowly into your ear, causing a shiver to caress your spine as his nose trails up the skin of your neck. “You’ve got this.”

Slowly, his hands begin to trail up your sides. Goosebumps erupt on your arms as you feel him cover your one hand holding onto the bow with his own, the other supporting your arm that’s drawing back the string. His chin rests on your shoulder, head leaning in the softest of touches against your own.

Suddenly, the string doesn’t become as difficult to hold onto anymore.

“Guide me.” His voice rumbles out. “We can make the shot together.”

The soothing timbre of his voice manages to calm you, and you find yourself taking another much needed deep breath. The heat of his body pressing against yours only adds to the moment, and you allow the familiar, comforting scent of sea island cotton to surround you.

You steady your hands.

The arrow is loosed in the blink of an eye, and you barely register the dull thunk of it sinking into the target across the way. All you can think about in this moment is how Yeosang’s hands feel settling back on your waist, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he buries his face into the side of your neck.

“See,” he hums lowly, squeezing your waist gently in his grip. “I knew you could do it."

Blinking to clear your vision, you allow your whole body to relax into his touch.

That’s when you see where your arrow has landed.

An involuntary excited squeal escapes you as you turn around in his hold.

“Sangie! Look!” You giggle, eyes crinkling at the sides with your joyous expression. “We hit bullseye!”

“You did that all by yourself, Dearest.” He grins, hands squeezing your hips gently once more. “I’m so proud of you.”

You begin wiggling happily in his hold, eyes falling shut as you smile wide.

“Leave it to Yeosang to steal everyone’s thunder.” Mingi grumbles from off to the side.

Turning your head, you see him standing with his arms crossed, a slight pout on his lips. The others don’t seem to be faring any better, but you’re too happy to care at the moment.

“Guys!” You bounce on your feet, pointing to the target at the end of the track. “Look!”

Several sets of eyes finally take note of the two targets side by side with arrows sticking out of the centre of each of them.

“Is one of those yours, My Love?” There’s a certain prideful gleam shining within Hongjoong’s eyes as he asks this.

At your vigorous nod, they have all the answers they need.

“That’s incredible, Baby!” San immediately rushes over to you, pulling you out of Yeosang’s embrace and into his own. He immediately lifts you in his arms, laughing along with you in your excitement, much to the elder’s annoyance.

“You did wonderful, Petal.” Yunho hums, being the next to walk over to you. Easily, he pulls San off of you, dragging him back in order for Yeosang to wrap you back into his arms once again.

A firm nod is sent to the taller male from Yeosang in thanks, to which Yunho simply smiles at in response.

A pout rests on San’s lips as he crosses his arms, only lessened by the fact that Wooyoung has to be held back by Jongho in the next second before the male tackles you to the ground in his excitement.

“It’s only because I have such a good teacher.” The way you turn and look back at Yeosang with nothing but fondness in your gaze says it all.

Soft rumbles shake their chests as they observe the scene before them, and they know for a fact that the loving look that resides on Yeosang’s features right this very instant is reflected on all of their own faces right now. Seeing you so happy, and so eager to learn even one of their chosen weapons has both a pride and love unlike ever before filling their chests. Emotions of which they will gladly indulge in when they’re with you, any and every time that they can.

“How was shooting an arrow for the first time, My Divine?” Seonghwa asks, an eager gleam to his eyes.

You smile, hands tightening subconsciously around that bow still held in your hands. You spare a glance down at the weapon. “Wonderful.”

“She’s a natural.” Yeosang hums, never tearing his eyes away from you for one second.

“I swear you’re just saying that.” You avert your gaze shyly, a vibrant heat rising to your cheeks.

“We’re not.” Wooyoung shakes his head almost instantly.

“You’re incredible, Starlight.” Mingi adds without a moment of hesitation.

“Our Perfect Queen.” Yunho’s voice rumble out, growls of agreement sounding around you immediately.

You allow for your eyes to flutter shut, revelling in this moment with all of them for as long as you can as you relax further into Yeosang’s embrace.

“My Lovely Kings.” The words are but a pleasant hum on your lips.

Again, eight low growls rumble out through the room. A smile pulls at your lips as the sound dissipates, allowing for a comfortable silence to settle over all of you.

“So,” Yeosang’s low voice by your ear has you blinking your eyes open, heart skipping a beat as you hear his next words, “Want to see my collection?”

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pisupsala · 2 months

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Of All The Stars in The Sky | 18 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Summary | War looks different from high above in the sky. But when Bradley finds himself on the ground, far behind enemy lines, it becomes a race against the clock to get out. And try not to look back at what he’s leaving behind.

Pairing | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc (no use of y/n)

Warnings |Mature content | 18+ only[WWII AU] swearing, war, violence, death, explicit smut

Words | 9.4k

Library

Chapter 18: You Keep Coming Back Like A Song

Sometimes, it’s like a high-pitched whine breaking through radio static.

Sometimes, it’s a rumble, like water in a big pot coming to a rolling boil.

Other times, it sounds just like an air raid alarm, like a time capsule breaking open of that moment of chaos and screams before all the sound suddenly falls still.

And then it’s back to that strange buzz, or fizz, like gas escaping from a poorly sealed beer bottle.

But it’s always there.

They tell you, you are lucky.

You didn’t die, and the war is over.

Gently, you brush your hair, trying to ignore how distorted and distant the sound of the teeth of the comb sound as they glide through the strands. It almost disappears in the permanent noise in your left ear. Experimentally, you rub your fingers over the shell of your ear; you just want to assure yourself regularly that you can still hear something from that side. It feels odd. You can feel your touch but can barely hear your fingers rubbing against the skin. It’s like the touch is disembodied from the rest of you like it’s not really happening. It’s hard to describe the sensation of hearing loss: it feels like your ear is stuffed full of cotton wool, both dulling your hearing and filling your head with constant noise.

You feel strange in your own body.

The fabric of the light blue summer dress sits uncomfortably on your skin. It’s the first time in almost two months you are not wearing something like a hospital gown. The bandages are finally gone. Only a few plasters remain to cover the slowest healing wounds at the creases on your left wrist, neck, and waist. They pull strangely on your painful skin; they feel awkward under the fitted cut of the dress.

They said you were lucky.

The layers of clothing, your trusty, threadbare green coat, and the way you landed on your side protected you from the fire raining down. Or part of you, at least. You feel anything but lucky when you catch your reflection in the window. Hell, you’re not even sure if you want to stare endlessly at your reflection, pick apart every way you’ve changed, or look away and pretend what you can’t see isn’t there for a little longer.

Your wrist is the only part you can actually see — the skin is an angry patchwork, wrapping all the way around, crawling up your underarm as if the flames spilled down your sleeve.

You know that the parts you can’t see are worse just because of how much they hurt. Your left shoulder, up the junction of your neck to your hairline, all the way down to your hip: the skin pulls and burns with every move, and the nerves and tendons scream like they are in overdrive when you make the wrong move. When the bandages first came off, you skimmed the skin on your neck with careful fingers. On the right, the skin feels like it always did — on the left, it’s like a flame licked its way up around your jaw, stopping just short of your temple. A chunk of your hair has been scorched away on the nape of your neck, making for a strange wobble in your hairline.

You never considered yourself terribly vain, but you burst into tears the first time you looked in the mirror in the bathroom. With shaking hands, you peeled off your gown, only to reveal what seemed to be never-ending, angry, red, and bumpy scars down your left side. Scalded, melted, torched. You hurried to get dressed again, sobbing. You’ve still barely scraped together the courage to see how badly scarred you really are.

On your nightstand, bottles of ointment, thick cream, and pain relief, a new daily regime. You have enough to start a shop, you think bitterly. But you are lucky, they tell you. The pain will lessen, and the scars will fade — all you need is time and patience, medicine, and physical therapy.

And accept that you will never hear silence again.

Accept that your body doesn’t really feel like yours anymore.

Accept that the world has moved on without you.

“Excited to go home?” Emil walks in just as you button up your cardigan. It’s too warm to wear a cardigan in summer, but nevertheless, you tug down your left sleeve as you turn to greet him. He’s wearing a new uniform — sharply cut, shining chevrons. His hair is combed neatly. Emil doesn't look anything like the rugged and sullen partisan fighter you met years ago, except for his eyes. There is a weariness in them, a sadness almost.

In the hazy hospital days, where your heart and soul spent endless days on a sunny beach dreaming about a life with Bradley, Emil dutifully visited you like one of his war buddies. While he brought them cigarettes and brandy, he brought you flowers on your birthday. He would sit with you and softly tell you about what was happening outside.

It’s over. The war is over. We made it, Anya. Aren’t we lucky?

“More than ready,” You reply, smiling. “I’ve been packed for hours.”

A small suitcase sits on the neatly made bed. It’s deceptively heavy — while you don’t have many clothes or personal effects here, everything that you had on you in the explosion was beyond saving a disposed — the thick glass jars of ointment and cream add a lot of weight.

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about something,” Emil starts. He looks strangely guarded. He avoids your gaze as he pulls out a chair, not saying anything. You take it as a cue to sit down on the bed across from him, your legs dangling off the side, even though he doesn’t say anything or make any sort of gesture.

You shift uncomfortably, your dress pulling on the plaster on your waist. Emil is staring at his fingernails. Swearing softly, you try to find a comfortable position, pushing yourself further back up on the bed. You can feel the muscle twitch in your left shoulder. As you lift your left hand, a slight tremor courses through it from the strain of leaning on it. It’s gone in a few seconds, but the dull pain remains.

You don’t prompt Emil to speak, just looking at him expectantly as, after a few minutes, he finally looks up at you.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to bring this up,” His voice is monotone. “But I suppose you have a right to it.”

Another silence falls. There’s a tension in the air.

You raise an eyebrow, following his movements with a skeptical look on your face. Emil reaches into his pocket, taking something out in his balled fist. Wordlessly, he flicks something in your direction. Quickly, you cradle your hands, the flicker of silver catching your eye as it falls. The familiar weight that lands in your palm is a comfort you had almost forgotten about. You thought it got lost. You thought you’d never see it again.

Bradley’s bracelet is blackened by the flames, dirt, and what looks to be dried blood marring the once shiny silver. You trace your thumb over the nameplate, every bump, and ridge exactly as you remember — it’s like a weight is lifting off your shoulders. You can’t keep the fond smile breaking out over your face as you realize it’s Bradley's birthday today.

It’s June 27th, 1945.

Your heart feels full of hope. Like suddenly, everything you’ve been waiting for and dreaming of is so much closer. The war is over. You made it. Aren’t you lucky?

“Jesus Christ, Anya,” Emil sounds pained. “You’re not really -” He trails off as you look up. Emil stares at you, somewhere between disbelief and anger. You quickly wipe the smile off your face, staring back impassively as you quickly tuck the bracelet away in your closed palm, crossing your arms as if to hide the evidence.

“I’m not really what?” You counter, voice forcibly light. Emil rubs his hands over his face in frustration.

“I really didn’t peg you for being this naive,” He grinds out. You purse your lips, offended, but wait to reply. “You’re actually in love with him.” Emil accuses you.

You scoff, fingers tightening around the bracelet. Instinctively, you want to deny it, even if only because Emil makes it sound like a crime. But the words stick in your throat, and your heart wrenches. You are in love with Bradley; you have been all along. You’ve never said it. Not to him — you’ve barely only admitted it to yourself. Somewhere, wrapped in warm, hazy dreams, wrapped in the fantasy of Bradley, it was all so clear. The words came so easily.

Instead, you roll your eyes deliberately. Theatrically. You scoff, but can’t get the lie out of your mouth. It’s a transparent tactic; it's pathetic, really.

But you’ll be damned if you admit you’re in love with Bradley while Emil is staring at you in wide-eyed disappointment.

“What did Bradshaw promise you?” Emil’s voice is frosty. The temperature in the room drops to sub-zero from his tone.

“Excuse me?” You blink.

“What did he promise you?” His tone suddenly turns sardonic. “That he’ll come back for you? Take you flying? Take you with him to America - marry you?”

Your heart sinks.

“What do you take me for?” You bite out. It’s a feeble defense. You know you don’t stand a chance when you see a flicker of sympathy in Emil’s eyes, but it disappears in a blink. The pinpoint accuracy hurts more than you’d like to admit. The words reverberate down your bones, and you hate to admit it’s shaking your resolve. How many times has Bradley said those exact words? How many girls has he promised the exact same thing? A shiver involuntarily, like your body is physically trying to rid you of the thought.

“Do you think he’s coming back for you, Anya?” He spits out. “Do you really, truly believe that?” You can’t help but flinch at the acid in his voice. But your face pulls into an angry scowl. What does Emil know? Who is he to judge? He only met Bradley once.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” You reply overly arrogantly, trying to get some sort of upper hand in the situation. Wrapping your feelings in a shield of lies and diversion is the only way to keep them yours.

“The ridiculous thing is you running around a war zone with an American identification bracelet on your wrist.” What do you think would have happened if you were captured? What if the Soviets found you with that on your wrist? You’d be halfway to a Gulag right now.” Emil is raising his voice with every word, thundering at you— he shoots up from his chair, unable to stay seated under the intensity of his anger. Behind him, a stern-looking nurse looks through the door opening before turning wide-eyed and leaving without saying a word. You refuse to be intimidated by Emil’s posturing while he continues to yell at you: “Seriously, Anya, it’s like you’ve taken leave of all your fucking senses!”

“But none of that happened, did it?” You counter, slowly rising to match his volume to cut off his tirade. The bracelet's metal is cutting into your palm; you are clutching it so tightly. “And now you’re suddenly trading in what-ifs? That’s rich. What if I got arrested with Bradl- Bradshaw?” You almost stumble over his name; embarrassment prickles down your neck, but you don’t let it deter you. “What if they had found the documents and weapons during that raid — that I stole for you and your cause — what would have happened to me then? They killed Eva for less.” You seethe. “You didn’t seem so concerned then.”

You were left alone to deal with all that.

Emil looks pained at the mention of Eva and sighs deeply, momentarily deflated, heavily sitting back down again. Your heart is racing. He restarts, more gently, more pensive this time, trying to drive home his point. “I’ve known many men like Bradshaw. I served with plenty of them. The uniform, the charm — so completely aware of it.” He pauses momentarily as if to gather his thoughts, his eyes darting about the wall behind you. “And I’ve seen many brilliant, pretty, young girls, just like you, not stand a chance once they got into the crosshairs.”

“You make it sound like I was a puppet getting my strings pulled,” You assert bitterly, not ready to forgive his outburst so easily. “The choice was mine — I made the first move.”

“The fact you think that gave you the upper hand is just proof of how naive you are.” He easily dismisses you. Again.

“Oh, fuck you.” You exclaim, exasperated. “You are so dead set on casting me as the poor fool in this that you will completely erase my decisions. If —” You swallow heavily. “If I believed Bradshaw, it’s because I chose to. I took every step in his direction of my own volition.”

Emil opens his mouth, frowning deeply. You raise your voice, refusing to allow him to cut in.

“If it was stupid or naive; if it was all just a mistake — then it was my mistake to make.” You’re not even sure you’re telling Emil or yourself. “And don’t you dare forget: no matter what I did or chose to believe, the mission was a success. I got him out.” You are struggling to catch your breath, adrenaline hot in your veins. But the words keep pouring out. “You can sit here and judge me all you want, berate me if you need to — whatever makes you feel better. Whatever makes you feel less guilty. But don’t delude yourself into thinking I need lessons in character judgment from you.”

A painful silence falls the moment the words leave your mouth. That’s below the belt. It’s petty. It’s heartless. Jan was Emil’s friend before he was his subordinate in the army before he was his brother-in-arms in the resistance. Before he betrayed everyone.

The silence drags on, and the ringing in your ear makes you feel off-kilter. You shake your head, trying to shrug off the noise, but it doesn’t help.

“I’m sorry.” Emil finally admits, with difficulty—his face wrenches in pain. You look away in embarrassment, finally uncrossing your arms, awkwardly pulling your left sleeve further over your wrist in a futile attempt to cover more of the scars. “I should have never allowed you to get pulled into the resistance this deeply,” He looks at you sadly as you blanch. Your heartbeat slows as ice pours into your stomach. “I should have never made the decision to leave Bradshaw in your care.”

Taking a shaky breath, you wait for Emil to continue.

“I feel responsible for what happened to you — for what you had to do,” He swallows dryly. “You were too young, too inexperienced. You just hid it so goddamn well because you are too clever for your own good. Because you throw yourself at things which such confidence and conviction.” Emil shakes his head, the lingering frustration still evident in his movements. “I should have seen through it and sent you home.”

You blink away the tears that start burning in your eyes. It will just never be enough, will it? After everything that happened to you. After everything you did. Emil will never be able to see you as anything more than the little sister figure that tagged along, someone to project his guilt onto. He’s done terrible things. So have you. He’s made bad decisions. God knows you have. And still, he dismisses you without a second thought.

You will never be his equal.

The war is over, and as far as you are concerned, so is this conversation. You’ve spent the past years of your life in service of a greater cause, in the shadow of greater men. There is no glory for you at the end. But you got what you wanted, didn’t you? The war is over. You are free. Aren’t you lucky? Getting up, you brush down your dress to straighten it with your free hand, Bradley’s bracelet looped around the shaking fingers of your left hand.

“Things didn’t quite turn out as I hoped,” A small, sad smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as you vaguely gesture at the left side of your face. “But do me a favor, Emil…” You take a deep breath to steady your shaking voice. “Don’t pity me, please.”

You’ll fight him at every turn if you have to, but you don’t think you can handle his pity. Or anyone’s. You don’t want it. Grabbing your suitcase from the bed, you finally look back up at Emil.

“I’ll see myself home,” your voice is even and polite. “Thank you for coming by and for returning my bracelet. I appreciate it.” With that, you brush past him to the door.

“Do you understand that whatever Bradshaw told you, he tells every girl?” All anger has dissipated from Emil’s voice, yet it does nothing to soften the blow of his words. “If he’s still alive, he has long forgotten about you.”

He just has to get the last jab in; lord your moments of weakness over you as if it will suddenly change your mind. As if it will undo anything. How petty.

You turn and stare at Emil for a moment, the corner of your mouth still quirked up. Anything you will say now will undoubtedly betray how much his words hurt you. Reacting in any way will just validate his anger and your deepest fears. What if Bradley died? What if he forgot? What if he just stopped caring?

What if he never really cared in the first place?

It’s probably the coward’s way out. But you just turn on your heel and leave, gait steady, head held high.

The screeching in your ear resonates through your whole body now, rattling your bones and making your hands shake.

But you won’t stop now.

***

It’s Christmas by the time Bradley finally sets foot stateside again. The journey home almost felt longer than the war itself.

Everything is like it was before. Everything about coming home is oddly familiar. Many things changed, but so many things remained the same. The fat cat in the bar just off base was still mean; the diner still had the same menu, and every street looked just like before. The Christmas party on base is exactly like before he left: full of cheer, alcohol, and off-key signing.

Maybe Bradley just sees the world with different eyes now. Everything shifted. Imperceptibly almost. But just enough to make him feel like he doesn’t quite fit anymore, like the place he carved out for himself in all those years of training, partying, and flying suddenly doesn’t fit him anymore. It pinches, it irritates. Bradley can’t seem to get comfortable. He really thought the feeling would leave once he finally got home.

At least now he sleeps. It’s enough to get him through the day. He still wanders around at night. He thought getting out of the claustrophobic confines of the boat would make the unease pass. That being home would make him forget the powerlessness he felt locked away in the small room. That the blood, the explosions, and the horrors would fade. But it’s only in the early morning sunrise, as he aimlessly meanders over the base or past the waterfront, just as the first beams of sun creep over the horizon, Bradley finds moments of solace. It’s quiet. The sky is clear, with only stars and clouds as far as the eye can see.

No planes, no explosions. No fiery trails marring the horizon, no black smoke obscuring the first light.

It’s those strange early hours; Bradley feels he can breathe freely. Even just for a moment, he can relax. The cold air doesn’t bother him; rather, it soothes him. If time could stop, Bradley wishes it would be right then, and he could stay in the fleeting moments of daybreak forever.

But the world never stops turning, twisting painfully around him. The moment is gone, but the memories, everything he’d like to forget, anchor him in place. Alone.

And he feels his loneliness more than ever at Christmas. It had never been his favorite time of year since he was an orphan. Sure, his father’s friends and the Navy always ensured he had somewhere to go. There was always something to do. But the time of year never felt special to him anymore, rather an obligation at best.

The officer’s mess is decorated with loud tinsel — it’s obnoxious in its volume — the flickering reflections cast over the whole room. When Bradley closes his eyes, it almost looks like flak explosions during nighttime. Quick flashes of yellow, the rumble of explosions shaking the air around him. His grip tightens on the dinner fork. He blinks rapidly. Like a record speeding up, the cheery Christmas music is suddenly back; Mav’s voice is loud next to him, the smell of the dinner spread wafting through the air.

Dropping his fork a little too loudly, although the clang against the porcelain plate barely attracts any attention, Bradley slumps back in his chair. His wine glass is full again, the mess staff making sure no one runs dry. It’s Christmas, after all.

That also makes it your birthday. Bradley takes a too-big gulp of his wine to stop the feeling of guilt bubbling up. Your handkerchief is safely tucked away in his footlocker, together with the things dearest to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of carrying it around anymore; he feels like he tainted the luck you bestowed on him. He doesn’t deserve it. But he also doesn’t want to — can’t — let you go.

“Rooster? Rooster!” Mav’s hand claps on his shoulder, pulling Bradley out of his miserable spiral. “Mrs. Simpson wants to know your plans now that you are home,” He half-whispers.

“Oh,” Bradley looks up at the kindly lady sitting across the table from him, a smile on her face. In contrast, Admiral Simpson, of course, sat next to his wife, is staring him down. “Truthfully, I haven’t had much time to think about it yet, ma’am,” Bradley admits politely.

“Beau told me you started left for the war as a lieutenant, and now you are a decorated captain,” Mrs. Simpson inquires conversationally. “Surely, you have your choice of assignments.”

“I think I need some time to adjust and enjoy being back,” Bradley replies, plastering a smile on his face, refraining from taking another too-large drink from his wine. He never thought he’d get to this point — it just simply didn’t really occur to him to think this far ahead. After the war. But it’s bizarre not to have orders on stand-by, alarms going off, and scrambling jets all hours of the day. Where does he go from here?

“With his flight hours and experience, the test center in Nevada would be a great option for Rooster,” Mav adds his two cents. Mrs. Simpson nods with interest. “If he were to actually apply,” He shoots Bradley a look. “He could be in the air in the latest jet before the year is out.”

Bradley bites his tongue. Mav always does this. Still does this. His decisiveness and insight make him a great leader in the air but a shitty de-facto father figure. It’s not that Nevada would probably be a bad move for Bradley. But Mav completely takes out of the equation that Bradley might not want to go. And now he throws it out there in front of Simpson, Bradley’s superior officer.

“Rooster has proven himself as a pilot,” Simpson agrees. “He has the stack to back it up,” He adds jokingly to his wife, motioning to the rows of service ribbons pinned to Bradley’s dark blue uniform jacket. She titters.

“But I will respectfully disagree with Maverick,” Simpson’s tone has an edge to it now — there’s no secret that those two don’t really see eye to eye on most things. “Being a test pilot is exciting, but if you want to advance your career in the Navy, there are more valuable assignments.” His sharp gaze settles on Bradley. “You should take this time to prove those battlefield commissions in non-combat. Hone your skills as an officer. Become a real leader.”

Bradley wants to reply, but another voice cuts in before he can open his mouth.

“I think you should consider settling down, Rooster,” Penny leans forward, past Mav, looking at him with a teasing smile. Mrs. Simpson makes noises of agreement. Pete and Simpson take a drink in unison, not taking any chances of arguing with their respective wives.

“I don’t know…” Bradley starts laughing. “First, I’d like to enjoy my first Christmas home in almost four years,” He raises his glass, hoping to change the subject quickly.

If only it were that easy.

Mav clinks his glass against Bradley’s. “Nevada — think about it,” He urges, voice low, probably hoping Penny won’t hear him.

“The base in Nevada is out in the desert,” Penny complains, clearly overhearing Mav’s comment, turning to Mrs. Simpson for support. “Can you imagine? Nothing for around for miles — you need a weekend pass just to make it to the nearest city!”

“That’s awful!” She agrees. “How is he supposed to meet anyone there?” She asks, turning to her husband.

“It’s a base, not a social scene, dear,” Simpson tries to do away with the whole conversation about settling down and Nevada, putting his hand on his wife’s shoulder before turning to Bradley. “The trial at Nuremberg has started recently. If you are ready to cut your teeth on red tape and navigate brass politics, Rooster, that is the place to be now.”

Nuremberg? Germany? Europe?

He could go back to Europe?

Bradley takes a deep breath to steady himself from the onslaught of thoughts that are suddenly cropping up. He hadn’t even dared to entertain the thought of taking up a post in Europe again. His fingers itch.

“You’d send him away again, Admiral?” Penny pipes up. “Bradley only just got back stateside.”

“Pen, darling,” Pete tries to cut her off gently. Although meant well, it’s not really appropriate to discuss. Serving in the Navy means going where the Navy tells you to, when the Navy tells you so. It’s the life they signed up for.

“No, Pete,” She waves her hand dismissively, eager to finish her thought. “Bradley,” Penny now turns to him, expression earnest. She’s worried about him. Simpson, who was just about to take a bite of his rapidly cooling slice of Christmas ham, is letting his fork hover awkwardly somewhere en route from his plate to his mouth in bemusement. “Think about it. Not even you will meet anyone in Nevada,” She continues. “And by God, don’t even think about Europe right now.”

“Why not?” Simpson asks, genuinely surprised.

“Who is he going to meet in Germany, Beau?” His wife admonishes.

Where in the conversation did they agree he wanted to settle down?

“An admiral’s daughter, maybe,” Pete jokes under his breath. Simpson coughs awkwardly to disguise his chuckle. Penny is glaring daggers at Pete now.

Bradley downs the rest of his wine in one go. He expects one of his superiors around him to comment on his table manners, but they seem to forgive him, considering the circumstances.

“Excuse me,” He says a little louder than necessary, effectively ending the conversation as he gets up. “Admiral, Mav, ladies,” He nods politely before forcing a smile on his face, tone joking. “If we are going to discuss my personal life to this level of detail, I think I need something a little stronger from the bar.”

With that, he saunters away. Posture relaxed, and pace unhurried, like he isn’t bothered in the slightest. He even playfully winks at Penny as he passes. But with every step, the ice in his stomach becomes colder — burning a hole through his bones.

Sipping on a whiskey at the bar smoking his second cigarette in quick succession, Bradley tries to get his thoughts into order before returning to the table. Everyone has an opinion on what he should do. If it weren’t for daily formation, PT, and inspections, Bradley truthfully would have no idea how to fill his days. Thinking about his future seems so overwhelming. Until recently, he wasn’t sure he’d even make it home alive.

Now, his head feels full from the alcohol and agony. Nevada, Nuremberg, settling down. How can he explain that the only person he would settle down with is someone he was never supposed to meet in a country where he was never supposed to be and he hasn’t seen or spoken to in two and a half years?

How can he explain that you are the only person he is sure he’d ever marry?

He doesn’t even know for sure you are still alive. He has no idea if you moved on in the meantime. Maybe you were never going to wait for him.

It’s all too much to think about. He waves at the barman for another round as he presses his cigarette butt into the ashtray. Rubbing his eyes, Bradley tries to summon the energy to be sociable again before dessert is served.

“Hey, Rooster?”

Tiredly, he looks up. Penny walks up to him, looking a little apprehensive. He nods in acknowledgment as he takes another drink from his freshly served whiskey. She slides onto the barstool next to him. Bradley automatically signals for another drink. Within less than twenty seconds, the barman slides another whiskey in front of Penny. Her gloved hand picks at the napkin for a moment.

“I’m sorry, Bradley,” She starts.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” He replies automatically, smiling at her, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s a tension in his shoulders. Penny has known him for so long, that she sees right through it.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that,” She continues, honestly. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“It’s okay, honestly.” He dismisses her apology easily, clinking his glass against her instead, signaling to take a drink, and all will be forgiven. “It’s nice to have someone worry about me in my old age.” He jokes, the corner of his eyes crinkling, shoulders relaxing just a bit.

“The old age of 31?” Penny retorts, taking a small sip.

“I’m surprised I’m not graying yet,” Bradley adds dryly.

“You’re not a young upstart lieutenant anymore,” She jokes, lightly hitting his shoulder, before her face turns earnest again. “I’m so proud of you,” She adds softly. “And so happy you came back to us. Pete thinks so, too.”

They sit in silence for a moment.

“The war is over, Bradley,” Penny continues in that same soft tone. “It’s a good time to start thinking about the future. Your future in the Navy and beyond that.”

“You’re right, but I -” Bradley hesitates. He plays with his lighter between his fingers. He can’t talk about it. He shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s for me, Pen.”

“It took Pete all too long to figure that out, although he’ll probably never admit that to you,” Penny’s voice is low, wistful. Her pain is evident. “Don’t go down that path, Bradley — it’s lonely. Follow your heart.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Bradley chuckles dryly. If he could follow his heart, he’d be on the first boat back to Europe if he could follow his heart.

“If it were easy, everyone would do it,” Penny winks at him as she flips open her cigarette case. Bradley offers her a light. “You already beat all the odds; you’ve already proven yourself over and over in the air. Forget about your next professional milestone for a moment. It’s time to show yourself some kindness, Bradley.” Penny exhales a cloud of smoke, a kind smile on her face again.

Bradley hesitates, swirling his drink before emptying it. Show himself kindness? Kindness to himself would be to forget everything that keeps him awake at night. Forget the horrors, forget the noise, forget you.

“I think they’re serving dessert.” Bradley pushes his empty glass away, offering his arm to Penny with a smile.

Maybe he just hates himself so much that he won’t allow himself to forget. The swirling memories, the echo of your voice, the glimmer in your eye — it’s like shards of glass under his skin. If he were to pull out every single one, he’d bleed to death.

***

The haphazard pile of magazines is balancing precariously on the off-white side table. There is barely anyone in the sterile-looking waiting room; a few fellow officers are trying to make themselves comfortable on the hard wooden chairs, staring out the window, playing with a lighter after going through a pack of cigarettes, or just napping. The only real movement is the assistant, sometimes breezing through the room, everyone perking up for a moment, but she leaves without saying anything.

Getting a medical evaluation is the most tedious process in the Navy. Sure, it’s nice to have at least a place to sit in a quiet room as an officer rather than waiting in the overcrowded halls with the enlisted, but it doesn’t make it any less goddamn tedious. Bradley stretches his legs in front of him, trying to find a position where the back of the chair is not digging into every part of his flesh. He’s been here for an hour already. His appointment was 45 minutes ago. It’s a gray afternoon in late February 1946.

Bradley unthinkingly grabs the top magazine from the pile to alleviate some crushing tedium. He leafs through it, not really registering anything. Just going through the motions of doing something. He grabs the next. And another one.

Only five minutes have passed.

Bradley sighs and reaches for the next magazine on the top of the pile. Life Magazine. He starts leafing through it again, skimming the large pages full of pictures. Nothing sticks.

Victory in Europe.

The large letters are emblazoned over the large picture spread. It is the first thing that Bradley really notices. He slows down, scanning the pictures more carefully despite not wanting to. What starts with pictures of people celebrating will inevitably turn into a report of the horror of the final days of the war. Bradley has seen enough of that. The images of the camps, the burned and bombed-out cities, turn his stomach. He can feel, smell, and hear them right through the ink on the page.

It’s like his vision is glazed over as he goes through the motions — flip the page, move his eyes across, flip the page, move his eyes across, flip the page, move his eyes — no, flip back.

Bradley’s heart suddenly beats so hard he almost gasps for breath. On that page is a small picture—strangely familiar spires and towers on a skyline, thick clouds of smoke. In the foreground, a wounded man, clothes torn and splattered in blood, is being lifted into a truck on a makeshift stretcher. Chaos frames the man like in a Renaissance painting: the smoke, the people yelling, gesticulating. But it’s not that. It’s none of that. It’s the smallest thing. Negligible even.

At the bottom of the frame, right at the corner, a small hand is holding onto the stretcher: a ratty coat sleeve, the hem unraveling. The picture is black and white, but Bradley knows that the coat is that exact shade of moss green. But it’s not even that. Just above that sleeve, a bracelet peeks out. A chain too chunky, plain, and loose for any piece of jewelry on a wrist so fine. A round plate at the center of the chain, its weight pulling the chain slightly askew — it’s too small to tell if there is anything written on there. But Bradley doesn’t need to see it. Because he knows what it says; after all, it’s his.

It’s like a weight has lifted off his shoulders. You were alive. Feverishly, Bradley’s eyes fly over the text. You were alive on May 7th, 1945.

You were alive a day before the capitulation of Germany. He tries to calm himself down enough to read the whole text, trying to find any other clue — anything about you. It’s hard to stay seated; Bradley feels like he should be moving, pacing, doing something. It’s the most energy he has had since his last combat flight. His leg is bouncing, trying to release some of the sudden surge of energy. It’s getting him annoyed looks. Folding the magazine over, Bradley uses his free hand to rub over his face, trying to focus on the words swimming in his vision.

“Moments before disaster: the old city of Prague goes up in flames after final air raid. The Red Cross reports… major loss of life…site of the picture leveled.”

The text is going in and out of focus before him. Whatever levity he just felt, the crushing weight of reality is coming back tenfold. Bradley’s leg stills again as he tries to understand. He tries to reason. You wouldn’t have died. You would have found a way out. You would do something clever, have an escape.

His stomach churns. The dream. V.E. Day.

Were you really saying goodbye?

He thinks of you bathed in the sunlight. So soft, so free.

Unceremoniously, Bradley shoots up from this chair, tearing the page from the magazine before quickly folding it and tucking it in his pocket. He ignores the sounds of protest around him, ignoring his name finally being called by the doctor’s assistant as he decisively walks out of the building.

He doesn’t know where to go or what to do, but he doesn’t want to feel this pain now.

***

There are a few things Natasha hates.

Cold coffee.

Wet socks.

The way her new uniform heels pinch before they are broken in.

Dragging her drunk lug of a best friend from a bar in broad daylight on a Tuesday before his chain of command finds out while it’s her goddamn afternoon off.

Rooster has changed since he came back from the war. Sometimes, it’s almost imperceptible. He still sings, jokes, and basks in every sort of attention he can get. Girls orbit him as they have always done, and he smiles and flirts — but then it’s like the light in his eyes flickers, like a darkness is trying to claw its way up in him.

Sometimes, it’s like night and day. Rooster was never reckless, erring on the side of overthinking and, if anything, choosing to stay put rather than take an uncalculated risk. But now, he seems to oscillate between apathy and what Natasha can only describe as stupidity. Today falls firmly in the stupidity category.

The bar just off base is every bit as dirty and seedy during the day as it is at night. A drunken sailor stumbles out. Natasha is unimpressed. Serving with the Women Air Service Pilots during the war, she has learned that the uniform on a man means very little indeed. She has undergone the same flight training as her male peers, has plenty of flight hours, and has worn the uniform. Despite that, she never got the same respect. Which was, in the most unpleasant way, eye-opening.

For all his faults and skirt-chasing ways, Rooster was one of the few male aviators who would speak to Natasha and her colleagues as equals.

Impatiently, she pushes into the bar, ignoring the several pairs of eyes looking at her hungrily. She glances at the bartender, the person who called her, and he just nods at her.

At the far end of the bar is Rooster. He’s hunched over, forehead resting on his hand, shielding his eyes from the world around him. How long has he been here? His khaki uniform shirt is wrinkled, liquid from his glass sloshed around his elbows on the bar, and his hair messy, like he had been running his hands through it in frustration.

Natasha slows her pace. It’s not the happy-drunk Rooster that just tired himself out, outshining everyone in the room.

He looks like he is grieving.

“Hey, Rooster,” Natasha pokes his shoulder. He jerks but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge her. “Get up,” She encourages him, worried about his unnaturally quiet state. Bradley still doesn’t acknowledge her. Natasha is not in the mood for this — she will not spend her afternoon off cajoling a grown man having a drunk sulk into going home. Swiping Bradley’s car keys off the bar and stuffing them in her coat pocket, she grabs Bradley’s cover, forcefully planting it on his head.

That finally gets a reaction out of him, although it’s only a grunt. “Get up, Captain,” She hisses at him. When Bradley finally looks up, she immediately pushes his sunglasses on his face.

“Ow!” He exclaims, followed by a string of incoherent curses. Natasha makes most of the momentum, grabbing Bradley by the elbow and practically dragging him off the bar stool and out of the bar. She can’t stop — if Rooster gets it in his head, he doesn’t want to go, she can’t kid herself — there’s no way she’s making him go physically. So she’ll have to use shock-and-awe tactics at least to get a stumbling drunk Bradley to his car.

“God! Rooster!” Natasha is getting increasingly annoyed as he stumbles, nearly taking them both down. She will rip him a new one if he rips her new nylons. “Can you get it together for five fucking seconds?”

She’s this close to just dumping him at the base gate and having the duty take care of him. “Get in the fucking car,” She hisses, pushing him forward. Thankfully, he was predictable enough to just park behind the bar.

Bradley, completely uncoordinated, slams straight into the car. He groans in pain, leaning heavily against the passenger door. Natasha rolls her eyes as she makes her way to the driver’s side and unlocks the doors. She watches Rooster attempt to fold himself into the car, long limbs flailing. It would be funny if she weren’t so mad. When he finally sits down, Rooster burps so hard that Natasha flinches back at the off chance he is about to throw up — thank god it’s his car.

“You done?” She snipes at him. “Or do you need to hurl up that whole bottle of whiskey first?”

“Fuck you,” Rooster croaks out, leaning back, eyes closed.

“Oh look, it speaks!” Natasha mocks as she sticks the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life. “So, care to explain? Or do you prefer to wallow in your shitty drunkenness in silence?” Rooster doesn’t reply. Natasha didn’t expect him to. Bradley is really good at pretending he wears his heart on his sleeve — but when things get too real, he clams up. She’s known him long enough now to understand he’s hurting. She’s also known him long enough she knows he won’t talk about it until it stops hurting, which may very well be never.

“Anya called me a shit drunk,” Rooster suddenly blurts out.

Natasha stares at him in disbelief. Is this about some girl? All this over some girl? “Well, she was right,” She scoffs, unsure what else to say.

“I never told her I love her,”

Bradley’s voice is soft, and for a moment, Natasha isn’t sure she heard him correctly. Killing the engine, she turns to face him, mouth hanging open. Rooster is staring off into the distance, a lost look on his face.

“I left her… there,” He sighs heavily. “I had to — but I could have said it. I don’t even know why… I just didn’t.”

The sentences are coming out disjointed, but his voice is earnest. Natasha is stunned into silence.

“And now I’ll never see her again,” Bradley’s voice is uncharacteristically small.

“Why?” Natasha is confused. Rooster is actually so out of sorts about a girl, the vague and dramatic statements — he is suddenly like a lovesick puppy. Rooster has been in love, he’s been heartbroken, and he has grieved. Part of him is always grieving. But this is… different. New. Raw.

“I can’t talk about it,” He groans. “About anything — Anya, that — that place. And I’m so scared… I will forget everything about her. She will forget about me. Fuck!”

His sudden exclamation makes Natasha flinch.

“I’m an idiot. I should have told her — that I love her — when I had the chance.” Bradley slumps forward, forehead on the dashboard.

“Rooster, Ro - Bradley!” Natasha shakes his shoulder urgently. He can’t fall asleep now. “Who is Anya? Where is that place?”

“I can’t tell you!” Bradley’s fist lands on the dashboard loudly as he pushes himself back. “I can’t tell anyone, ever.” He hesitates as if he’s already said too much.

“What did you do?” Natasha’s voice is quiet, barely concealing her horror.

“I fell in love when I shouldn’t have,” He grinds out. “With someone I knew I couldn’t have.”

“Jesus Christ,” Natasha mumbles under her breath. “So, what — Rooster got into Rooster trouble?” She asks icily. This is the strangest drunk mood she’s ever seen him in.

“Something like that.”

“But then the tables turned?” Natasha shakes her head, voice softer. Rooster just nods in reply, leaning back again, eyes closed. It’s hard to be really sympathetic to her best friend in this situation — for every broken heart he left behind, Rooster always got away unscathed. If it hurt, he never let on. And if the girl crying in the ladies' room were anything to go by, there were a lot of broken hearts. But still.

Natasha has known Bradley for long enough. She’s seen him in the deepest stages of grief, consumed by anger at the world around him. Bradley lost so much — and because of that, he allowed so little to really get to him. Let alone admit that anything got to him in the first place. Rely on Rooster to always have a joke or a throwaway line ready to defuse the situation.

“I’m sorry, Rooster,” Natasha finally concedes as she starts the car again, shaking her head. “You’ll get over it.”

***

“Dropped out of college, no typing certification, no secretarial experience…” Sharp blue eyes framed by thin golden reading glasses peer over the paper of your neatly written resume. You straighten your posture, although you could possibly not sit any straighter. Your gray dress starkly contrasts the colorful, tastefully decorated room. The floral sofa you’re sitting on is pretty but anything but comfortable. It’s stuffy in the room and strangely dusty. With every move, the specks of dust flutter through the air in the thousands.

“Why should I hire you as the ambassador’s personal secretary?” The question is not unkind, to be expected at an interview, but the meaning is not lost on you. Why are you even here?

“I am a quick study, I work hard,” You explain levelly, hands neatly folded in your lap. The high collar of your dress itches against your neck. “I may not have the certifications and diplomas, but I have the work ethic — you’ll see on my resume, that I worked...”

You trail off. The middle-aged woman sitting actress from you, not looking at you as you speak, stares at your resume unimpressed. You swallow.

“I worked all through the war to support myself and my parents.”

The woman sighs, finally putting the paper away on the low coffee table between you.

“I’ll be honest with you, miss S-…” Her flickers to your resume again.

“Anna is fine, please.” You interject politely.

“Anna.” Mrs. Parker echoes. “I will be honest — I invited you for an interview because your letter was well written. Better than most, more qualified candidates. You also have a commendation letter from the president for your service to the republic during the war. It has me intrigued.”

Oh.

So you’re here just to be gawked at rather than seriously being considered for the job?

“And now that I see you…” Mrs. Parker’s gaze lingers on the left side of your face. “Well, let’s just say that you’re not likely to attract my husband’s wandering eyes,” She clicks her tongue. “That’s a good thing, trust me.” She adds under her breath. You strain to hear the comment.

You don’t flinch. You don’t fidget or move. You’ve heard it all before by now. The scars on your face slowly become lighter — they’re not as red as they once were, but they are there. They will always be there; no careful curl framing your face or fashionable veil will fully obscure it. At least Mrs. Parker is blunt about it, you suppose. Most people just stare.

“You’re a tough cookie.” She continues with a smile. “I like that. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?” You inquire.

“Why did you drop out of college?” Mrs. Parker comes straight to the point.

“Because the Nazi regime closed all universities in 1939,” You reply stoically.

“Allow me to rephrase: why aren’t you going back?” She retorts immediately, fidgeting mindlessly with her pearl necklace. Mrs. Parker looks like a lady of leisure — fancy clothes, expensive jewelry — but it’s clear she’s a sharp mind. “The semester has barely started; surely you are still admissible.” Mrs. Parker’s gold-framed glasses glint in the September sunlight.

“It’s not for me anymore,” You answer simply. Of course, re-enrolled the moment you could. You just couldn’t even make it through the first week. Maybe you’ve built it up too much in your head. But sitting through lectures and sifting through political theory just left you feeling hollow. It was too busy. Too noisy. Too strange.

“What do your parents think about that?”

You blink. At 26, you didn’t expect that question to come up at a job interview.

“My parents are dead, Mrs. Parker.” You reply softly, blinking against all the dust in the air. You don’t really listen to the apologies and commiserations. You’ve heard them all by now.

When you told Emil that things hadn’t exactly turned out how you hoped, you could have never dreamed about the situation you found yourself in now. When you got home that sunny day in June, the pile of overdue bills and notices on your doorstep should have been the first hint that something was deeply wrong. You sent your parents money, but your father always took care of all the bills and rent. Everyone that you called was relieved and surprised that you were alive. But no one had heard from your parents since April 1945.

As the SS were withdrawing from the Red Army advance, they razed villages, burned crops, and executed whole families without prejudice. Your tiny, defenseless ancestral village was wiped off the map in less than one afternoon. The house you grew up in was no more than a pile of ashes. Not even the trees that you climbed as a child still stood. The place you once knew so well is now an alien landscape.

There were no bodies to bury. There was no church to hold the funeral mass. There was not even a graveyard anymore.

You commissioned a small memorial stone for your parents to sit at what once was the gate to your beloved garden and called the priest from the neighboring parish to say a few words. It’s all you could afford.

That’s the next dump on your ever-growing pile of shit. With a lawyer for a father in a high government position before the war, you never exactly had money troubles. But you were in the hospital for two months, and you still need physical therapy and treatment. The large family apartment is more than you can afford. Whatever money your father left you, whatever hasn’t gone up literally in flames with your childhood home, you’ve had to sink into paying off your debts.

It’s ultimately, ironically, you suppose, what brings you to the residence of the U.S. ambassador and why the ambassador’s wife seems to be grilling you for her own amusement. You need a job, but you can’t do physical labor. At this point, you would have jumped at the chance to go back to a factory if you had to.

You’ve already sold almost everything you still owned in the apartment, except for two trunks of personal items and heirlooms you couldn’t bear to part with. When you were younger, you thought you’d probably be married by 26, not living four to a room in a dorm with other working girls.

Things didn’t turn out exactly as you hoped. But you suppose that’s also freeing.

There’s only one thing you want.

That dream.

Bradley and the beach.

“Well,” Mrs. Parker recovers smoothly. “I think you can handle me being honest with you, Anna,”

You nod.

“You’re not getting the secretary job,” She announces curtly. You didn’t expect to. “But I require someone with good English, and I see you’ve worked as a cleaner before.”

You hold your breath, plucking at your left sleeve and pulling it down out of habit.

“This place is a nightmare.” She fumes, waving her hand around theatrically. Dust swirls violently. “No one has lived here since 1938, and it shows. But I can’t get the maids hired to do the job properly — I’m not sure if they don’t understand me or just don’t listen.”

You wait for Mrs. Parker to continue, trying to breathe lightly to stop yourself from inhaling all the dust. “I’m opening a head housekeeper position.” She glances at you as she finally stops wafting new waves of dust around her. “You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, and your English is excellent. I encourage you to apply.” Trust your gut.

“Then consider this my application,” You reply immediately, motioning to your resume on the table. Head housekeeper is not what you came here for. You shouldn’t be doing any physically strenuous activities, let alone manual labor. The nerves and tendons in your left shoulder and wrist were damaged. When you put too much pressure on it or move it too much, painful tremors incapacitate your whole arm.

“How is your sewing?” Mrs. Parker inquires, tone businesslike.

“Excellent.” You lie. You are awful at handiwork, but you will sew till your fingers bleed if it means you get this job.

“Perfect — my daughter will be joining on our posting here, and she tends to be demanding about the hems of her dresses,” Mrs. Parker leans back as if to signal that the formalities are over. “And I am particular about the necklines,” She adds, almost offhandedly.

“Understood,” You reply. “When do I start?”

Mrs. Parkers bursts out laughing, clapping her hands in delight. You crack a small smile in response. You really hope that was the right move.

“Come by tomorrow to pick up your uniform and discuss salary.” She replies, still laughing. “You can start right away, and get all this goddamn dust out of the house.”

That night, when you are in your tiny dorm bed, you think of that beach — it calms you: the summer sun, the soft sand, and the salty breeze. But when you think about Bradley, you get a sinking feeling in your stomach.

You are not naive. It’s been three years. Emil was most likely correct — if Bradley is still alive, he’s probably forgotten about you and moved on.

It’s perhaps for the better. The thought hurts, but you try to get used to it.

You can’t fool yourself into thinking, you wouldn't even dare to dream, that Bradley would still want you.

Who would?

It doesn’t matter. He deserves to be happy, even if that’s without you. Tears prickle behind our closed eyes. You will get used to this feeling. Accept the things you cannot change and seize what you can.

You can go to Virginia Beach. Even if you can’t find Bradley, even if he doesn’t want you anymore, it won’t matter. You just want to feel it once more. It doesn’t matter that it was a dream or a delusion — it was the real in your heart and the happiest you’ve ever felt.

Maybe you’ll finally find something you've been missing there.

Maybe you’ll let the ocean wash you away.

Maybe you’ll finally find some peace there.

note | ffff i caught TWO separate strains of the flu since the new year and holy shit it took me out. still here though. thanks for reading and reblogging!

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x female reader #top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #rooster bradshaw x oc

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solosikoasgf · 10 months

Text

you know my body is yours , roman reigns (nsfw)

pairing: roman reigns x oc (afab / black reader) synopsis: vacations are rare, and so you make the most of the sun, the sand, and undivided time with each other. themes: it's nasty, that's all ik. oral (f receiving), light choking, a little dominance. word count: roughly 2.5k author's notes: i am not a smut writer so y'all need to be nice. i just wanted to write about roman being sweet on vacation before i go back to hating him this week. minors dni! taglist: @rez-luvs-hook — @southerngirl41 — @harmshake — @christinabae — @dreamsinfocus — @thesamoanqueen — @thewarlordsworld — @cyberdejos2 — let me know if you want to be added! song recommendations: no limit by tank ft alex isley, it's yours by destin conrad, yours by dixson ft india shawn

the sun is still high in the sky, despite the time ticking closer to evening hours. the two of them had spent all day there, in the rays of the sun, in the waves of the surf, and laying in the sand. a vacation for roman was rare, and jade didn't find herself entitled to his time - in fact, she had encouraged him to take the time to rest and get family affairs in order, or do whatever it was that would make him feel relaxed.

so she was utterly shocked when he showed up with a suitcase for her to pack up, and a flight for them to catch. so much so that he had to basically pack the bag for her just to usher her out so they could make the flight on time, with gentle assurances that if she needed more clothes, she could use his credit card at any store she desired once they reached their destination.

and so the past three days had been filled with nothing but bliss - his undivided attention.

day one spent lounging around their resort, a large suite with a swim up pool, so they didn't find the need to really go anywhere but just rest, enjoying each other's company. day two had been spent out, walking in town, eating everything. day three was for excursions - zip lining, hiking, boat rides, biking. all of the little sweet things that made memories. and jade couldn't help but ooh and ahh at everything, it had been a number of years since she had a vacation, so focused on her career and taking care of her parents as they got older in age.

but today was for the beach, and the beach only. they arrived early in the day, making their spot under a shady palm that was out of the way - so no matter how many people packed the beach, they were sure nobody would venture out where they were.

she watched now as roman made his way back to her, hair wet from the ocean, a tan settled into his skin, taking it to a tawny bronze that accentuated the freckles that hid in his face, to his chest and back. his smile is wide and hands are full with two plastic bowls full of fruit from the vendor who had just passed, and jade smiles, shielding her eyes and setting her book aside to make room for him on their array of beach towels.

"for me?" she beams, faking shock and astonishment as she takes the bowl from him and he eases down across from her. his shorts ride up on his thighs, and he spreads his legs, opening his arms and gesturing her forward. he sighs in contentment when she's face to face with him, her legs on top of his and behind his torso.

"you havin' a good time, babygirl?" he watches her ditch the fork with a smile, as she picks up a chunk of mango with her fingers and bites into it, the juice running down her hand and into her arm.

"mhmm." jade hums, feeding him the other half, which he accepts happily, letting his lips wrap around her fingers to suck the lingering juice off. her eyebrows shoot up a bit, but she gives him a knowing smile and goes back to picking fruit from the bowl. "best baecation ever. but you really didn't have to - like we could have stayed stateside."

he snorts. "best vacations are always out of the country. don't think i didn't see how stressed you've been recently. you're not as good at hiding it as you think you are." he taps her left temple with two fingers as admonishment, and she apologizes with the offering of a piece of kiwi, that he accepts.

"i didn't wanna bother you. you're always on the road or in meetings - the last thing you need to hear on our calls is about why deidre pissed me off again."

"nothing about you bothers me. i'm your man, it's my job to be here for you, and to take those burdens off you. i ain't say nothing, but don't do it again." he warns, letting his hands settle on her thighs, warmed from the sun. "i'm not playin' either, jade."

she rolls her eyes, but he catches her face with his hand, amused. "i'm not playin." he repeats, voice a little lower. she nods quietly, and he picks a strawberry out of her bowl, pressing it to her lips. and when she bites down and juice runs down the sides of her lips, he quickly moves forward to press his lips on hers, hand grabbing at the back of her neck to pull her closer while their lips move against each other's.

she can taste the saltwater on his lips and tongue when he deepens their kiss, and ocean water drips onto her chest from his hair, cold. this moment is one she wishes she could bottle up and live in forever.

jade sighs in contentment, using the heels of her feet to dig into the towel to scoot herself just a bit closer, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. she can feel his length start to poke at her thigh, and she pulls back, holding his face in her hands with a smile - but his eyes are dark, and his hands have tight grip of her thighs. "joe," she warns.

"let's head back," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers.

"it's still early."

"i want to take some of that stress off you."

they barely make it in and out of the shower in one piece, with roman almost engulfing jade to the point where her mind can barely think. from the second they landed back in their room, his hands and lips made quick work of taking her over the edge - the push and pull of him teasing and coaxing, but never quite giving into her.

he had clearly meant it - there wouldn't be room for stress in her mind, because all she could think of was how much she wanted to feel him stretch her out, take her over the limit.

her back hits the bed, black locs fanning out, cowrie shells attached to the ends tingling together in a quiet song. roman's eyes drink her in, steam still rolling off his body from the shower. from her round eyes and soft features, to round supple breasts that dips into a soft midsection. his hands palm her thighs, kneading with added pressure. they roam up to her stomach, fingering the glittering waist beads stacked on her waist. "i ever tell you how sexy these are?"

she breathes hard, but still smiles, her hand sliding down on top of his. "i put on extra, just for you. i know you like to see 'em when you hit backstrokes. i even took the excess," she pauses, raising her right leg a little, revealing beads on her ankle, "and made little anklets. they'll look so good...on your shoulders."

he groans, leaning forward to take her breast into his mouth, making her gasp, back coming up off the mattress. his hand slide under her thigh, and her breaths come shallow when his tongue circles around her nipples, suckling gently, and then gradually growing rougher, while his other hand twisted her other nipple between skilled fingers. "fuck." she whispers harshly, pushing her hands down on his shoulders.

his lips find her neck next, and she can hear him breathing hard, leaving harsh open mouthed kisses, biting down near her ears enough to make her yelp, and then covering the area with kisses and swipes of his tongue, all the while his hand slips down her thighs, gently coaxing them apart, dancing up the warm and already sticky inner thigh, thumb pressing to her clit to start a slow rotation of circles.

it's deliberate, and it's agonizing. she moves her hips in time to his fingers, desperately trying to up the pace, when she hears him chuckle, low. "hold on a lil longer." he assures, slipping two fingers in deep. the addition makes her groan, inhaling hard.

with every quick and deliberate stroke, his fingers become slicker in her arousal, and her moans scale up in octave, grasping onto his wrist for some semblance of control. but the second he feels her hand, he pulls away, in smooth motion lowering himself between her thighs. he squeezes hard. "keep your eyes on me."

jade shifts up on her elbows, pushing locs out of her face to lock eyes with his - both of them silent in the heavy tension of the moment, while he lowers himself down, steady eyes when he gently attaches himself to her clit, suckling softly with a low groan. she instinctively grabs at the sheets, attempting to keep her eyes from closing and letting her back hit the mattress once again.

the warmth of his mouth and tongue running over her clit and lips are almost unbearable, and it doesn't take long before her breathing is labored and soft breaths become soft moans that gradually get louder - all the while he maintains eye contact. he grips harder on her thigh, sucks with more aggression, and the small amount of composure she had been holding falls.

"oooh-" she breathes, finally collapsing back onto the pillows, hands reaching to tangle themselves in his hair while her back arches. he doesn't stop - running the flat of his tongue up her slit, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from his teasing, coming back up to suck on her clit. he pushes her thighs up towards her chest, rising slightly to his knees to push his face into her sex.

for roman, there are no more thoughts to be had. her body at his disposal, the way she dripped and moaned for him, the way her body responded so easily at his touch, at his voice, was enough. and he wanted to see her crumble to nothing - to pleasure her until she was spent and her voice was hoarse. he moans into it, pushing his tongue in an area right under her clit - her grip on his hair tightens, and she pushes his head further in, grinding her hips against his face with gradual urgency.

"fuck. joe, i'm -" gasps for breath, "i don't think i can hold it-" there's a build in her lower abdomen, and her grinding becomes more frantic, hands holding her own thighs up to her chest to give him more room to flick her clit.

he doesn't bother to answer, pushing her legs further back, using a hand to grasp onto hers for encouragement.

let go. let me have it. let me taste it.

"oh my god, i'm cum-" a moan fills the rest of her sentence, her thighs shaking around his face. a build and a release of pleasure streams through her body, one hand clamped onto his, another gripping onto strands of his hair, coming down from her high with deep breaths and smiles.

he finally relents, sitting up on his knees, mouth and beard wet, webs of her arousal dotting various spots between dark brown and gray streaks of hair. roman watches her catch her breath, gently rubbing circles into her sides, hovering over her to capture her lips with his own. her arms circle his shoulders and pull him closer, her tongue slipping past his lips in a way that makes him a little crazy, hand gripping her neck. his dick is hard and rubbing against the wetness of her pussy, and he needs to feel her, be encompassed by her warmth when her legs pull him in deep.

"you good, baby?" brown eyes search hers in a moment of softness.

"yeah, i'm good." she brushes hair out of his face, twirling a piece around her finger.

"we can stop," he murmurs as her fingers trace over his face, and he leaves faint kisses on her fingers when they pass by his lips and into his beard.

she doesn't respond, pulling him in for a kiss, reaching down to guide his dick into her warmth, both exchanging a breath in a kiss. roman's teeth grit down, and the soft moment is gone - they lock eyes with brief understanding, and she relents.

and he takes over.

roman leans back, guiding her legs over his shoulders, pressing kisses on the insides of her thighs, knees, calves, arches of her foot, running his fingers across the glittering beads that adorn her ankles as he settles them on his shoulders. he leans over her, forearms on either side of her head, and starts to give slow but hard strokes. each one slow on the out, but pushing in quickly with enough force to make her cry out.

he relishes in her moans, burying his face into her neck and using his hands to hold her thighs open, bending her all the way back so he had full control of her pleasure as he picked up his pace, their skin slapping together with the sound of her moans.

"look at you," he murmurs into her ear between strokes. "taking this dick so well. i can feel you dripping all over it."

"no fuckin' shit-"

"yeah? tell me how it feels."

"so fucking good." she chokes out, scratching at his back.

"it's yours. it's all yours baby. and i'm gonna give it all to you." he groans, losing himself in the warmth of her pussy. his strokes get faster, keeping his head level enough to see her face contort in pleasure, crying out his name.

arousal so thick, the room feels hot, and he can feel fluids dripping down her thighs. it's getting harder to stay inside of her with how wet she is, and he locks his feet into the mattress to gain more leverage, gathering her up in his arms tightly to barrel deep inside of her - inhaling the scent of ocean water still lingering in her hair to try and anchor him down from finishing too soon.

"don't hold out, give it to me. let me feel you cum on me. claim this dick as yours." he growls.

her moans get louder, nails digging into her back with red marks left in their aftermath. between the high of her first orgasm, his weight pressing into her body leaving her unable to move, and his dick, pushing and pulling her until her brain could barely form thoughts, she was unraveling fast, biting down hard on her lip as she felt an orgasm barrleling towards her fast.

she slaps his shoulders, pushing against him with a shriek. "it's too much, i can't- i'm about to-"

roman doesn't let her finish, pressing her mouth into hers to absorb her protests, feeling her pussy clench down on him, forcing his own orgasm. they pant, foreheads touching while he strokes them both through their high, running his fingers down her thighs to sooth her while she whimpers, and her pussy squeezes out the last bit of cum from him. he stills, letting a moment or two pass, letting her legs down to lay on top of her, his weight settling down, forehead to her breasts.

"you good?" she whispers.

"mhm." this time it's him that needs the comfort, and he sighs at her fingers tracing designs over his back - most likely over the tattoos that adorned his upper half.

"that felt like you're the one who had stress."

"both things can be true."

"you feel more relaxed?"

he lifts his head with broad smile, and in return she laughs, carding a hand through his drying hair.

"i love you, joe."

"i love you too." sweet smiles, a pause. "let me eat a piece of fruit off your nipple real fast -"

"damn, you can't even wait three minutes?"

"i just wanna see sumn-"

her laughs fill their villa, and his smile spreads up through his face. this is what they both needed. each other.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x reader #wwe fanfiction #*ssgf #roman reigns

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aemonds-fire · 7 months

Text

Answered Prayers: Dark Series HOTD Aemond Targaryen x Fem OC Part Three : A Battle of Wills

Summary: First infatuation, then obsession. Prince Aemond has found the lady of his dreams and the gods give him a way to keep her. But the Lady is more than she seems. A Dark Romance

Pairing: HOTD Aemond Targaryen x Fem OC

Word Count: 4344

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, DUB/CON - NON/CON, Strong Sexual Content, coercion, angst, mention of murder/suicide, medieval-canon sexism, profanity

Answered Prayers Masterlist

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Enjoy! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Kepus - Uncle riñītsos - little girl Ao issi ñuhon - You are mine

You awaken in the morning to the sound of your maid Rona knocking on the door, rousing you from your slumber. When the cheerful young maid comes into the room, she begins to pull back the heavy drapes to allow the morning light into the room. You sit up in bed, trying to untangle yourself from the bedclothes, and from the state of the bed, your sleep was clearly restless.

Accepting Rona’s offer of a bath before breaking your fast, you allow the warm water to soothe your tired body and the fragrant oils to refresh your senses. Once dried off, Rona assists you with a dark-colored dress, putting a simple braid over the rest of your long, loose tresses. Another maid informs you to await a visit from the queen later in the morning.

Meanwhile, you consider your options. You have no wish to remain in the capital, preferring to return home as quickly as possible. You are now the lady of your house, and though you are young and unmarried, you have little worry that you will be able to take control of your life if you are in the familiar territory of your own home. Your state of mourning gives you time; if you must marry, it will be a young lord of your choosing, not your father’s choice.

But that leads you to the pressing matter of how to deal with Prince Aemond. ‘Is this simply a game to him, some amusing diversion that he will tire of?’ you wonder. You understand very well the precariousness of your situation; an accusation from him would see you executed for murder. ‘What does he want?’ you ask yourself again.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door by a member of the kingsguard announcing the arrival of the queen.

Bidding entry, you stand to see Queen Alicent, Princess Helaena, and Prince Aemond walk into your chambers. You dip low in respect to each, though the prince’s unexpected presence causes your heart to quicken with unease.

Queen Alicent comes over to you, gently placing her arm around your shoulders. ”My dear girl, I am so sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what you must be feeling, but I assure you we will do whatever we can to aid you through this trying time,” she tells you.

“Thank you, your grace. You are most kind,’ you respond with a sad smile and an invitation to sit. The queen and her daughter take seats next to each other on a small sofa opposite you, while the prince remains standing behind them, facing you.

While the queen and the princess inquire about your wellbeing with genuine concern, the prince is in his usual stoic pose, standing tall with his hands clasped behind his back and no trace of emotion on his face.

You try ignoring his presence, focusing solely on his mother and sister, accepting their condolences graciously, and answering their questions politely. When Princess Helaena invites you to join her and her children for a morning in the garden, you tell her that sounds lovely.

Queen Alicent then reminds you that you need not make any decisions regarding your future right away and that you should take the time you need to mourn your family.

Before you can respond, Prince Aemond says, “Mother, perhaps Lady Mira should remain here at the Red Keep during her mourning. Here, we can assure that no one tries to take advantage of her during this difficult time.”

The queen glances proudly up at her son, agreeing, “Aemond, that is a wonderful idea."

Turning to you, the queen continues, “Helaena and the children would love your company as well. It would also do you good, I think.”

Princess Helaena smiles broadly. “We can spend time together, and the children will adore you, I’m sure.”

You see both the queen and the princess smiling at you expectantly, hoping you will accept the offer to stay. Behind them, Prince Aemond is smirking at you, as if challenging you to decline the offer.

Choosing your words carefully, knowing you are taking a risk, you say with a sad smile, “I would love to accept your generous offer, your grace, but I fear I would be remiss in my duty to see my father and stepmother back home to their final place of rest.”

“If it would put your mind at ease, I shall personally see to the arrangements to have your father and stepmother taken back to your home,” Aemond offers. Though this voice betrays no emotion, the look in his eye warns you not to defy him.

Forcing yourself to smile graciously, you bite back the words you wish to say, instead responding demurely, “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity. You are right; perhaps it would be best to remain here for a time, though eventually duty will require that I return home," you reply, shifting your eyes to him as you finish speaking.

Soon, the royal family take their leave; the queen and princess were clearly pleased, and the prince once again showed nothing but unsmiling detachment.

You are left alone in your chambers, seething at being maneuvered by the prince into staying in King’s Landing. You have time; you remind yourself. There is nothing he can do while you are in mourning; bide your time, figure out his motives, and try to dissuade him of this marriage nonsense.

Thankfully, the prince keeps his distance from you for a time. You keep to yourself in your chambers, resting and thinking and restricting your activities to quiet walks or reading in the library. Eventually, becoming restless, you accept Helaena’s invitations to visit with her and her children. You begin a routine of spending your mornings with her, sometimes in the royal chambers or in the gardens.

You can’t help but like the princess, finding her company pleasant and her personality sincere. The little prince and princess are delightful children, and you find yourself genuinely enjoying your time spent with them.

One day, while chatting with Helaena in the garden, you hear the children squeal “Kepus!” with enthusiasm. Turning, you see Aemond bending down to embrace his niece and nephew. Helaena smiles at her brother, and you bow your head in greeting.

“Lady Mira, you look well. My sister tells me the children are quite taken with you, and your company makes her days far more pleasant,” he says cordially, a hint of a smile on his lips. “It seems your decision to remain here has been beneficial to everyone.”

With a smile, you say, “The children are lovely, and Princess Helaena has become a dear friend to me. I shall miss them terribly when I must leave and return home.”

He is so adept at hiding his emotions that you barely catch the darkening of his expression. While your gazes meet, he says, “I was hoping we could take that walk you promised me.”

You glance towards Helaena, but she says, “It’s a lovely day for a walk, and it’s time for me to take the children back to our chambers.” After bidding both of you a good day, she takes her children’s hands and goes back into the Keep.

Taking Aemond’s offered arm, you allow him to lead you down one of the garden paths. Since the weather is pleasant, with a gentle breeze blowing and fragrant flowers in full bloom, others have also decided to avail themselves of the gardens, forcing you to maintain an amiable appearance despite your inner turmoil. The prince beside you has also softened his demeanor, actually gracing passersby with courteous acknowledgements.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine day, your grace?” You inquire as you continue to stroll leisurely beside him.

“You did promise me a walk in the gardens; I decided this was a good day to claim it,” he answers smoothly. “We should also be seen together for appearances, and when our betrothal is announced, everyone will simply assume that we became close during this most difficult time for you.”

You cannot help the involuntary stiffening of your hand on his arm, tightening your grasp slightly. “I would rather you abandon that notion, for I have no wish to marry,” you inform him.

Increasing his pace, he leads you to a more secluded area along a high stone wall while glancing around to ensure no one can overhear him. “I thought I made myself clear that night in your chambers,” he whispers harshly in your ear. “What part of ‘you will be my wife’ did you not understand?”

“I understand what you said," you reply, trying to keep your voice calm. “What I do not..."

Aemond interrupts you. “Hmm, if you understand, then why do you make a point of talking about leaving whenever you are in my presence?” he admonishes you. “You will only return to your house as my wife.

Your eyes narrowing in anger, you turn to face him. ”I risked everything, not only for my mother, but to ensure that a man who did not love me would not control my life. I did not do what I did just to give my life to you or anyone else.”

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against him. “But you have no choice, riñītsos,” he reminds you. “Not if you want to keep that pretty little head of yours.”

“Why me? I am nothing to you,” you hiss in frustration, failing to pull away from him. “Am I simply amusement to you?” You continue, while you can feel how large his hands are with his palms splayed against your body, holding you in place, as you stare up at his face. You force yourself to look into his eye, holding your ground against him while trying to learn how to read him.

Aemond sighs, looking down at your face, a distinctive half-smirk and half-smile forming on his lips. He closes his eye for a moment before answering, “No, you are not amusement to me; you are far more than you know.”

For a second, you think he is about to kiss you, but you lean your head back with a hint of a smile, saying, “Ahh, so this is not just a game to you, which tells me you want something.” Your smile grows as your mind races through the possibilities.

Resting your hands against his chest, you ask, “Is it my inheritance you want? Am I a second son’s chance at lands of his own?”

“Your house and lands mean nothing to me,” he scoffs. Though the quickness of his denial tells you otherwise, you know you have at least hit a sore spot with him.

You cannot help the wry chuckle that escapes you. “Yes, I see what this is about. If it’s not a game to you, and if it’s not my inheritance you seek, then you desire to have me in your bed.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. The darkening of his eye, the tautness of his body, and the slight quickening of his breath tell you that you are right.

Before he can respond or you can ask another question, the sound of voices and people approaching force you to step back from each other, both of you trying quickly to present an appearance of propriety and formality. After exchanging polite greetings, you take advantage of the interruption to begin making your way back.

With only a few long strides, he catches up with you, falling into step beside you. “I did not give you permission to leave, and our conversation is far from over," he reminds you.

Now back among people, you coyly tell him, “I think we disappeared from view long enough. You wouldn’t want to damage my reputation, now would you?”

Just before you reach the entrance, Aemond leans towards you slightly and says, “Dismiss your maid early; we will continue this conversation tonight in the more private setting of your chambers.” He turns on his heel, leaving you to watch him stride away from you, his long hair swaying with his movement.

You spend a quiet afternoon in your chambers, even choosing to have your supper alone. After eating, you have your maid help you prepare for bed, pleading tiredness. Once dressed in your nightgown, with your hair brushed, you dismiss her for the night, telling her you intend to retire early. You do not like the idea of receiving him in your night clothes, feeling it puts you at a disadvantage.

Deciding to sit quietly near the open window, enjoying the cooling breeze, you try to gather your thoughts, feeling like this is the calm before the storm. You realize you are playing a dangerous game with him, challenging him the way you are, but meek submission is not in your nature. Prince Aemond is a difficult man to read, and your interactions with him have been limited, though intense. A few qualities of his are beginning to stand out to you.

Eventually, you hear movement in a shadowy corner of the room, followed by the sound of footsteps coming towards you. Even if you weren’t expecting him, you would know it was him, as if some bond were forming between you, allowing you to sense his presence. Rising from your chair, you face him, noticing he is still fully dressed, wearing leather, all in black, though you notice no weapons on him as you walk to a nearby table.

“Your grace,” you say with a smile as you pour a cup of wine. “Would you care for a drink?” I offered the cup to him. You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes closer, taking the cup from your hand, your fingertips touching in the process. You watch that increasingly familiar smirk form on his lips, his eye never leaving your face as he begins to drink, not stopping until he has emptied the cup.

Unable to hide the soft chuckle that escapes you, you pour a cup for yourself, taking a sip before saying, “Your bravery is impressive, your grace.”

“I do not believe you are foolish enough to murder me in your chambers. Another death by poison would be quite difficult for you to explain,” he replies, setting the empty cup on the table.

Giving him a wry smile, you nod your head in agreement while setting down your own cup. “Yes, you’re right. I found myself unable to find a plausible explanation."

Aemond arches his brow. “So you did consider murdering me tonight?”

“I admit the thought did cross my mind, but we will simply have to settle our differences another way.”

“You will be my wife; the matter is settled,” he responds. “Unless you wish to be executed for murder?"

You shake your head at his words. “So you are determined we will marry whether I wish it or not?” you demand.

“Why do you continue to vex me? I am a prince of the realm, and you refuse me. I could have your head, and you reject me,” indignation in his voice.

You notice that his gaze on you has not wavered, unnerving you and reminding you that you only wear your nightgown. “Must you stare at me as if you are some predator stalking his prey?”

“Forgive me, but you are such a beautiful sight that I cannot resist.” Pausing momentarily before he continues. “I hope after tonight we can put an end to your resistance to me, and you will accept that we will be married."

“You barely acknowledged my existence before coming to me and threatening to expose my crime unless I marry you,” you retort.

He moved closer to you, and his eye darkened with his ire. ”A very generous offer for a little kinslayer like you.”

“Exactly, so why would you want me for a wife?” Your eyes narrow as you continue, “You also kissed me, so you cannot hide that you desire me. Wanting me in your bed in exchange for your silence, I could understand that, but not joining us for life.”

You let out a surprised cry when Aemond roughly grabs your arms, pushing your back against the wall. His face is mere inches from yours; you hear the hiss of his breath and feel its heat on your skin. “Your body for my silence—is that a bargain you would make? You spurn my offer of marriage, but you would let me fuck you like a whore in order to keep your secret, hmm?”

Your eyes are wide with trepidation at his sudden shift in demeanor. When you open your mouth to speak, he quickly moves his fingers over your lips. “No, I will speak, and you will listen,” he hisses in your ear. You are unnerved enough that you stay quiet.

He brushes his lips against your ear, inhaling the scent of your hair. “You have tormented me since the day you arrived. You are my first thought when I awake and my last thought before I sleep,” whispering against your skin between wet kisses on your neck. “You distract me during my training and my studies. You invade my dreams, but you are the answer to my prayers.”

Your temper overriding your fear, you hiss back at him, "You speak like a madman.”

His hand slides down over your throat, resting at its base with his long fingers wrapped around your neck, holding you in place. “You drive me mad, mad enough that I would have you for my wife despite your murderous ways. I am mad enough that I have already fucked you many times in my mind.” He places his open palm over your breast, squeezing, before teasing your nipple through the thin fabric into a hardened peak with his thumb.

You can’t hold back the gasp that escapes your lips. Pinned between the wall and his body, you have nowhere to go and no chance of pushing him away. Arching your back to resist only pushes your breast into his palm. Your mind struggles, conflicted with your anger at being overpowered versus the new sensations his lips and hands evoke, Despite the warmth of his body against yours, you shiver when his hand slides over the curve of your hip, pulling up the hem of your gown so he can slip his fingers past your underclothes into the wetness of your cunt.

Aemond smirks when your eyes go wide as his finger plays with the bundle of nerves between your legs. “I can tell that no man has ever touched you this way. If another had, I would kill him. If another ever should, I will kill him. Only me; it will always be only me.” Resting his forehead against yours, he pulls down the neckline of your gown enough to move his hand inside to cup your bare breast, rolling the peak between his thumb and forefinger.

Your legs instinctively part slightly, giving him more access to your most intimate parts, while your hand grabs hold of the belt around his waist to steady yourself and keep him near you. Little whimpers from in your throat as your body betrays you, responding to his touch that sets your skin afire.

Feeling that you are coming close to your peak, he asks, “Your body for my silence; will you agree to that arrangement? Tell me now, yes or no.” As he waits for your answer, he withdraws his finger from your stimulated bud.

You sob over the loss of the exquisite pleasure that was about to overtake you. “Please,” you are unable to keep from whining, though for him to continue or stop, you are not sure. A firm pinch to your pebbled nipple finally prompts a whining “yes” from your lips, desperate for him to continue.

Hearing you acquiesce and seeing the pleading in your eyes, he claims your lips with a forceful kiss. This time you surrender, letting him have his way and slipping his tongue in to dance with yours. Your arms go around his slim frame, and your fingers tangle in his long hair.

You’ve shared a few gentle kisses of affection before, but this is nothing like that. Aemond’s kisses are about possession and his need for your submission; you do not resist because of the intoxicating desires he is awakening within you.

Pulling back, he lets his eye roam over your face, committing to memory the flush of your skin and the turmoil in your eyes. The irresistible feeling of power that comes over him only inflames his lust more, thrilling him that he can do this to you. It is the sight of your kiss swollen lips that dictates his desire now.

Swallowing hard, he commands you, “On your knees."

Confused, “What…?”

“I want that pretty mouth on my cock,” his voice breathy, his hands on your shoulders and firmly pushing downward. “Hmm, will you break our arrangement so soon?” He asks when you initially resist.

Shaking from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through your mind, you kneel in front of him, keeping your eyes downcast. You are hesitant and fearful because you have never done anything like this before. You are angry at him for making you do this, though you can’t help the quivering feeling going through your body, combined with the unsatisfied ache between your legs.

The sight of your subservience sends a dark thrill through him. He loosens his breeches, sighing when his engorged cock springs free. Running his fingers through your hair, he grasps a handful at the back of your head, wanting you to see him stroke himself. “Look at what you do to me."

Feeling a tug of your hair, you raise your eyes and watch him pump his hard length, red at the tip, and leaking fluid. You have never seen a man’s cock before, only drawings in a naughty book one of your maids secretly gave you. Your eyes go wide, shocked at his size. When he moves the tip of his cock to your lips, you don't need to be told to open your mouth.

He slides his length partway into your mouth, savoring the hot wetness surrounding him. When he feels you tense, he pauses, instructing you to breathe through your nose, allowing you to adjust to him filling your mouth. “Use your tongue like that," he murmurs. “You feel so good.” He slowly begins to work his hips, controlling the movement while he holds your head in place.

There is a saltiness to his taste, a muskiness to him, that is unusual to you. His member feels heavy on your tongue as he pushes more of himself into your mouth and to the back of your throat, wanting you to take all of him, though you cannot. As your jaw begins to ache and you struggle with his length, you can’t help but moan, the vibration only increasing his pleasure. He continues to mutter praises about how good you are and how well you are taking him. Each adoration sends a flush of wonderment through you, that you can have this effect on him. He’s built a steady rhythm of pushing in and out of your mouth, your lips feeling every blood-filled vein along his shaft. Your body tingles, and wetness still leaks from you, soaking your garments between your legs.

The sight of you obediently taking his cock in your hot, wet mouth stokes his pride and his craving for dominance. He can’t resist taunting you, “What a good little wife you are going to make.” When you immediately glance up at his face, he can see the tears glistening in your eyes, but he also sees the flash of defiance that you cannot hide. Your continued resistance rankles him, causing him to grip your hair more tightly. “Look at you on your knees, my cock fucking your mouth, and you would still resist me. Ao issi ñuhon” he sneers.

His ire, combined with his sense of power over you, spurs him to increase his pace, with his thrusts getting sloppier and hitting the back of your throat. Soon the increased friction has him tilting his head back, letting out a guttural moan, while he gives one final thrust, holding himself in place as his seed spurts in your mouth.

Aemond waits for his breathing to be steady before pulling his softening cock from your mouth. "Swallow," he orders, still tugging slightly on your hair.

Glaring up at him, you hesitate, wanting to defy him by spitting out his seed, but a painful tug of your hair forces you to submit, swallowing and tasting the salty bitterness. He stuffs his cock back in his breeches, refastening them before offering his hands to help you to your feet, seeing you wince slightly from kneeling on the hard floor. You try to turn away from him, but he wraps his arm around you, pulling you back against him.

“This is a lesson. I have lain awake at night, desiring and yearning for you, with only my hand for relief. That unfulfilled ache in your cunt right now, that is what I have been feeling,” whispering harshly in your ear. “You can try to give yourself relief with your pretty little fingers, but it won’t be enough."

Releasing you, he turns, leaving your chambers as quietly as he entered.

You walk on wobbly legs to retrieve your wine, drinking it quickly while trying to steady your nerves. Leaning against the table for support, you notice your hand shaking as you hold the cup. You can feel the disheveled state of your hair; your gown is still pulled off one shoulder; and the streaks from tears on your face.

You can also feel the soaking wetness between your thighs and the unsatisfied lustful cravings of your body. With an incensed scream and cursing the day Aemond Targaryen was born, you hurl the cup at the floor, watching the glass shatter.

Taglist: @arcielee @persephonerinyes @valeskafics @boofy1998 @echos-muses @boundlessfantasy @randomdragonfires @artemisra @marthawrites @khaleesihel @snowprincesa1

#aemond targaryen #aemond smut #dark aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #dark aemond #dark!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #aemond #hotd fanfic #prince aemond targaryen

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mukamibabe · 2 years

Note

Hi!

I saw you write for Karlheinz and wanted to ask if you can write a one-shot on Karlheinz overstimulating his wife as a punishment who tried to escape him,like she was forced by Karl to marry him.

So maybe a lemon of him catching her and the "aftermath"?

I CAN'T ON HOW AMAZING YOUR BLOG IS!!! 💜💜💜

hi! thanks for asking!! <3 and thank you for saying that about my blog!!

onto content warnings, uhh. usual diabolik lovers stuff with like. horrible relationships and such.

also, with the nature of this request, i think this would probably be considered dubious consent? the relationship isn’t entirely clear, i wanted it to be somewhat ambiguous but to sum it up, i guess you could say the reader? s/o? is attracted to karlheinz but has extremely mixed feelings regarding him? or even like.. a one sided relationship but the wife is not as.. infatuated with karl as he is with her, if that makes sense? honestly it might even be seen as hate sex?? it gets more dubcon-ish near the end.

and omg bc i can’t stop talking lmao i also made it so it’s unclear whether or not his wife was a human or not. just for more.. like. oc-insert/ self-insert purposes? idk . and because i still can’t shut up, does anyone wanna like?? let me know if these are too long?? i feel like everything is just long and it’s like. .ok?? i mean it is my personal preference when reading stuff like this but like? ? idk ok anywyas

don’t read if any of this may make you uncomfortable, and also please don’t read this if you shouldn’t be because there will be nsfw content under the cut.

oh,,, and like the last scenario/drabble i wrote,, i still feel like my writing is kind of all over the place so i hope this is ok 😳 idk why im always changing povs and whatnot but i don’t think i did for this one? um anyways go easy on me im insecure ok lmao

A game. That’s all this relationship seemed to be. To Karlheinz, at least.

Like the snake the vampire lord was, he would strike at his prey without any warning, and that is exactly what he had done to the new woman he had called his wife.

It was bold of her, honestly- to escape the way she did. Karlheinz could almost laugh at the audacity, or the fact that she actually believed she could get away from him.

Being the sadistic vampire he was, seemingly something his sons had inherited from him, he found amusement in playing with his food, so to speak. While his prey, in this instance, wasn’t entirely just a meal, holding more importance than that considering he has already chosen to be wedded to her. He wished he could say he knew she wasn’t stupid, but considering her choice to run from him, he wasn’t so sure.

So, he allowed her to run. Like a wolf, testing it’s prey. He tailed her discreetly, and, both to his disappointment as well as satisfaction, she was completely unaware. So, when she finally let her guard down? Karlheinz went in for the kill.

It was silent, and his wife breathed heavily, slouched over as she finally got the opportunity to rest, at least for a bit. She couldn’t deny that it was almost suspicious that her husband seemed to have not trailed her at all, but the thought of being free of him outweighed anything else.

“What brings you here, my love?”

Upon hearing his voice, she looked up immediately, blinking rapidly to confirm whether or not what she was seeing was real.

Her mouth had dropped open, after seeing that, and after a couple more blinks, he was not gone, and was instead, getting closer.

“Worry not, my dear. I know this might be a surprise but I assure you, it’s alright. Lets just get you back to where you belong and we can discuss this later.”

Not allowing room for any protests or excuses, Karlheinz, after stopping within an arm’s length, quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer to him before whisking her away.

Despite her having many moments with Karlheinz, including teleportation, it was still something she could never get used to. Hell, she was barely processing the fact that she had been utterly fooled by Karlheinz, thinking she was safe. It didn’t really help that she was already exhausted from constantly being on the move, as well as her own shock at the situation. Really, she couldn’t even think about defying him, as all she really sought was a rest.

After a quick second, within a flash, both were back at the place Karlheinz called home. For his wife, she would never call it her home, but alas, it mattered little to Karl.

Setting the woman down on their large, plush bed, truly fit for a king like Karl, he fixed his hair, letting the locks fall down after pulling it from his bun. His wife only sat on their bed, refusing to look at her so-called husband, tears gathering from the corners of her eyes. She did not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears. Unfortunately for her, Karl noticed immediately, stepping closer to her before cupping her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Shhh, shh, you’re alright. I’m not going to harm you, darling.”

Lies.

Sure, the woman could agree that he had never physically harmed her, but she knew who he was. She knew how easy it was for him to slither his way into your mind, to have you bend under his will. Perhaps that was why she felt complied to apologize, but it would be a lie. Escaping from him, albeit temporarily, was one of the best feelings she’d felt since being married to the man.

Regardless, she had to stop herself from moving away from him, or pushing his hand away. Or maybe both.

“Go ahead and get some rest. You’ll be safe here, I assure you.” Karlheinz spoke up once again, looking at his wife with a look of faux concern, but she didn’t know that. The woman only stared at him in response, just hoping he’d leave her alone, at least for a moment. Maybe she’d be lucky enough to get some shut eye before facing the consequences of running away from a vampire lord. The lack of trust was clear here, but what else could she do? Surely he had used some sort of magic to prevent her from escaping once more. The windows, that revealed a shining night sky, were nearly impossible to escape from, at least without causing a complete mess. Accepting defeat, for now at least, the woman let herself relax onto the mattress, though not entirely. Not long after, her so called husband left the room after gathering some scrolls that sat on his desk, allowing her to finally drift off to sleep, after fighting it for a moment- being on the run is definitely exhausting, more so than she would’ve thought.

About an hour or two had passed until Karlheinz returned once more. His wife still slept soundly, unaware of his presence. He had no plans of sleeping, really, but had stripped himself of his heavier clothes, leaving him in a loose, thin dress shirt and a simple pair of breeches. Unusual for him, sure, but he quite literally was trying to climb into bed and start showing his affections for his wife.

Before Karlheinz could actually get settled into their bed, his wife’s eyes opened upon feeling the shift in the mattress. Groggy, she squinted, looking up at the pale man though not having the energy to shrink away from him. Instead, she averted her gaze, laying her head back against the pillow. She really did want to go back to sleep, or at least her body did, but doing so wouldn’t be the easiest thing to do, per se. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have at least a slight fear of how Karlheinz was going to treat her after escaping.

As Karl made himself more comfortable, inching closer to the woman who had given up on worrying and once again found herself trying to fall back asleep, turning around, her back facing the man. This was cut short, however, instantaneously upon feeling an icicle for a hand graze lightly against her neck, making her stiffen immediately. Karlheinz definitely noticed the way she had to prevent herself from recoiling, but only hushed her, his cold body only getting closer to her, chest pressed up against her back. His lips moved towards her neck after pushing away any obstacles, peppering her neck with delicate kisses. It didn’t surprise either of them that this only made her stiffen up more, but the man did not stop, only speaking quietly after kissing her neck for a bit longer.

“Forgive me for waking you, but can you blame me after all? Chasing after you has made me parched, my dear little wife.” He spoke, before going back to attacking her neck.

The woman felt no need to speak. He was going to bite her anyways, and not putting up a fight would only make it worse for herself. Besides, she had literally just woken from her slumber only moments ago. The vampire took his wife’s silence as permission, not that he needed it anyways, and bit down into her skin, sucking up the sanguine liquid that he’d craved since his wife’s little escapade. As he drank from her, he nudged his knee gently in-between the woman’s bare legs. Which, once she thought about it, she had no recalling of ever changing out of her clothes, but didn’t feel like feeding into that trail of thought. She knew the culprit, regardless of whether or not he did it directly. Letting out a shaky exhale, she squeezed her legs together, to which Karl only pressed his hips against her own. It was to her relief she hadn’t felt anything yet, but knowing him, it wouldn’t be for much longer. To add, Karl had also snaked his arm around her, fingertips playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Karl..” The woman mumbled, eyes clasped shut as she, to her dismay, leaned into his touch, focusing on the movement of his tongue, lapping up her blood, to the cold calf that rested against her own, intertwining their legs, not to mention the icy hand that slivered slowly up and down her waist. That hand was quick to start moving downwards, tickling at her hips before she stopped him, pulling her arm from underneath her to grasp his own. She was thankful that doing so made him pause, at least from getting any lower. It was bad enough his bites already made her feel some type of way, and his other affectionate touches did not help the conflict she felt from actually enjoying the feeling of his fangs biting into her.

Luckily, or at least she wanted to think so, Karlheinz pulled away from her neck, to which the woman then shifted, laying on her back looking at Karl, who was currently licking up the remnant off of his lips.

“Don’t deny yourself, darling. You know you want me to make you feel good.” He said, almost teasingly- and it was true. Partially. It wouldn’t be her first time getting intimate with the man, and even just thinking about the mind-blowing orgasms he’s brought her to makes her shiver, as much as she hated it. Letting out a slight whine, the woman huffed in denial, watching, and feeling, his every move. “But-”, is what escaped her lips before Karlheinz moved in for a kiss, prodding his tongue into her mouth, allowing her to get a faint taste of her own blood. Her hand moved to push against Karl’s chest, but both of them knew it really wouldn’t have an effect. In fact, she was barely pushing at all, slowly succumbing to all of his touch, which seemed to make her body melt.

Karlheinz pulled away from the kiss, leaving a few marks against her collarbone before scooting himself lower.

“I know you’re still tired. Let me take care of you, and just relax in the meantime.” The vampire said softly, moving her shirt upwards to reveal her stomach, allowing him to plant a gentle kiss against the soft skin. She did not at all anticipate the feeling of his fangs pierce into her once more, in such a sensitive place, no less. Truth be told, the king wasn’t even thirsty any more- he saw pain as a fair enough punishment for her actions, despite it being mixed with pleasure as well. After biting her again, his lips then moved downwards as her blood dripped down her stomach. He lapped it up, stopping at the hem of her undergarments and looking up at his wife, who shivered at the touch of his fingers that attempted to pull the underwear down. Raising her hand, she impulsively pushed his head away as she stuttered a protest. He only looked up at her for a few seconds, savoring the conflicted look smeared on her face. Ignoring her words, Karl removed the pair, with her hesitant assistance to shimmy out of them and kicking them off so they could get lost somewhere within the comforter.

A primal glint flashed in the man’s honey colored eyes, smirking at the sight of her, wet and clenching around nothing, again, to her dismay. He wasted no time, sitting up as he ran one finger along her folds, getting his fingertip wet with her slick.

“Please,” his wife cried out, though she really didn’t know what specifically she was pleading for. She wished nothing more for him to both leave her alone as well as to fill her up. This confusion was exactly what Karlheinz loved most.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, Karlheinz, without warning, pushed two fingers into her hole, curving them upwards, thumb lightly pressing against her clit.

“Ah, you’re so spoiled, my dear. Even after running away from me, you still get treated like a queen.. You have it lucky, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you.” Was her response, squirming a bit as she tried to block out the feeling his fingers were making her feel. In retort of her hostile reply, the man inserted a third digit, admittedly getting a bit rougher with her, pressing harder onto her clit. As he thrusted his fingers into her, she felt his fangs graze the flat of her thigh for a second before he bit her. Again. Though the vampire had never mentioned anything about ‘punishing’ his wife, it was starting to become clear that the bites were intentional. Then, after marking her once again, he moved his body back up, still fingering her as he claimed her lips for a second time. His fingers continued to work her up, using his thumb to play with her clit the way he recalled. Although both of them were caught in each other’s mouths, he could hear her breaths growing heavier, trying so hard to not let out any sound.

Abruptly, his fingers came to a halt after he pulled away from her lips, to which she let out an audible whine. Looking at the woman intently, he slid back down giving a tiny nip against her thigh before moving his mouth towards her pubis, biting down there as well. It was quick, and no blood had spilled, but it only added to her theory that this was indeed her consequence for running. Then, he moved down to her cunt and with no hesitation, started to eat her out, lapping up every bit of her juices, nose pressed against her sensitive clit.

Biting back a moan, his wife intertwined her fingers in Karl’s hair, tugging at it slightly but it was no use.

“Enough..!” She spat, though unable to help the way her hips raised against his mouth that continued to explore her entirety, occasionally moving upwards to suck at her clit. As she could have expected, Karlheinz showed no resistance and was completely ignorant against her words as well as the slight tug at his scalp. Bringing her closer to the edge, the pull on his hair only got tighter, hearing a string of curses come from his wife who was eagerly awaiting that sweet release. Following that shortly after was a loud moan of his name, chasing that release like a starved animal.

“Hah...! Karl, I’m close,”

Her words came out breathy, almost like a whisper, and Karlheinz’ mouth only got more and more relentless until she came undone beneath his mouth. Back arched, the woman cried out as Karl continued to lap up everything flowing from her.

“Nngh..! Please, it hurts..!” Letting out a choked cry, she tried to squirm away from the mouth that still attacked at her folds, but he had only held her down, bringing tears to her eyes just at the feeling of the overwhelming sensitivity, to the point where it was uncomfortable.

The vampire did not stop, though continued for only a little longer, savoring every cry and squirm, and every little touch she did against him, trying to push him away and struggling to shove him, fists balled. He let go of her hips, letting her fall back down against the bed, legs shaking slightly as she squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to catch her breath.

At that point, her mind felt almost blank, not even noticing that Karlheinz had swiftly pulled down his pants, releasing his strained length that throbbed at the sight of his wife who had been brought to tears.

Unfortunately for his poor little wife, her so called punishment wasn’t over with yet. Karl had interrupted her time in which she tried to recover, lifting her up effortlessly, pulling him onto his lap. His hardened cock brushed against her, and before she could even manage to protest, both physically and verbally, he thrusted into her sensitive, sopping core, making her cry out, tears falling from the corner of her eyes that remained tightly shut. A few thrusts into her, the vampire laid her back down against the bed, pressing his forehead against her own as he harshly ground his hips against her. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get any words out of her mouth. The only thing she could focus on was her husband pounding into her, his pace growing faster with every second. Any words that she was actually managing to form only came out slurred, and were then interrupted by Karl’s lips that resorted to kissing her as fondly as before.

His hips began to stutter after a while, feeling her cunt contract around him, moans and cries being muffled by one another’s mouths. The woman turned her head to the side, pulling away from the kiss as she felt that familiar buildup at her core, squeezing her thighs together but it was no use. Karlheinz was ramming into her roughly, making her toes curl and fingers holding onto the sheets for dear life. Just before Karlheinz was chasing his high, the woman gushed against him, and as she came down, her squeezing walls only encouraging the man’s growingly erratic pace, to which he came inside of her not long after.

He stayed inside of her for a short while before pulling out, watching his seed seep out onto the blankets, from her hole. Karlheinz was quick to catch his breath, at least in comparison of the girl who’s tears continued to fall, mouth agape.

“Hah.. There you go, my love.. Let it all out.” Karlheinz cooed, placing a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“Perhaps this will make you reconsider even thinking about running from me again.”

#karlheinz x reader #karlheinz sakamaki #karlheinz sakamaki x reader #karlheinz #Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers smut #diabolik lovers x reader #once again pls be easy on me. im insecure and i hate my own writing ;; naturally so SHhhh

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

Text

Romancing the Navy's Princess - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Fem!OC (Maya Kazansky-Mitchell)

Word Count: 2.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are +18 only. MINORS DNI!

Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Content; One Night Stands; Light Angst; Background IceMav; Named OC (Maya), who is ADOPTED, No Reference to Physical Description/Appearance; Implications Along the Lines of the 'Bob Fucks' Agenda

Summary: Bob is not the type of guy to hook up with a random woman in his car. Maya something-or-other changes that streak. Except Maya something-or-other turns out to actually be Maya Kazansky-Mitchelli.

Bob was not usually one for a one-night stand. He was not one to chat up random women at bars and then hook up with them in the back of his car. He was not usually the type to even entertain the idea of doing anything like that.

But this night was different, for whatever reason.

Maybe it was because the Dagger Squad chose to go to a civilian bar rather than the Hard Deck. Maybe it was because he put in his contacts—even though he hated them—on a whim. Maybe it was because he was just a little bit touch-starved and desperate.

Or maybe it was simply her.

Maya.

Maya something-or-other.

He didn’t know her last name.

It didn’t come up when she accidentally spilled her drink on him. It didn’t come up when she stuttered and stammered as she tried to help him clean up afterwards. It didn’t come up after he told her to not worry about it and invited her to sit down and chat. And it didn’t come up when she asked him if he wanted to leave with her after talking for the better part of two hours.

And, well, that little detail seemed pretty irrelevant right now.

The windows were fogged up as Bob tried to catch his breath. Maya rested her head against his shoulder and he could feel her chest rise and fall as well. Trailing his hands up and down her side, Bob gave her hips a light squeeze that made Maya smile and press a kiss to his shoulder. And that only made Bob’s heart swell all the more.

“Did you finish?” Bob asked her quietly, causing Maya to send him a giddy smile as she bit her lip.

“Yeah, I did,” she assured him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.

“You don’t have to try and protect my ego or anything,” Bob replied, causing Maya to sit up a bit.

“If I thought that telling you whether or not I finished would bruise your ego or something like that, I would have been left by now,” Maya told him honestly, trailing her fingers along his bare chest. “And I’m still here . . . so, do the math.”

“Okay,” Bob chuckled, rubbing her hips again.

He pressed a kiss to her chin that caused Maya to let out a breath of amusement. Leaning down, she cupped his cheeks and stole a few more kisses from Bob. And, well, Bob was certainly not complaining about any of it. Pulling back with a giggly grin, Maya stared down at Bob for a moment, simply taking in his presence for a moment.

“Would it be crazy if I said that we should do this again some time?” Maya asked softly, trailing her fingers down his arm.

Bob smiled and grabbed her hand with his own. Threading their fingers together, Bob pulled her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Maya practically beamed at the simple affection and sat up a bit more.

“Not at all,” Bob agreed, trying to not sound too desperate to see her again. Even if he was. Holy hell, he was already hooked on this woman. “This weekend?”

“Saturday night?” Maya suggested in return.

“It’s a date,” Bob stated, causing Maya to smile bashfully.

“It’s a date,” she repeated quietly.

Leaning down, she pulled him in for another kiss. She tangled her hand in his hair and drew him closer. Bob happily reciprocated and let his hands wander all over again. Just when Bob was about to suggest another round, Maya’s phone started to buzz from a phone call.

Maya pulled back from the kiss and leaned over to check her phone. Bob pressed a set of kisses to her neck while she fumbled to find her phone, hoping to get her to refocus on him. But then Maya must have seen whoever was calling her because she cursed and pulled back entirely. Sitting up, she hurried to fix her clothes and hair while Bob sat there, a bit dumbfounded.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” Maya apologized, leaning over to give Bob a parting kiss. He was too stunned to properly return it. “But I’ll see you Saturday, right?”

“Yeah,” Bob trailed off as Maya slipped out of his car.

“Goodnight, Bob,” she called with a soft smile. “And sorry again.”

Bob sat dumbfounded, wondering how one phone call changed Maya’s demeanor so significantly in the span of about five seconds. He watched her hurry over and climb into her own car and drive off into the night. Sitting in his car alone for a moment, Bob slowly sat up.

He didn’t want to jump to conclusions, especially because every moment that he spent with Maya before she darted off felt like something out of a rom com. Phoenix did warn him about his tendency to fall hard and fast, but Maya reciprocated that. She was the one who suggested seeing each other again. Rubbing his face tiredly, Bob let out a groan.

This was why he didn’t do one-night stands. This was why he shouldn’t do one-night stands.

~~~~~

“What do you mean she just left?” Phoenix asked, openly frowning.

“One second we were making out and the next second she got some phone call and had to leave,” Bob sighed, tapping his pen anxiously.

“Did you see who the phone call was from?”

“No,” Bob muttered, trying to just focus on the paperwork in front of him. “And I already know what you’re going to say.”

“I’m not saying anything,” Phoenix replied somewhat defensively, though her expression gave it away.

“I’ll say it,” Hangman spoke up, walking over to Phoenix and Bob’s table. “It was probably her husband or her boyfriend.” Hangman clapped Bob on the shoulder, despite Bob’s rather dark look in his direction. “Congrats on becoming a side piece, Bob.”

“Fuck off, Hangman,” Phoenix snapped on Bob’s behalf.

“What? You were thinking it!”

“It could have been the babysitter,” Coyote added, wrapping an arm around Hangman’s shoulders. “Maybe she’s got kids and didn’t want to tell you about them.”

“That’s a good one,” Hangman agreed, high-fiving his wingman.

“Or maybe it was something else that has nothing to do with anything like that,” Fanboy suggested, trying to be supportive of Bob. Even if Fanboy was a little suspicious about the whole thing himself. “I mean, you knew her for only a couple of hours. Maybe it was just her roommate or something, who only calls in emergencies.”

“A roommate like a husband,” Hangman retorted, causing Bob to scowl.

“Bagman, you have five seconds—” Bob started to warn him.

“—Why the hell are you guys still here?” Payback called, walking into the room. “We’re supposed to be at Mav’s for dinner right now.”

“If you’re so concerned about that, why are you still here right now?” Fanboy asked his pilot, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re going to be late too.”

“Because I have to constantly check on you guys,” Payback sighed, sounding like a tired dad.

“Maverick texted you, didn’t he?” Phoenix deadpanned.

“Yeah, he did, so let’s go,” Payback announced, pointing at the door.

The six remaining Daggers headed out and started driving to the Kazansky-Mitchell house.

It wasn’t uncommon for the Dagger Squad to spend time up there. Maverick and Ice had a pool and a large kitchen that was always stocked with food now that Maverick was retired and Iceman was just working through the last few months of his contract before he would retire as well. And it was far larger than any of the apartments that the other Daggers lived in.

Bob sat in Phoenix’s passenger seat, a bit pouty, as Phoenix drove through the winding roads. He was severely annoyed after that whole conversation. Mostly because he had those thoughts himself already and now that he was convinced that he wasn’t crazy for thinking that, he was even more frustrated. And he was also annoyed because he didn’t think that he should be annoyed.

After all, wasn’t that what one-night stands were? Just sex and nothing else? Why did he have to get so fucking attached so quickly?

“Don’t let Hangman get in your head about it,” Phoenix told Bob softly. “He’s just an asshole.”

“But what if he’s right?” Bob sighed, holding his head in his hands. “What if that’s really the situation? What if I just helped someone cheat?”

“Even if that was the case, you didn’t know,” Phoenix insisted immediately, shooting Bob a look to take a breath. “And you don’t even know that’s the situation. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just take a breath and you can deal with it on Saturday.”

Bob simply let out a groan in response to Phoenix and hit his head against his head rest. Phoenix patted his shoulder with a simple ‘there-there’ kind of way that just caused Bob to sigh and sink into his seat further. Phoenix glanced up the road to see the Kazansky-Mitchell driveway only a few seconds up the remaining hill.

“Besides, we’re here. Just enjoy the good food.”

Bob pulled his hands away from his face and sat up a bit, trying to take a little bit of Phoenix’s advice. He should just focus on what was right in front of him and nothing else. And that was a great plan. Up until what was right in front of him was an oddly familiar car.

Maya’s car, to be more specific.

“Bob?” Phoenix called, confused and a little concerned about him.

“That’s her car,” Bob mumbled out.

“What?”

“That’s her car,” Bob stated more firmly, pointing at the vehicle. “That’s Maya’s car, Phoenix.”

“Bob, that’s a very common car,” Phoenix replied softly, trying to get him to focus.

“I swear that’s her car,” Bob insisted, turning to his best friend. “She had that college sticker on her car. I know that she did, Phoenix.”

“I believe you, Bob,” Phoenix assured him as she turned off her car. “But she’s probably not the only person to have that college sticker or that car. Especially in southern California.”

“Fine,” Bob sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “Maybe I’m just starting to see things.”

“Hey, you put yourself out there for the first time in a while. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Phoenix and Bob climbed out of Phoenix’s car and headed inside the Kazansky-Mitchell home. They were the last of the Daggers to arrive and moved to quickly join the rest outside on the back porch. Maverick was over by the grill, chatting with Fanboy and Payback. Ice was sitting down at the table, chatting with Hangman and Coyote.

“Hey, look who finally made it,” Fanboy called, causing Phoenix to scoff.

“You literally got here a minute ago.”

“Still counts!”

“How’s it going, Mav?” Bob asked, causing the older aviator to smile.

“Just starting up the grill. Drinks are inside and Rooster and my daughter are in the middle of bringing out the rest of the food,” Maverick explained, gesturing towards the house.

“Your daughter?” Phoenix inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, she moved back home for her new job. She’s staying with us until she finds an apartment,” Maverick replied with a proud smile.

“You have a daughter?” Bob questioned, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, we adopted her when she was a baby,” Maverick explained, turning to Bob with a softer smile. “She’s been living out on the East Coast for the last couple of years, so we haven’t gotten to see her that much lately. But now she’s home for a while.”

“Well, congrats, Mav,” Bob replied quietly, trying to not sweat through his shirt.

Maya’s car was in the driveway. She was living at home.

Things were starting to add up and Bob wasn’t liking the direction that they were heading in.

And, almost with comedic timing, the glass door to the house opened right behind Bob and Phoenix. Bob turned around and stared at Maya, who was chatting with Rooster as they carried out some sides and appetizers. And when Maya finally locked eyes with Bob, she froze as well.

“Phoenix, Bob, this is Ice and my daughter, Maya. Maya, this is Phoenix and Bob,” Maverick introduced, gesturing between them casually before going back to grilling.

“Hi,” Maya breathed out awkwardly.

“Hi,” Bob returned, just as painfully awkward.

She wasn’t Maya something-or-other anymore. She was Maya Kazansky-Mitchell. She was Ice and Mav’s daughter. She was the COMPACFLT’s daughter. She was his mentor’s daughter.

Now, this was why he shouldn’t have one-night stands.

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x oc #tgm fanfiction #tgm #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun #bob top gun #robert floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #bob x oc #top gun bob #bob floyd fic

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tizniz · 3 months

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday 💫

To start: thank you to the kind souls who reached out to me after Saturday's post. I appreciate you. I'm not good but I'm working at doing better. I'm also working short days the rest of the week to take care of myself.

I was tagged by my lovelies @diazsdimples and @daffi-990 (go check out their stuff, as always) and it always makes me giggle because it's always the afternoon of Monday when they tag me because timezones.

Here's more of 3 Men 1 Baby because this AU is taking over my life in the best way and I am so soft for them. And I hit 10K tonight. Also fun fact: Mia is the name of my OC and that's why I chose it for the name in this story :)

Enjoy!

“Why don’t you dress her?” Nancy says to Buck, once Mia’s fresh diaper is done up securely. Her previous outfit had not made it out unscathed, which Nancy had assured all three of them that it was perfectly normal. So while Chimney rinses it out in the sink, Buck steps forward, taking the onesie that Eddie had picked out, and carefully dresses Mia once more. She babbles happily, clapping her hands in approval of the outfit. Buck glances over at Eddie, seeing the soft smile that appears on his lips at the sight of Mia in something he’s chosen. Buck’s heart melts a little. “Thank you so much, Nancy.” Buck tells the employee as they emerge from the family room. “You saved us.” “Not a problem at all.” She replies with that same smile. “All new parents need a little help once in a while.” “We appreciate it still.” “You have any more questions, you come back and find me. I work Monday through Friday.” “Got it.” “Enjoy your shopping, boys.” Nancy tickles under Mia’s chin before taking her leave. A collective sigh is released as the three of them are left on their own, Mia happy and content in Buck’s arms. “Okay.” Chim steers the cart in the direction back towards the clothes, “I saw some really cool Star Wars outfits that Mia is going to look amazing in.” “You aren’t dressing our kid in Star Wars stuff!” Eddie protests as he follows after. “Watch me, Diaz!” Buck chuckles, looking down at Mia, who tilts her head back to blink up at him, smiling back at him. “We’re gonna be okay, kid.” All he gets is a gargle in response, but he’ll take it.

No pressure tagging: @hippolotamus, @theotherbuckley, @epicbuddieficrecs, @spotsandsocks, @wildlife4life, @elvensorceress, @monsterrae1, @jesuisici33, @disasterbuckdiaz, @evanbegins, @loserdiaz, @housewifebuck, @shitouttabuck, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaaz, @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove, @l0v3t0hat3y0u, @spagheddiediaz, @fortheloveofbuddie and whoever reads this and wants to do it 🩵

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #chimney han #buddie #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #3 men 1 baby

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mister-tom-a-dildo-lover · 2 months

Note

Since we're on the topic of what makes Harry who he is what about the things that make Voldemort who he is? I feel like many people seem to forget what Voldemort was actually like these days when interacting with fan content. I wrote a oneshot last year and the one review it got was how out of character Voldemort was when I began it in the middle of the boneyard scene using 400 words of his monolog from the book itself! "Voldemort wouldn't act like that." Yes he would! He did it for a whole chapter actually he loves to talk about himself!

That's something the stans of Dumbles do. You dare have him do his bad canon shit in your fic, and have someone call it out for once, and suddenly you're bashing him! It's so unfair!

Voldy monologues in Ch. 34 of GoF. He sabotages his own guaranteed victory just so he could take some time to show off and pat himself on the back. Could have solved all of his problems right there, but noooooo. He wants everyone to know about how smart he is.

I would say the things that make Voldemort who he is are:

Being the product of a loveless marriage.

Growing up as an orphan in a tumultuous time period.

Developing a debilitating fear of dying because of how he grew up.

Being obsessed with power and control in everything as a result of being a powerless orphan that no one cared about.

Developing lofty ambitions and a superiority complex because of all of this.

Having the urge to constantly show off to assure himself that he's special and better than others.

Obsessing over collecting the belongings of famous people so he can have what others don't and assure himself that he's better.

All of that leads to what he became. It is a lot harder to accept changes to Tom Riddle's character than is to accept them from Harry Potter's character. Because we grew up with Harry. We see Harry grow for years. Everything we have on Tom Riddle, that he has not shared with us personally, was given to us through Dumbledore's biased, stalkery memory collection(mostly from people who didn't even like him). But that doesn't meant it's impossible to think of a still murderous drama queen as being an In-Character TMR/Voldy if the rest of his personal stuff changes due to fic reasons.

But no one out here is like, "Ohh, you just wrote an OC and passed it off as Tom Riddle! If you don't have him with Abraxas as his best friend, then it's OOC!"

#tom riddle #lord voldemort

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noosayog · 10 months

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[a little less lonely with you] ft. miya osamu

wc: 1k

warnings/content: featuring atsumu and his girlfriend, Kaiyo, who is an OC in this

y'all read You Got Me, Senpai! and remember that part when senpai sorta kinda hooks Serina's friend up with her crush/his friend just because he wants to take care of Serina and transitively Serina's friends?

It'll be fun, your best friend had promised. Kaiyo had convinced you of your need for a vacation and in a brief lapse of judgment you had agreed.

So at the peak of summer, you find yourself burning to a crisp under the harsh sun of Okinawa as your best friend and her boyfriend, Miya Atsumu wander off to find popsicles to cool off.

To be very clear, you had no problem with Atsumu. You liked that he was so good to your best friend and subsequently, you. He was even good and polite enough to not make you feel like a third wheel this entire trip, offering to carry your bags when he grabbed Kaiyo's, keeping creepy guys away from you on the beach, and allowing you and Kaiyo to walk side-by-side while he trailed behind politely.

But no matter how considerate Atsumu was, it didn't make you feel any less lonely, especially given how long it's been since you last had a boyfriend. On top of that, you currently had the most massive crush on his twin brother. Atsumu had promised you that he tried his best to convince Osamu to take some time off and join, but was unsuccessful. You had told him that you'd be too chicken to make a move anyway. Atsumu had given you a slightly pitiful grin.

So now, as you sit alone on the sandy shores of the Okinawa beach, you allow yourself to wallow in self-pity in the fact that you had agreed to crash what could have been a very romantic vacation for just Atsumu and Kaiyo. Even as they return with the popsicles that momentarily revive you from death by heat, even as the sun sets below the horizon and paints the sky in the most vibrant hues of orange, even as the pleasantly cool night breeze kisses your skin, you remain sluggish and quiet, only perking up enough so as not to ruin the couple's mood.

As you return to the hotel, the two ask you to join them stargazing on the rooftop, but you smile politely and decline

"You really wouldn’t be imposing," Kaiyo assures.

"Yeah, it'd be really fun if you join. The stars are so much brighter out here," Atsumu offers.

You want to cry at how considerate the two are, but you decline, citing exhaustion and retiring alone to your room.

The next morning, you meet the couple for breakfast, trying hard to maintain your cheerful demeanor, asking how the night went. They tell you about how wonderful it was, but you know they can see right through your listlessness and forced cheerfulness.

"I'm sorry, you two," you apologize after breakfast. most of which had been spent with you vaguely listening and them holding the conversation. “I haven’t been very fun company, have I?”

Both Kaiyo and Atsumu look at you with wide eyes.

"No, not at all!" Kaiyo reassures you. Atsumu nods.

You shake your head. "I think I'm just going to spend today relaxing at the hotel. I want you two to actually enjoy Okinawa without me following around like a rain cloud."

Kaiyo opens her mouth to protest, but Atsumu puts a hand on her shoulder gently to stop her. He looks at you, “sure you’ll be okay?”

You smile gratefully at him and send them off with wishes for them to enjoy their day. Later that night, Atsumu knocks at your door.

"Hey,” you greet. “What’s up? Where’s Kaiyo?”

"She’s just resting a bit from the day. Can I come in?"

"Sure," you shrug.

He sits on the floor and gestures at the mat across the table from him. You sit as he commands.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

You sigh and apologize again hating that you're making them worry on vacation.

"I am. I'm just feeling a bit lonely looking at you and Kaiyo is all. You two are such a wonderful couple and I wish I had someone to take care of me the way you do for her," you tell him honestly.

Atsumu nods and listens attentively.

"I also wish your brother came, you know?"

Your crush on Osamu is no secret to Kaiyo and Atsumu, but at this, Atsumu's expression morphs to a thoughtful one.

"Just so that I feel a bit less lonely. And to spend some time with him," you continue on.

And for the next 20 minutes, Atsumu listens to you complain, humming in affirmation at the appropriate times, but keeping that pensive expression on.

"Sorry for babbling on. It was really sweet of you to check up on me, but I promise I'm having the most fun I can be having because you and Kaiyo are so good to me."

Atsumu doesn’t say much but nods and pats you on the shoulder.

It's not until the next day that you find out why he was being so uncharacteristically quiet. You're prepared to meet the two for breakfast again when another knock rings at your door. Opening it expecting Atsumu, you're met with the face of a different Miya. Osamu is standing there, grinning silly and dressed in a Hawaiian patterned shirt.

"Hey," he greets casually. "Care to join me for breakfast?" he holds out his crooked elbow for you to grab onto.

You’re staring at him, ready to ask him what he’s doing here when you see a flash of movement out of the corner of your eyes. You see Atsumu hiding around a corner and giving you a thumbs up and Kaiyo beaming at you.

For a second, you feel like crying because what did you do in your previous life to deserve such good friends, but for now, Osamu's waiting so you slip your arm through his and allow him to whisk you away to finally start your vacation.

Around the corner, Atsumu is grinning ear to ear at his triumph. He's watching your and his brother's retreating silhouettes fondly when he feels his girlfriend slip her fingers into his. He looks down at her, still unable to wipe the proud smile off his face. It widens when she reaches up to press a sweet, tender kiss to his lips.

"What was that for?" he whispers, breathless.

"Just for taking care of my best friend," she responds, as she leads them to their own breakfast plans, connected hands swinging in wide, happy arcs.

#noos writes #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq x y/n #hq fluff #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu x you #miya osamu fluff

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bl00dst41ned · 9 months

Text

*.·:·.✦ safe place ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jobe bellingham x black oc (named her sage)

summary: in which sleepy jobe gets comfortable to nap

author's note: first blurb posted, enjoy. y'all don't wanna give me some jobe content so I figured'll do it myself. it was inspired by this TikTok found on Pinterest

warning: fluff, cringe humor (i'm funny i swear, just can't write it)

word count: 289

Shouts and grunts could be heard in the room next door as Sage sat in front of the TV watching a documentary about Anna Nicole Smith. Soon, she heard the door slam, and her boyfriend, Jobe, walked in, frustration written all over his face. Sage silently looked at him as he flopped down next to her.

“anything wrong ?” She asked, even though she already had an idea of his answer.

He had been on the game for hours with his friends, and she knew how he could get while playing.

“You said you wouldn’t let me near a PS5 again.” He dramatically whined, pouting.

“I tried to warn you, but you assured me you could control yourself.”

He straight-faced her before rolling his eyes. Touched by his disappointment, Sage motioned for him to get closer to her. Jobe lay his whole body on hers, resting his head on her stomach. He turned his head towards the TV as Sage’s hand instinctively connected with the back of his neck, rubbing it softly.

…

The soft rubs of his girlfriend soothed Jobe. His eyelids started to get heavy as his eyes were fixed on the screen facing him. Aware that he was bound to fall asleep anytime, he decided to get as comfortable as possible and do what he loved to do the most: lay under his girlfriend’s shirt. He lifted hers only to be popped on the hand.

“Wh- why so violent ?”

“Don’t know, just felt like it” She shrugged and laid back down.

He went back to what he was doing and got cozy. He inhaled the scent emanating from

Sage’s skin. He was finally ready to take a relaxing nap.

like, repost, and suggest if you want to (hope you enjoyed besties)

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #black oc #fluff #football blurb #football fluff #football imagine #jobe bellingham #jobe bellingham blurb #jobe bellingham fluff #jobe bellingham x black oc #jobe bellingham x oc

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evita-shelby · 2 months

Text

No one has to know

Gale 'Buck' Cleven x nurse!oc, Diane Shelby

Cw: cheating/infidelity, secret relationship friends to secret lovers, consensual cheating, mentions of canon/irl deaths and captures

Somewhat inspired by 'no one has to know' aka that song from mrs maisel.

Buck had come to look for Meatball and found him in sleeping under a big tree on her lap as she sat there on an empty sack.

She stands out from the rest with her strange eyes, one blue one brown and that knack for somehow always knowing everything before you even tell her. That last part made her a hell of a nurse, or so he’d heard when one of the medics assuring him his men were in good hands.

Nurse Shelby, a Red Cross Volunteer from some other part of England and something that told him she’d never wanted for anything growing up.

“Just adventure, Major Cleven.” The girl says sitting on her uniform cape with his dog laying his head on her lap and acting as if she was his real owner. “My name is Diane, but everyone calls me Di.”

“Buck.” He said joining her with his dog between them, he hasn’t had a moment of peace since their first mission. “That’s Meatball.”

“I know, just being proper with you.” She said relinquishing his dog back to him, but the damn mutt refused to leave her lap. “Does your girl back home like dogs, Buck?”

“Yeah, always wanted one of these growing up.” He smiles remembering the letter he got from Marge with her reaction to Meatball. She couldn’t wait for both of them to come home.

He wondered how’d she react to knowing all these girls here throwing themselves at him like they did at home.

“Lucky woman. My boyfriend came back with a canary he got when he first shipped out. Called it Vera so he could say he has two birds.” The nurse mentions and he has no idea what that means.

“He had a second bird?” he asks assuming the boyfriend had meant him.

“In some parts here, we call girlfriends birds.” She smiles at his ignorance and continues stroking Meatball’s fur. “I was, well, am the second bird. Our Vera lives with his sister in Manchester now that I’m working here.”

No harm in being just friends, he thinks with relief.

Diane has her sailor; he has Marge at home.

No harm in being just friends.

“Does Marge know?” Bucky asks when he watches the little nurse laughing with her friends in a peach-colored dress.

She looks lovely, her lips red and the locket give her a dreamy look. Like the image you have of the girl waiting for her fiancée to return in those war movies.

“Yeah, just friends. Diane’s got a fiancé, a sailor named Tom Bennett from Manchester.” The blond man answered taking his eyes off her.

“Buck, you know there’s a risk even if the both of you have someone.” Johnny Egan was not made for monogamy, he had sweethearts everywhere and his Josephine knew and here he was warning him not to fuck things up with Marge.

He wouldn’t, he’s sure of it.

There was no harm in being just friends with her.

“I have Marge, she has her Tom. Sometimes people are just friends, Bucky.” He assures him and yet Gale Cleven didn’t stop looking at her even when Bucky began to sing.

June becomes mid-July and Diane is officially known as the other owner of Meatball ---when Buck isn’t on the base.

Both dog and owner had become cherished friends to her and while she was attracted to Buck ---tall blonds were her weakness--- Di was perfectly content being his friend and only that.

Marjorie looked and sounded lovely, and he had the politeness to say Tom reminded him of Bucky. They had other people and while infidelity was the least of anyone’s problems these days, Buck did not give himself the permission other men had gained from their wives and sweethearts.

Even Diane had told Tom when he first shipped out that he was free to fuck who he wanted because sometimes you need companionship and a good lay to survive this fucking war. Tommy had been quite the Casanova before the war and it didn’t surprise her to know he had fucked a girl he met at the docks when the Exeter gave him his first taste in mortality in 1940.

But she’s not my Lady Di waiting for me at home, he had said when he confessed it. He loved her, she loved him except now she was the fair maiden to his brave knight. Just as Marjorie is to Buck, Josephine to Bucky and everyone with someone waiting at home for them.

Besides, she’s perfectly fine with being just friends with Buck, been so long since a guy only wanted to be friends with her.

Besides it won’t be long before he goes on that mission he won’t ever come back from. The witch had seen it when he came back from his mission earlier and smiled when he saw her sitting under the same tree where they met.

She’d surprised him with a catalogue of luxury leather collars and matching leashes and pretended everything was fine.

“You don’t have to get him anything for being a nuisance, Di.” He said leaning against the tree and their shoulders brushed each other’s slightly.

“I don’t mind it, it helps the soldiers and civilians to see him about. They love spoiling him and he loves the attention. He’s going to be a handful for you when your tour of duty is over.” Di said as she showed him a catalogue of dog collars and harnesses from a local. “The collar is the least I could do for letting me care for your dog.”

Meatball had the collar he’d given him, and a vest made to allow him roam the base freely with the Red Cross badge ---American unfortunately--- and the 100th Bomb Group so they knew who to return him to.

He needed a nice leather collar and matching leash for when she or Buck takes him off base, and hopefully returns to America with his owner.

“They look expensive, I don’t want to put you in the red for a gift.” He points at the price of the collar they had picked.

“Oh, trust me, I’d have to buy the entire shop to get into trouble. Besides, the shop owners need the money more than I do.” Diane turns to look at him and finds herself struck by how beautiful he looks sitting here with her with the sunlight painting his blond hair golden and his eyes as blue as the sea.

She really likes him, and she’s always had the problem of falling hard and fast for a boy. Especially when he is so kind and thoughtful and so strangely principled.

And yet he like her knows something’s changed in the air as he leans in with a dreamy look in his eyes and lips that tell her how good they’d feel against hers.

But he has Marjorie and she has Tom, so Diane bursts the little bubble that surrounds them before they do something they will regret.

“We should go, someone ought to be looking for either of us.” Diane said as both pretend nothing happened and they’re just leaving at a perfectly normal time and don’t have the afternoon free.

He dreams of her and Marge now.

Buck had been right about the risk and perhaps he shouldn’t have let her be so close to Meatball, but the dog’s too attached to her now.

He likes sitting with her under the tree, talking to her and pretend they aren’t here for a while. He likes her, even if some find her eyes unnerving and are put off by her talent for tarot reading.

Somehow that explained how she always knew what to do in the medic tent, always knowing what her patients had and needed.

The Major barely knows a thing about her and the same goes for her, and yet he feels as comfortable with her as he feels with Marge. He tells her things he can’t find the words to tell Marge and she understands them fully because she shares the burden of war he has.

It was a dangerous thing, and he’d only realized how dangerous it was when they chose the new collar for Meatball. He had fallen for Diane, something that he hadn’t believed could happen when he loves Marge and she loves her sailor.

He would’ve kissed her if she hadn’t stopped. It had happened so naturally so gradually, somehow he forgot about his Marjorie back home and his promise to her and himself.

Gale Cleven had never been the type to stray and yet this sunny spot in this dreary place had him at the risk of betraying his girl.

Buck knows what he must do, and tells himself it is the right choice as he readies himself for another mission. A mission she claims won’t go wrong.

When he comes back, Meatball is wearing his new leather collar and the leash is left on his bed. He feels guilty for the decision he’s made, but better a ruined friendship now than two ruined relationships later.

The next missions go just as well, no losses even if they sustain some damage. One doesn’t even happen and yet gets counted as one making them all more optimistic about arriving to mission #25 much sooner and ,most of all, alive.

When he sees her again its August and she is as friendly as ever, taking a break under the tree after a busy day at the triage. She was on high demand now especially when all her seemingly meaningless predictions came true.

Last he heard some of the more superstitious boys had begun asking her how the next missions would go, and now Diane was the most popular girl on the base.

“I haven’t thanked you for Meatball’s collar,” he says feeling the loss of their friendship a little more now that he’s standing before her.

“You didn’t have to, I know why you’ve stopped meeting me here. Your Marjorie is a very lucky woman, Buck.” She gives a small smile in return and doesn’t gesture for him to sit with her as he had been doing these two nearly three months.

“Your Tom is a lucky one as well. I had to remind Curt you have your sailor. Said he’d marry you if all missions went as good as these have been.” He doesn’t know why he mentions that. He had not found it as funny as his friends, Curt knew nothing about Diane save that she was good luck and pretty and daughter of a politician.

The knowing look in Bucky’s eyes had claimed it was jealousy, as if he’d ever felt jealous of Diane’s fiancé.

“I get several proposals every week, I suppose if it gives them a reason to come back to, I won’t stop them from dreaming.” There is grimace she tries to hide and yet he’s come to know her well enough to know what it means.

Bad news.

She’d made that face when she was asked about the first try at Warnemunde resulted in the loss of a fort and all its crew. She’d done it when the boys had left to share the news with everyone else at the club and she tried to melt away from the spotlight.

“How bad is the next one going to be?” Buck loses his resolve to stay away and sits with her to comfort her at knowing she cannot change what she sees, or else she’d done it already.

“Really bad by the looks of my reading. Mission will be achieved but at a great cost.” Her mismatched eyes tell him she’s not telling him the whole truth.

Maybe she might be a real psychic and saw more than what she claims, but it doesn’t take a psychic to know most of the boys enlisted here won’t come home.

“If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll take care of him. You don’t have to send him to Marge if you don’t want to, he can join you and the canary in Manchester or Birmingham or wherever you and your Tom go after the war.” It is a solemn vow, entrusting her with Meatball who helps him and everyone in this hell stay sane.

“I promise, Buck.” She reaches out to give his hand a reassuring squeeze and he doesn’t stop her.

This time when they find themselves in the same predicament as before they don’t stop.

Her lips are soft and sweet, awakening a distant memory of Marge's and yet he doesn’t stop until they’re too out of breath to do more than rest their heads against each others in comfort and in fear that they won’t every see each other again.

No one would know about it nor the promise they’d made just as people on base hardly knew about this hidden little piece of heaven they had here.

He might die with this secret tomorrow and somehow that makes it better.

Regensburg goes as terribly as she’d seen in her readings.

90 men all either made prisoners of war or killed in action, boys younger than her and only a handful as old as her eldest brother.

But Buck’s not among them as she’d feared, he’d made it to Algeria with Bucky and those lucky enough to make it another day.

They’re to return soon, and she is afraid he won’t meet her at their tree after that kiss.

When he left to Regensburg the feel and taste of his lips had felt as present as they had the night before.

He was so unlike Tom, her Tom who she’d managed to see for a day sometime in July. He’d been jealous of her mentioning Buck, and with good reason.

And yet remembering she’d given him a free pass to sleep with a woman if he felt the need to do so, he had extended the same courtesy to him.

Because he believes she wouldn’t stoop so low as to shag an American, least of all an American with a girlfriend.

Now Di had kissed Buck and she’s okay if he never comes to the tree again because what matters is that he comes back alive.

When they return she’s too busy to even see him except for a few seconds at the triage. They’d come back the same way they left only this time with less losses.

Still too many if you ask any of them. The 100th had a one to 4 odds of survival for every mission, but such slaughter was deemed necessary for the war as was the incessant and indiscriminate night bombing the RAF did.

Buck had refused a medal, she’d heard. Reminded her of how her father threw his in the Cut, likely for the same reason as Buck did.

When she finally goes to their tree late in the evening, she finds him there waiting for her. Solemn as the grave, eyes red from crying.

“Curt was shot down, we were hoping he’d been one of the captured, but there wasn’t even body recovered at the wreckage.” It wasn’t just numbers to him, they had been his friends, people he cared for, people who had lives and dreams and loved in all the different ways that exist.

Curt had been with him since basic training, almost as close to him as Bucky and Bill and his crewmates.

Men are told not to grieve, not to cry and yet they grieve and cry as all humans do.

She held Tom as he grieved his father, as he grieved the boy who’d left and for all his friends and crewmates that didn’t make it.

“I’m so sorry, Buck.” She goes to him, unsure if she should hug him because that’s the best sort of comfort she can offer. She hugs him, holding him together as he lets himself fall apart.

He does more than grieve, he does what everyone in his shoes has done: seek comfort in the only way you can forget everything and everyone for a moment.

Buck cradled her face in his hands just as Tom has done all those times and kissed her like he loved her.

And it dawns on her, that she loves him. Something far worse than fucking another man was loving another man.

“Please, Di,” his voice breaks and he begs her to make him forget the hell they live in.

Tom would never know about this just as Marjorie wouldn’t either.

It is not like the times before with their respective sweethearts, its rough and desperate and something they’ll surely regret and yet this sweetest of sins cannot be called anything else but love.

“I think I love you.” He whispers to her, admitting this great sin that somehow weighs on him as much as that of knowing it is people he kills with those bombs.

“I think I love you too.” She pressed her lips to his again and pretending no one else existed beyond them.

No one would know this ever happened, and it was better for everyone else except them two.

It becomes a habit, after particularly terrible missions. Them seeking comfort and love and understanding in the only slice of heaven here. Just them and their tree.

“When I was dancing with Meatball, I kept wishing I could have the balls to dance with you, Di.” He admits as they kiss against their tree.

She won’t say what she saw, and he knows its terrible, bad or worse than Regensburg by the way she tries not to cry.

“Then take me dancing when you come back, Major.” Di laughs quietly as they sit against the tree like they did that first day they met. “Tom won’t mind.”

And Marge won’t know why.

He never wanted to be like his father and yet, here he was in love with two women and one as oblivious to the other just like his mom had been.

“You’re not your father, Buck, you won’t ever be like him. And if you want, this can be the last time we ever do this.” She always knows what he’s thinking, claims its part of her gifts.

He thinks its because she’s come to know him just as good as Bucky and Marge have.

He knows her as good as her Tom does. Tom who is a tall blond man she keeps in her locket and doesn’t know she loves him as well.

No one would ever know this ever even happened, just him and Diane. And somehow, that made it all the sweeter.

“I’ll give you an answer when I come back from Bremen, Di.” That night he carves their initials on the bark of the tree.

On October 8th of 1943, Major Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven’s fort, Our Baby, is shot down and all 10 men inside are made prisoners of war.

It is October 9th, 1946 that he comes back to that tree ,both are happily married and know their time together will always remain a secret.

When Buck comes to take Meatball back one last time, he wonders what could’ve been if they’d been free to love each other outside of the shade of their tree.

A/n: thank you for reading!!!!

If you find Diane Shelby sounds familiar, it is because she is actually an oc taken from my Tom Bennett x Peaky Blinders! oc for my cringe af world on fire and my peaky blinder fanfic crossover.

Au where Buck and Diane do get together: no one but you

#gale cleven #buck cleven x oc #gale buck cleven x oc #buck cleven #masters of the air fanfiction #mota #diane shelby #mota fanfic

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psychedelic-ink · 8 months

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Are you longing for a unique fanfiction journey where you're the protagonist? Look no further! I'm here to offer a personalized storytelling adventure like no other.

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ethereallocs · 10 months

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Study Buddy Pt 1.-Modern Au! (College) Daemon Targaryen x OC Velaryon Fem Reader

Pairing: Young Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon OC Fem Character

⚠️Content/Warning(s)⚠️: Sexual Tension, Masturbating, Exhibitionism and Forced Orgasm.

Summary: Daemon needs to pass the history exam. Laenora may be his only hope.

Author’s Notes: It is short. But this will be a two part series lovebugs. Dividers used are made by @firefly-graphics 💕

“How the fuck do I have an F?” Daemon had been berating the History Professor over a paper he turned in. The professor was highly unamused and very monotone. “Daemon, I don’t know what you were learning about in this class, but I assure you your paper had nothing to do with what I was teaching. You might want to get yourself to get yourself together Mr. Targaryen the final exam for this class is coming soon. Daemon scoffed before he made his exit throwing the paper in the trash. He had been stressed trying to prove to his older brother and father that he was capable of getting through uni and making his way into the family business, but he wasn’t doing to well at proving his point. His history class was his last class for today and he decided he would just go home.

He shared an apartment with his brother Viserys and upon arriving home he heard shuffling in the living room and he quickly averted his eyes. “Hey man I wasn’t expecting you to be home so soon he ushered his long time girlfriend, Aemma into his room while he fixed his pants in embarrassment. Daemon rolled his eyes in annoyance. “This is literally why you have a room. To do all the fucking you want in it. No one wants your cum all over the furniture, V.” Viserys laughed and disappeared into his room so that he could continue what he started.

After a while Aemma and Viserys emerged from their room and Daemon was still seated on the couch his brow furrowed with frustration while his brother raided the fridge in the kitchen. “What’s wrong, D?” Daemon sighed, “Do you know anyone who can help me study for the history exam coming up?” Aemma chimed in, her arms wrapped around Viserys as she leaned against him. “You know my friend Laenora is in your class she’s a straight A student and she does some tutoring sessions. I can give you her number.”

He jumped to his feet with his phone ready. He took no time to text her letting her know of his troubles and she agreed to meet him at the school library to help him study. He honestly didn’t know a Laenora existed. Was he really that self centered? He spent the rest of his day drinking with his brother.

She was sitting at a table in a far corner of the large library. She picked the table specifically so that her pupal could concentrate. They agreed to meet at 6:00 pm but it was now 6:15 and she was beginning to think he wouldn’t show. Of course she knew who Daemon Targaryen was. A bad boy with a famous family name behind him. He was privileged and honestly his presence annoyed her, but he was sickeningly attractive. She was just getting ready to pack all of her things up and go back to her dorm when he came waltzing in as if he’d been on time.

Daemon seemed to hesitate upon seeing her. She was…an angel he thought as he got closer. “Laenora? Right? Thanks for meeting with me.” She rolled her eyes causing him to look a little confused, “You’re 15 minutes late. I was ready to leave, honestly Daemon if this is really important to you, you’re going to have to act like it.” He remembered her now, but she seemed so innocent; so quiet but obviously she was a lot more feistier than he had anticipated. “I’m sorry, mummy. It won’t happen again.” He spoke in a babyish tone and it irked her very being. He was such a prick.

He realized he vexed her so and he was going to enjoy doing so for the rest of this session. He joked around while she was reading the important sections that she was sure would be on the exam and he skimmed through it some what reading along, but he became distracted watching her lips fall with every word. They were full and looked so soft he cleared his throat and licked his bottom lip becoming anxious. He fixed himself within his seat over and over feeling his cock twitch and press against his pants uncomfortably.

“Is something wrong?” She looked at him with those sea green eyes and he melted. “No…everything is fine I think I need a break…my legs are going numb.” She got up from her seat and decided to go look for a book she had been wanting to read. “Fine.. 20 minutes and you will meet me back at the table.” He nodded and he stood up trying to clear his head, but he wanted to talk to her. So he looked for her and saw her within the farthest book shelf away from wandering eyes and listening ears. “Laenora? Can I talk to you?”

She looked up from her book and he lost it. Pressing her against the bookshelf he grabbed her face pulling her in for a kiss she pulled away with a wet pop and a gasp. “What the..fu…” He silenced her with another harsh kiss and she moaned into him melting quickly from the unwarranted kiss. His hands found their one under her shirt and she shuddered. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he smile twirling her hardened nipples between his fingers. She whimpered trying to quiet herself as he bit into her neck leaving soft kisses behind. He pulled away looking to see if she was enjoying herself and by the looks of her flustered face and wanton eyes he knew she wanted more.

His nimble fingers found there way into her skirt feeling the lace fabric of her panties. The only thing keeping him from what he wanted. Laenora gasped and anticipated the feeling of his fingers finding their way within her soft folds. He watched her eyes smiling at how much she craved to feel him touch her. He pulled away slightly and she whined softly pulling him closer to her. He wouldn’t fuck her here, but he was going to get her off one way or another.

His finger slipped past her panties pushing them aside as his fingertips caressed the hood of her clitoris spreading her outer and inner lips to give him more access. “Daemon…what if someone catches us?” She cooed into his ear softly her moans wanting to fill the entire room, but she quieted herself. It was so intense; so wrong and yet they were both so turned on. The feeling of being seen any moment made her slick even more evident as he ran two fingers over her entrance. “You just got wetter from the idea…you’re a little deviant aren’t you?”

His fingers prodded at her soaking core before finding their way inside feeling her walls tighten around him which made him groan and his cock convulsed within his pants. She could feel him pressed against her thigh. “Take him out please…I want to see…” He smiled pumping his fingers into her in a come hither motion. “What do you want to see?” The red in her cheeks darkened. “I want to see your dick…can you play with it, please?” He pursed his lips and put on a Cheshire Cat grin.

“A little deviant indeed…sure anything for you, pet.” He unbuttoned his pants and out sprang his cock slapping the skin of her thigh. She looked at it then him and he smiled noticing she wasn’t prepared to see something as larger as this. He wrapped his free hand around his throbbing shaft and slowly stroked his dick while he pleasured her all at the same time. He wanted to watch every stage of her orgasm. From her fighting the pleasure to her giving into it.

Their soft yet heavy pants could hardly be heard and he enjoyed watching her fight the urge to let it all out. Her pussy was soaking his fingers and Gods was the sound of it gushing heavenly. He could hardly think with those enchanting eyes low and filled with lust with only him on her mind. He thought of the ways he’d fuck her senseless when he had the chance. She was completely overcome and lost in him her eyes rolled and the knots in her stomach tightened, but she was still self conscious and nervous someone would find them like this.

“Daemon…please…I can’t….I’m gonna…” She fought against him and he just continued finding that spongy little spot that would make her a mess and she fell into it with ease. He bit the lobe of her ear and mused into it. “That’s it give yourself to me…don’t hold it in…baby.” She whimpered and whined pulling him close causing his cock to press against her more while he continued to masturbate. She was almost there and he quickened his pace and she was no longer any good. Her legs were trembling and weak and the knot in her stomach released. She showered his fingers with arousal and he was pushed over the edge.

Before he could spill any of his seed she was on her knees stream after stream filled her open mouth and covered her lips. She swallowed every drop and cleaned the rest up with her tongue. Her juices dripping down her thighs her legs still shaking as the aftermath. He stood her to her feet and kissed her deeply. “So much for helping me study, huh? You are nothing but a distraction.” She giggled softly and they emerged from the aisle finding their seats back at their table.

“Now do you think you can focus, Daemon.” He chuckled, “For now…I guess.”

To be continued…

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hyunbunlix · 11 months

Text

Promises [waterbender!Felix]

Characters: Felix (Yongbok), older fem!OC Rating: A/O for Adults Only (violence, swearing, sexual content) Content Warnings/Tags: generational/family trauma, anxiety attack, inexperienced Felix, sub-leaning Felix, fingering (f. receiving), p in v, riding, dirty talk, raw orgasm Word Count: 6,866 Summary: As heir to the title of the Northern Water Tribe's Chief, Yongbok has always been pressured to live his life as it has been set out for him. When he's tutored by a general sent on a northern delegation, Yongbok starts to wonder if the path he's been given is the wrong one after all.

Ever since the war ended, the Northern Water Tribe had made a dedicated effort to rejoin the rest of the world and end its isolationist policies. In the last generation, their efforts had been richly rewarded by both a stronger relationship with the sister tribe at the South Pole and a hearty alliance with the Earth Kingdom. As such, the Northern Water Tribe was preparing to host a summit between the three in its capital city of Agna Qel’a. Yong Bok, as the son of the Northern Chief, had a whole list of responsibilities to get through before their guests’ arrival.

Once those official duties were complete, his father had insisted Yong Bok receive instruction from a general the Southern Tribe had sent to the Earth Kingdom years ago. Yong Bok’s father was convinced his son wasn’t tough enough, that he had no killer instinct, and in the event of any future conflict, the Northern Tribe would need a strong leader. The war was still near enough in people’s memories that a good offense felt like the best defense.

Yong Bok wasn’t sure he wanted a killer instinct, though, nor was he sure he wanted to lead the Northern Water Tribe. He wasn’t sure he wanted to lead anything for that matter. He just wanted to be. He had a gentler style of waterbending that none of the northern masters seemed able to break him of.

He forgot all that for a moment, though, when he was introduced to the general just inside of the water gate system that protected the city. She was not at all what he’d expected. A woman, for starters, and not too much older than him, either. She wore a combination of regalia from the Southern Water Tribe and the Earth Kingdom in a display of the alliance’s solidarity, and when she bowed respectfully to Yong Bok and his father, Yong Bok instantly felt weird about it, like perhaps he should bow to her instead.

His father didn’t seem terribly happy. He still held to quite a few of the old ways, and he likely hadn’t been expecting a woman to instruct his son.

But what could he say or do now? The chief wasn’t prepared to offend such a powerful member of the alliance.

“He’s in good hands, I assure you,” the general was saying when Yong Bok finally spaced back in after a good twenty seconds lost in thought. She was looking right at him now, and Yong Bok’s eyes went a little wide with panic. He hadn’t been staring, had he? She smiled at him, clearly amused.

“I thank you for taking the time out of your busy delegation to instruct my son,” the chief said, and Yong Bok forced himself to smile a little, hoping it didn’t look as strained as he felt.

“It’ll be my pleasure, I’m sure,” she said to the chief, then turned her full attention on Yong Bok. “I look forward to starting tomorrow morning,” she said to him. He nodded, forcing himself not to clear his throat or swallow conspicuously. The last thing he needed was to look nervous.

“I’ll work hard,” he said, an answer that would no doubt placate both the general and his father. Then, without thinking, he added, “You’ll be attending the reception this evening, right?”

“I will,” she said, grinning. “Maybe we’ll talk then, too.” She then bowed to the chief one final time, who dismissed her.

As she made her retreat, Yong Bok could feel his father’s glare drilling a hole into the side of his head. He hesitantly turned to look at him.

“Don’t get any ideas,” his father ground out. Yong Bok blinked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said. The chief stared at him, unreadable.

“Good,” he said finally. “See that it stays that way. You have your breeding to think about.”

Yong Bok fought to keep a straight face. He hated thinking about the path his future would take, so he usually just didn’t. His parents were already breathing down his neck to marry someone they approved of (they’d given him a list and everything), since he was in his twenties, which was, in their eyes, plenty old enough to be thinking about things like “securing lineage” and “ensuring heirs to the tribe’s legacy.”

Basically the worst things Yong Bok could imagine when he wasn’t sure he even wanted to be in this lineage to begin with. He didn’t feel right just leaving it to his sister either, though . . .

“Right,” Yong Bok said weakly, trying not to show the pure relief on his face when he was dismissed. A few hours to himself before the reception feast would help re-center him.

He made a beeline for the Spirit Oasis. Yong Bok wasn’t the most religious person in the world, but it was always peaceful there, and rarely populated given how sacred it was. It was a great place to hide under the guise of meditation and communion with the spirit world.

To his surprise, the general was already present, sitting, calm and poised, before the koi pond that housed the ocean and moon spirits in their eternal circular dance.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said when she turned to glance at him over her shoulder. “I can leave, if you want.”

She smiled gently to him and patted the grass beside her. “No, it’s all right. I was just saying hello. I’ve never been up here before, and it felt right to pay my respects.”

After only a moment of minor hesitation, Yong Bok decided to take her up on it, approaching and sitting to her right. “You don’t have anything like this in the south?”

“We don’t,” she confirmed. “It’s a much rougher, less ‘civilized’ way of life down there. Though, I’ve lived in the Earth Kingdom for years, so I’ve grown used to a different standard of living. I’m not built for the cold quite as much as I once was.”

Yong Bok was suddenly acutely aware of the foot of space between them, and the mild desire to close it. Despite the frigid nature of the rest of the North Pole, the spirit oasis was surprisingly temperate.

“If you need extra furs, let me know. We’d be terrible hosts if we let you freeze to death,” he said. She laughed softly.

“I appreciate that,” she said, then lapsed into comfortable silence with him, their collective attention on the pond and the koi-shaped spirits inside it. Several minutes passed before she spoke again.

“Forgive me if it’s an uncomfortable question, but I figured we would happen upon it eventually,” she said. “Why does your father think you need my help? Surely you have brilliant instructors up here.”

“We do,” he said, “but none of them have been able to break me of my . . . my nature.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, taking her attention from the pond to place it solely on him. It felt nice.

“I can waterbend offensively all right, but I’ve always preferred to defend, and especially to heal. My father hates it. He thinks it’s unbecoming in a man, let alone a leader. He thinks if I don’t prove to be a strong leader, then I’ll make the tribe a target during any future conflicts. I know he means well, but . . . It’s a lot to handle. I don’t like the pressure.”

“There’s more than one way to be strong,” she said, and Yong Bok gave a wan smile.

“I wish he saw it that way,” he said.

“Perhaps we can change his mind. We have a month together, don’t we? Let’s see what we can do,” she said, and to Yong Bok’s ears, it sounded like a promise.

Over the next month, practice with the general was grueling but rewarding. She trained him in all three aspects he’d mentioned, but put extra emphasis on his healing capabilities, which he excelled at. He’d always had a natural aptitude for it, but his father had refused his instruction in it. Everything Yong Bok knew he’d had to figure out for himself. Now, with proper technical instruction, he excelled more quickly than he could have imagined.

But as the month drew to a close, dread coiled in Yong Bok’s core. And not because of the combat demonstration he would have to put on in front of his father. Rather, Yong Bok could think of no punishment worse than losing the person who had believed in him the most his entire life.

He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the general.

On the third to last day, Yong Bok went to sit in the spirit oasis, and prayed the general would come find him.

He could recognize her footsteps as she approached, and he said a silent thank you to the ocean and moon spirits.

“Bbokie? May I join you?”

The tips of his ears flushed pink. She’d been calling him that in private for about two weeks now, and he adored it.

“Of course,” he said, and she sat to his left. She let the silence stretch until Yong Bok deigned to break it.

“Can I say something selfish?”

“Sure,” she said, glancing sidelong at him. Yong Bok kept his gaze on the pond, lest he lose his courage.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. “And I know you have to, that it isn’t possible for you to stay, but . . . You’re the person I’ve felt closest to in a long, long time, and I don’t want to lose you.”

Her hand rested on his arm, and he finally dared to peer at her. Her face was serious, and a little sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. Yong Bok turned his face away.

“You shouldn’t be. Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have said anything to begin with.”

“No,” she said, and reached to touch his cheek, to turn his face back to hers, but Yong Bok only registered the harmless intent after the fact. His immediate reaction was to flinch the instant she made contact.

She withdrew her hand like one or both of them had been burned, and Yong Bok looked at her with huge eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t have, I should have asked first. Are you all right?”

She thought it was her fault, that he’d been reacting to her that way. No, no. He couldn’t let his brokenness ruin this, too.

He reached for both her hands—warm and un-gloved thanks to the temperature of the spirit oasis—and placed them on his cheeks. She watched him carefully, and he held her eyes, pleading with her to understand.

“It’s not you,” he said softly, willing his voice not to shatter. “It will never be because of you. Please believe me.”

“Yong Bok,” she murmured, her face crumpling into something like grief, but not pity. He didn’t want that, and she’d sensed it as she’d sensed so many other things about him.

“Please,” he breathed. “Don’t go.”

“I can’t stay,” she said, and she sounded so raw, like that fact hurt her too, that Yong Bok just . . . broke.

With tears welling in his eyes, he leaned in to kiss her. When she kissed him back, the tears fell, and he didn’t try to keep them in.

She broke the kiss and let him cry into her neck, her hands rubbing nonsense patterns against his back.

When he finally started to calm down, she said, “Maybe there’s a way.”

“What is it?” he asked, not yet ready to remove himself from the cocoon of her embrace.

“Maybe, if you impress your father during your combat demonstration, we can convince him to let you come with me for practical training. I can’t stay, but maybe you can come with me.”

“I’ll try anything at this point,” he said, not minding how pathetic he sounded in that moment. “I . . . I don’t think I can go back to the way things were . . .”

“Then we’ll try,” she said, a gentle smile touching her lips. Yong Bok couldn’t help it—he leaned in to kiss her again, though he was softer and quicker with it this time.

“What were you going to say, before?” he asked. Before my meltdown was what he meant, and he was grateful she didn’t make him say it.

“I was going to say that I don’t want you to hide your feelings from me. I want you to be able to say and be and feel whatever you want when you’re with me. I want to listen. I want to know you as well as I’m able. You’re not the only one who feels so understood when we’re together,” she said. Yong Bok relaxed into her words, leaning his shoulder against hers.

“I already knew I didn’t want to lose you,” he said quietly, “but now I feel like I can’t.”

“Even if you have to stay, I’ll write to you. I’ll try my hardest to be on every delegation up here. I won’t forget you,” she said. Even as the promise touched him, his dread wouldn’t go away.

“It won’t be enough,” he murmured. “I know what I want now, what I need, and anything less won’t be enough.”

“I understand,” she said. Then, after a moment of hesitation, “Forgive me if this is presumptuous, if I’ve got this all wrong, but I’ve never really wanted to be in a long-distance relationship, either. If we’re forced to be apart, I think it’s probably best you find someone else.”

“That wasn’t presumptuous, and I don’t want someone else. It’s only been a month, and I know that’s not a lot of time, but I want to try. I want to build something on my own, and if it fails then so be it but at least I tried,” he said, impassioned now. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something so badly. Most of the time, he felt like he was pushing against the goals of others, rather than toward his own.

“Then try we will,” she said, and that felt like a promise, too.

For the first time in his life, Yong Bok didn’t feel out of place on the frozen battle pitch. With ice and snow all around them, there was no shortage of material to bend with.

Nor was there a shortage of eyes looking for his mistakes.

Yong Bok tried to shut that out and focus only on the general, standing opposite him on the pitch. They bowed to one another, then turned and walked to opposite ends.

Their fight began, and it felt more like a dance than anything else. They opened with a series of water whips, coming dangerously close to one another. Yong Bok kept pace with the general, and the second he started to fall behind, he switched styles.

One of the things the general had taught him was how to waterbend like an earthbender. It had seemed counterintuitive at first, until the general had pointed out that all the ground in the North Pole was just ice. After that, it had been a matter of memorizing the new forms.

Now, Yong Bok stomped his left foot into the ground and raised both arms, palms facing down to the ground. A wall of ice shot up before him, protecting him from the general’s final water whip.

In another snappy motion, Yong Bok stomped his right foot onto the ground behind him and jammed both palms against his ice wall, cold instantly biting into his palms. Some earthbenders were able to detect and follow vibrations in the earth to track their opponents without use of their sight, and the general had taught Yong Bok to do the same with ice. Once he got a read on her location, he started punching the ice wall in alternating strikes, sending spikes of ice flying out of the wall and toward her. Defense and offense, all at once.

The entire process took only a few seconds, but Yong Bok was hyperaware of their audience gasping in surprise at the mixed form. He tried not to feel too proud of himself; after all, this had been the general’s technique first, so naturally, she knew how to counter it. Just as he expected, a pillar of ice shot out of the ground on the opposite side of the wall and sent the general vaulting over it, raining needles of ice down at him. With one bladed, backward motion of his arms, Yong Bok blocked them with a canopy of ice from his wall, which he then fired at her in sharp sheets as she landed. She pivoted, cutting through each one in turn with her water whip and sending them skidding and sticking into the icy ground. After firing the last sheet, Yong Bok rushed her.

He had never particularly liked close combat, but he had improved, and that was what they were trying to demonstrate. He held his own for about a minute of grappling and quick strikes, until he took an elbow to the face. It wasn’t a blow nearly as devastating as it would have been in a real fight, but it did hurt, and it was enough to split skin and make him bleed.

Instinct kicked in then, and Yong Bok bent his blood into one single needle and threw it at her. Either she wasn’t expecting it or his aim was too true, but instead of blocking or dodging like he expected, the projectile tore a hole directly through her left ear. She stared at him, stunned, her hand clapped to the side of her head.

With his heart in his throat, Yong Bok was aware of only two things: He had wounded the person he cared for most, and his father was applauding him for it.

The moment of fog passed and Yong Bok rushed to the general’s side as she took a knee, still staring at him. He could register no emotion in her gaze.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he said as he got to her, wanting to reach out and touch her but suddenly too afraid. She took a shaky breath in and out.

“Don’t be sorry,” she whispered, “just fix it.”

The words settled. This was a combat demonstration. This, here, in front of everyone, would show his capability as a combat medic.

She had let him hit her.

She lowered her hand from her bleeding, punctured ear, and Yong Bok immediately bent the clean, clear water out of the flask he always wore. He could have used any of the ice and water already around them, but he had no idea what could be floating around in that, and he wasn’t trying to give her an infection.

The water collected around his right hand, which he gingerly raised to her ear. The water moved to encompass her ear, too, linking him to her wound. He could feel every bit of the puncture then, and sense the way her body wanted to fix it, the way it would heal over time. He and the water simply coaxed that process to the present, drawing her skin and cartilage back together. He pulled his hand away, the water around it pink with her blood now. Her ear, though, looked good as new with only a mild scar to show that anything had gone wrong in the first place. Yong Bok bent the water back into his flask to be disposed of properly later.

They both got to their feet, and bowed to one another.

“Thank you for my instruction,” Yong Bok said. When they straightened, the barest hint of a smile pulled at her lips, and relief shot through him.

He fought the urge to look at his father, fearing the scowl he would find there. The rest of their crowd was applauding, but he doubted his father would be so easily impressed by mercy.

The general didn’t really get nervous anymore. After military operations and political delegations, it took a lot to rattle her. But it would be a lie to say that preparing to speak with the chief of the Northern Water Tribe didn’t make her feel something. Not because she feared any repercussions to herself, but because the way she conducted herself here, now, would have direct repercussions for Yong Bok.

She chose to do it at the farewell feast, one day before her delegation was to depart. After the food and speeches but before the libations had flowed too freely. She asked to speak with him privately and forced herself not to look at Yong Bok, seated to the chief’s left, as she did. The chief didn’t look too happy about it, but he couldn’t say no to her in front of this many people if he wanted to save face. He had to at least hear her out.

“Good,” he said in response to her request, surprising her. “I think we have much to speak about.”

They removed themselves, retreating to one of the meeting rooms scattered about the palace.

“This is about my son, isn’t it?” the chief asked, sounding neither happy nor unhappy.

“It is,” she said.

“Good. Because I have questions for you. Such as, during your demonstration, why was his first instinct to heal a blow he dealt, rather than finish the fight?”

“Because it was a demonstration, sir. We wanted to show everything he can do,” she said. He scowled.

“You were well aware that I didn’t want him to learn any more healing,” he said. She fought the urge to say or do something highly disrespectful.

“I was,” she agreed. “But that wasn’t what he wanted. I spoke with him, and we decided it was best to give him a more well-rounded education. He’s a wonderful waterbender, and has great potential as an all-rounder. It would be a shame to keep him back when he would make such a great combat medic. That is what he wanted to show you.”

“And yet,” the chief said, “it is not what I wanted to see.”

“His offensive capabilities were top-notch. I don’t see why you’re upset when the results plainly spoke for themselves,” the general said, growing a bit frustrated now. “There’s nothing wrong with being able to do it all.”

“Perhaps not,” the chief said, “but we have other people for that. If my son is to rule over this tribe, then he must be a paragon of strength.”

“And yet, at no point during my time with him did I register him as weak,” she said.

“Then perhaps you were the wrong person to teach him.”

There it was. The finishing blow. She hadn’t even asked her question and already she had gotten her answer. She bowed her head and shoulders to him, and stood.

“Perhaps I was,” she said and made her exit without being dismissed. She stormed through the banquet hall, needing to get out. Those in her detachment that knew her well did not try to stop her once they saw the look on her face, and, instead, offered to cover for her.

As she made her way out, she looked for Yong Bok, only to find his eyes already on her. He looked stricken, and there was nothing she could do to solve it.

She went to the spirit oasis and prayed to the spirits for temperance, for hope. She had done all she could, and it was not enough.

Not even a full hour passed before Yong Bok, too, came to the oasis.

“What did he say to you?” Yong Bok asked, his voice panicked. The general stood and turned toward him; he stood in the middle of one of the bridges that led into the oasis, as though afraid to get any closer.

“He said I was the wrong teacher for you,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Yong Bok swallowed hard. His coat was undone in the warmth of the oasis, showing the high-necked thermal layer he always wore underneath, dark grey today. It didn’t matter. She shouldn’t have been looking.

“He pulled me aside after you left,” Yong Bok said, sounding like he couldn’t breathe. “He said he’s tired of waiting on me. He’s forbidden me from healing, and he’s chosen my spouse for me. He said that if I won’t do what needs to be done, then he will.”

She stared at him and felt like she’d been delivered an exceptionally hard kick to the sternum. She couldn’t make herself speak.

“He’s probably making the marriage announcement right now. Everyone will know. I won’t be able to go back on it or get out of it, or—”

He was starting to hyperventilate now, and that was what finally spurred her to action, hurrying onto the bridge with him, pushing his fur coat all the way off him so he wouldn’t overheat as he sank to his knees.

“Breathe, Yong Bok, breathe,” she said, gently cupping the back of his head and coaxing him to bow it forward to alleviate the dizziness that came from an attack like this. He adopted the posture, and she stroked his hair while he fought to pull in air.

“It’s over,” he managed to get out. “It’s all over.”

“Nothing is over, Yong Bok,” she said.

“He won’t listen!” he said, his voice pitching toward breaking.

“Then make him,” she said. He took a few more gulps of air, then raised his head to look at her. Gods above and below, even in the throes of despair he was breathtaking. She leaned in to kiss his forehead. “This is your life, Yong Bok. No one can make you do anything. You might feel like you have to do this—for him, for your family, for the tribe—but no one can make you. The world won’t stop spinning if you refuse. Actions have consequences, but so does inaction.”

Silence stretched for a few beats while Yong Bok steadied his breathing. When he looked at her again, he seemed surer of himself, like some of her words had had an effect. She started to move away, to give him space, but he grabbed her hand so she couldn’t and placed it on his chest. She looked at him in confusion, feeling almost ashamed of herself for being so acutely aware of his musculature beneath his shirt. The damnable thing was just so tight.

Then he spoke again, and she could have sworn she’d had a brain aneurysm.

“Ruin me,” he said. She stared at him, eyebrows raised, mouth agape.

“I beg your pardon?” she said.

“Take me, here, now, before the ocean and moon spirits. Become one with me. Ruin me for any other union. Ruin me for anyone but you,” he said.

Her ears were still ringing, and that seemed a lot like sacrilege, but he was looking at her with such certainty, and his voice sounded like that, and damn her traitorous body she was already wet.

“You mean it,” she said, as much a question to him as a realization on her part. He nodded.

“Ruin me. Please.”

“All right,” she breathed. They got to their feet and finished crossing the bridge. Yong Bok laid out his coat on the grass by hers, softening the ground as much as they could in this situation. They sat down together, looking over the koi pond, a long moment of silent reverence for the ever-circling spirits.

“May our union be blessed,” she said to them, words that Yong Bok echoed a moment later. Then she turned to him, and their mouths collided, hungry. She went for his shirt right away, dragging it off him to get to the toned, taut body underneath, a body that she quickly tipped back onto their coats, exploring with her hands and mouth.

“You’re so gorgeous, Yong Bok,” she said, pausing to glance up at him. His face was already flushed, his eyes dark with want. She stroked her hands slowly down his torso one more time, enjoying the warmth and strength of him even as she became acutely aware of the growing bulge in his pants. She reached to graze it with her fingers, and he bit his lip.

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse, which only made it more alluring.

“Of course,” she said, cupping the shape of him through his pants while holding eye contact with him.

“I’ve never done this before.”

She stared at him. “I find that very hard to believe,” she said. He gave a tiny, breathless chuckle.

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re sweet, funny, hard-working, beautiful . . . I can’t imagine people not wanting to be with you,” she said honestly. His smile was shy now.

“Thank you, but regardless, my parents were more than enough of a deterrent. Nobody wanted to displease them with their choices, including me. Everyone I’ve ever liked has been intimidated by them. Everyone but you,” he said, his vulnerability and infatuation naked on his face. She leaned over him to kiss him again, gentle at first, though it quickly degenerated into that same deep-rooted need.

“Yong Bok, are you sure about this?” she murmured against his lips. He nodded, his nose bumping hers.

“I am.”

They weren’t in love, not exactly. But he was plainly infatuated with her, and she cared deeply for him, and even if they didn’t work out as a couple she would have done anything to keep him happy and in her life.

“All right,” she said, and slipped her hand into his pants. His eyes snapped open, locking with hers, a soft gasp escaping his lips as she stroked him skin to skin. He bit his lip anew, groaning softly as she fit her hand around him, rubbing him up and down with more friction.

“Feels good,” he groaned. She gave an airy chuckle.

“That is the goal,” she said. Then, after a pause, “Let’s make this a little fairer, shall we?”

“What do you—? Oh.”

Rather than pulling her shirt all the way off, she simply pulled the front hem over her head and behind her neck. That way, she could show her body to him without pulling her hand away from his length. If that wasn’t enough, she pulled the soft band of fabric that served as bust support down under her breasts, leaving them entirely exposed. Yong Bok stared like she’d just revealed a classical art piece to him.

“Spirits save me, you’re so beautiful,” he said, reaching to run his hands along her waist. “Is it all right if I . . . ?”

“Yes, you can touch me, Yong Bok. Anywhere you want. It’s only fair,” she said, giving his hardness an extra little squeeze. It twitched against her hand, and he fidgeted with a groan.

“Yes, fairness,” he said. “Definitely at the forefront of my mind right now.”

She laughed softly, watching his face as he reached to cup her chest, the way his attention was split between his task and watching her face for reactions. He eventually worked out that she liked it best when he kneaded her breasts in his hands, or when he ran his thumbs back and forth over her peaked nipples.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and with a firmer grip on his cock, she started to jerk him off while leaning forward to put her breasts in his face. Yong Bok immediately opened his mouth and sucked on her breast, running his tongue over the nipple, even experimenting with the barest graze of his teeth to see if she liked it. Her answering moan said she did.

His own moans were muffled by her chest until he couldn’t stand it anymore, breaking the seal of his mouth and saying, “Stop. Please. I don’t want to finish like that.”

Instantly, she withdrew her hand from his pants, feeling quite satisfied by the sticky smear of pre-cum on her palm. “You’re a messy one, hm?”

He nodded, looking at first her hand and then her face, his expression folding into desperate need when she lolled her tongue out and licked the stickiness off her hand.

He surprised her then by pushing his own waistband down, freeing his cock in the process and allowing her a good first look at it. She’d already been certain about wanting to be with him, but now there wasn’t a single shadow of a doubt.

Yong Bok wasn’t a tall man. His musculature was lithe, and there wasn’t any part of his body that could be considered bulky. He was all lean lines and sharp angles from the square of his shoulders to the cut of his jaw.

That must have been because his cock had been blessed with all the girth the rest of his body didn’t have. He was about average in length, but thick, and her core gave a greedy pulse at the thought of how he would fit.

“Yong Bok,” she said, a slight teasing note in her voice. “You and I are going to have a very good time together.”

She moved away from his legs and helped him get his pants and boots all the way off, leaving him completely naked on their spread coats. Despite his protestations to her earlier, his hand was around his cock again, pumping slowly as he watched her get out of her clothes, too, enraptured by the process.

“Yes,” he answered belatedly, his voice scraped low with need, “we certainly are.”

She sank to her knees beside him. “Give me your hand,” she said, and he obediently offered his free left hand. He watched her, still slowly stroking his hardness, as she arranged his hand the way she wanted it and slipped his middle and ring fingers inside of her. She sighed softly, and coaxed his hand into motions complementing the fidgeting of her hips.

“Curl them forward a little— Ugh, yes, Yong Bok, like that.”

“Do you think you could finish from just that?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Probably,” she said, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. “Once you get the hang of it.”

“You make it sound like we’ll be doing this again,” he said, his voice making plain that he very much wanted to. She moved then, his fingers still stroking inside her, to straddle his thighs.

“You asked me to ruin you for anyone else,” she said, shooing his hand away from his cock so she could take control of it again. “Of course we’ll be doing this again.”

“You’re not just doing this help me, are you?” he said, another groan escaping him as she stroked his length in long, slow motions. “You wanted it as badly as I did.”

“What gave it away? My words? My actions? Or the wet all over your hand?” she purred. He looked down at his left hand then, his fingers still sunk inside her core. He gave a long exhale that left her no choice but to focus on his teeth and hope he might put them on her.

“All of it,” he answered.

“You didn’t think I could look at you every day for a month and not want to be with you, did you? Watching you working hard, sweating, those damn thermals leaving almost nothing to my imagination?” she said, lightly running her nails down his torso, clavicle to abdomen. He shuddered under her. “I told you before, Yong Bok: You’re gorgeous. And anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Then have me,” he said, patience clearly frayed. “Stop talking about it and take me. Make it official. Before the ocean and moon spirits, the whole damn spirit world, make me yours.”

She couldn’t say no to a request like that.

In one fluid motion, she drew his fingers out of her, pinned both his wrists to the ground, and began rubbing her slick core over his length, drenching him, mixing her wetness and his pre-cum. He moaned, pressing his hips up, trying to increase the friction, and that’s when it happened—he slid inside her hands-free.

The noise he made then was animal, his eyes fluttering shut as she pushed her hips back, settling him completely inside her. She smiled down at him, twining her fingers with his against their furs.

“Good so far?” she asked softly. His eyes opened to find hers as he nodded, his expression already bleary with pleasure and what she might have called adoration if she didn’t know better.

“Very good,” he sighed, his eyes growing a little unfocused as she glided up and down his length. She took it easy on him to begin with, a steady rhythm that got them used to the size and shape of each other.

“Not to be that person,” she teased softly, “but I do believe this is what we might call a perfect fit.”

“It feels—and looks—pretty perfect to me,” he said, presently unable to tear his gaze away from the sight of his cock sinking inside her again and again.

“Do you want me to come on your cock, Yong Bok?” she purred, unable to help herself. He nodded eagerly.

“Of course I do,” he ground out. “Want to know what you feel like.”

“It’s not going to take much, not with the way you’re filling me,” she praised. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything,” he said. She bit her lip to suppress a grin, dropping an exceptionally firm stroke of her core down his cock, making him groan, his eyes losing focus for a moment.

“After I orgasm all over you, I need you to trade places with me and fuck me senseless,” she said. He moaned again, the sound tapering into a whine. She released his wrists, but began to speed up her hips a little.

“If I can even last that fucking long,” he said, flushed. “You might get me first.”

She clicked her tongue, pretending to be disappointed, but really she was elated. It made her feel good to know that he wasn’t too nervous to come, that he was comfortable enough to finish with her.

“Is that so?” she teased. “You feel so good you’re not going to last? My cunt’s so good to you that you just have to fill it up?”

A hard throb went through his length from base to tip, accompanied by a throaty groan.

“Uh-huh,” he managed. “Wanna fill it with my cum so bad.”

“Very well,” she said, “I’ll do all the work this time. But you have to promise me that next time, you’re going to fuck me until I can’t see straight, hm?”

“I promise,” he gasped.

“Good boy,” she said, and stopped holding back. She planted her hands on the fabric beneath them and rutted against him, as desperate for her own orgasm as she was to make him break. His hands went to her hips, not interfering, merely anchoring himself to her. His eyes fluttered over her every feature while they still could, before it became too difficult for him to focus. She moved one hand to his chest, trying to gauge his body by the tension in his muscles, knowing they would start to seize as he got close.

She needn’t have worried. Her orgasm barreled into her, forcing her eyes to shut and her back to bow, her nails digging into his chest. She moaned wordlessly at first, though it quickly shifted into mindlessly whining his name. Yong Bok, to his credit, kept part of his promise by driving his hips up into her, fucking her through her high while chasing his own. Gods, she hadn’t had an orgasm rip through her this intensely in months.

And now Yong Bok was all hers, to do with as she pleased.

As a sliver of awareness came back to her, she met his eyes, noting the way he, too, couldn’t keep quiet, the way his chest had gone taut under her hand.

“Noona, noona, please,” he begged. She picked up the same rhythm she’d held before she climaxed, pounding down on him without mercy. The pitch of his voice changed mid-moan, breaking into a guttural, animal sound as his eyes rolled back in his head. She could feel the first hot spurt of his cum, his orgasm seizing his body, making him shudder. She stopped moving then, preferring to sit all the way down on his length, to hold him all the way inside her while he filled her with his warmth.

His moans were panted now, his eyes finally opening to focus on the point where their bodies met. He reached for her head, pulling her down for an open-mouthed kiss that ended with him biting down on her lower lip. She gasped softly, her core fluttering around his now-spent cock. He moaned again.

“I’m yours now,” he said against her mouth. “Nothing’s going to take me away. I won’t let it.”

“Nor will I,” she said, opening her eyes to look into his. “I promise.”

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix smut #felix x oc #felix oneshot

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lumiolivierlithium · 30 days

Text

So is the Life of a Pirate (5/?)

Series: One Piece

Chapter: 5/?

Word Count: 3512

Rating: T

Pairing(s): Sanji x OC (Reader)

A dalliance six years ago has a funny way of catching up to Sanji when the Straw Hats stop to restock the ship.

a/n: Hi! Welcome back. You want to take a little detour? A little side something, something? Here.

[1] [2][3] [4]

And the rush continued. Table after table ordered their meals and the orders started to stack up. Both Nora and Cordelia got nervous. And yet, Sanji kept at it, perfectly content in his happy place. Despite the odds of Sanji not working himself into the ground, the little bell at the window went ding.

“Order!”

“No way,” Cordelia gasped, watching as order after order started funneling through the window. Including, but not limited to, Luffy’s request of one of everything. And Cordelia simply smiled. I really should know better, shouldn’t I? I know Zeff ran the Baratie, but I think you were running it under the table, “Sanji?”

“Yes, darling?” Sanji poked his head out of the window, “Is something missing? Pretty sure I sent everything.”

“You did,” Cordelia assured him, “But…You’re incredible.”

“It’s amazing what happens when you try your best,” Sanji kissed her cheek, “Go on. Get me something else to do.”

For the rest of the morning rush, Cordelia ran back and forth between the kitchen and the front, taking care of many a hungover customer from the night before or anyone just passing through or regulars, locals from around Beniville Bay. And with rave reviews from anyone who ate there. Buzz about the new chef at the tavern spread like wildfire and of course, it only meant more work for all involved. Just another regular day at the tavern. Once everyone had cleared out from breakfast, Cordelia sat down at the bar.

“You’re still on the clock, hon,” Nora reminded her, “I’m not serving you. Not yet anyway.”

“And my son is still sitting by the window,” Cordelia retaliated, beyond exhausted, “I’m not ordering a drink. Might think about ordering a snack, though.”

“Did I say you wanted a snack?” Sanji popped out of the kitchen and leaned over the bar. He looked Cordelia over. Tired, ragged Cordelia, “Look at that. I seemed to have found one.”

“Flirt with her on your own time,” Nora chided him.

“After I give you mine?” Sanji poked at her a little more, “Fine. Sorry, Nora. Your waitress is cute. I can’t help myself.”

“You sound like half the men who come in here when I’m working on a Saturday night,” Cordelia giggled to herself, “Only you’re not smacking my ass on the way through.”

“Only if you asked me nicely.”

“It’s good to know the spark is still alive,” Nora teased them, “But in all seriousness, thank you, Sanji. I greatly appreciate it.”

“Not a problem,” Sanji brushed her off, “We were taking a couple days off anyway. I needed something to fill my time. And it’s been a while since I’ve been able to cook for a crowd like that.”

“When was the last time?” Nora wondered.

“When I still worked at the Baratie,” Sanji thought back, “When Zeff would work my ass to the bone and barely give me a thank you.”

“When who?” Nora gasped, “You’re not talking about…Red Foot Zeff, are you?”

“The one and only,” Sanji nodded, “He was practically the dad I never had. Why? You know him?”

Nora hid her face, “I need to go get something out of the freezer. I’ll be right back.”

And she disappeared without a trace. And it had Cordelia scratching her head, “That’s weird.”

“Super weird,” Sanji agreed, “What do you think that was all about?”

“Not sure,” Cordelia shrugged, “I’ve never heard her talk about Zeff before. Maybe we should ask him when we get to the Baratie.”

“Or,” Sanji suggested, “Maybe we let sleeping dogs lie on this one.”

“Or…” Cordelia smirked, “I get either Zeff or Nora the right amount of drunk and see if I can pry it out of them.”

“Cordelia, no,” Sanji shot her down, “Don’t do that. That’s their business.”

“Alright, alright.” I will find out before I leave today. Cordelia got up from her spot at the bar and pulled up a chair next to the table full of miscreant pirates. And her baby, “If there was any problem with your meal today, you can direct all complaints to our new chef. That I kind of stole from you guys.”

“I thought that was Sanji’s cooking,” Luffy sat back, pleasantly stuffed, “It tasted just like it.”

“You can tell who made your food just by the taste?” Usopp looked at him strangely, not entirely believing him.

“Yep! And that was definitely something that could’ve come out of our kitchen.”

“But it didn’t,” Cordelia flattened out on the table, “It came out of ours instead. I’m so glad I didn’t have to cook today.”

“Do you cook here, too?” Usopp asked.

“Mmhm,” Cordelia nodded, “Depends on what it is. But for a lot of things, I’m the one cooking. But if I don’t have to tonight, I’ll be quite happy.”

“It’s a good thing I rolled into the village when I did then, isn’t it?” Sanji rested his head on her shoulder.

“Seriously?” Cordelia gasped, “Sanji, no. After everything you did this morning and even before you got here, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I’ll have to when I get back to the ship anyway,” Sanji shrugged, “Why not? Besides, you made dinner for all of us last night. It’s the least I can do.”

Cordelia held her face in her hands, beyond argument and reasoning, “Alright. If you say so.”

“Wonderful,” Sanji pulled up a chair, “You know, it’s the strangest thing. I would’ve thought Zoro would’ve been here by now. He did say he was just napping his hangover off.”

“And Zoro’s lucky to find the bright side,” Nami pointed out, “We’re in a village we haven’t been to in years. What makes you think he’d be able to find us now?”

Ding!

“Kitchen’s closed!” Cordelia called out.

“So were my eyes until about half an hour ago,” Zoro came stumbling in and pulled up a chair, “Are you sure I can’t get anything?”

“I’m sure if we get Nora out of the freezer,” Cordelia figured, “She might think about making something for you.”

“Isn’t she a sweetheart?” Zoro rubbed his eyes, “And how much longer are we on shore leave, Captain?”

“That’s a question for Cordelia,” Luffy told him, “When are we leaving, Cordelia?”

“Tomorrow morning, if I can swing it,” Cordelia hoped, “But someone needs to come out of the freezer first.”

“Should someone go check on Nora?” Sanji worried.

“Don’t everyone get up at once,” Cordelia got up and started heading back toward the kitchen, “Sanji, can you take care of the bar please?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you!” Cordelia headed back into the kitchen and rounded the corner. The door to the walk-in freezer had the padlock in front of it. Cordelia rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who that was for, and knocked on the door, “Uh…Nora?”

“Hi, Cordelia,” Nora had pulled herself together just enough to function again, “I’m sorry. I had a little flashback to the early days. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Cordelia couldn’t let it go. She knew she told Sanji she would, but she couldn’t do it, “What the hell happened with you and Zeff?”

“I know Zeff,” Nora shrugged her off, “We met a long time ago. And we had a night or two together. It was a lot like you and Sanji, actually. Only difference is he pulled out.”

“Nora!” Cordelia cringed, “I have to go see this man with my baby and that baby’s father! That happens to be Zeff’s pseudo son! I don’t need that mental image in my head.”

“It’s true,” Nora giggled under her breath, “Honestly, Cordelia, I didn’t take you for such a prude.”

“I’m not a prude,” Cordelia scoffed, “But I do have my limits. And Zeff is a hard line in the sand for me.”

“Alright, alright,” Nora backed off, “You asked, honey. I just answered. You didn’t have to push.”

“And now, I’m kind of regretting it, yeah.”

“But regardless,” Nora went on, “It didn’t go anywhere. I was hoping he would stay, but he said he had to move on. And I see he did. I’m glad he’s doing well. Truly, I am. And I’m glad you have him in your life in some capacity, Cordelia. You’re lucky to have Zeff. Hell, you’re lucky to have Sanji, too. And damn lucky he came back.”

“He didn’t exactly come back for me, Nora,” Cordelia clarified, “He came back because Nami steered the ship this way. He came back because they needed to restock the ship.”

“Or,” Nora added, “We can close our eyes and pretend Sanji came back for you.”

“I think fate has a funny way of making this play out,” Cordelia cracked a smile, “But it’s nice that it threw a win my way.”

“I’m glad it threw a win your way,” Nora rested her head on Cordelia’s shoulder, “You needed a win like this.”

“And to add to that win,” Cordelia went in for the kill, “I would love to get my time off. I’m sure the trainee will do just fine.”

“I’m hoping so,” Nora sighed out, “Because granted, no one’s going to compare to you, but you have one tradition, Cordelia. And you finally get to have the whole family in on it.”

“I do,” Cordelia felt her breathing hitch. I do, don’t I?

“You’re good,” Nora assured her, “You’re cleared for the next month. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Stop by here before you leave,” Nora demanded, “I’ll have something for you.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia awed, “But you don’t have to give me anything. I’m sure the ship is already restocked. And not for nothing and I love him to death, but Sanji’s kind of a picky bitch about what goes on the ship, supply wise.”

“I never said this was going to be for Sanji,” Nora shoved her finger in Cordelia’s shoulder, “This is for you. And maybe a little something, something for the little one.”

“I’m going to be gone for a month, Nora,” Cordelia reminded her, the two walking out of the freezer together, “It’s not like I’m going away forever.”

“You say that now,” Nora scoffed, “A lot can happen in a month. Next thing you know, you’ll come back and say, ‘I got married, Nora! I’m only back around Beniville Bay to say my goodbyes!’. And then, I’ll have to sit here and be sad.”

“I don’t think that’s in the cards any time soon,” Cordelia promised, “Don’t worry, Nora. I will be back. That is a God’s honest promise. Besides, we’re too wired in here. I can’t uproot Ash like that.”

“Again, you say that now,” Nora smiled, grabbing the kitchen door, “But love can make you do some crazy things.”

“I know it can,” Cordelia agreed, “But some of us have a decent head on our shoulders and don’t have to think with our libido.”

“If you say so…”

“Is everything alright, Nora?” Sanji finished wiping off the last table.

“Everything’s fine, sweetie,” Nora took a quick look around the sparkling clean tavern, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to be in the freezer,” Sanji shrugged, “And I know you’re going to open back up around four, so…”

“Sanji,” Nora hugged him tight, “Thank you so much. This place isn’t even this clean on health inspection day.”

“And I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” Zoro cringed, his head on the table.

“I’m surprised you have any appetite,” Nora gave Zoro a little swat to the shoulder, “Especially since you damn near drank me dry last night! No. That’s on me. I should know better when you all come around. I should’ve known the second I knew pirates had docked in the harbor. I wouldn’t have much left. And then…Imagine my surprise to realize notorious bounty hunter and even more notorious lush Roranoa Zoro comes rolling through. And all of a sudden, I have no more sake. I’m lucky to have any whiskey left. And I’m two beer kegs short.”

“What’s a lush, Mama?” Ash wondered.

“Zoro in a nutshell,” Nami giggled.

“Love you, too, Nami,” Zoro flipped her off.

“Someone who likes to drink a little too much,” Cordelia put a hand on Zoro’s shoulder, “Still not feeling too hot, huh, Zoro?”

“No.”

“I got him covered, Nora,” Cordelia told her, “If it’s alright with you.”

“Fine by me,” Nora allowed, “But nothing too big.”

“I got it,” Cordelia nodded, “You want anything specific, Zoro?”

“Anything to kill my headache?” Zoro asked.

“Eating will help,” she promised, “Hey, pretty boy. Come with me.”

“Me?” Sanji perked up.

“No,” Cordelia rolled her eyes, “The other pretty boy.”

“Alright,” Sanji followed her back to the kitchen, “No need to get snappy at me.”

“Well,” Cordelia made sure the doors were shut before she jumped up and wrapped her legs around Sanji’s waist, “I wanted us to have a little time alone with the good news before I start making Zoro breakfast.”

“The good news?” Sanji wondered. Only for his stomach to flip in the next second, “Cordelia, I hardly touched you last night. You can’t tell me you’re pregnant again.”

“No,” Cordelia assured him, “I am not pregnant. I got my sabbatical. We can leave tomorrow morning.”

“Cordelia!” Sanji hugged her tight, “That’s wonderful!”

“I thought so, too,” she cuddled into Sanji’s neck, “I can’t wait for us to get to the Baratie.”

“That’s…what…” Sanji thought for a moment or two, “At least a week’s worth of sailing?”

“Roughly, depending on what kind of wind we’re working with,” Cordelia nodded, “But…I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Sanji set her down on the counter, “What is it?”

“I know what happened with Nora and Zeff.”

“Cordelia!” Sanji squeaked, “I told you to leave it alone!”

“I know,” Cordelia winced, “But I couldn’t help it.”

“I’m not angry with you,” he sighed out, “But I am a little disappointed.”

“So,” Cordelia started digging pans out, “Does this mean you want me to share?”

Sanji cracked a little smile, his teeth sinking into his tongue, “Is it bad I want to say yes?”

“See?” Cordelia squealed, “I’m not the only one. I just had the balls to ask her.”

“That’s because you know Nora better than I do,” Sanji pulled up a stool, “That wasn’t for me to ask her.”

“You could’ve, too,” Cordelia took a mixing bowl and cracked a couple eggs in it, violently beating them into a singular, yellow glob, “So, do you want to know or not?”

“Yes, please.”

“Are you sure?” Cordelia grabbed the flour, “Because once you know, there is no going back.”

“Tell me!” Sanji begged, “Please?”

“Alright, alright,” Cordelia kept mixing, “I’ll tell you. But like I said, once you know, you can’t unknow it.”

“Just tell me, Cordelia,” Sanji whined, “I can handle it.”

“Zeff and Nora boned.”

“Eww…” Sanji cringed, “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Apparently, you did,” Cordelia giggled, “You were the one that wanted to know so bad. You begged me to tell you. And I tried to warn you. You don’t want to know, Sanji. Keep your innocence. Don’t know what I know. It’s the worst. It’s going to sear at your brain, but what did you do?”

“I know,” Sanji pulled up a metal stool, “And now, I live with all the regret.”

“But,” Cordelia went on, “That’s why Nora likes you so much. Why she likes you coming around.”

“Because I remind her of her times doing unholy things with Zeff?” Sanji gagged a bit.

“No,” Cordelia started pouring batter on the flat top, “That’s not it at all. It’s because seeing us together reminds us of the way she was with Zeff. And I cannot wait to get to the Baratie and give Zeff so much shit about Nora.”

“You think they’d ever hook back up?” Sanji asked.

“Honestly?” Cordelia leaned against the counter, “No. Nora’s days of her dalliances are over. She just wants to stay around Beniville Bay. I’ve asked her if she’s wanted to come to the Baratie with Ash and me before, but she always says no. Now, I know why. But like I said, I’m going to give Zeff so much shit about him and Nora.”

“Don’t,” Sanji settled her, his arms draped over her shoulders, “Just let them be. Because there’s one big difference between you and me and Zeff and Nora.”

“What’s that, Sanji?” Cordelia started flipping Zoro’s pancakes.

“One of us came back,” Sanji kissed her cheek.

“And one of us got me pregnant,” Cordelia added, “Your ass better have come back.”

“I did!” Sanji squealed, “See? Promise.”

“I noticed,” Cordelia poured on some more pancake batter and watched as the bubbles came up, “And now, where are we going?”

“The Baratie, last I checked.”

“And right now,” Cordelia finished off the pancake batter and plated them, “I’m going to go bring Zoro his pancakes. Because I don’t want to have to clean up puke from the tavern floor. Or worse, deal with someone who realizes our kitchen equipment is still on and tries to come in and order. Zoro’s an exception. He’s family. And he knows the girl in the kitchen.”

“Hey!”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Oh,” Sanji started to relax, “We’re not leaving for the Baratie until tomorrow morning, right?”

“Bright and early,” Cordelia nodded, grabbing a cup of coffee on the way through.

“Good luck getting half the crew up for that,” Sanji chuckled to himself, “Cordelia, you’re lucky to get Luffy to move in the morning. The same goes for Usopp and Zoro. They’re disasters.”

“I know,” Cordelia walked out to the dining room and put a fresh stack of pancakes in front of Zoro, “Here, sweetie.”

“This is why you’re my favorite, Cordelia,” Zoro swooned, “I really appreciate it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Cordelia kissed his cheek.

“I need to get out of here,” Sanji leaned against the booth, “I could stand a smoke. And I need to get to the marketplace.”

“For what?” Cordelia looked at him strangely.

“We’re a little short on supplies in our kitchen,” Sanji pointed out, “So, I’m going to do a little shopping, if that’s alright with you. We have two guests aboard tonight. Because they were so kind to host us last night. And it’s our last night in Beniville Bay. Why not cap it off with a nice meal? If you’re not busy for the afternoon, I could stand a little company in the kitchen.”

“I’d be happy to,” Cordelia smiled, “Ash, you want to go hang out on the ship with us?”

“Yeah!” Ash’s eyes lit up. The prospects of being on an actual pirate ship (aside from his mother’s) tickled him.

“Wait a sec, Ash,” Luffy pouted, “I thought you, me, and Usopp were playing today.”

“Well…” Ash looked over at Cordelia, torn between playing on the ship’s deck and playing with the actual pirates.

“It’s alright, baby,” Cordelia allowed, “If you want to go play with Luffy and Usopp, it’s fine. As long as they swear to me that they’ll bring you back just the way they got you.”

“They will, Mama!” Ash swore, “Honest!”

“I know they will,” Cordelia awed, shooting a sweet, but unsettling glare in their direction, “And they will like their lives depend on it. Won’t you, boys?”

“I think they will, Cordelia,” Sanji agreed, “Because their lives do depend on it…And I am making dinner tonight, am I not? I know a few different poisons that are completely tasteless, odorless, and potent.”

“We got him, Sanji,” Luffy promised, “Honest. We’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”

“What would you be so concerned about Ash for?” Usopp wondered.

Both Sanji and Cordelia froze. This wasn’t a conversation that was meant to be had lightly. Certainly not because of an offhanded comment made by Usopp. Fortunately for both of them, Ash wasn’t thinking much about it. He was still too excited for the prospects of playing with pirates. And even more so, they had Zoro.

“He’s his girlfriend’s kid,” Zoro finished off his pancakes, “Of course, he’s going to take her side. Anything to get in her-”

“Zoro!” Cordelia snapped.

“Alright, alright,” Zoro kept his mouth shut, realizing his mistake. Yeah, the kid’s right here. He doesn’t need to hear that. Hopefully, that’s not a way he takes after his day, “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia relaxed, wrapping herself around Sanji’s arm, “So, does that mean you’re going to show me the kitchen?”

“I’d be happy to,” Sanji smiled a bit, “But first, you, young lady, need to show me the marketplace.”

“With pleasure,” Cordelia let Ash jump into her arms. Because his big hugs would never ever get old, “Be careful. Behave yourself. Don’t make things too hard on Luffy and Usopp. Ok?”

“Ok, Mama,” Ash kissed her cheek, “Love you.”

“I love you, too, baby,” Cordelia put him back on the floor. She shot a quick look to Nami and Zoro, who would definitely be the ones watching over Ash more than Luffy and Usopp.

#one piece #one piece fan fiction #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #one piece brainrot #accidental pregnancy

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