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morganofthewildfire · 2 years

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But Who Could Stay?

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Rowaelin Month Day 1: Song Fic

based on The Archer by Taylor Swift

~ 27k words

an: I am immensely proud of this, and I have put so much work into this one, I really hope you all like it; it was born out of my obsession with the archer but has turned into something of its own; I'm a bit nervous sharing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out, so I hope you all enjoy it as much I enjoyed writing it

CW: cursing, angst, depictions of an eating disorder, mentions of sexual assault, very brief depiction of attempted sexual assault, NSFW

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Who could ever leave me darling?

But who could stay?

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Aelin woke up that morning to the sound of classical piano blaring in her ears. It was the opening chords of the Stygian Suite, which meant she was just on time as she sat up, lifting up her eye mask and turning to switch off the alarm.

With a graceful yawn, she pulled back her silk sheets, standing out of bed to stretch as the first reaches of sunlight seeped in through the light blue curtains.

5:30 am, bright and early. It was the time she woke up every day, just to get a jump start before her schedule caught up with her.

Efficiently, she made her bed, tucking the fluffy white comforter nicely underneath her pillows before heading into the bathroom. In there, her face highlighted by the lights around the large mirror, she combed and clipped her hair up, with a towel headband to keep any stray pieces back. Turning on the faucet to let the water warm up, Aelin went and grabbed her silk robe, sliding it on over her silk pajamas, the luxurious fabric caressing her skin.

Then she went back to the sink, splashing her face with water and using her expensive face wash to start the day fresh. After the face wash, she applied her bottle of toner to her skin carefully, before layering it on with a few of her favorite serums, finishing the routine off with her moisturizer and of course, sunscreen, to keep her skin youthful and glowing.

Then she took off the headband, but left the clip in, traveling out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, turning on her fancy coffee machine. After hitting a few buttons, her coffee was brewing, espresso and steamed milk spilling out of it to make a delicious latte.

While that was brewing, Aelin padded over to the floor to ceiling windows, pulling open the curtains to reveal the city skyline below, already bustling at the early hour. Rifthold was a huge city, there was always something going on. She relished in the chaos of it all, it kept the chaos in her own mind at bay.

It was only when she was sitting down on her plush couch with her coffee and her small bowl of yogurt that she finally looked at her phone.

6 am. She’d made good time.

If she ate her breakfast and drank her coffee in the next fifteen minutes, then she’d have another fifteen to get changed before starting her morning workout. Not to be confused with her evening workout of course. Morning was cardio, while evening was all toning.

None of her friends were awake at this hour, so there weren’t any text notifications, but the fashion world was 24/7, so she had multiple emails in her inbox, essentially detailing her itinerary for the next month.

After transferring all of her shoots and runways, as well as her meetings, into her calendar, Aelin uncurled herself from the couch, abandoning her half eaten yogurt on the counter before going into her bedroom to change.

Within half an hour, she was sweating as she nearly sprinted on the treadmill. Her legs and her lungs were burning as she ran, crossing the mile mark at a record speed for her. It was one of her favorite parts of the day, to let loose all of her stress through pure sweat.

But as she was crossing the second mile, her phone rang and she was forced to slow her pace down to a gentle jog as she answered it and put it on speaker, hearing Lysandra’s tired voice yawn through the line.

“Good morning, bitch,” her best friend said affectionately, and Aelin chuckled, still breathing heavily as she exercised.

“Good morning,” she replied, “you’re up early.”

“And what?” Lysandra said, “you’ve been up for an hour already, haven’t you.” Aelin laughed again, wiping at some stray sweat.

“An hour and a half,” she admitted, hearing her friend snort through the phone.

“You’re crazy, girl,” Lys said, and Aelin could picture her shaking her head, curled up in her fluffy robe on her own couch. “Anyway, I was just calling to let you know we’re meeting at The Stag at eight tonight for drinks. Aedion is insisting you actually come this time.”

“I couldn’t come last time because of a shoot,” Aelin sighed, “he knows that. Tell him to get out of my business.”

“He knows,” the brunette girl complained. “But he’s going to be mad if you don’t make it tonight.”

Aelin thought through her schedule in her head, sighing through her nose as she hit the three mile mark on her treadmill.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she conceded, and Lysandra seemed satisfied with that answer as she hung up the call. Aelin finally slowed the treadmill down to a stop, ending at three miles. A little less than usual but she’d just compensate with her workout later.

She wasn’t lying when she said she was busy, but there was one other reason she was hesitant to go to their group gatherings. A certain man named Rowan Whitethorn.

He was best friends with Lorcan, who was dating Elide, who was good friends with her and Lysandra, so they all got grouped together whenever they went out. He was sure to be invited to drinks tonight.

It wasn’t like she never saw him outside of her friends, in fact he worked at her modeling agency as a headshot photographer. He’d been hired well after her start in the industry, so she’d never taken pictures with him, but his official duties were to take the pictures new girls would submit with their applications for shoots.

He was… fine. When he wasn’t being a raging pain in her ass. Stuck up, arrogant, holier than thou - Rowan Whitethorn was convinced that he was better than her, and while she knew her self worth was so diminished she would likely agree if it were anyone else, she just couldn’t with him.

And she just really wasn’t feeling up to an interaction with him today. But - she’d promised her cousin she’d try. So try she would.

——-

By the time Aelin sauntered through the doors of The Stag that evening, her high heels clicking on the dark oak floor, she was half an hour late. She hadn’t intended on being so late, but her shoot went over earlier that afternoon, and then she was late for her meeting with her agent Maeve, only to almost miss her hair and makeup consultation for her next shoot, forcing her to cut her workout short.

Aedion was lucky she didn’t skip entirely in favor of her abs. It took work to keep them this toned. Not that he’d understand, as a firefighter his entire job was essentially a workout.

Aelin had to put effort in.

“Aelin,” Aedion greeted a bit sarcastically, standing up from the table for an exaggerated hug. “I haven’t seen you in decades, look how you’ve grown.”

“Fuck off,” Aelin laughed as she hugged him back. “You know for a fact we saw each other last week.”

“Hm,” her cousin said, hugging her tightly. “It’s been a long week.”

She and her cousin had always been close, but especially so after her parents passed when she was fifteen. Aedion had already been eighteen and had fought tooth and nail for custody instead of sending her off to social services, so she’d lived with him for three years, just the two of them.

He’d supported her when she’d expressed interest in modeling, and was still her biggest supporter now, five years later, when her success was only continuing to rise.

“Here,” Lysandra interrupted, patting the seat next to her. “Come tell me everything you’ve been doing lately. I want the drama.”

Aelin laughed as she sat on the barstool at the high top table, joining the rest of the group. The whole crew was there: Lorcan and Elide, Aedion and Lysandra, Fenrys and Connall, even Vaughan had showed up, and - Rowan. They made eye contact, blue meeting green, and her smile dropped, though she attempted to nod politely. But when he just rolled his eyes, she stopped pretending to be nice.

“Do you want something to eat?” Elide asked, the petite brunette looking hot in a skin tight black dress, made modest only by the high cut of it. “We ordered some tater tots already, but we can get you something when the waiter comes back.”

Aelin waved her hand in dismissal, resting her purse on the hook under the table. “I ate earlier, I’m okay.” A wave of nerves fluttered through her, picturing the half eaten yogurt she’d abandoned that morning, but no one seemed to clock the lie, so she forced herself to relax. “I will get something to drink though.”

She waved down a waiter, reaching back into her purse to pull out her credit card. It was a platinum card, and it looked as fancy as it sounded. As it was.

“Another round,” she gestured to the table, smiling prettily at the waiter and winking. “On me. I’ll take a cosmopolitan please, with sugar free juice. I’m on a diet.”

The waiter didn’t say anything, just heading away to go get the next round of drinks, and she turned back to her group, satisfied.

“You’re trouble, Galathynius,” Fenrys said, shaking his head, and she just shrugged, laughing. The group quickly dissolved back into conversation, having to nearly shout over the hectic chaos of the bar. It was a nice place, but it was loud.

But Aelin felt eyes on her, and she turned to look at Rowan, smiling coldly.

“Enjoy your drink,” she said, refusing to be the one to look away. But he didn’t look away either, not backing down, and eventually she had to turn away. She hated him, but those green eyes threatened to strip her down to nothing and learn all of her secrets.

And she couldn’t risk that.

------

Several of his friends were riotously drunk when they finally left the bar, notably Fenrys and Aedion, but Rowan himself wasn’t even tipsy as he gathered his phone and his keys, slipping out the front door as everyone else was shuffled into various cars.

Aelin was the only one left, looking elegant in her loose pants and tight shirt, her legs going on for miles with those high heels of hers. Rowan hated her, had for a few years now, but he couldn’t deny how attractive she was. She was a model for gods sakes.

He’d be kidding himself if he tried to pretend she wasn’t beautiful.

But her personality on the other hand… completely irritating. Always laughing, flashing her money around, like she didn’t give a damn about anyone else.

Rowan already had his struggles being one of the least paid in the friend group, besides Aedion being a public employee, but Lysandra was a high end fashion designer, so it balanced out. He didn’t need the constant insult from Aelin, who essentially worked at the same place as him, but was infinitely richer.

She knew it. And she never failed to remind him.

He kept his face cold as she looked over at him, sliding her purse over her shoulder. She was surprisingly sober as well; he’d noticed she’d only sipped on her one drink the whole time.

“Loosen up a bit, Rowan,” she crooned, smiling sardonically. “You could use it.” And then she was sauntering away down the sidewalk, leaving him alone.

Rowan stared after her for a minute, letting her walk away, before turning and heading in the exact opposite direction. Yep, because he lived on the opposite side of the city. She was in a glamorous high rise uptown, and he was in a rundown five story apartment complex close to the center of downtown.

He began the long walk back home, kicking a rock idly onto the street, which was quickly run over by a passing car.

The city was loud. Always busy, always moving. He didn’t think he’d like it when he first moved here with Lorcan after high school, but now he couldn’t imagine being anywhere different.

Something caught his gaze and he paused, catching on a puddle that was reflecting streaky lights from a half lit bar sign a few yards away. He pulled out his phone, wishing he had his full camera with him as he snapped a picture, turning to get just the right angle.

He’d discovered he liked photography in high school, after taking a class as an elective credit and realizing he’d accidentally discovered his passion in life. He didn’t think that passion would lead him to taking pictures of wannabe models for their applications to have their pictures taken by “real” photographers, but - he had bills to pay.

It was fine for now, but he was hoping to get somewhere a little further than that.

Maybe in the next couple of years he’d finally be able to.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket as he continued to walk, only taking it and his keys back out when he reached his door. It creaked as he opened it and he sighed as he flicked the light on.

It was an older complex, and it was dated, but he was meticulous at cleaning and it was practically spotless. And nothing looked amiss, so he flicked the light back off and kept walking into his bedroom, nearly slamming the door behind him.

He’d thought the nice would be fun, and relaxed, where he’d get to hang out with his friends and just have a good time. But Aelin Galathynius never let it be that simple.

-----

Rowan woke up the next morning to an incessant beeping. Rolling over and burying his face into his pillow, he flung an arm out to turn it off. Silence settled over the room again, and he was tempted to fall back asleep, but he forced his eyes open instead.

It was still dark out, made only more so by the blackout curtains he kept in his bedroom. But his day was already starting.

He dragged himself out of bed, shuffling to the kitchen and hitting brew on his coffee pot. While that was going, he went back into the bathroom, splashing his face with water to wake himself up a bit more, sighing as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked exhausted.

Dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, a bit of stubble that he didn’t manage to shave the day before… A wreck, that’s what he was.

More beeping signaled the coffee being ready, and Rowan traversed his way back out to the kitchen, not even bothering to shrug on a t- shirt. There was no one here, it didn’t matter if he was only half dressed. He downed a mug of black coffee before pouring another one after it, choosing to sip on this one instead as he got his toast ready.

Once that was done, he slapped a slice of butter on it, taking the plate and his coffee to the couch, where he slumped down and turned on the TV to the local news.

Yes, he watched the local news. No, he was not sixty.

It was mostly mindless as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his emails and his schedule for the day. He had only two photo shoots on his agenda, but Maeve wanted to meet with him, so his day was instantly longer.

It probably wasn’t anything important, but she was sure to drag it out just to make him uncomfortable. She was like that, he’d quickly discovered upon getting hired. As the boss of the whole modeling agency, she relished in the power she had over all of them.

And she was even worse if anyone was late.

So Rowan drained the rest of his coffee, and went to get moving with the rest of his day.

------

The modeling agency was in a high rise office building, not too far from where he knew Aelin’s apartment was. An easy walk for her, a half hour metro ride for him.

But it was so ingrained in him now he barely felt the distance, and soon enough he was walking into his “office”, which was really a desktop in the corner of the room where all of the other low level employees and interns were, in various clumps.

He’d bought noise canceling headphones just to be able to work there, editing his photos. The incessant chatting and loud music from the other employees drove him crazy, unlike the deafening noise of the city.

He slid down into his chair, shoving those headphones in as he wiggled the mouse to turn on the screen, before inputting his SD card into the monitor and pulling up the pictures he’d taken the day before.

In each portfolio, he’d learned a model needs a simple headshot, a bodyshot, a swimsuit shot, either an editorial or commercial shot depending on their specialization, a smiling shot, and then a strong closing shot. So six photographs in the end, but dozens more he had to photograph and edit before finalizing.

He pulled up the first folder, and got started.

An hour later, he closed out of his editing site, taking out his headphones and shutting off his computer. He tucked his chair back under the desk and grabbed his camera bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he headed to the back room, where the shoot was set up.

But on his way, he caught sight of Aelin, sitting in Maeve’s office like she owned it, waiting for the other woman herself to appear. The blonde was in high heels, of course, but with a dress on this time, one that highlighted her curves but weren’t glued to them. Her hair was swept up in a voluminous half up half down, revealing the sweep of her neck.

She looked good, like always, and he hated himself for the rush of heat that spiked through him. Though it cooled when she spotted him through the glass walls, giving him a certain gesture in return.

Rowan just frowned and dismissed her, continuing on his way. He had more important things to do than bother with her.

When he got to the studio in the back, the model was already there, her blonde hair pulled sleekly back into a bun with natural makeup on per the requirements of the headshot. Which is what they’d start with.

Remelle was her name, if he remembered his schedule correctly.

She was new, he supposed, and it made sense because he probably would’ve remembered seeing her before. It was a model agency, of course they’d all be stunning, but she was stunning in a particular way - gorgeous, but almost like she was missing something.

“Are you my photographer?” She asked, smiling at him in a way that had his guard going up.

“Yes,” Rowan answered, frowning slightly and ignoring her look as he went to set up the camera. He was used to being on the receiving end of some flirting here, he wasn’t modest he knew he was at least somewhat good looking. When he wasn’t working, he was at the gym, trying to get rid of everything in his head through mindless exercise.

But this girl was looking at him like he was a piece of meat, making him decidedly uncomfortable, so he tried not to accidentally pay her any mind, focusing entirely on being professional.

Even if Remelle was beautiful, he’d be stupid as hellas if he messed with her and risked losing one of the only opportunities he had.

------

Aelin swung her foot back and forth like a pendulum as she waited for Maeve to appear. She’d been sitting in her office for nearly fifteen minutes, just sitting by herself. It wasn’t surprising, Maeve was always like this, had to remind you of who really held the power.

Yes, Aelin was one of the highest paid models in the entire country, effectively the world too, but she wouldn’t be anywhere near she was without Maeve.

Aelin didn’t like to admit it, but it was true.

So she’d wait. She’d be patient.

She’d already flicked off Rowan as he passed, dressed in his stupid little jeans and polo shirt. He worked at a model agency, he couldn’t get better clothes? He looked good in them though, she couldn’t deny that.

The jeans hugged him nicely, and his arms in those shirts of his. They would’ve made her mouthwater if she didn’t have enough self control.

If he wasn’t such an asshole, he’d be exactly her type. But fortunately, she could control herself, and any desire she had for him was tempered by his entire personality.

The door clicked open, and Maeve soon entered her own office, her heels tapping against the floor as she made her way over to her desk, sliding into place gracefully.

“Aelin,” she greeted with a smile. But the smile was cold. “Lovely to see you today.”

“You too, Maeve,” Aelin replied, just as icily. But her boss was already flipping through Aelin’s file, pulling out whatever she wanted to talk about in this spontaneous meeting. Aelin wasn't even supposed to come into the office today; she was supposed to go straight to Lysandra’s fashion company actually, to do a consultation for their runway show.

It was great getting to work with her best friend, and Aelin had been excited for today. But this was getting in the way.

“What did you want to discuss with me?” She said, a bit exasperated. Maeve just flipped through the folder casually, betraying how little of a rush she was in.

“You’ve been contacted for an exciting opportunity,” the brunette woman said, and Aelin raised her brows. “You’ve worked with them before but it’s been a long time. I never thought they’d want you again considering that time span, so you’d do best to act nice for them.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes, fighting the urge to cross her arms. Instead, she reached for one of the vegan cookies Maeve kept in a dish on her desk. Cookies should be surprising in a model agency, but they were so absurdly healthy that Aelin was sure she’d lose more calories from digesting it than she’d even get from eating it.

But it was something to keep her occupied and not fidgety.

That was, until Maeve eyed her carefully, finally looking up from the papers. “You’d do well to watch your weight,” she chastised, and the cookie turned to ash in her mouth. “You’ve been looking a little thicker around the waist lately.”

“I lost ten pounds last month,” Aelin said, trying not to argue. And trying not to sound too weak.

“And we agreed on fifteen,” Maeve said, “you have to be looking your best if you don’t want to lose everything we’ve worked for.”

She nodded vaguely, not looking at her. The cookie settled uncomfortably in her stomach.

“Who am I working with?” Aelin changed the topic, forcing a polite smile onto her face.

But Maeve’s smile back was anything but polite.

“Rifthold Fashion,” she answered, naming one of the oldest and most iconic fashion magazines in the entire country of Adarlan, the entire world.

Aelin should be happy that she was getting another shot with them. She’d done a shoot with them when she was eighteen, a profile about being an up and comer in the industry. But she hadn’t been there since.

And now, she only felt sick.

She didn’t remember how she managed to finish the conversation, all she could feel was the growing nausea inside of her. And when Maeve dismissed her, she couldn’t wait any longer before heading straight to the bathroom, dropping to her knees, and vomiting into the toilet.

She shuddered as she let out all of the meager amount of things she’d eaten that day, the bile tasting bitter as she spit into the ceramic.

Another wave went through her and she retched again, panting before leaning her head against the tile wall.

Invisible hands trailed along her body and she curled up into a ball, trying to fight the feeling. Her heels slipped off her feet and a few tears slipped out of her eyes.

Gods. She shouldn’t be having such a visceral reaction to just the idea of going back there, to the idea of seeing that man.

She squeezed her eyes shut, letting out a rough sigh. She was better than this. She needed to get over it, otherwise she’d never be able to advance her career. She’d never be able to live.

So she uncurled herself, standing up weakly, smoothing her hair back and wiping her mouth as she headed to the door. But, when she opened it, she found someone standing on the other side.

-----

Rowan had finished up the shoot with Remelle, unable to stop her from giving him her number, and was on the way out of the studio when he heard something coming from the bathroom as he passed.

It sounded like someone was getting sick, and he frowned, stopping. He was about to knock on the door and ask if they were okay, whoever it was, but he hesitated, and soon enough the door was opening on its own.

And he blinked at the sight.

It was Aelin, her high heels in her hand, her hair messy and her eyes… they looked a little wild, and sad, tears staining her cheeks with streaks of her mascara.

He didn’t even know what to say.

“Oh,” she said, looking away and quickly wiping at her eyes with her free hand. His heart ached and he didn’t know why. He was just frozen as she bent down, sliding her shoes back onto her feet. And then she said, “if you’ll excuse me,” and she rushed past him, tucking her hair behind her ears as she hurried down the hallway and out of sight.

Leaving Rowan alone, and more confused than he’d ever been in his life.

-------

Aelin raced around her apartment, getting the finishing touches in the decor perfectly right before everyone arrived. It was just a simple get together, they weren’t celebrating anything, but she always liked to think along the lines of that every get together was worth celebrating, so she wanted to make it look as nice as possible.

She’d even swept and vacuumed, which she usually had to force herself to remember to do. And she’d straightened everything up, getting drinks and setting up a little bar area in the kitchen, as well as some sparkly decorations to give the room some pizazz.

Then she pranced over to her record player, putting on a nice jazzy album and dimming the lights just as the first person knocked.

She smiled, fixing her dress and heading over to the door. It was just the usual crew coming over, plus a few extras, but like she said, why not make every occasion a special one?

But when she opened the door, her smile dropped into an awkward frown. Rowan was there, and looking decidedly uncomfortable when he realized he was the first one.

Aelin hated that he’d seen her coming out of the bathroom earlier, looking like she’d just gone through hell. Because she had in a way, or at least revisited it in her mind. She kept trying to push the memory down, and most of the time she was successful, but that just meant whenever it did come up, it came up stronger. Especially now that she’d be seeing him again.

But Rowan didn’t need to know that.

“Come in,” she said politely, forcing a smile back on her face as she stepped to the side, holding the door open for him. Rowan looked just as awkward as her, but he was watching her in a way that made her fidget, like he was waiting for her to fall apart again just so he could inspect what had caused her to break.

They hadn’t seen each other at the agency today, so it hadn’t been since the bathroom incident that they’d had any interaction at all. Which just made this even worse.

“There’s drinks over there,” she gestured loosely to the kitchen, shutting the door and following him into the apartment. “You can set your food over on that table.”

Rowan had a plate of what looked like… green beans? She blinked at it, but didn’t question him as he went and set it down where she’d directed him to. Maybe she’d even give them a try.

As he did that, she went back to the record player, wanting something to fiddle with instead of talking to him, or even looking at him. She felt exposed, and vulnerable now that he’d seen her like that. She did so well at hiding all of her true emotions, not even her cousin knew when she was really hurting, and unintentionally she’d just revealed them all to a man she knew didn’t like her.

“That’s nice music,” that same man said, and she glanced over, a little surprised at the neutral statement. He was still looking at her oddly, and she blushed a little, insecurity racing through her.

“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat and turning back around. “This album was a favorite of my dad’s, we used to listen to it together.” The words were like a dagger to her heart, a pain so intense she had to fight back tears. But she just sniffed and forced a mocking smile to her face as she looked at him again.

“I’m surprised you even know what good music is,” she teased, though it sounded more like an insult. “You seem like the type to sit around in utter silence.” Maybe she did mean it as an insult, just to regain some familiar territory. And she was successful, as his face turned cold, but she didn’t know if that made her feel better or not.

Luckily, she was saved by another knock at the door, and she turned her attention to the new guest, ignoring Rowan once again.

----

Soon enough, the party was in full swing, and Rowan didn’t speak to Aelin again for the next few hours. If it wasn’t for the fact that they usually never talked, he would say she was avoiding him, always flitting away to different people whenever their proximity threatened conversation.

She was wearing a gauzy silver dress, and it was almost like she was another one of her sparkly decorations, floating around the room, always there but never in one place for long.

Rowan, on the other hand, didn’t move from the chair he’d planted himself in, sipping on a beer and generally not participating in the revelry. He couldn’t help but watch her though, trying to tie this image of her, smiling and carefree, with the one from the day before, wide eyed and scared almost.

Which one was real? Which one was a mask?

He was intrigued in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, but it was clear she wasn’t open to him trying to pry, if the way she’d shut down the brief, awkward conversation earlier was any indication. Fair enough. Just because he’d accidentally seen her when she clearly wasn’t expecting any eyes didn’t mean he had any right to know more.

And yet…

His gaze was on hers as she perched on the edge of her fancy couch, right next to her friend Dorian, laughing as she worked on another plate of his green beans, to his satisfaction. It was her third one.

Despite the plentiful other options the other guests had brought, she’d stuck with those. It was an old recipe his mom had used to make, before she passed, and he’d perfected it over the past couple of years. And if Aelin, the self declared sugar purist, liked them, he knew he was doing something right.

He’d always thought it was strange how obsessed she was with sugar, for being a model. Though he knew she also exercised like crazy. But still, for how unhealthily she ate, she was essentially a twig. Maybe she had a fast metabolism? Some people were like that.

Still, she looked like she could snap in half with the smallest breeze.

The typical model body, he supposed.

“Gods, Aelin,” Aedion teased, good naturedly, from his spot in the kitchen talking to Lorcan. The jazz music was still on, though it was a different album this time. “I didn’t even know you knew what a green bean was.”

Rowan watched, like he was looking through a glass wall, as Aelin threw her cousin an unkind gesture.

“I’m surprised you do,” she teased, raising her brows. Though, maybe Rowan was imagining things, but he could’ve sworn her cheeks turned slightly pink. “I’m allowed to stray from sugar for one night.”

It was Elide’s turn to snort, the petite brunette nudging Aelin’s leg with her shoe. “I served broccoli at my apartment last week and you asked me what it was.”

“You know,” Aelin said, shaking her head, clearly fighting a smile. “I don’t like this conversation.” Her friends continued heckling her, all of them eventually breaking into laughter, but Rowan still didn’t join in, choosing to observe instead.

That’s how he didn’t miss when she set the plate down on the table. And didn’t pick it up again.

Nor did he miss when she excused herself quietly, slipping away from the party easily.

Rowan was tempted to follow her, to see if she was okay, to see if her mask was gone once again, he didn’t know. But he didn’t. He just sat there sipping his beer, wondering why he cared so much about a girl he was supposed to hate.

And he knew he was a fool when she came back out a few minutes later, looking as perky as ever. The bathroom, she’d just gone to the fucking bathroom.

She didn’t need his concern. And he certainly didn’t need to give it to her.

------

The party didn’t end until late into the night, and Aelin was exhausted and a little dizzy as she crashed back down on her couch, her cousin by her side. Lysandra couldn’t make it that night, having a pressing work thing occupying her time, so Aedion was staying over, taking the chance for some quality family time.

She yawned as she leaned her head against his shoulder, tucking her feet up under her as he turned on the TV, immediately going to the sports channel and watching a rerun of a football game from earlier that evening.

Her stomach was still roiling from those green beans, even if she’d tried to take care of the problem.

“Who’s playing?” Aelin asked, trying to avoid the topic in her mind. Aedion didn’t even turn to her as he answered, eyes glued on the game.

“The Rifthold Ravens and Terrasen Stags,” he said, “Stags are up by 3 but the Ravens are in field goal territory. So they could either tie it or go for a touchdown.”

“Shit,” she said, sitting up a little, “well we can’t let the Ravens win.” Her eyes went to the screen too, immediately clocking what was going on. Aelin had grown up with Aedion, even before her parents died. He’d moved in with them when she was very little after his mom had died, so she’d grown up watching football.

And even if they lived in Rifthold now, they were both from Terrasen, and therefore were both Stags fans for life.

Her dad had been too.

“If they tie we have to go into overtime,” Aelin frowned, watching as they lined up for the final play, the dark purple uniforms of the Ravens lined up against the green uniforms of the Stags. Her heart was beating way too fast as the Ravens hiked the ball, the quarterback running back to find someone to throw too.

“Go, go, go,” Aedion was calling, watching the Terrasen defense. Aelin joined him, nearly jumping out of her seat as the quarterback threw the ball and -

“YES!” Her cousin shouted as a Terrasen player intercepted the ball in the end zone. The whole team raced over to him, hitting each other and shoving each other in the way that only guys feel the need to do. But Aelin was up and dancing in celebration with Aedion as the final score rang out.

24 - 21 in favor of the Stags.

Aelin laughed as Aedion pumped his fist to the ceiling, celebrating as if he himself was the player who’d caught the ball.

“Fuck yeah!” He yelled, “that’s right you Rifthold fuckers! We’ll show you what real football looks like!”

“Gods,” Aelin laughed, shaking her head, “you’ve gotten worse. Which I didn’t think was possible.”

“This is real life, Aelin,” Aedion said, pointing at the TV, a wild smile on his face. “Not you and Lys’ fashion world, this is all that matters, right here.” Aelin didn’t even take offense, knowing he didn’t mean it like that. She just snorted, and shook her head, trying to shake away some of the dizziness that’d taken over.

Was it hot in here? Or was it just her? Her legs trembled, clearly weak, and she figured she needed to sit down.

“Are you going to start praying to the TV now?” She mocked, plopping back down on the couch. It wasn’t instant relief, but she was certainly in less danger of passing out.

“Hey,” he said, sitting back down too as the TV faded back to the sportscasters, ready to give commentary on what they’d just seen. “I’m not as bad as Rhoe was. Remember the championship about ten years ago?”

Two years before he died.

But Aelin chuckled slightly, remembering how enthusiastic her dad had been, how angry he’d been at the refs for bad calls, how happy he’d been when the Stags came out victorious.

They faded into silence, Aedion watching the TV and Aelin staring at nothing, falling deep into the trap of her own head once again.

It was a vicious place to be.

“Hey Aed?” She asked him, an uncountable amount of time later. “Do you ever think about them?”

She risked a glance over at him, seeing his face slip into sadness that she wished she could wipe away. But he looked back at her, too much knowing in his eyes for her. It made her want to hide.

“Of course,” he said, looping his arm over her shoulder, ruffling her hair a bit as he tucked her into his side. “All the time.”

Heat pricked at her eyes, and she blinked quickly before a tear could slip out. Their death had been so sudden, a simple car crash. Here one minute, gone the next, leaving her utterly alone.

“You know,” Aedion said, after another minute. “If you’re still struggling you can talk to me about it. I’m always here for you.” She looked up at him, seeing the honesty in his eyes.

Aelin had gone to therapy for a brief period of time after moving in with Aedion, when she was fifteen. It’d ended fairly quickly, but he’d always suggested that she could go back. Or at least recommended she keep an open mind.

Not that he even knew the depth of it now. Nor the heaps of things that’d been added onto her plate.

“I’m okay,” she lied, painting a small smile on her face. “But thank you for checking in.”

Aedion looked at her, and she tried to make her expression look more sincere. He sighed. “I love you, kid,” he said, and she made a noise of protest.

“Three years older, Aedion,” she said, “you’re only three years older.” He just laughed.

“And I will forever hold it against you,” he said, and it was her turn to sigh. But she rested her head on his shoulder, suddenly exhausted, and soon fell asleep to the dulcet sounds of football commentary, feeling both at home and like she was dropped in the middle of the ocean, drowning, with no way to swim to the surface.

———

A few days later, Rowan was mindlessly working on editing some photos in his apartment, when his email notification dinged.

He turned the screen away from Remelle’s face, pulling up the email tab instead and opening the email he’d just gotten. And groaned.

It was an invitation to an agency-wide formal party that Saturday, one he’d forgotten was happening. They’d all been alerted about it weeks ago, but Rowan had put it out of his mind, childishly hoping that if he just didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t happen.

Especially because his invitation was tagged with the words: Your presence is required. Take photos.

“Fuck,” he complained, dropping his head in a hand. He hated these things, hated how many there were. It seemed like every other week, there was some event he had to go to, doubling as a headshot photographer and an apparent publicist. Why shell out the money for two different workers when they could just overwork him?

His cousins used to make fun of him endlessly for how little he liked socialization, always refusing to go out with them after he'd moved in with them when his parents died. People were just either idiots, or prying assholes, or just obnoxious. He wasn’t a fan of going out and partying with a bunch of strangers; it’d either be with people he knew or not at all.

But now he’d be forced to socialize with a bunch of people like Remelle, who’d been texting him incessantly for the past week. Rowan tried to put her off, responding with one word or not at all, but she was persistent. And he didn’t want to block her completely, even if every text alert he got made him want to throw his phone off a roof.

Did he even have a suit? He’d have to check.

He had one from the last formal event he’d been forced to, but he wasn’t sure if it fit anymore. He’d upped the amount of times he went to the gym to lift recently, trying to get out all of his negative emotions through exercise.

Rowan was about to close out of his email and go check, when his eyes caught on another email he’d apparently missed earlier in the day. Right there in bold was the title:

The Rifthold Institute of Photography

His heart raced as he clicked it to open it, leaning back in his seat as he read the email.

He’d seen a post for a position there a few months ago, and had applied, but never heard anything back. The Institute was a museum of photography of sorts, with a magazine that they released monthly. The job he was trying to get would be an editor/contributor for the magazine, which would mean he would get to both help put the magazine together while also submitting his own pictures for consideration.

It was really his dream job. But when months passed and he hadn’t heard back, he’d given up.

But here they were.

“Dear Mr. Whitethorn,” he started to read, skimming through it. “...haven’t picked a candidate yet… narrowed down to three, we request you submit a portfolio for further consideration, keeping to the theme organic.”

It was mostly just details after that, about how to submit, how many pictures to submit, and he skimmed it all before leaning back in his chair as he read the due date.

Three weeks from now.

He released a heavy breath, nodding his head.

“You’ve got this, Rowan,” he whispered to himself, before standing up and grabbing his camera, abandoning the photos he was editing in favor of going outside to take his own.

He needed to get inspiration somehow, he needed to start planning.

Why not start now?

---------

Aelin was in the middle of a pilates workout when she got the email. It wasn’t anything she didn’t know about already, in fact she’d already had her gown specially designed and ordered, but it was nice to get confirmation that it was actually happening.

She paused the workout as she read the email, panting with sweat dripping down her forehead. The perky girl on the TV was mid crunch, but Aelin didn’t press play again, choosing instead to sit up fully on her yoga mat.

She grabbed her water bottle from next to her, guzzling at least half of it down before wiping the excess water off her chin. Uncurling her legs, she pushed herself to a stand, way too quickly apparently as her vision dimmed, her head spinning and her legs buckling from beneath her.

She crumpled back down onto the yoga mat, hands braced on the floor as she caught her breath, trying to inhale and exhale slowly until she regained control over her muscles.

Slowly but surely, the dizzy feeling went away, and she stood up, ignoring how her hands shook as she picked up her phone and headed into her closet. Well, the room that was her closet.

Maybe she should take a break from exercising, and go check out her dress instead. She pushed the hair that came out of her ponytail behind her ear as she walked into the room, sniffing as she reached the garment bag hanging up on the far wall.

Wiping her hands on her shorts, she got rid of the lingering sweat before unzipping the bag, fingering the dark green fabric inside.

It looked just as perfect as it had the day she’d first gotten it; she didn’t know what she was checking.

Everything would be perfectly fine, there was no need to worry.

If only that were always true.

---------

Maeve had sent a limo for her to get to the building for the gala. Which was useful, because Aelin didn’t have a car, nor did she have a license.

She lived in the city, she could walk everywhere she needed to go.

But she was grateful for the limo, because walking in these shoes would’ve been hell, which she knew as soon as she stepped out of the car, the five inch stilettos pinching painfully as she walked toward the door.

It was worth it though. She looked fucking good.

Her hair was swept up into a sleek updo, her golden locks shining with the bit of glitter her stylist had put in them. Her dark green dress was silky and wrapped around her curves modestly, but with a neckline that plunged all the way to her waist, leaving her sun tanned skin on display.

The skirt had a slit too, revealing her smooth legs with every step she took.

It got everyone’s attention when she got inside, drawing both male and female’s gazes alike, exactly the way she loved to. She was a model, she enjoyed knowing people found her attractive. They could look, but they certainly weren’t entitled to touch.

Though some people thought they were.

She pasted a small smile on her face as she made her way over to the drinks, grabbing a glass of champagne to sip. The lobby had been transformed into some Hollywood movie scene, with dimmed lights and golden decor and overflowing tables of drinks and food.

It was honestly excessive, but they had the money for it. Aelin knew just her percentage alone would be able to pay for all of this, let alone hers combined with all of the other models in the agency.

She took a sip of the champagne, meandering around the room.

There were a lot of people here, but none she wanted to talk to. And none of them wanted to talk to her. One of the negatives of success in this industry was the jealousy it bred among girls who thought they should be right where you are. It was only fed by the people higher up, pitting them against each other. Aelin was well aware, but it didn’t change the fact that she was generally left alone.

There was a string quartet playing music in the corner, and she unconsciously swayed to it a bit, bobbing her head in time with the violins as she wandered around to a different corner, looking for something to do.

And then she saw Rowan.

He was standing against another wall, fidgeting with that camera of his. Apart from that, and the dark expression on his face, he blended right in with the party in his suit and white button up shirt, and a dark green tie that unfortunately perfectly matched her dress.

He looked like a guest, not an employee, though she knew Maeve made him take photos during events like these.

Finally finding something to do, Aelin set her feet toward him, heading in his direction. Arguing with him would be perfect entertainment.

Or maybe she could ask him how he made those green beans. Even if she’d eaten way too many of them, if she could learn the recipe and make them herself, she could eat them sparingly throughout the week.

Aelin could tell the exact moment he saw her coming, because he stiffened slightly, his eyes narrowing at her approach.

She hated to admit it, but he looked good. His light hair was tousled perfectly, his tan skin and that tattoo of his peeking slightly out of the collar of his shirt. She wasn’t necessarily a tattoo person, but on him it was mouthwatering.

“Shall I pose for you?” She mocked, and he rolled his eyes, fidgeting with some buttons on his camera.

“Don’t you have enough photos of yourself?” Rowan asked, lifting up his camera to snap a picture of the crowd, the way the lens fluttered so familiar to her.

“Is that possible?” Aelin replied, lifting her brows. “Especially when I look as good as I do now.”

He turned his dark gaze back to her, and she swore she could physically feel it as his eyes traced up and down her entire body, her breath stuttering in her chest involuntarily.

“You always look like this,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes, her heels clicking as she took a step toward him.

“Do I, Rowan Whitethorn?” She asked, tilting her head, but he continued to ignore her, his jaw clenched tightly as he took another picture.

“I don’t pay enough attention to you to notice,” he said after a moment, “get your fulfillment from one of your millions of followers on instagram instead, because you won’t get anything from me.”

And then she was watching him walk away, his camera hooked around his neck as he went to find someone else to terrorize from behind the lens.

The rest of the party went by dreadfully slowly after that, and with each sip of champagne, she got angrier and angrier at him. At his sheer audacity. So what, they didn’t like each other, but did he have to be like that?

No, fuck him.

Soon enough, she knew her cheeks with flushed with alcohol and rage, and she was searching for him again, so she could show him a piece of her mind. But he wasn’t anywhere in the main lobby, so she had to go looking, heading down different hallways in her heels, desperately looking for him to rage at.

He was always an asshole, but this time for some reason, to her it was crossing a line.

Weaving her way back through the lower floor hallways, Aelin ignored the way her feet ached in her heels, desperately searching for this godsdamned man. And eventually she found him, wrapped around another blonde.

He was further down the hallway, his camera bag on the ground and his back against the wall, the blonde leaning up against him.

She narrowed her eyes but slowed down, not wanting to intrude on whatever this was.

“Come on,” she heard the blonde say, faintly from the far distance. “You know you want to.”

“I told you to leave me alone, Remelle,” came Rowan’s voice, and Aelin saw him try to carefully pry Remelle’s hands away from his chest. “I’m not interested.”

“Of course you are,” Remelle said, “just admit it.”

“Remelle-” Rowan said, but he was cut off by the blonde kissing him, which made Aelin see red so much she was stomping over there, lifting up her dress so she wouldn’t trip on the hem.

“Hey!” She shouted, and Remelle pulled back, both of them looking over at her in shock. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you not understand the meaning of the word no?”

Remelle just scoffed, showing a lot of nerve for someone who’d clearly just started out here. Aelin had never seen her fucking face in her life.

“And who are you?” Remelle said, raising her pale brows, and Aelin narrowed her eyes, sinking into a hip.

“I’m Aelin Galathynius,” she said, watching as the other girl’s face paled. Even if Remelle had somehow managed to never see her face, she would know her name. And how important she was. “And you better leave Rowan alone, and every other man you’ve tried to touch without their permission, otherwise I’ll have a little chat with Maeve and see if she’s still interested in taking you on.”

Remelle’s face tightened in challenge, but she didn’t dare to respond, clearly seeing that Aelin meant what she was saying.

“Now get the fuck out of here before I decide to go talk to her right now.” Aelin gestured out of the hallway, not saying another word until Remelle followed her instruction, with as much dignity as she could manage, which wasn’t a lot.

Eventually, her and Rowan were alone, and she looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction. No one should ever touch someone without their permission; she felt shaky at the thought.

But Rowan… looked angry.

“What’s your problem?” She decided to ask, set on edge by the way his jaw was clenched. And maybe her first thought shouldn’t have been how handsome he looked when he was mad. “I just saved your ass.”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat, and she recoiled, tensing at the challenge.

“You sure looked like you did,” Aelin argued, stepping closer, “or was that all part of your plan to woo her? Because that’s a little fucked up.”

“Gods,” he cursed, “you’re so godsdamned irritating.” He pushed off the wall, stepping toward her too. “Why do you have to always be so… important?” She let out an indignant noise. “My savior, my hero, when really, you’re just a pain in my ass.”

“Oh really?” She questioned, narrowing her eyes and taking one more step. “Well, you’re just the same to me,” she said, with equal vitriol, trying to ignore the way his breath felt against her face as he huffed.

It was only then she realized just how close they were, how there were only inches between them. How if she lifted her head just enough, and he lowered his just enough, their lips would be touching.

The hot anger in her stomach melded into something different, and the flush on her cheeks was no longer from the alcohol as he seemed to realize the same thing, his dark gaze dropping down to her lips.

She dared to lift her chin, her breaths coming out heavy as heat raced through her. Rowan dipped his chin in response, closing the distance until the edges of their lips just grazed past each other, their breaths mingling. One little inch and they’d be kissing, but neither of them made the move.

Heavy hands settled on her hips, and she had just enough time to clutch at his shoulders before he was taking a step forward, guiding her until she was against the wall. His head dropped down to press a hot kiss to the underside of her jaw, and she made a breathy noise, feeling hot all over.

Her eyes fell closed, and she clutched at his collar, warmth pooling in her core as he stepped closer, letting her feel every hard inch of him against her. One of his hands slid across her stomach and down her thigh, reaching for her exposed leg and holding it up to step in even closer.

His other hand moved until it was brushing the skin exposed by the neckline of her dress, sliding up her stomach until it reached the bare skin right under her breasts, his callouses rough against her.

Gods, she didn’t think she’d ever been this turned on in her life.

His attention returned to her neck, even as his fingers dug into her, undoubtedly leaving little marks. And her breath hitched as he placed hot, wet kisses down her throat, finally settling on the junction of her neck and shoulder, daring to nibble slightly.

An embarrassingly loud moan escaped her, but the groan he let out against her took all embarrassment away and she reached to loosen his tie, sliding her hands under the collar of his shirt to feel all of his deliciously hot skin.

The room felt damp with desire, sweat undeniably coating her body with all of the heat racing through her. Her core throbbed with need as he pressed against her, the friction between them both delectable and overwhelming.

She needed him, she needed him right now. She needed the clothes to be gone, she needed him holding her roughly against the wall as he slid into her, making her feel like she’d never felt before.

He dragged his tongue against the sweaty skin of her neck, and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore.

“Rowan,” she moaned, clutching him desperately, hoping he’d take the hint to do more. But instead, he pulled back roughly, shaking his head.

“Shit,” he cursed, his hands clenching into fists.

“What -”

“No, we can’t,” was all he said while shaking his head, before quickly fixing his tie and combing his hair. And before she could even blink, he scooped up his camera from the ground and nearly ran away, leaving her cold. And wanting.

And regretting every bit of that moment as much as him.

----------

Several days passed, and yet Rowan couldn’t get that damned moment out of his head. He couldn’t forget the way Aelin’s skin had felt under his finger tips, the way her throat had felt against his mouth, the way her body had melded to his.

He’d let himself go for those few minutes, and he regretted it, but he couldn’t help it with how she’d looked in that dress. She was always stunning, but that night she’d been ethereal, and mouthwatering, and way too damn much for his self control.

And the way she’d moaned his name… he wanted nothing more than that to rid both of them of all their clothes and see what other sounds he could make, but he also knew this was clearly a heat of the moment thing.

Yes, she was attractive, but that didn’t mean he should forget every single other thing about her.

He needed some actual self control.

Soon enough though, he found something else to occupy his mind other than the lingering scent of jasmine in his nose. The portfolio.

He still had over two weeks, but the clock was ticking and he still had nothing to show for the days he’d been brainstorming.

So much so that he was fighting the urge to stay home and work instead of going out to dinner with Lorcan and Elide like he was supposed to. But while he knew Lorcan would understand, he also knew Elide would have his head if he skipped again.

Lorcan was his oldest friend, and Elide was the first one of his current friend group he was introduced to, so he felt closer to them two than anyone else. Maybe he could talk out his situation with them, see what they’d say.

The portfolio situation though, not the Aelin situation. No, that was to be kept locked up tight, and blamed on the champagne and the stress, nothing more.

That’s how he found himself walking down 4th avenue a few hours later, hands tucked in his pockets until he reached the restaurant, ducking in and quickly finding the pair sitting down already.

“Hey,” Rowan said a bit lamely, plopping into the chair across from them.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Elide questioned, immediately gauging something was wrong. Lorcan just grunted a hello, sipping on his drink.

“Work stuff,” Rowan tried to dismiss, but Elide just raised a dark brow. He sighed. “I have a big job opportunity but I need a portfolio prepared and I have no inspiration for the theme they’re giving me.”

“Hmm,” she said, nodding her head. “What’s the theme?”

“Organic,” he said, raising his brows. “It’s really vague, which is useful sometimes but now it just leaves me with nothing.”

Elide leaned back in her chair, stirring her straw in her drink as she thought. They sat in silence as they all contemplated, letting the rock music of the dive bar take over. Rowan just ran through the same ideas he’d already thought of in his head over and over, finding the same faults yet again.

“What about a series of candids?” Elide finally piped in. “I’m no photographer, but that would be organic. You could keep it in the same day, or same event, to keep it consistent. But just to show an organic slice of humanity.”

Rowan considered the thought for a moment before nodding. “That could work,” he said, running through logistics in his head. Even if it didn’t, it was worth a shot. “Who would they be of though?” He asked, thinking it was a reasonable question, but Elide snorted.

“You act like we don’t know a professional model,” she said, and his stomach dropped.

“She won’t want to,” he said automatically, shaking his head. That would be unbearably awkward after what had happened. They’d only seen each other once at the office since then, and it was horrible, he couldn’t imagine spending a whole day with just her.

No, he couldn’t.

But Elide clearly thought differently.

“I’ll convince her,” she said, waving off his concern. “Don’t worry.”

Little did she know, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

---------

The universe seemed to be playing a trick on her, forcing her to stop exercising nearly every day in favor of some all important notification.

She was in the middle of her morning run, about to hit a new record of six miles, when she got the email. At first, she didn’t understand what it was, but after slowing the treadmill down to a walk so she could focus on it better, she figured it out.

Ms. Galathynius,

It’s a pleasure to be working with you again after so long. I’m personally very excited to get the opportunity to see your progress after all of these years, and am certainly glad to be able to say I contributed to catapulting your career.

After all, where would you be without me?

Attached is a document detailing more information about the shoot itself: what you’ll be expected to provide versus what we’ll give you, as well as the general schedule and the plan for the day.

Feel free to email my secretary with any questions you may have.

Arobynn Hamel

Aelin’s chest felt too tight as she finished reading, and she quickly shut her phone off and started the treadmill back up, putting the pace even faster than it had been before. Maybe she could run away from the feelings attempting to snatch her and drag her down into hell.

He was either pretending it’d never happened and acting like everything was fine, or attempting to subtly use his power over her yet again.

Either way, she felt sick.

She fought for air as she turned up the speed on the treadmill, her legs shaking and jolting with pain as she ran like her life depended on it.

“Fuck,” she cursed breathlessly, realizing only then that tears were soaking her face. Was this what it was going to be like? Her constantly feeling like shit but never being able to acknowledge it?

Was she supposed to walk into that building, stare him in the face, and pretend just like he was that nothing was wrong?

She let out a sob, wiping at her cheek roughly as she kept running. Maybe she’d run herself to death and never have to speak to him. Would that be better?

It would be easier.

She was reaching the verge of her legs falling off completely, when her phone buzzed. She hesitated for a second, but reached for the device, reading the text alert on the screen.

It was from Elide.

> Rowan needs a model for a job application

> I told him you’d do it

> and before you say no, you owe me for last week

Aelin groaned, sufficiently distracted as she shut off the treadmill. Elide was a kick ass lawyer, and had come to help her look over her new contract for the agency after her last one was due to expire.

She hadn’t accepted any payment, just innocuously called for a favor instead. Neither of them had expected her to cash it in, but here she was.

A photo shoot with Rowan. Fuck.

That would be hellish after what had happened between them.

But at least it was modeling. If she was good at anything it was that. And Rowan was professional enough when he needed to be.

And if this was really for a job application, he was sure to take it seriously, given how much she knew he hated the job he currently had.

He disguised it well enough at the agency, but everyone knew. Maybe that was why Maeve piled on the work, out of spite.

She sighed, stepping off of the treadmill. But her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. And instead of trying to get back up, she just sat there, thinking.

A photoshoot with Rowan. There’s no telling how it could go. She wouldn’t be surprised if it devolved into an argument, but she also wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up in his bedroom, picking up where they left off the other day.

She picked up her phone, flipping to a contact that she didn’t think she’d ever texted directly. But she typed in his number, typing in the word Hey and sending it to him.

Hate or lust, it could go either way. But she supposed they were about to find out.

-----------

Rowan was fidgeting with his camera when the knock on the door sounded. It was light, but direct, like the person making it was sure this was where they were supposed to be, but didn’t know if they wanted to be there.

He felt the same way.

Regardless, he loosed a sigh and stood up, getting ready to welcome Aelin into his home.

When he pulled open the door, there she was, standing there as regal as ever. She was dressed more casually than usual, in loose jeans and a tank top, though they fit her slim body well.

Her hair was pulled back in a clip, some strands falling out in the front. She had sparse makeup on, no concealer to cover up as she blushed slightly, glancing away from him.

He felt like blushing too, but cleared his throat instead, holding the door open for her to come on.

Aelin walked in carefully, her gaze traveling around the small apartment. Neither of them spoke as she observed the place, Rowan rubbing at the back of his neck as he waited for her judgment. She’d never been here before.

“Did you take all of these yourself?” She asked, wandering over toward one of the walls, where he had a display of yes, his own photographs. Maybe it was conceited of him, but he was proud of his talent.

“Yes,” he answered, dragging a hand through his hair as he shut the door and turned to lean against it awkwardly.

Aelin seemed fixated on one in particular, of a tree from an angle right by the trunk looking up, catching the way rain streamed through the leaves.

“Where was this one taken?” She asked, tilting her head to look at it.

“The park downtown,” Rowan answered, walking over to her slowly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been there,” she replied, and he was honestly a bit surprised. She’d lived here for almost a decade, he was pretty sure, and she’d never been there? But she shocked him even more when she said, “It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he said, flushing a bit at the out of the blue compliment. She stared at it for another minute before seemingly coming to her senses, clearing her throat and looking at him, her hand tight on the bag hooked over her shoulder.

“So,” she said, not looking directly into his eyes. “I don’t know what you were thinking clothes wise, but I brought some different options.” She moved toward the couch, perching on the edge as she took out a folded stack of clothes from her bag. “But I also don’t really know what we’re doing.”

Rowan moved to sit in the chair next to the couch, trying to explain his vision.

“I don’t know how much Elide explained,” he said, leaning forward on his knees, “but this is for an application to the Rifthold Institute of Photography.” Her brows shot up. “I need to make a portfolio with the theme organic, and Elide had the idea of doing candids, so -” he sucked in a breath, “I was thinking we could just… hang out. And I could take pictures throughout the day.”

It was only late morning, so they had all day to just - be around each other.

Aelin’s face was unreadable, but eventually she nodded slowly.

“In that case,” she said, reaching toward her pile and pulling out what looked to be a long white sundress. “Does this work? It’s the most comfortable thing if I’m to be wearing it all day.” It was said with a bit of a teasing tone, and he knew that was her method of trying to offer a cease fire, which he reluctantly agreed to.

“That’s perfect,” he said, chuckling a bit, and she smiled, standing up off the couch.

“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, and headed toward it when he pointed to the guest one in the hallway.

While she was changing, Rowan grabbed his camera bag, switching out the SD card and packing an extra just to make sure he had enough storage. He hadn’t planned out what places he wanted to go all day, but he had an idea of where he wanted to start.

----------

“So where are we going?” Aelin asked him, about twenty minutes later, as they walked down the sidewalk after having left his apartment. Rowan had one hand in his pocket, the other one on his camera bag, and just smiled lightly. He had another bag slung over his shoulder too, but he didn’t need that one yet.

“That’s a surprise,” he said, and she scoffed, lifting her sunglasses and resting them on her head, her lips twisted into a pout. Rowan chuckled under his breath, unclipping the bag to take out his camera.

After looking down to make sure the settings were right, he lifted it up, turning to the left slightly to snap a picture of her. But Aelin caught what he was doing, and turned to smile at the camera, giving her signature model face.

“Ah,” he said, moving the camera. “Candid, remember? Pretend I’m not even here.”

The dismal expression on her face made him want to laugh, and he lowered the camera completely, resolving to try again and catch her when she really wasn’t paying attention.

Eventually she clicked her tongue and didn’t press the issue, clutching her purse to her arm as she walked down the sidewalk by his side. They were getting closer and closer to their destination, and Rowan watched her out of the corner of his eyes, waiting for her reaction.

And a strange, uncomfortable feeling grew in his chest as he saw her face light up in a delighted smile, though she dimmed it quickly, as if afraid of what he’d say.

That was fair, they hated each other no more than a few days ago. He still hated her, right?

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had changed.

“It’s the park,” she said, glancing over at him cautiously, and he nodded, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly. And he patted the second bag he was carrying.

“We’re going to have a picnic,” he said, and her brows shot up. But she just followed him as he took her toward the very tree he’d photographed.

She seemed to recognize it, smirking a bit as he set out a blanket. “No rain this time?” She asked, and he let out a huff of a laugh.

“Luckily no,” he said, sitting down a bit uncomfortably on the hard ground, his legs out in front of him. Aelin curled up gracefully next to him, the skirt of her dress floating down softly around her.

He didn’t have much food to bring with him, but he unpacked a few cut up sandwiches, and a tupperware container of grapes. Like a grade school kid’s lunch.

“What a feast,” she said, and he frowned, prepared to defend himself, but she was smiling. He realized it was a joke and he relaxed, though a bit unfamiliar still with this comradery.

It wouldn’t last.

But for now, he just enjoyed the sunshine and the fresh air and the food, and after a few minutes he took out his camera again, finally snapping the very first picture of what would hopefully be his new life.

----------

Aelin absolutely adored Rowan Whitethorn’s apartment.

It was a strange thing to say, and completely random, but it was true.

She’d thought it when she’d entered only that morning. It was quaint, and fairly small, but decked out in a vintagey 70s style almost, with a record player of his own in the corner and a jewel toned comfortable couch. And his photographs… she could spend hours just staring at them. He was truly talented.

And now, late in the evening with the soft bar lighting on, a vinyl crackling on the record player, two glasses of whiskey and monopoly in front of her, she thought she would be fine if she stayed here forever.

She laughed as Rowan rolled the dice, his little statue moving until he landed on the go to jail square for the fourth time this game.

“Sucker!” She pointed, giggling a bit. Alright, maybe she was on her third glass of whiskey. But she wasn’t going to stop. She felt all warm and fuzzy inside, and Rowan even let her smile brightly at the camera this time as he snapped yet another picture.

And then it was her turn to roll, and she moved the little dog statue four squares to the right, clapping in delight when she realized it was free to buy. “I’ll take it!” She said, reaching for her giant stack of fake bills.

She cackled as Rowan rolled again, hoping to get doubles, but failed, leaving him stuck in jail for another turn.

“Just pay to get out,” she advised, waving at the meager stack of funds on his side of the board.

“I don’t have enough,” he said, and he sounded so miserable, she nearly wanted to cry.

“Aww,” she said instead, pouting at him and reaching for her money. “Here,” she added, pulling out a couple of hundreds and flinging them out at him. “You have to properly compete with me.”

He didn’t take the money, but he did grab his camera again, and she fluttered the paper bills in front of her face, looking at him demurely.

When they’d returned to his apartment after the picnic, a quick stint in a bookstore and coffee shop, and then a brief walk through downtown, she’d changed out of her dress into a comfortable sweater and leggings, fuzzy socks on her feet.

She’d never been this dressed down around him, but she didn’t feel uncomfortable.

He’d changed too, into a soft looking t-shirt and sweatpants, and was lounging on the rug with her, sipping on his whiskey just like she was. She didn’t think he was quite as tipsy as her though; he had a lot more mass to absorb the alcohol.

“Do you want some dessert?” He asked as he uncurled himself to a stand, breaking her thoughts. “I have some gluten free muffins I made the other day.”

She wrinkled her nose, for a multitude of reasons. “That’s a sorry excuse for dessert,” she said, all high and mighty. Besides, she’d already splurged too much today. She’d nibbled on the sandwiches earlier, and some grapes, and then had shared a pastry with him at the cafe, and even ate a few pieces of chicken for dinner an hour or so ago. She couldn’t afford any more.

Her mood sank to the gutter nearly immediately, and in an attempt to stave it off she hopped to her feet, heading toward the bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Twirling on her feet a bit, she poured herself another glass, relishing in the burn as she took a sip.

But a little dizzy at the same time, she decided it was best to sit down, plopping down on one of the barstools by the counter. Rowan grabbed his camera and came to join her, abandoning the “dessert”. What a health nut.

She didn’t eat it anymore, but at least she knew what actual dessert was.

Her chest clenched painfully, and she forced a smile onto her face, trying to keep the light mood of the evening going. Or night, really. The sun had long gone down, and yet, she was still here.

“Are you happy with your life?” She asked Rowan quietly, swirling the whiskey in her glass. He eyed her carefully.

“I would say so, generally,” he replied.

“What does that feel like?” She asked, her voice way too vulnerable, and she forced a laugh, avoiding his questioning eyes. “Just in case I decide to quit and move in to sleep on your absurdly comfortable couch, I have to figure out if it’d be worth it.”

Rowan chuckled, and she was both relieved and kicking herself at the deflection. Why would he care?

Aelin took another too large sip of her whiskey, hiccuping a bit as a notification pinged on her phone. She looked down, wiping her mouth as she glanced at the email, her stomach sinking when she saw it was another update on the schedule for the shoot at Rifthold Fashion.

“What’s that?” Rowan asked from his place next to her, clearly seeing her expression falter, and she laughed once, humorlessly as she tucked her socked feet up on the barstool with her. He snapped another picture of her, curled up and casual, before letting her answer.

“A shoot at Rifthold Fashion,” she said, “with Mr. Arobynn Hamel himself.” She shook her head, gulping down some more of the burning alcohol.

Rowan’s face twisted in distaste. “I’ve always heard that guy was a bit of an asshole.” It was a surprising statement. He was a powerful figure in the fashion world; either you’d never met him and assumed he was fine, or you had and were unable to speak against him for one reason or another. She’d never heard anyone admit what the rumors around him actually were, especially so casually, so maybe that’s why she said what she did.

“He assaulted me when I was eighteen,” she said, almost relishing in the shock on his face as she let out a burst of hysterical giggles. The alcohol was racing way too quickly through her weakened body. “I’ve never told anyone that.” She shook her head, covering her trembling mouth with an equally shaky hand.

“Aelin-“ he said, his face white as a sheet.

“Oh gods,” she sighed, before laughing again. “It’s not funny,” she tried to convince herself. She knew it wasn’t, but it was better to laugh than to break down completely. “It’s pretty horrible actually. It was one of my first big shoots, and he cornered me in the dressing room and I-“

She looked at Rowan, though his figure was slightly blurry, filled with the sudden need to convince him.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she explained, “I didn’t want to be blacklisted, I was a nobody. I came from nothing, I was nothing, and I am nothing now.”

A sob burst out of her, and she quickly wiped at her face, her hand coming away soaking wet. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. She shook her head.

“Gods, I’m sorry,” she said, in between sobs, setting her drink down and weakly rubbing her face to try and stop her tears. “I look like a lunatic right now.” She was sure her mascara was leaking down her cheeks, hooking down under her jaw. She couldn’t look like this, she couldn’t look anything less than perfect.

She scrubbed at her face, using her nails to try and pry off the stains. But a large, warm hand grabbed hers, stopping her in her tracks.

“Hey,” Rowan said, softer than Aelin thought she’d ever heard him. His face wasn’t quite gentle, he wasn’t exactly a gentle person, but it was open, not hard. She sniffed, and closed her eyes as his other hand came up to cup her cheek, more tears spilling out of her closed lashes.

She’d never felt his touch on her skin like this before, with just comfort instead of desire, and she liked the way his callouses felt against her soft cheek. So different from someone else’s hands, hands she could still feel all over her, no matter how many showers she took, no matter how much she tried to starve herself, both trying to wreck the body he’d touched and trying to create a perfect one so he’d never have that power over her again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though she didn’t know what for.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, mirroring her own thoughts, and she cracked open her eyes, barely seeing him through the haze of tears and alcohol. His dark green eyes were as mesmerizing as they’d always been, yet more sincere than they’d ever been.

Aelin couldn’t even say anything; all she did was lift her hand to cover his own, holding it against her face.

He’d abandoned the camera, while before he’d been taking pictures every few minutes. She wondered what it must be like to live your life behind a lens. Was it better keeping that distance? Or was it lonely?

Though she supposed she lived her life in front of a lens, and there was nothing more isolating than that.

Another rebellious tear slipped out of her eye, and she sniffed again.

“Let me get you some water, okay?” Rowan offered, pulling back, and she nodded, wiping at her face as he stood up and went into the kitchen, grabbing her a glass. “Do you want to stay here tonight? I don’t really feel comfortable sending you home this late, and in this state.” He waved at her, and she chuckled slightly.

“What state do you mean?” She challenged, laughing again weakly at his flustered expression. “I’m just joking,” she amended, “you’re probably right.”

She looked at him a bit shyly. “Do you have anything I can wear? I get hot when I sleep and I don’t have anything comfortable besides this sweater.” was

Rowan blinked but nodded quickly, heading toward the back hallway. He returned with an old t-shirt, not too unlike the one he was wearing now. It was a soft, dark green material, and she had the feeling she’d never want to take it off.

“Does this work?” He asked, and she nodded, standing up off the barstool. But the third whiskey was hitting her and she wobbled, forcing him to hurry over and steady her. His hand was warm and strong on her arm and she was tempted to lean into him, but she didn’t.

Aelin giggled a bit, making Rowan chuckle as well.

“Gods,” he teased, “I think you’re ready for bed.” She giggled again, nodding as she stumbled over her feet.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said, fighting a yawn. But he shook his head.

“No, you can take the bed, I’ll stay out here on the couch.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue, just heading toward a closet in the hallway and pulling out a blanket and pillow. Aelin shuffled into the bathroom, quickly changing out of her bulky sweater and leggings into the absurdly soft t-shirt he’d given her.

It fell nearly to her knees, and completely dwarfed her, and she decided she never wanted to wear anything else.

When she left the bathroom, Rowan was getting the couch ready for himself, laying out the blanket, so she headed toward his bedroom, cheeks flushing at the thought of sleeping in his bed. But she was dreadfully tired. So she just wandered into the room, collapsing on top of the comforter.

She was content to stay there, breathing in the warm scent of pine, but Rowan knocked on the open door a few minutes later, and upon seeing her sprawled out on top of the bed, chuckled and came over to help her get more comfortable.

“Here you go,” he said, after tucking her under the comforter. She mumbled and tugged the blanket up closer to her chin, burrowing herself in his scent. “Good night, Aelin,” Rowan said, heading back toward the door. But a bit of panic shot through her.

“Rowan?” She asked quietly, and he paused, looking back at her. “Will you stay? Just for a little bit?”

He hesitated, but eventually padded over to the other side of the bed, sitting down and leaning against the headboard. His hand came out to brush against her hair, and she leaned into the touch, yawning.

“I’m sorry about everything that’s happened to you,” he murmured a few minutes later, “about everything you’ve gone through.”

“S’okay,” she mumbled, “don’t apologize.”

“If there’s anything I can do I-” he said, before trailing off. Aelin shrugged, before a thought occurred to her.

“Will you come to the shoot with me?” She asked, her voice ringing through the darkened room. She’d feel better if he was there. Rowan didn’t respond for a few minutes, and she began to regret even asking. But then-

“Of course,” he said quietly, and she relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed as he caressed her hair. “Now, get some rest, Aelin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And to the soothing sounds of his voice and the touch of his hand, she fell asleep.

------

Rowan didn’t know what exactly had happened, but that night caused him and Aelin to go from unwilling acquaintances to something close to friends. He didn’t know if it was quite friendship, but there’d been a change. A change that meant she smiled at him quietly at the office instead of flicking him off.

And yet, every time he saw her he couldn’t help but picture that unbearable sadness that had cracked through her facade. The way she’d laughed to try and hide the tears, but they’d streamed down her face anyway.

It seemed there was a lot he didn’t know about her. And he was realizing now that he was happy to get the privilege of learning more.

He’d also decided that should he ever meet Arobynn Hamel, the man would be lucky to walk away with just a black eye.

Though he supposed he would be meeting him, since he’d agreed to go to the shoot with her. He didn’t regret the decision, but he had the feeling that she would, and would eventually tell him to just leave her alone.

He wouldn’t blame her, after everything he’d said to her throughout the years.

But he’d worry about that when it came.

For now, though, it was time for drinks.

They were all meeting again at The Stag, and Rowan had headed over there directly after work, having to stay late to catch up on some editing that he’d missed out on doing because of the day spent with Aelin. He’d also begun editing some of the photos of her, and was feeling pretty confident about how the portfolio was coming together.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know this already, but she was incredibly photogenic.

Just then, she waltzed through the doors of the bar, ten minutes late like always, and plopped down gracefully on the barstool just opposite of him, winking when she caught him looking. He couldn’t help his faint blush.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” her best friend, Lysandra said, and Aelin laughed melodically, shrugging.

“Like I’ve said multiple times before, you’re lucky I showed up.” She shocked him by snatching his drink and taking a large sip from it. But it seemed they shocked the rest of the group by his lack of response.

Just a few days ago he would’ve snapped some hateful comment at her, but now he just raised his brows and leaned back in his chair.

“As long as you go get me another one when you finish it,” was all he said, and she smiled at him slyly.

“We’ll see,” Aelin said, and he could tell they were being stared at.

“What’s going on?” Fenrys finally said, and Rowan and Aelin both looked over at him. “Are we in an alternate universe?”

“I can’t be in a good mood?” Rowan joked, and the blonde man half scoffed half laughed.

“Good mood? Rowan?” He said, “those two do not go together.”

“Maybe just not around you,” Aelin pointed out, sipping on Rowan’s drink, and Fenrys looked very affronted, making Rowan chuckle.

“I’m so confused right now,” Aedion chimed in this time, looking back and forth between the pair. “Do you two have an inside joke?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Aelin said loftily, and her cousin narrowed his eyes at her. Rowan chuckled again, though his smile faded into a groan when his phone buzzed. He didn’t even bother checking it, knowing who it was.

Remelle.

Even after Aelin had so spectacularly demeaned her at the gala, the woman wouldn’t leave him alone. And he’d tried blocking her, but then she started contacting him through email, which his was publicly available for anyone in the agency, and he couldn't exactly block that since it was for work, so he’d unblocked her number so his inbox wouldn’t get spammed and make him miss an actually important email.

Rowan shut off his phone through his pocket, and found Aelin’s eyes on him when he looked back up, questioning what was wrong. He just waved her off, and she let it go. This was his annoying burden to bear, he wouldn’t try to stack his own emotional baggage on top of her already way too heavy load. If anything, he should be taking weight from her.

“Not in this friend group,” Aedion added, and Rowan couldn’t help but feel like their insistence against this happening meant that it was so ridiculous it would fall apart regardless. Fragile things were way too easily broken.

And he had the feeling like this tenuous friendship wouldn’t quite survive a fall.

------

Aelin didn’t know if she should be embarrassed or not by the revelation she’d placed on Rowan’s shoulders. But she couldn’t help but not be.

She’d never shared it with anyone else, still didn’t know whether she should or not, definitely didn’t know what to do about it, but he’d taken all of that chaos with ease, and comforted her while she fell apart.

She didn’t deserve it.

Maeve emphasized it when she walked into her office that morning, receiving a stern warning of You aren’t communicating your gratitude enough, to the Rifthold Fashion folks apparently. Aelin didn’t know what she was supposed to do about that.

She could lie and pretend to gush her heart out about being so “grateful” for the opportunity and run the risk of getting sick, or just stay silent. There really wasn’t much of a choice.

It was unfortunate too, because she knew most of the people at Rifthold Fashion couldn’t be like the boss was, and didn’t even know how toxic of an environment he created, but with him still there, all she could do was avoid the entire organization as much as possible.

But it was three days until she had to be heart in the heart of it.

She spun around in her chair, hooking her heel onto the desk in front of her to stop herself from spinning too far.

Her makeup was done sparsely, her hair smoothed back in a bun, ready to take a new headshot. She had to get a new one done every few years, especially at this stage of her life, as she did look quite a bit different than she did at eighteen.

But Rowan was currently in a shoot with someone else, so she had to wait her turn.

It was fine, she was scrolling through her social media on her phone, content to take a break from her constant go go go. Though she did need to workout when she got back home, her favorite pilates guru on youtube had a new video that was calling her name.

Aelin swung her foot like a pendulum, pulling herself back and forth slightly along the desk.

The walls were so shiny white they were basically mirrors, so she had a warning when she saw Remelle come up behind her.

“Remelle, darling,” Aelin said mockingly, turning the chair around to look at her. “What can I do for you?” She hadn’t seen the girl since the gala, nor did she really want to.

Remelle popped a hip, leaning into it slightly. “I just wanted to let you know that any day now, he’s going to get tired of you,” she said, and Aelin cocked a golden brow. “Just like the world is going to get tired of you, and realize there’s something better out there than a skanky bitch who slept her way to the top.”

Her blood ran cold.

“Report me to Maeve all you want,” Remelle continued, even though Aelin was sure her face was stoney, “at least I can fit in size zero jeans.”

And then she was walking away. Sauntering more like it, like she’d won something. Gods she was horrible, and Aelin barely even knew her, had only spoken to her twice.

But - she couldn’t deny that the girl had landed a few blows. The most pressing was the sleeping her way to the top rumor. Was that what people thought? Or was that just a random attack, hoping to hit the mark somewhere?

But the blow that ached to her core was the second remark. The one about her body. It shouldn’t bother her that much, but the worry was so ingrained in her that it did.

“Aelin?” Rowan’s voice called, the door to his little studio open, and she fixed her expression immediately, smiling at him as she headed in. “Everything okay?”

“Yep,” she said, but it was hollow. Just like her.

-------

Rowan shouldn’t be so happy to see Aelin back in his apartment, but the sight of her cozying up on the couch made his heart warm in a way that was disconcertingly unfamiliar.

She’d bounded in the front door as soon as he’d opened it, and crashed onto the couch, only sitting up when he’d come and joined her, his laptop in hand.

He’d spent all day finishing up the edits for the pictures, and had picked out the ones he thought melded in the most organic way. He was excited to show her. So he’d invited her over for the evening. He had dinner cooking in the oven, music on, his laptop up and ready to go… almost like a date night. The thought of that made his cheeks flush incomprehensibly. It was work, purely work.

In fact, it was probably what he was proudest of in his entire career. With the slight filters he’d put on the photographs, and the way he arranged them, it was like a thousand moments captured in one single frame. He’d have to thank Elide for the amazing idea.

“Are these the pictures?” Aelin asked, and he looked over at her, furrowing his brows when he saw she was looking away.

“Yes,” he said, “I think the portfolio is done, they’re ready to submit but I wanted to show you first.”

“It’s okay,” she said, shaking her head. “I trust you. I don’t need to see them.”

She stood up off the couch, meandering over to the record player. He watched her retreat, catching her back profile as she stared at the vinyl spinning around, an old jazz favorite of his. Something completely obscure that he’d never thought they’d have in common, but apparently they did.

“What do you mean?” Rowan dared to question, turning slightly on the couch. He heard her sigh crackle from all the way across the room.

“I don’t look at any of the pictures I take,” she said, before turning quickly to face him, an entirely fake smile on her pink painted lips. “Why bother, you know?” And then she was bounding away again, not giving him time to address that surprising statement.

“Do you have that t-shirt still?” She asked, heading into his room. “I’m going to steal it from you.”

He stared after her, dumbfounded, as she disappeared into his room, emerging a few minutes later wearing nothing but his t-shirt, like she’d said. Of course, it completely covered her, but still.

“What are you cooking?” She suddenly asked, changing direction and heading into the kitchen. Rowan could barely keep up with her manic energy. Something was clearly wrong.

She hadn’t been okay earlier either, despite her attempts to dissuade him. She’d smiled in her headshot like she was supposed to, but it hadn’t shined through her eyes.

“Aelin…” he said, trailing off, and she finally paused, glancing over at him, her face unreadable.

“Would it make you happy if I looked at them?” She asked, and he blinked.

“Would it make you happy?” He countered, and she pursed her lips and didn’t answer. But without another word, she slowly made her way back to the couch, sighing shakily and painting a small smile on her face.

“Let me see what kinda magic you made,” she teased, and he carefully pulled the pictures back up, while still watching her out of the corner of his eyes.

He slowly scrolled through the selection of them he’d made, gaze darting back between the screen and her reaction.

He’d put a specific filter on them, blurring them a bit to make them all look older, almost retro. Like they hadn’t been taken with an expensive ass camera, and instead with an old canon polaroid.

There were some of them out at the park, her smiling face glowing in the sunlight, some of them wandering through downtown, her hair flicked back over her shoulder as she laughed at him. There was one of his favorites, when they were in the cafe. She was holding a cup of coffee and looking out the window, her profile highlighted by the soft amber lighting.

Then of them back in his apartment, sitting across from him as they played monopoly, holding the cash in front of her face like a fan.

Her entire essence of being was radiating from each and every picture, and it was magnetizing. Not because of him, not because of his camera, but because of her.

But her brows were furrowed, her face scrunched in what looked like anxious confusion as she looked at them. His stomach dropped.

“Who is that?” She said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it.

“What?” He asked, concern now filling his veins. Something wasn’t right.

Aelin just shook her head, pushing herself to a stand and retreating into the kitchen. “Your food is almost done,” she said, and Rowan set his laptop down carefully, following her over there.

Sure enough, the oven timer went off just as he got into the kitchen, and he grabbed the oven mit, taking out the pan of chicken and setting it on the stovetop.

“Smells good,” he said, looking over at her, but she just smiled weakly and went to sit down at the countertop. He took that as an offer to sit and eat, and he grabbed two plates, setting pieces of chicken on each and cutting them both, passing one to her.

Rowan grabbed a fork for her too, coming to sit in the seat next to her.

“Dig in,” he said, as she took the fork from him, and he speared a piece himself, nodding at the flavor. It turned out pretty good, not too dry, with the right amount of seasoning for the flavor palette he was going for.

In a few minutes he was already halfway through the plate, but when he glanced over, Aelin hadn’t eaten a single bite. She was just pushing pieces around with the fork, her mouth pinched.

“Come on,” he said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “Just try it.”

She glanced at him a little derisively, but picked up one tiny piece with her fork, considering for a moment before carefully putting it in her mouth. Rowan watched her expression as she chewed, satisfaction racing through him as her expression morphed into one of surprised delight.

“It’s good,” she nodded, grabbing another piece.

“Yeah?” He asked, and she nodded again, mouth full of chicken. He could only chuckle as she dug her way through the rest of the chicken, following suit on his own plate.

He watched her carefully as she ate, waiting until she was close to finishing before asking -

“Why don’t you look at any pictures of yourself?”

She paused, before swallowing the last piece of chicken and setting her fork down with a small clink.

“It doesn’t-” she sighed, looking up at nothing as she clearly fought with her words. “It just doesn’t - help.”

Rowan figured the words made sense to her, even if they didn’t to him, and he was waiting for her to say more, but her eyes dropped to her plate and her mouth stayed shut. A long moment passed, a million different expressions fluttering along her face, and the only noise was the faint jazz in the corner.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said quietly, standing up from the barstool quickly and heading toward the bathroom. She looked both in a rush, and looked like a ghost who’d walked this path a thousand times over a thousand centuries, and Rowan’s gaze followed her, frowning as the bathroom door closed with a quiet click.

He watched the closed door for a second before turning back to his chicken, chewing on another piece. But it turned to ash in his mouth, anxiety swirling in his gut the longer Aelin stayed in there.

He glanced back again, but nothing had changed.

A few minutes later, Rowan couldn’t fight the bad feeling inside of him anymore, and he stood up, heading toward the bathroom with the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. His heartbeat sped up, and with each step he debated if he wanted to keep going or if he wanted to retreat.

But something was telling him that something was wrong.

“Aelin?” He asked, rapping on the door with his knuckles. “Are you okay?”

No sound came through, and he waited one more minute, before slowly pushing on the handle, giving her time to protest before opening the door. But he stopped hesitating when he found her on her knees, sticking two fingers down her throat.

“Aelin!” He called out, kneeling down and reaching out for her. But it was too late as she retched into the toilet in front of her. The best he could do was hold her loose hair back, sighing heavily as she purged the chicken she’d just eaten.

All the pieces were coming together.

Why he never saw her eat; why if she did eat, she disappeared into the bathroom minutes later; why she exercised like her life depended on it; why she was so skinny. The fashion world was toxic, he knew that, but she’d always seemed so untouchable. So - so above it all.

Turns out, she was deep underwater, with no way to get to the surface.

Eventually she heaved for air, leaning over to rest her head against the wall. She looked back at him, her eyes watery as she wiped her mouth.

“I can’t do it, Rowan,” she breathed, shaking her head weakly. “I can’t.”

And his heart broke.

“Aelin,” he sighed, cupping her soft cheek with his hand. She just looked at him, as if afraid of what he’d say, but ready to defend her actions should he try to fight, so all he did was lean over and flush the toilet, before standing up and holding out a hand.

She eyed it warily, before grabbing it, letting him help her to a stand.

She stood there waiting as he grabbed a hand towel, turning on the faucet and getting the corner of it wet before turning to her. Slowly and carefully, he reached for her, holding her cheek with one hand as he used the other to dab at her mouth with the towel, cleaning up the last bit of throw up she’d missed.

Her eyes were on him, full of unreadable emotion as he set the towel back down. He reached under the counter for the bottle of mouthwash, setting it out for her to see.

“In case you want to get rid of the taste,” he teased gently, earning a breathy chuckle. He deemed that a success, and stepped aside as she stepped toward the sink, getting some mouthwash in the cup and gargling it before spitting it into the ceramic, washing it down with water from the faucet.

“Come on,” he said, nodding back toward the living room. “I’ll get you some water.”

Aelin nodded, following him as he left the bathroom. He let her curl up on the couch as he went into the kitchen, getting her a cup of water before heading back out to join her. She sipped on the water as he sat down next to her.

“Does anyone else know?” Rowan asked, and she shook her head.

“Maeve might,” she amended, before laughing sardonically, “though she encourages it. I was short of my weight loss goal for the month and got chewed out for it.”

Horror struck him.

“How much do you weigh?” He asked, having to know even if he didn’t want to. She tucked her face on her knees.

“110 pounds?” She said, almost like it was a question. His gut sank. “What?” She said, defensively. “It’s a perfectly normal weight.”

“If you’re about half a foot shorter than you are,” he insisted, massaging his temple with a hand. “When did it start?” He asked, and she laughed once, humorlessly again.

“Five years ago,” she said, “after my body stopped being mine alone. After it was ruined.”

Arobynn. In her mind, he’d ruined her. So why not ruin herself even more?

“And that’s why you won’t look at yourself?” He asked, and she shrugged.

“It sparks a lot of… behaviors I know aren’t good,” she admitted. “If I think I look bad in a picture I’ll spend another hour running on the treadmill, or I won’t eat for the rest of the day.” She sighed, burying her head in her knees. “I know it’s not healthy, but you have to understand, Rowan. The pressure. I screw up once, I don’t take care of my body for one day, and I end up losing everything that I’ve worked for for years.” Silence, before - “But everyone sees right through me anyway. And soon you will too.”

“This isn’t taking care of yourself,” he said, shaking his head. But she wasn’t looking at him. “Aelin.” She didn’t look at him. “Aelin.”

She finally looked over, her eyes nervous.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, putting enough insistence behind his voice to convince her. She blinked, a singular tear slipping down her raw cheeks. “I want you to know that. But most of all, I want you to be happy with who you are.”

“I don’t know how,” she said, her throat tight with unshed tears. “I look in the mirror and I hate what looks back.”

Rowan leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. He reached out and placed his hand on her cheek, and she closed her eyes.

They stayed there for a moment, sharing breaths and just sitting in the silence. He didn’t know how to help her, he didn’t know how to make her love herself. But maybe - just maybe - he could show her who she was through his eyes.

“Let me show you how stunning you are,” he breathed, his heart pounding as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. A soft sigh escaped her and he took the encouragement, trailing down to kiss the underside of her jaw.

“Rowan,” she breathed, but remained still, inviting him to continue, yet self conscious at the same time. That wouldn’t do.

His hand slid from her cheek down to her arm, loosely guiding her to lay back against the couch. Slowly, he leaned down, pressing another kiss to her neck, relishing in the breathy gasp she let out. But he didn’t stay there for long, traveling down her throat and nipping at her collarbone. And then he shifted even farther, a hand settling on her waist, lifting up her shirt slightly to kiss her hip bone.

Her shirt had ridden up, revealing the smooth skin of her stomach, but instead of following the path it’d created, he moved to kneel off the couch. And then he reached for his camera, lying abandoned on the coffee table, holding it so Aelin could clearly see. Her head was turned to him, her golden hair spilling off the edge of the couch.

Kneeling in front of her, he lifted up the camera, seeing her face through the lens as he snapped a picture. The air between them was charged, his heart beating nearly out of his chest as he turned to catch a new angle, the edge of the t-shirt she was wearing, and the soft skin it revealed.

Then it was the lace edge of her underwear, and the curve of her hip to her thigh, then the smooth skin of her leg, propped up on the couch.

Slowly, keeping his eyes on her, he moved back over, and with one hand he slid her shirt up farther and caught a picture of just the shadow of her breasts revealed. She nodded, her heart visibly racing, and he pushed the shirt up farther, catching a picture of her bare chest.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, helping her take off the shirt completely. She sniffed, and he looked up to meet her gaze, seeing her soulful blue eyes glistening with emotion. He couldn’t resist taking another picture, lacing his free hand with one of hers to press above her head on the couch.

“Kiss me,” she murmured, and how could he deny her?

He set aside the camera, before leaning down over her, finally capturing her lips in a heated, slow kiss. She tasted like heaven, and everything sweet he’d ever had the pleasure of enjoying, though he knew nothing could ever live up to the pleasure of this.

The kiss deepened, and Aelin hooked one of her legs over his back, pulling him in closer. He slid his free hand up her stomach, grabbing onto and massaging one of her breasts, earning a gaspy moan into his mouth.

He brushed his thumb over the peak, and her breath hitched again. He took the opportunity to nudge at one of her lips with his tongue, which she immediately accepted, opening her mouth for him to enter.

Her hand was squeezing his tightly, her heel digging into his lower back, and he broke their kiss only momentarily to take his shirt off, wanting to feel her bare skin against his. And when he leaned back down, he returned to her neck, pressing alternating slow and fast kisses, sucking and biting and probably leaving marks, but she didn’t seem to care if the way she was moaning was any indication.

Taking the hand from her breast, he dragged it down her stomach, toying with the edge of her underwear, teasing the sensitive skin there.

“Can I?” He asked, his voice gravelly, and she nodded, arching into his hand. Rowan slowly hooked his fingers under the hem, pulling her underwear down her legs.

He let go of her hand, and moved his to slide up her legs slowly, parting her thighs. He slid his left hand up farther, using his thumb to part her folds. After taking a breath, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her clit. Her intake of breath stoked the fire in him, and after a moment he leaned down farther, licking a line up her folds.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, and that was the breaking point. He devoured her like he was parched and she was the sweetest oasis in a barren desert, using his fingers to coax even more delicious sounds from her.

It didn’t take long before she hit that peak, her body squeezing him tightly as she came.

She was panting as she came down, and with her hands she pulled him up to her, pulling him down to a desperate kiss. Eventually they broke, both of them breathing heavily.

“Fuck me, please,” she pleaded, and he groaned, reaching to hurriedly take off his pants. When was naked, he reached over to the drawer in his coffee table, retrieving a condom and sliding it on quickly.

“Fuck people on your couch often?” Aelin teased breathlessly, and he chuckled, nipping at her ear.

“Blame Fenrys for this. He thought I needed an emergency stash,” he explained, rolling his hips against hers and drawing out another gasp.

“Stop teasing,” she ordered him, and he chuckled, even as he lined up and nudged at her entrance. Her face screwed tightly as he pushed in slightly, and he waited until she nodded to push in all the way.

And then he started moving. And his world ended.

He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but he’d certainly never had anyone that felt like her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he grabbed her hand, pressing it above her head like it’d been before.

His other hand tangled in the hair sprawled over the couch cushions, his eyes glued to her face as her brows furrowed deliciously, her eyes screwed tightly closed and her mouth open in a clear sign of pleasure.

“Oh gods,” she moaned, her free hand clutching his shoulder tightly.

It didn’t take long for him to near his climax, but Aelin was approaching hers to so he held his off, reaching for his camera. And right as she came he snapped a picture of her face, release hitting him right after.

Both of them were covered in sweat as they came down, and Rowan set the camera back down to the side, before pulling out of her carefully. She pressed a few fluttering kisses to his chin and he caught her lips for one soft kiss before pulling back, traveling to the bathroom quickly to get rid of the condom.

He came back out to the living room, to find Aelin still sprawled out on the couch. He leaned over her and kissed her deeply. They both smiled at each other when he broke it.

“Come on,” he said, sliding on his boxers, and helping her back into his t-shirt. “Let me get you some food.”

He watched her reaction carefully, but she just smiled shyly. “Can you make me some green beans?”

Rowan blinked, processing the words before breaking out into a grin. “Yeah,” he laughed, grabbing her hand and pressing a kiss to it. “I can.”

She was so… so beautiful. And not just her looks, everything about her. Every time he saw her, he felt like he was adrift in the ocean, and she was the life raft he needed to survive.

He hadn’t seen this coming, but he’d be damned to let it go now.

———

Finally, it was the day of the shoot. Aelin didn’t know which emotions were going to win out: nausea, because it was finally happening, or relief, because the sooner it happened the sooner she’d be done.

The building loomed before her, and she breathed shakily, clutching Rowan’s hand tightly.

They’d hardly separated in the few days since they’d been together that first time, even when Aelin had shoots and Rowan had work to do, they’d come back to his apartment as soon as possible. They never went to hers; his was just homier.

They hadn’t officially stated what they were to each other, and they certainly hadn’t told anyone else, but Aelin was immensely happy that he was there with her as she pushed open those doors that were seared into her mind.

Neither of them spoke as they walked across the lobby, entering the elevator to take it up to the fortieth floor. It was only when the elevator dinged, and the doors started to slide open, that Rowan looked at her and said -

“Don’t forget, I’m here with you,” he said, lifting their joint hands to kiss the back of hers. She just smiled tightly at him before stepping forward, and into hell.

Aelin breathed in shakily as she walked into the Rifthold Fashion headquarters, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She didn’t even bother speaking to the receptionist and asking where to go, having memorized the layout the last time it was here.

It essentially looked like the exact stereotypical image of a fashion magazine’s office, with caffeine crazed assistants bustling around carrying stacks of clothing, and everyone looking like they’re scared of getting yelled at every second of every day. It was fashionable, but everything was on the brink of implosion.

Beautiful chaos.

Her heart was racing, but she kept her chin up as she walked toward the photography studio, where she would be painted and dressed up like a little doll before being photographed for the cover of next month’s edition.

She wasn’t bitter, it was her job and she loved her job, but it was just a little difficult to be grateful about this opportunity after what happened last time.

“Ms. Galathynius,” a voice greeted, and her spine stiffened, every nerve in her body going silent. “How nice of you to join us today.”

And Arobynn Hamel slid into her gaze, smiling at her crookedly. Everything in her was telling her to run, but she steeled herself, lifting her chin and leveling a cold gaze at him.

“Mr. Hamel,” she acknowledged, hating the way her voice quivered slightly. He seemed to catch it, amusement sparking in his eyes. But he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to Rowan, and to their interlocked hands.

“And who is this?” He asked, cocking an auburn brow.

“Rowan Whitethorn,” Rowan answered, not giving any more information. Arobynn stuck out a hand to shake, but Rowan didn’t respond, keeping his free hand in his pocket instead. Aelin had to fight the urge to chuckle.

“If you’ll excuse us,” she said, pulling Rowan to start walking around the man. “I’m needed in the hair and makeup room.”

Once he was out of sight, Aelin let loose a shuddering breath, squeezing her eyes shut.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked quietly, and she nodded tightly, before looking up at him.

“He’s not involved in the details and actual process of the shoot,” she explained, “so if I’m lucky, I won’t have to see him again.” She smiled tightly, ignoring the concerned look in his green eyes. “Let’s go.”

Aelin headed back further into the office space, going toward where the shoot was to be set up. She hadn’t been lying, she was needed in the hair and makeup room. That was the first stop. She knew this whole process like the back of her hand, sure the details varied from place to place, but overall, she knew what was expected of her, and she knew how to do it efficiently.

Now, she just did it with Rowan by her side.

------

The shoot went smoothly for the most part. Arobynn hadn’t made another appearance, and Aelin was able to do what she did best: model. The theme for the cover was Old Glamour, so she’d been dressed in a gown of dripping diamonds, her hair curled up in a low bun with dramatic eyeliner and dark red lipstick.

It was one of her favorite looks she’d ever been in, and the irony was not lost on her.

“Everytime I think you can’t possibly get any more beautiful, you prove me wrong,” Rowan said as she exited the shoot room, an adorable starstruck look on his face. Aelin laughed, letting him grab her hand and kiss it dramatically.

“What can I say,” she teased, “I’m just full of surprises.” He chuckled, sliding his arm around her waist. She turned to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing at the red stain it left. Rowan didn’t even try to wipe it away.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s go get ready to go.”

The makeup artists had offered to help her strip the entire look too, but she’d turned them down, not needing their help. It was nice of them, but she didn’t need to take up more of their time. She’d be just fine doing it herself.

They headed back toward the dressing room, luckily a different one than the one she’d been in five years ago. It was just a room, but she really didn’t need the attached memories haunting her. She’d been lucky so far, she was hoping it would last.

“Can you grab me my bag?” Aelin asked Rowan as she sat down in the chair in front of the mirror, digging out her makeup remover wipes when he did. She took off the fake eyelashes first, before tackling the red lipstick, which proved to be a struggle.

The dress, while extravagant, was surprisingly comfortable, so she hadn’t bothered to take that off yet.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said to Rowan, looking over at him. It still didn’t feel real, their whole - relationship. If that was even what it was. “I really do appreciate it. I feel a lot calmer, then I would’ve if I’d come by myself.”

“Hey,” he said, from the chair next to hers. “You trusted me with what happened. It’s the least I can do to try and make you feel more comfortable with it.” His expression was sincere, and she paused in her makeup removing to lean her head against his shoulder.

And then his phone rang.

She lifted her head up as he reached for the device, his face paling at the number.

“It’s the Rifthold Institute,” he said, and she smiled excitedly. He’d submitted the portfolio two days ago, though she’d had to help him push the button because he couldn’t do it by himself. They really were stunning photos, even if she still wasn’t happy with how she looked. But that was eternal, that didn’t have anything to do with him.

“Are you going to answer it?” She asked, and he looked down at it again.

“My phone only has one bar in here,” he explained, “I won’t be able to hear them very well.”

“Go outside then,” she shooed him, “I’ll be fine.” He hesitated, but she insisted again and he sighed, following suit.

The door clicked shut behind him, right as he answered the call, and Aelin smiled contently as she turned back to the mirror, returning to her process of removing her makeup. He would get the job, she was sure of it. And yes, she’d miss seeing him around the office, but she wanted him to be happy, and he was not happy there.

She’d just removed her eyeliner, using up three wipes for that alone, when the door opened again. But she froze as she looked in the mirror and saw not a flash of silvery hair, but of red.

“Aelin, Aelin, Aelin,” he said, a sick smile on his face. “That was such a cold greeting earlier. What on earth did I do to deserve that?”

She set the wipe down, keeping her face firm. “Do I really need to answer that question?” Gods. Her hands were trying to shake, but she clenched them into fists. If he tried anything, she wouldn’t be complacent this time. She’d fight back.

Where was Rowan?

“Your boy toy isn’t coming back anytime soon,” Arobynn added, walking closer to her. She tensed. “He’s deep in conversation, far away from this room. Gives us time to talk.”

“I’m not interested in talking with you,” she said, pushing herself to a stand and moving toward the door. But he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest. She needed to get out of here, now.

“Well too bad,” he said, a little more aggressively. “Because you’re going to.” He grabbed her arm, and panic raced through her veins. With his other hand he gripped her jaw, holding her face close to his. “It was fun last time, wasn’t it?” He asked with a contemptuous smile. “We can do it again.”

“Let. Me. Go.” She ordered, her voice shaking, gathering all the nerve left in her to make herself sound strong. She was strong. She wouldn’t let this happen again.

But he didn’t listen, instead he leaned in and forced his lips onto hers, even as she struggled to get away. Eventually she was able to get her legs to work and she kneed him straight in the groin, shoving him back when he bent over in pain.

“Get the fuck away from me,” she cursed, panting. Her hair had come loose from her bun, a strand hanging in front of her eyes.

Just then, the door opened again, and Rowan entered, his face angry as death.

“I think you better leave before I do something I won’t regret,” Rowan spit, his eyes dark. Arobynn stood up and straightened his jacket, his face tight with his own anger. But he didn’t dare say anything, just throwing her a contemptuous look and heading out of the dressing room. It was his company, he could try to pin the blame on Rowan, or shout that there was some disturbance, or try to get her in trouble, but luckily, he just left.

Aelin didn’t breathe until the door shut behind him, sagging against the wall.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked quietly, coming up to her side quickly. She sniffed and straightened, nodding as she rubbed at her face.

“Yes, I think so.” But she sighed heavily, reaching for the makeup wipe again. “He just had such confidence. That he could walk in here and do this with the door not even locked. It makes me wonder how many other girls have gone through the same thing.” Her heart broke at the thought. It’d happened so quickly, that time and this time. How many other people were forced to experience their life changing completely in a few minutes?

She wiped at her lips again, even if the lipstick was all removed. And she took out the pins in her hair, brushing it through before clipping it up. It was only then she reached for her change of clothes. Rowan looked like he was about to ask if she’d like him to leave, but she just shook her head.

“Are you going to report him?” Rowan asked, after she changed into her jeans and t-shirt. Aelin huffed a breath, rubbing at her forehead. It wasn’t nearly as bad as last time, but maybe she shouldn’t be so blasé about being the victim of assault yet again. Even if it was only attempted.

“I don’t know, Rowan,” she said honestly, but she didn’t look at him, choosing to hang up the dress instead. “He clearly doesn’t expect me to. Probably because I haven’t reported the first time in the five years since it happened.” She shook her head. “No one would believe me anyway.”

“I would,” he said, “I would vouch for you.”

She laughed humorlessly. “And you’d be claimed as biased like that.” She snapped for emphasis. He didn’t answer, and she shook her head again, packing everything up in her bag before picking it up. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

He nodded, and that was that.

——-

They ended up in the same cafe they’d taken pictures in, and Rowan watched Aelin carefully as she sipped on her coffee, trying really fucking hard to pretend she wasn’t affected.

She was looking out the window, drinking from her disgustingly sugary hazelnut monstrosity, but the hand on the table was shaking slightly and he reached out to hold it gently. She smiled at him thinly.

He’d tried to buy her a pastry to go along with the coffee, but she’d turned it down. She should eat it, he didn’t think she’d really eaten anything substantial that day, but he couldn’t force her to. She needed to see a professional for tackling such a deep-seated issue as this one, as much as he wanted to help he really couldn’t.

He would just have to trust that she would try to help herself.

“Oh,” she said, blinking, “how was the phone call? Did you get the job?”

“It was just to let me know it’s been narrowed down to two,” Rowan answered, trying not to show the nerves inside of him. “And to ask me about some formalities and contract details and stuff.” Aelin nodded her head in contemplation.

“So you’re getting it,” she said, with total faith, and his heart warmed.

“We’ll see,” he answered, shrugging. “I’ll know by the end of the week.” The other candidate was older, with more experience, but the man he’d talked to at the Institute had said they were also considering looking for some new blood, someone young to bring a new perspective into the place.

He was hoping that would mean him. But he would just have to wait and see.

Just then his phone buzzed, and he cursed under his breath, pulling it out and seeing that annoyingly familiar number on the screen. He turned his notifications off and shoved his phone back in his pocket, but saw Aelin watching him curiously. He just waved her off.

“So…” Aelin said, a few minutes later. She smiled slyly. “Am I your girlfriend now?”

Rowan chuckled, trying to act casual even though the question sent his heart soaring. “Do you want to be?”

Aelin shrugged, acting blase. “I’m not sure. Let me get back to you in a day or two.” But she was grinning, and he rolled his eyes.

“Smart ass,” he said, and she laughed.

“You love it,” she accused, and he smiled gently.

“Yeah. I really do.”

------

A few days later, and they still hadn’t announced their relationship to the rest of the group. But Aelin was holding off, just because she wasn’t really sure how to explain how it happened. Oh, I came over to let him take pictures of me, and ended up spilling my trauma to him, to which he reacted surprisingly really well. And even went with me to confront my assaulter, and threatened to beat him up when he tried to assault me again. And the rest is history.

No, that wouldn’t go well at all.

And she knew the first person she would want to tell was Aedion. They’d barely talked in the last few weeks, as she was so wrapped up in everything else going on, and the guilt was so potent she could nearly taste it. But soon. They’d catch up soon.

She gathered her keys and slid her sunglasses as she headed out of her apartment, making sure to lock the door behind her. Then she was off, heading down the elevator and exiting the building out onto the street.

It was a Tuesday, late morning, so it wasn’t too busy. But she still had to fight through pedestrians as she made her way to the metro station. She normally hated taking the subway, but she wasn’t dolled up enough to make people recognize her, so she could float under the radar. And it was faster than a taxi in constant traffic like this.

She paid the toll and walked into the station, waiting for the next train like everyone else. She was going to get a massage at her favorite massage parlor, but it was a few miles away and she didn’t feel like walking that whole distance.

When the right train arrived, she stepped onto it like everyone else, enjoying getting to pretend to be normal for a little bit. She didn’t sit down, instead grabbing one of the handles from the ceiling, and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her notifications as the doors closed and the train started to move.

Her stomach dropped.

Request for Signature the subject line read, from an email she recognized too well.

She felt nauseous as she opened it, scrolling down to the attached file. There was no message anyway, no introduction to whatever this was. And pretty soon, she found out.

Non-Disclosure Agreement was at the top, and her heart thumped in her chest as she skimmed through the terms.

…not allowed to discuss or attempt to publicize any information regarding the untoward actions of Mr. Hamel on the dates of…

…will receive three million dollars as a result of returning this document with a completed signature…

…infringement of this document will result in a penalty of two times the prior amount listed…

And it ended with:

Please return signed within three business days.

Aelin was going to be sick. This was what he was trying to do? Tempt her into signing a document that she couldn’t ever reasonably break? Six million dollars would be the penalty; she was a well paid model, but that was a hefty amount to owe all at once.

And yet - if she signed it, it would be over.

“Fuck,” she cursed, rubbing her forehead. Why was everything in her life so screwy? Was it her? Or was it the gods trying to fuck with her?

The metro stopped at the next station, and she glanced up at the signs, quickly identifying where she was. And though she had four more stops to go before she was supposed to get off, she let go of the handle and walked to the doors.

Change of plans.

------

Rowan was going to throw his phone off a cliff. Or if not a cliff, he was going to find a bridge somewhere and throw it into the river below. Just enough to make sure that no one would ever be able to contact him on it again.

Or mainly - one person.

Remelle LaFleur was quickly becoming the utter bane of his existence, and he had no real idea of how to get her out of it. He opened their text thread, seeing the long list of her texts, with only a few dotting his side.

> come on, let’s just get dinner

> I promise I’ll make it worth your while

< Remelle, I have a girlfriend now

> that whore Aelin Galathynius?

> you can do so much better than her

To that, he hadn’t replied, completely at a loss for words of what to even say to that. No, he couldn’t do better than her. But this was just getting completely out of hand.

He collapsed back on his couch, his head in his hands as he tried to sort out what the hell to do about this. She wasn’t going to leave him alone if he replied, or if he didn’t reply either. Maybe he needed to try and reason with her, to convince her that this was an utter dead end.

But would she listen over text? From what he could tell, she would just ignore the message and keep harassing him.

Should he tell Aelin what was going on? Maybe she could help. She was starting to notice anyway; she’d given him odd looks whenever Remelle texted him, and he’d had to pull out and silence his phone. And yet - did he want to put this on her plate? She already had so much going on. This wouldn’t do anything but add more stress.

He contemplated it as he opened his laptop, pulling up some headshots he was meant to be editing. He’d taken the day as a work from home day; Maeve didn’t really care as long as he came in for the shoots he needed to do, and got his edits done on time.

Hopefully, he would be done with this pretty soon. He was supposed to find out about the job within three days. And hopefully that phone call would be the end of this mindless work.

Maybe he could use that as a way to convince Remelle too.

But it would be better in person. That way he could make sure the message was actually getting to her. Not going straight into her trash.

< I’ll meet with you in person one time

< We need to talk

This needed to stop.

He shut off his phone then, turning back to his laptop, but a rapid knocking on the door grabbed his attention. Rowan furrowed his brows, hurrying to go over there and open it. Aelin was on the other side, and at first he was concerned that something was wrong, but she wasn’t crying, she was mad.

“Look at what this fucker is trying to do,” she spit, shoving her phone at him as she stepped inside. Rowan idly shut the door behind her as his eyes focused on the screen, and on the words Non-Disclosure Agreement.

Well shit.

“He’s trying to bribe me into shutting up,” she huffed, walking over and sitting down on the couch. “And I thought he couldn’t get any worse.” She shook her head and he came over there. “Three million dollars. That’s what he thinks I’m worth.”

Rowan sat in silence for a moment, figuring out how to best approach the subject.

“What are you thinking of doing?” He asked, carefully, and she glanced at him.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “I don’t want to take the deal, but if I do, then this is over. I can put it behind me, and he won’t bother me again.”

“But-” he said, knowing her too well.

“Then I’m stuck,” she added, chewing on her lip. “If I change my mind and ever want to speak out, I can’t.” She made a miserable noise and flopped over, her head in his lap. Rowan automatically started caressing her hair, combing through it gently.

“How much time do you have to decide?” He asked quietly, and she blinked up at him, her blue eyes full of emotion.

“Three days.”

“Same time for the job,” he said, huffing a humorless laugh. Rowan lifted up her phone again, reading through the contract with more detail. “Here,” he said after a moment, “text Elide on my phone. She should take a look at this.”

“Good idea,” Aelin said, reaching over to grab his phone off of the coffee table.

Rowan read over the exact terms of the agreement again, frowning when he saw just what she wouldn’t be allowed to talk about, and what she would be forced to pay if she did speak about it. Something about this was just wrong, he didn’t like the idea of her being trapped into it.

“Aelin, I-”

“What is this,” Aelin interrupted, her eyes glued to his phone. His heart stopped at her flat tone. Especially as she sat up, distancing herself from him. “Why did she say this? Why are you texting her?”

“Wha-”

“Perfect. You can come over to my place at eight,” she continued, “I’ll make you forget about that slut.” His face drained of all color as she realized what she was seeing. What she was reading.

“It’s not like that,” he tried to say, but he realized how that sounded. She finally looked up at him, her face filled with such pain his heart broke. “Aelin-”

She just shook her head, standing up quickly. “Don’t,” she said, her voice shuddering. “Don’t even bother.” she was still shaking her head, looking everywhere but at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised, doesn’t everyone end up leaving me anyway?” Her voice was getting tight with what sounded like unshed tears. “But I thought you would be the one to stay.”

“Aelin, I promise you-” he was getting desperate now. But that set her off.

“No,” she interrupted, spinning around to face him, nearly throwing his phone across the room. “I don’t want to hear it,” she spit, her face full of anger. “You… you fucker.” She gripped at her hair.

“Aelin,” he said, standing up. “I swear it’s not like that, just let me exp-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” she said, interrupting him again, “I trusted you, with everything.” Her voice broke. “And this is what you give me in return?” A tear slipped down her face, and she quickly wiped it away. But he saw.

“I can’t,” she whispered, “I just can’t.” She wiped at her face again, grabbing her phone from the couch and heading toward the door. Rowan couldn’t do anything but watch as she opened it and turned back to face him. “I hope you get the job, I really do.” She smiled bitterly. “Because then I’ll never have to see your face again.”

And then she was gone.

-----

The dark cloud that had lifted slightly had descended again with a fury, and Aelin had trouble getting out of bed for the first time in years. Most of the time, she was able to motivate herself with work, and the knowledge of the self-hate that would hit her if she let herself slip for even a moment. But that morning, she wanted to ignore her alarm and just sink into the sheets so deeply she became a part of them, never having to see the daylight again.

She didn’t want to see the sun, not anymore.

She’d cried herself to sleep the night before, and once she did finally manage to drag herself out of bed and into the bathroom, it was swollen eyes and splotchy cheeks that she met in the mirror.

“Gods,” she whispered under her breath, hanging her head low as she leaned against the counter. “Get yourself together.” She hit the marble once with her hand before huffing and standing up straight, staring at herself in the eyes.

She’d been through worse than this, she’d been to hell and back, she wouldn’t let Rowan ruin what little self worth she had left.

With a slow inhale, she turned on the faucet, getting her face wash ready to start her morning routine. She had shit to do today, she couldn’t get off schedule already.

Aelin washed her face quickly, and applied her toner, serums, moisturizer, and sunscreen, before brushing her hair and braiding it back. And without coffee, and without any sort of breakfast at all, she changed into her workout clothes, heading straight for the treadmill.

She’d sweat all her problems away.

But before she could, her doorbell rang. Aelin paused mid motion, and stepped away from the treadmill, furrowing her brows as she walked toward the door. Hesitantly she opened it, but relaxed when she saw Aedion outside in the hallway.

“Hey,” she said, smoothing her hair back. “What are you doing here so early?”

It was only 6 am.

“It was the only time I knew you’d be here,” her cousin said, his voice flat. Her smile faded. “You haven’t responded to my texts or anything, I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, I didn’t know if you-”

She cut him off with a hug, stopping him in his tracks. But he hugged her back, wrapping her up in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears coming to her eyes. A rebellious one slipped down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut, and she sniffed to try and hold the rest back.

“Hey,” Aedion said, pulling back a little bit. “What’s wrong?”

Another tear slipped down her face, and she wiped it away, letting out a shaky laugh. “Where do you want me to start?” Aedion stepped inside the apartment, shutting the door, and she went to go sit down on the couch, hugging her knees. He sat down next to her.

“I think I need to go back to therapy,” she admitted quietly, not looking at him. But like she knew he wouldn’t, he didn’t laugh at her or make fun of her or even question the statement. He just supported her.

“Okay,” he said, and she looked over, seeing him nod. “The same place as last time? Dr. Towers?”

Aelin considered it for a second before saying yes. Dr. Towers was young for a therapist, which she liked when first going to see her all those years ago. She’d be a little older now obviously, but Aelin herself was older too. She’d always felt comfortable with her, and Dr. Towers had never been the reason Aelin stopped going.

So, it’d be a good place to start.

“Do you want me to set up an appointment?” Aedion asked, and Aelin chuckled, looking at him through watery eyes.

“I’m an adult, Aedion,” she said, smiling, “I can make my own appointments.” He narrowed his eyes at her jokingly.

“I’m not so sure,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not fifteen anymore,” she said.

“No,” he said, leaning over to ruffle her hair, “but you’ll always be my baby cousin.” She pushed him away, but was laughing as she did it, her heart warm.

“I love you,” she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. His arm rested on her shoulders.

“Love you too, Ae,” he said, and after a minute, he said, “we’re getting drinks at The Stag again tonight, should we expect you?”

“No,” she said, nearly automatically, sitting up and shaking her head. “I can’t tonight, I’m busy.” But he must’ve seen something on her face because he didn’t buy the excuse this time.

“Is this about Rowan?” Aedion asked, and she looked at him, seeing understanding in his eyes. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but do I need to beat him up?”

She was tempted to say yes, but she only chuckled humorlessly and shook her head. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “Just another disappointment.”

“Well,” her cousin said, “I’m here to talk if you ever need to.”

“I know you are,” she said, smiling tightly, “and I appreciate it. I just need some time.”

Time, and maybe a miracle.

------

Rowan was the biggest idiot to ever walk the earth. He’d known that the minute she walked out the door, and it only sunk in more as the sun went down and came back up again.

He wished Aelin had let him explain, but he didn’t blame her for not. He should’ve spoken about it to her like a reasonable person instead of trying to decide which things she needed to know or not.

After Aelin had left, he’d finally done what he should’ve done originally and told off Remelle for continuing to harass him, before blocking her number and her email. It didn’t fucking matter anyway, he’d decided that even if he didn’t get the job, he was going to quit anyway.

He couldn’t stay there, not anymore.

And though part of him longed to reach out to Aelin, to try and appeal to her, he thought it best to give her space for a little bit, knowing how she was feeling. Hovering would do absolutely nothing.

But he couldn’t let her go forever. He couldn’t bear it.

So what could he do to earn her forgiveness?

He huffed a sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. This was too fucking much. Rowan took a sip of his coffee, hoping that the caffeine would spark his inspiration. The sun was barely up, but he’d never even made it to sleep the night before.

But as he was reaching to take another sip, his phone rang. He paused, his heart racing as he set the cup back down, reaching for the device.

It was the Institute.

He couldn’t breathe as he answered it, barely croaking out a “yes?”

“Mr. Whitethorn?” The voice on the other end spoke, and he said yes again. “Sorry for the early hour, but we’re thrilled to tell you that you’ve been selected for the position.”

And instead of racing, his heart stopped completely. The HR rep on the phone started telling him more information about the job, and when he’d have to come in to do entry paperwork and the likes, but all Rowan could think about was Aelin, and how he wished he could share this with her.

And in that moment, he realized something so important, and yet so devastating he could hardly function. He loved her. But she was gone.

But it was then, as the news about the job finally sunk in, that an idea struck him. An idea that just might work.

------

Dr. Towers’ office looked exactly the same as it had eight years ago. And Aelin felt strangely young as she sat on the couch across from the woman, waiting to start their session. She’d managed to get a next day appointment, which she was grateful for, there was a lot she needed to talk about.

“May I ask you what brought you in today, Aelin?” Dr. Towers asked, smiling at her warmly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you last.”

There were more pressing issues, Aelin knew. There was Arobynn, and the NDA, and the eating issue, the exercise issue, the self esteem issue, so much wrong with her. But the first thing that came to her mind was Rowan.

“How does one move on from someone they think they’re in love with, when they broke your heart and you still don’t understand why?” She asked, all in a rush, shocking the doctor.

“Well,” Dr. Towers said, blinking, “it generally isn’t a very quick process, but closure tends to help.” She hummed a bit, and Aelin deflated. “You said you don’t understand why?” And Aelin shook her head.

“No,” she said, “but he kept trying to explain, or that’s what he said. I didn’t want to hear excuses.” Dr. Towers nodded slowly.

“Now,” she said, gesturing with a hand, “I don’t know the exact situation, so you can feel free to disregard my advice. But maybe you could hear him out?” Aelin frowned. “And if you don’t like what he has to say, you have my permission to fully cut him out of your life. But if you’re willing, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?”

“I guess,” Aelin muttered, considering the idea. Rowan did seem really desperate to get his words out. But the text; she didn’t think she’d be able to forget how crushed she’d been in that moment. And from Remelle of all people. She barely knew the girl, but every time they’d interacted, it’d been an attempt to tear Aelin down.

“Just think about it,” Dr. Towers said, before leaning back in her armchair. “Now, I know that’s not the only reason you’re here today, is it?”

A heavy weight settled in Aelin’s stomach and she shook her head slowly.

“There’s a lot going on,” she said quietly, fighting the urge to shut down and shut up. “A lot that I don’t know what to do about.”

“I understand,” Dr. Towers said, smiling gently. “It takes a lot of strength to even make it to this step, Aelin. I want you to understand that.” Aelin glanced up at her. “You’ve already done the hard part, asking for help.” She relaxed slightly. “Now I’m just here to give it to you.”

Aelin’s lips curled up slightly on the corners, a ghost of a smile on her face as a tiny sprig of hope grew in her heart.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d be okay. Even without Rowan.

But her heart still ached for him, and she knew the ache would last for a long time.

------

Aelin got the note a few hours after getting home from Dr. Towers’ office, finding it slipped under her door after returning from the bathroom.

Meet me at the park at 7. Please.

It wasn’t signed, but it was clear who it was from. She supposed Rowan had resorted to handwritten notes, given she’d blocked his number, and his work email address had conspicuously disappeared. A bit of joy went through her when she’d first discovered that, though she tried to temper it, but though he’d betrayed her, it wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped to get away from the feelings she had for him.

Which was why, taking Dr. Towers’ advice, she decided to go to the park.

It wasn’t an easy decision, and a large part of her brain told her to fuck him and stay at her apartment, but a smaller and infinitely more powerful part of her brain told her to go. To at least hear him out. She’d trusted him before, maybe she needed to trust him again.

Aelin threw on a light sundress, and tied her hair up with a clip, putting on a pair of sandals before she left her apartment, nerves racing through her. It wasn’t too long of a walk to get to the park, but every step felt like a mile as she both anticipated and feared this interaction.

It’d only been a few days since they’d last seen each other, but it felt like an eternity. She hated him, she missed him, she… loved him. She loved him.

She’d hinted at it to her therapist, but it was only now she was admitting it to herself. Aelin Galathynius loved Rowan Whitethorn, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

When the trees first came into her sight, she slowed down, inhaling shakily as she considered if she really wanted to do this. But the answer was yes, it would always be yes, so she exhaled and kept going, not giving herself another moment to doubt.

She came up on their tree pretty quickly, and stopped, looking around in amazement at what he’d done. He’d printed out every single photo he’d taken of her, both the ones from the photoshoot and others he’d taken various days after, when they were still blissfully happy. And he’d strung up lights too, setting the area aglow in the fading evening light.

“Rowan,” she whispered, turning over her shoulder to find him standing there, a bouquet of kingsflame in his hands.

“Aelin,” he said, just as gently, with so much emotion in his eyes.

“This is beautiful,” she had to admit, her voice tight.

“I know you don’t like pictures of yourself,” he said, stepping closer. “I know it still brings you pain, but I wanted to show you that all of these pictures show the happiest moments of my life.” He took another step toward her, and her eyes filled with tears. “Every single one of these pictures show a time when I was at peace, when I was filled with joy, when I was content, because I was with you.”

She sniffed, looking up to look at him in the eyes as he stepped closer.

“I would never jeopardize that for anything,” his voice shuddered, his head shaking. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, and I would never throw that away.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Here. You can read all of the texts between me and Remelle. She was harassing me, even after the gala, and I couldn’t stop her, no matter how much I tried.” She looked at him, seeing how sincere his face was. “I was going to meet with her in person to finally try and convince her that nothing would ever happen, but I made a mistake in not telling you. I admit that. I would never be involved with someone like her. And I would never betray you like that.” His eyes were full of pain. “Please believe me.”

She shook her head. “I don’t need your phone,” she said, her throat tight. He looked devastated for a second, so she added to her statement quickly, smiling gently. “Because I believe you.”

It took a second to process, but then pure elation filled his face.

“You do?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe it. And she nodded, lifting a hand to cup his cheek.

“I do,” she repeated, warmth filling her as he leaned in to kiss her deeply, whispering against her lips -

“I love you.”

She pulled back, shocked, but he didn’t look like he regretted saying it, so she laughed, tears running down her face as she said it back. “I love you too.”

He kissed her again, his hands sliding around her back. And then he was lifting her and spinning her, making her laugh. When he finally set her down, they rested their foreheads together, just breathing each other in.

“I’m starting therapy again,” she admitted, after a minute or two, and his handsome face curled into a soft smile.

“I’m proud of you,” he said, his thumb caressing her lower back where his hands rested on her waist. Warmth spread through her at the simple words. Did he know how much they meant to her?

“And I’m not going to sign the NDA,” she said as well, “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but I’m not going to give in like that. I’m not going to silence myself.” She glanced up into his green eyes, still so close to hers. “I’m guessing you got the job?” She asked, her lips curling into a grin. “Your email disappeared.”

“I did,” he admitted, his face lit up with joy, and she couldn’t help but kiss him again.

“I love you,” she said again, not able to stop herself. “And I’m so proud of you too.”

Rowan kissed her forehead, before spinning her around and wrapping her in a hug from behind, pressing quick kisses on her neck. She hummed in satisfaction, hugging his arms. She didn’t think she’d ever been happier than she was in this moment.

“We’re going to have to tell everyone,” she said, smiling at the thought. She craned her head to look up at him. “We’re going to be teased relentlessly.” Rowan just shrugged.

“I can deal with even Fenrys’ ridiculous comments,” he said, “as long as we’re together.”

“How long will that be?” She asked teasingly, and he grinned.

“I was hoping forever,” he said, and her smile turned shy.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Yeah?” He asked, and she nodded. “Good. Because I have no plans on leaving anytime soon.”

She chuckled. “Leave me? Or leave the park? Because I’m getting a little cold.”

“Smart ass,” he said, flicking her nose. She laughed again, cuddling back into him.

“Can we go back to your apartment though?” She asked, spinning around to face him. “I’m in the mood for some green beans. And something else,” she added slyly, fluttering her lashes.

“You’re insatiable,” he teased, smiling, “but yes we can. We can go anywhere you’d like, as long as we’re together.” Together. It was such a simple word, but to her it meant everything. She was no longer alone, facing the shit storm of the world alone. She had him by her side, and that would always be enough.

<><><><><>

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#rowaelin month #rowaelinmonth #rowaelin #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowaelin au #throne of glass au #rowan x aelin

194 notes · View notes

s-i-m-p0 · 1 year

Text

Epel x f.reader

(I'm not even ganna try and be cannon,sorry)

Halloween masquerade

"Sooo.you going to the Halloween ball?" I look at the voice to see epel. "No, I wasn't really planning to going if I want asked"

" Well wanna go with me?" He asked shyly. "W..well we could go as friends if you'll like!" He add/blurts out causing the class to look at us.

"OK,OK I'll go with you, keep you're voice down" I laugh. "Will I be picking you up or...do I meet you there?" The lavander haired whispered. "Uhh... meet you there" I whisper back.

He nods and continues listening to the lesson with a red face, wich for a fact didn't go unnoticed by a certain hunter.

~~~after lesson~~~

Epel pov:

"Rook please leave me alone..." I sigh. "Oh no,... non amour I must find out what made you so Chery in lecture!"

I roll my eyes " fine...I.. May or May not asked y/n to the masquerade!" Rook gasps before a massive smile "we must tell roi de Poison!" NO!"

It was already too late the little French man ran off to the sparkly jealousy issued queen. I groan and sit on the stairs next to me.

I kept my head hung below my knees.

Third person pov:

"You ok there epel?" The voice belonged to the female who stood next to the sulking male. She sat next to him eating a cupcake. Eoel lifted his head "no..rook is ganna tell vil I asked you to the ball thing before I could mention if you wanted to go as friends..."

She nods biting into the cupcake. ' where they ever this good at baking here?'

"Want a peice?" She asked holding up the cake cuped in her hands. He only nodded and pulled of a peice with frosting "I guess the word wil let 'round quickly..." the duo said in unison.

Y/n pulled a nother cupcake from its boxing and handed it to him. "I have to go before ace and Deuce kill eachother" he only nods biting into his cake.

"Uh...you have a little something..." she pointed at her nose. "OH gah shit" he muttered rubbing his nose with his sleeve. " I wish you luck with vil!" She chimed running up the stairs quicker then sonic.

"I'll need it"epel mutters.

~~~time skip cause I'm boreddd~~~

"Vil, please calm down!" Epel yells as the fashion icon kept running around trying to arrange a good costume. "Absolutely not!, you're going to the Halloween ball with a girl! You must have matching costumes" the lavander only rolled his eyes and layed his head on the dressing table.

A bowl cut frenchman decides to join in vils little fantasy and whispered a important detail in his ear: y/n l/n halloween costume.

Amd within a matter of minuets vil had the farmers costume ready to be steamed. "Oh epel! You have to see the outfit roi de Poison chose!" Hesitantly he rose his head remembering all the embarrassing outfits they put him in before

Epels eyes widen at the sight of the outfit. Nothing poofs, a decent suit with a cape. "Soo..what do you think??" Vil smiled. "I'll wear it."

~at the ball cause it halloween rn and I have so little time :)~

Epel stood timidly at a party and help a elegant glass cup In his hand. Themusic wasn't his kind of taste. It was slow and romantic while epel had grew up adjusted to country and barn music.

"Oh epel, this isn't you're first party we've had many at Pomefiore, go out there and dance, or... are you waiting for someone" Rook teases taking epels glass. "I saw her entering the main campus a few miunets ago, she's dressed very,very, well~" and with that Rook disappeared into the flashing light of the hall.

"Who's that?" A voice asked "I think that's Ramshackles vice president" a nother whispered. "She's so pretty"

On the other side was you shyly entering the ballroom dressed all elegent. A lovely white dress decorated with grey stars sleeves fell off the sholders. Hair was curled/kept natural and was neatly tied back. Start earing connected to a smaller pair fell past her jawline and near the crevasse of the neck

Y/n wiped her sweaty hands in her dress before scanning the crowd for the lavander date. Her eyes lock ones with a purple pair and y/n let out a sigh of relief . She walked down the stairs quickly and hasted towards the male.

A few steps away she stops in awe "Were matching" she smiles. Epel smiles too "I wasn't my idea to be fair but I hadn't even knew what you were going as" he laughed. Y/n let out a laugh too. Now that epel had a close up he could see all the amazing detail and sparkling in her hair caught his attention.

Hair pins he had saved up most the year to give to her. "You wore them" he whispered stepping forward and reaching his hand out "mhm, I though it would look nice and match" she laughed.

Epel hugged her tightly," would you care for a dance l, though I'm sure neither of us would be great dancers" y/n smiled and nodded.

"Alright, my phantom"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Halloween everyone! Its the last hour before November! Whay did you do this halloween, I went trick or treating with my mates,

LOVE YOU ALL BYE ❤

#epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #female reader #twisted wonderland #halloween #twisted wonderland halloween event #twisted wonderland masquerade

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soulmate-game · 3 years

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

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rezzyromance · 3 years

Note

can i request a heisenburg x reader where they take a shower together and it starts getting freaky B) idk if im aloud to add kinks but maybe praise :D

This one was written from the heart.

(CW: Sex +18)

Once again, I've written this story with a gender neutral reader until it gets to the sexual part. I am not experienced in writing any sexual scenarios for gender neutral people or people with penises. I'm very sorry for this and hope you enjoy the story anyway. "I'm not going to ask again, Karl. Will you please take a shower?" You've been pushing Karl for the last 30 minutes to take a shower. It had been so long since he took a break from his work to actually take care of himself. It worried you, so you'd often try to take care of him here and there without getting on his nerves. But now, he's being relentless and stubborn. "For the last time, (Y/N) I don't have time to shower." His tone was aggressive as he refused to look away from his work to face you. "When's the last time you change your clothes? You sweat so much during some of the shit you do to these robots, or whatever they are." "It'll all just get dirty again, so what's the point of cleaning anything?" His gross words made you shiver. You loved him, but the man had nearly no concept of personal hygiene sometimes. A small part of him did care a little bit. He didn't want you to see him as gross. He's never had someone who he's felt the need to impress or look good for until you came along. But still, his work mattered so much to him that he casted hygiene to the side more often than you'd both like to admit. "What if I joined you?" You ask. He froze in his place, nearly choking on his own tongue. But he was quick to regain his composure. He looked over at you from the chair he was sitting in. You couldn't tell due to him wearing his sunglasses, but his eyes were scanning every little detail of your face. "Well?" You cross your arms and stare at him waiting for a response. He inhaled through his nose and tried to cover his excitement with a false sense of aggravation. "Fine. As long as it gets you to shut up." He rises from his chair and you can't help but smile knowing you won the argument. "Leave your coat, hat, and gloves here. We'll clean those later." "Yeah yeah whatever." You excitedly make your way to the bathroom. You set the shower temperature to a comfortable level of heat. The room began to fill with steam. Karl stood against the wall with his arms crossed, still wanting to seem reluctant even though he already agreed to the shower. "Alright. Water's ready. Now strip." You demand with a cheeky smile. "You first." "Sorry, can't do that. I wanna make sure you actually get in the shower before I do so you can't run." This makes him roll his eyes. But, once he's done pouting he begins to remove his shirt. You do the same, hoping it will coax him into continuing. Once his shirt is off he throws it to the side and smiles once he notices you stripping as well. It doesn't take long for you both to be completely unclothed.

He pulls back the shower curtain and steps inside. "Ah! Son of a bitch! Why's the water so hot?!" he yells out and begins to twist the metal shower knobs with his powers. "I didn't make it THAT hot." You step inside and feel a shiver crawl up your skin. "Now it's too cold." You complain. "You are not making this easy, are you?" He turns the knob to warmer. As uncomfortable as it was for him before, he didn't want to hear you fuss more than you already were. "That's better." You smile and relax as the water covers your body.

You stood there for a while, just enjoying the feeling of the heat around you. For a second, you zoned out. The whole time he stood there staring at you. Seeing you so happy and at peace made his insides start to feel as hot as the water that bounced and ran down his skin. All of his own discomfort fled as he watching, lovingly, at the smile growing on your face. Your eyes began to flutter open and he quickly looked away, not wanting it to be obvious that he was staring. But, you could tell from his flushed face and wandering eyes that he had been watching you.

You had placed 2 wash clothes on the side of the tub. You bent over to grab them and again he can't help but stare. This time, his feelings are a little less innocent as he gazes upon your body in a position that drives his mind wild. "Here's a wash cloth." You rise up and turn to hand him one. His body was closer to yours than it was just a few seconds ago, but you didn't mind. "Thanks." His voice was rough and low, almost as if he spoke in a growl. You supply both rags with soap and begin to rub down your body as he does the same.

You sit back for a moment, not really putting in much effort into cleansing yourself as you were too distracted by the sight in front of you. The way his silver hair stretched and clung to his face as the water weighed it down drove you mad. The way the water trickles off his muscular arms and powerful body absolutely hypnotized you. "Having fun there, (Y/N)?" You look up from his chest to his eyes. "Sure am. And you?" You use the cloth that you were previously bathing yourself with and begin to rub across his chest. "I'm fine, but I can bathe myself." He jokes. "Are you sure about that? It looks like you missed a spot." You point to a random area on his chest. "What? Where?" He looks down to where you were pointing and you take the opportunity to place an unexpected kiss on his lips. The initial shock causes him to almost pull away at first, but he soon pushes into the kiss, making it more passionate.

Your back was now pushed against the wall as you both continued your heated kiss. He was first to slip in tongue and you followed, ignoring any drool that leaked from your mouth as it only blended in with the shower water. His hands were gripped tightly to your hips. He begins to bring his body closer to yours. You can feel something poking you before the rest of his body makes contact which causes you to smile against his lips.

You place a hand on his wet chest and slowly make your way lower and lower until you can feel the light scratchiness of his pubes. he nibbles lightly on your bottom lip, signaling for you to go even further. You follow through and reach down you grasp his hardened penis. He inhales sharply and you begin to rub it back and forth, teasing him with your soft touches. He grunted quietly and tightened his grip on your hips, digging his fingers in slightly. You whimper and wrap your fingers around his cock as you begin to jerk him off. "Fuck yeah. Just like that." He groans in your ear before placing scattered kisses on your neck. You use your free hand to reach up and tangle your fingers in his wet locks. He begins to bite down on the more tender spots on your soft neck, leaving marks all over.

After more and more stroking, he grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his crotch. "Do you want me?" He says in a husky voice directly into your ear. "Mhm." You try to not moan as you feel his hand rub down your stomach and making its way in between your legs. "Say it. Say you want me." He demands. "I want you." You gasp lightly as his fingers begin to play with you between your legs. Your knees come together and he uses one of his hands to move them apart. You wrap your arms around his neck, using him as support as your legs shake beneath you. His rough and calloused fingers toy with your clit, causing you to dig your nails into his back. This causes him to inhale through his gritted teeth, but he didn't mind.

After almost rubbing you to completion, he pulls away to torment you some more. You let out a dissatisfied groan as his hand pulls away. His smirk was as egotistical as ever. "What's wrong? You want a little more?" He places his hands on the wall with your body in-between them. He slowly began to bring his body closer to yours, trapping you against the wall. His hard dick was between your legs and resting eagerly against your pussy. He slowly rocked his body, moving his dick across your needy region. He stared into your eyes and watched the agitation grow stronger. "Having any regrets about this yet?" He holds in a chuckle. "No. But if you don't fuck me stupid then I might." "Is that an invitation?" He leans in more and places a hand on the side of your face, cupping it while his thumb played with your bottom lip. You open your mouth and lead the tip of his thumb in before slowly biting now. You didn't bite hard at all, just enough to make him pull his dick away from you and begin to position it for entry. "I'll take that as a yes, Buttercup."

With his thumb still in your mouth, he pushes the first few inches of his dick in. Your breath hitches and you accidentally bite down harder. "Bite any harder and I'll leave right now." He threatens. You immediately loosen your jaw and begin to suck lightly as he pushes more of himself into you. You moan and he pulls his thumb out but continues to hold your face in his hand as he slowly rocks his hips, giving you a little time to adjust. But, it was only a little bit of time. Once your body loosened a little bit he began to thrust. in and out, holding into your waist to keep you from slipping. The sound of wet skin slapping filled the room along with overwhelmed moans that you couldn't keep quiet.

A few grunts left his gritted teeth as he pounded into you relentlessly. "C'mere" He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the wall and turned you so your back is facing him. He bends you over and places one of his hands underneath your stomach to provide you for support. You felt as his tip wandered around in between your legs before finding your vagina again. Once he filled you up with his dick again, he began to pound into you even harder. Both of his hands gripped tightly on each side of your waist as he pulled your entire body into him with each pound.

You felt like you could feel it in your stomach. His dick was harder than ever and you swore you could feel it throbbing and twitching inside of you. Your vision was blurred from the sheer amount of overwhelming pleasure so you closed your eyes. Your moans had become quiet little whimpers that were pushed out of you with each thrust. You feel his hand make its way through your hair as he grips a handful of it and pulls your head back slightly. "Fuck yes (Y/N).." He moans as your body limply swings against his pounding. You could feel a burning feeling growing between your legs. Your climax was near and you wanted so badly to finish. He could tell by the way your legs were trembling that you were close.

He reaches one of his hands between your legs and feels for the clit as he continued to slam into you. A loud moan escaping from your lips helped him navigate to eventually finding your sweet spot. So now he was drilling into you while also destroying your clit. You shut your eyes tight and let loose all of the swears, grunts, and moans you were holding back. His climax was approaching as well. You could hear him grunting and swearing louder and louder, occasionally saying your name. "Karl! Karl I'm gonna cum!" You cry out. He doesn't change his pace until he feels you release onto him. Your body goes completely limp as your vagina floods with your orgasm. You couldn't feel your body and your brain felt foggy.

He still had an orgasm to reach, though. So, he pulled out and made sure to keep a tight grip on you to make sure you don't collapse. You followed the motion of his movements as he turned you around and put his lips to yours as he stroked his cock. The kiss was messy, but loving. He stopped jerking himself off and grabbed you by the waist again. "Wrap your legs around me." He says. You nod, too dazed to give a verbal response. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. You also wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head against him as he sticks his dick in you again. You give no protest and close your eyes as he pounds in and out into your comfortable body that engulfed him. While you were quiet, he could still hear you moaning under your breath. He bounced your body up and down, kissing you over and over again. Once he knew his orgasm was rising, he pulled you off and came, letting it drip down his shaft and onto the wet shower floor. You were both breathless but gained a sense of comfort from feeling each others chests rise and fall.

"So," He spoke in between small gasps. "I might need to shower with you more often." You laughed softly into his shoulder, too tired to give any real reaction. He twisted the knob to the shower off with his powers. His hands never left your body as he held you against him. "Here. Sit." He sits you down on the side of the tub and grabs a towel. He softly began to rub your wet hair, attempting to dry it while you rested. You stared into his eyes as he did so. They had their usual sharpness to them, but something about him in this moment was so much more tender than his usual self. You didn't complain though. When he was done, you took the towel from him and returned the favor by drying his hair. He closed his eyes and relaxed against your gentle touch. Once you finished, you placed a kiss on his nose that immediately created a smile on his face.

"How about we go relax a little more before I get back to work." He offers. "I'd like that." You respond quietly. He wraps a towel around his waist and then wraps a towel around you before picking you up bridal style and carrying you back to the bedroom. There, you both curled up against each other and fell asleep.

#re8 #resident evil village #heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenburg x reader

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lucy-sky · 3 years

Text

The Break of Dawn (Leo Barnes x f!Reader)

You work in a small diner not far from the bus station and try to get over a tragic event that happened to you three years ago. Leo Barnes is one of the steady customers, and at some point you realize there's mutual attraction between the two of you. There's no time for romance though - only one night left before the annual Purge, and Leo has an important job to keep Senator Roan safe as it's the only chance to finally put an end to the Purge.

Words: 3 656

Warnings: Sexual content (not super detailed, I would rate this story as Mature rather than Explicit, but still they f*ck), a bit of angst (trigger warning: loss), but Leo is a caring and protective guy who’s ready to hold you

A/N: My first time writing Leo Barnes or any Frank Grillo character, so please don't be mean :))

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @skvatnavle, @lunamoon-87

“There he is.”

Stella pokes you with her elbow.

“What?”

“Your tough guy. He’s here,” she nods to the corner of the diner and you don’t even need to follow her gesture to know that Leo Barnes is sitting there, his usual spot. He’s a bit early today, and it’s understandable - you too find it harder to sleep well as the Purge is getting closer.

“He’s not my tough guy, Stells,” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? Tell it to someone else,” she snorts. “So far I’m just wondering how long you’re gonna keep ignoring that sexual tension…”

“Stella, please.”

“What? Honestly, I don’t know why he’s being such a gentleman… But just FYI, y/n… You know it’s not the 19th century and you actually can make the first move?”

“Even if I wanted to, it’s not the right time,” you shrug. “You know he’s doing an important job. He’s got plenty of stuff to think about and it’s definitely not romance.”

“Who’s talking about romance, sis?” Stella laughs. “You’re both so goddamn tense, you need to blow off some steam. No, seriously. You need to get laid. He needs to get laid. It’s just way too obvious!”

“Oh dear god, just please shut up…” you groan.

“Fine,” she gives you a wicked smirk. “If you don’t want him, then I’m bringing his order.”

You chuckle at this.

“Don’t you dare.”

To be completely honest, you can’t deny that Stella is partly right. There is something between you and this grumpy silent man in the corner. But what exactly? You can’t really put it into words, it’s not just the attraction, or sexual tension as Stella says. You do find him handsome though, you admit that. A couple of times when he was wearing a t-shirt, you caught yourself staring at his muscular arms. Yes, guilty. And still… There’s more than that. You’d call it some sort of mutual understanding.

Leo Barnes works for Senator Roan. In the past, he used to be a cop, now he is the head of security for her. You learnt that one night when he was here, having his usual late dinner. The TV was on, evening news, something about the election of course. And suddenly you noticed him there, standing behind Roan’s back with another guy in a formal dark suit. You blinked, stared at the screen, then looked back at him. He caught your glance.

“Is that… you?” you blurted, realizing too late that you said it out loud. But he smiled, and in his smile there was no anger or annoyance.

“Apparently so,” he replied with a soft chuckle and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “How do I look?”

You started talking ever since then. Barnes usually came to the diner twice - in the morning he just had a mug of black coffee, and in the evening he ordered something to eat. Mornings were often crowded as many people passed the diner before heading to work in the city, so you were busy. But the evenings were mostly quiet.

You often stayed at work late, covering Stella who had to run to her kids or another date. You didn’t mind that since work was always your way to escape. Nobody was waiting for you at home anyways. Somehow, Leo Barnes started to keep you company. He wasn’t much of a talker and you were never into heartfelt conversations with the clients here, but something just clicked. Especially after you learnt about his job and it became clear that your views on the Purge are the same.

Many people hate The Purge, as well as many people support it. Some people hate it because they’re scared for their loved ones, their business (small shop owners who don’t have enough money to afford the Purge insurance often suffer), or they hate it just because they’re against violence in general. And the others… They have more personal reasons. You’re one of them. And somehow, even if you don’t know for sure, you just feel like Leo Barnes has personal reasons as well. He never really told you, and you don’t dare to ask because you know well enough how the memories can hurt. You didn’t tell him either. But still, you don’t know how exactly it worked, you just looked at each other and saw it. It’s like an unspoken secret between the two of you. The details don’t matter anyway. Your stories are in the past and you can’t change it, but what you can change is the future. If Senator Charlene Roan wins the election - the Purge will finally end. You can help with your vote, and Leo… Leo is determined to do anything to help her survive this year. Just this year, and hopefully no one would ever have to survive this nightmare again. You both want it more than anything else.

“Hey.”

You smile at Leo as you place a mug of coffee and a plate on the table in front of him.

“Hey…” he looks confused when he sees the food. Nothing really special: eggs, bacon, some beans and a toast. “What’s that? I... only asked for the usual…”

“Just thought you might need some extra fuel,” you shug. “Only one night left before the Purge, so… you must have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right… I actually do,” he gives you a tired smile. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” you nod and turn to leave, but Leo suddenly touches your arm and you freeze.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you face him again.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Yes… Why are you asking?..” you give him a puzzled look.

“Well uh… To be honest I’d be happier if you took a day off… You know, just to make sure you’re safe…”

You feel the heat on your cheeks. Does… does he worry about you?.. The realization makes your heart shrink for a second. Apparently he’s not just someone who understands, he’s someone who cares. You already forgot what it feels like when someone really cares. Well, of course there are your parents, but they’re far away… And Leo, he’s right here.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying not to look too baffled. “Tomorrow we’re closing the diner earlier, right after lunchtime, so I’ll be home long before the Purge begins. There’s no need to worry, really.”

“Good,” Barnes nods. “I just… don’t think I’ll be able to come over and check on you tomorrow, so I just…” he stutters as if trying to figure out something to say.

“I just want you to be careful, okay?” he finally utters, and to your surprise his hand reaches yours, squeezing it lightly. “Just be careful, yeah?”

“Yeah, I... Of course I will,” you try to smile reassuringly. “I promise.”

There’s about five minutes left before closing hour when Leo appears. As usual, you’re still here, helping Mary, the chief and the owner’s wife with all the cleaning up after the working day. While she’s in the kitchen, you wipe the tables, TV-set is murmuring something in the corner. The election, the purge… Always the same.

“You’re closed?” he asks, meeting your gaze. “Sorry, I… Didn’t realize it’s that late already…”

“We’re about to close, but it’s fine, come in!” you assure smiling at him maybe a bit more brightly than you wanted to show. “We’ll get you something to eat, right, Mary?”

“Sure thing,” she replies from the kitchen door. You weren’t the only one who saw Barnes on TV. Since then, he became an always welcome guest as the diner owners supported Roan as well. Otherwise, to be honest you don’t think you could possibly be able to work for them.

You put a plate with food in front Leo as he takes a seat at the counter. While he’s eating silently, you wipe the coffee mugs and place them carefully on the shelf. The TV keeps talking. Something about the bloomimg economy and international murder tourists who keep coming to the US to take part in the annual Purge. You glance at the screen, see their gut-wrenchingly excited faces.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath and shake your head. “Fucking insane.”

“True,” you nearly jump at his words, as you didn’t realize Leo heard you. “I knew people who killed someone on Purge night for… different reasons. But those who kill just because they enjoy it, for fun or sport or whatever you call it - those are the most dangerous.”

“They’re just psychopaths. People like that should be kept in mental hospitals or something. But they just walk around as if nothing’s wrong with them. And the new founding fathers keep telling them how proud they are of them…”

“Roan’s gonna make it stop,” Mary joins the conversation. “This lady’s got some balls, am I right, sir?”

“Yes ma’am,” Barnes chuckles. “She absolutely got them.”

You leave the diner together with Leo. Mary chose to stay inside, waiting for her husband to come pick her up in a few minutes. The night is a bit chilly; you’re shivering, not sure if it’s the cold or the fact that you’re alone with him for the first time.

“Where’s your car?” he asks.

“Oh um… It’s in the service actually. So I’m going to the bus station right over there,” you point. Barnes frowns.

“What about tomorrow?”

“Stella promised to give me a ride home. Leo… I’ll be okay. It’s not the first Purge night in my life, you know.”

“Right,” he clears his throat. “Anyway, since I’m here I can drive you home.”

“You… sure it’s okay?” your voice betrays you a little. “I mean you must be tired…”

“I’m okay,” he assures, then nods at his car. “Come on. I insist.”

“Okay,” you hear yourself saying.

You’re mostly silent on the way. You feel a bit tense, but also kinda… weirdly excited to be in this car, next to him. Damn. Is Stella right, and you’re actually into him? Definitely so. But after all these years you almost completely forgot how it feels - to be into someone or how the relationships work. As if you’re a teenager again. Leo Barnes is the first man who actually made you think of something close to romantic longing since… That night.

“It’s here?” he asks as you reach your house. You nod, and he pulls over. You wait for him to say something, to tell you goodnight maybe, but he doesn’t. Without the sound of the car engine, the silence between you becomes even more awkward. You open your mouth to say goodbye to him, but instead different words suddenly come out.

“Leo, I…”

He looks at you intently. You stare down at your knees.

“Yeah?”

“I just… The fact that you worry about me - it’s very nice of you, really. And… I just wanted you to know that I worry about you too. I worry about you a lot actually…”

“Y/n…” his voice is quiet as he brings his hand to your face, gently urging you to look up at him. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim light of the street lamp nearby. You think if it’s possible to drown in someone’s eyes you’d already be gone.

“I’ll be fine, okay?” he says softly. “It’s gonna be a tough night for sure, but I’ll be fine, I have to be fine. You gotta trust me on this. You trust me?”

“Yes,” you barely whisper, unable to take your eyes from his, and when the tension becomes almost unbearable, his lips finally crush on yours.

You both expected and didn’t expect it, didn’t dare to admit even to yourself how much you really wanted it. Your breath hitches somewhere in your throat as you kiss him back eagerly, forgetting about everything and everyone for this moment that lasts so long and so painfully short at once. You’re both panting as your lips part, foreheads pressed together.

“I… I think I should go,” you mumble as a rush of panic suddenly overwhelms you.

“Yeah… Yeah…” he nods. “You should get some rest.”

“You too.”

You squeeze his hand for a second. Gosh, you didn’t even realize your hand was on his all this time.

“Good night,” you finally murmur, bracing yourself to get out of the car. You feel like something else needs to be said, but can’t really figure out what.

You enter the house and just lean against the door, heart hammering wildly inside your chest. You close your eyes and try to catch your breath. What the hell just happened? And why are you reacting like that? There’s nothing wrong about this kiss. You’re two single adults… Well, probably single. Leo doesn’t wear a ring, so… Damn it, you really got out of practice when it comes to relationships.

A knock on the door made your eyes snap open. As if in a daze, you slowly turn and reach the door handle, already knowing who you’re going to see.

Leo doesn’t say anything. And you can’t read the expression in his eyes, or you simply don’t have time for it, because the next moment he steps inside, his hands cup your cheeks and he kisses you with such longing and desperation it nearly kicks the breath out of your lungs. You don’t know what you’re doing any more, but your fingers are already in his dark hair, scratching the nape of his neck while his lips and tongue keep attacking your mouth. It feels like shockwaves running through your body, and for the first time in years you feel just so alive. All this time your feelings, passions and emotions were asleep, everything around you seemed pale and lifeless as if someone turned down the contrast, but something changed. Not right now, not in the snap of a finger, of course; it happened gradually. Something kept changing deep within you since the very first time your eyes met, and now - you’re finally ready to feel something. To let him in.

You don't think about it though. Or about anything else, to be honest. All you can focus on is what his lips are doing to you, how hot his breath is and how weirdly nice his stubble feels against your skin. Leo’s coat falls on the floor. His big hands seize your waist as he lifts you up, causing you to grip onto his broad shoulders. Pressing you against the nearest wall, he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, the kisses are sloppy, open-mouthed, and you can't suppress a soft moan. He's big and strong, you feel small underneath him, but you like it.

You can’t even remember clearly how you finally reached the bedroom, frantically helping each other to get rid of the clothes. When you tumble down and he hovers over you, the skin to skin contact is overwhelming. He brushes your hair away from your flushed face, kisses you with sudden tenderness. The look in his hazel eyes is warm yet still full of passion as you cup his cheek and he presses his lips to your palm. An affectionate gesture that makes your heart skip a beat, but you both are too impatient to be soft right now. So he leans in, kissing you harder this time, grunting against your mouth when you pull him closer, craving as much of him as possible. You can feel him twitching against your lower belly as you wrap your legs around him, eager to get more pressure. He’s not even inside you yet, but it already feels so good you can’t help bucking your hips, earning a low groan from him at the friction. His lips trail along your jawline, down to the side of your neck, where he kisses and nibbles, and you just know there’s gonna be marks tomorrow, but damn, you can’t care less.

When he finally enters you and starts moving, you’re almost delirious. Clinging to him, you gasp and whisper his name into his skin, feel the muscles on his back tense as he thrusts deeper. The wave of bliss hits you so hard your vision turns blurry and for a few seconds it feels like you’re not there.

Reality comes back to you slowly, with all the dark and troubled thoughts you can’t escape. Leo is lying next to you with his eyes closed, breathing evenly, so you think he must be asleep. Good for him. Carefully, you slip out of the bed to get a glass of water. It doesn’t help you to get rid of the lump in your throat though. Back to the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and let out a deep sigh, trying to fight back tears. Too many emotions for one night.

“Y/n.”

Leo’s voice doesn’t even seem sleepy. You can feel him shifting in bed to reach you, the warmth of his calloused hand stroking your back soothingly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, uh…” You shake your head, bringing your hand to rub your eyes. “I’m good. It’s just… It’s been a while since I… You know…”

“I know. It’s been a while for me as well.”

“I lost my boyfriend three years ago,” you blurt out, surprising yourself that you said it out loud. “During the Purge night. He um… He was a medical student. We lived in an apartment building and we heard someone crying for help. I wanted to stop him but he just couldn’t ignore someone who needed help, you know. He got shot accidentally, right into his head. There was no chance to save him.”

Leo’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder.

“Sorry, I… Don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never talked about him since the funeral…”

“It’s okay,” he moves closer, pressing a kiss against your shoulder blade.

“I was so angry at first, you know,” now that you start talking you seemingly cannot stop. “I wished I could find and kill them. But then I thought he wouldn’t want me to become a murderer...”

He presses his forehead against the back of your head for a moment. “I know how you feel, y/n.”

You finally turn to meet his gaze.

“I lost my son. I know what this anger feels like. Two years ago all I was thinking about on the Purge night was revenge. I was determined, almost obsessed.”

“Did… you do it?”

“No. I was close to it. Very close. But… One wise person made me realize that it wouldn’t help. Violence only brings more violence.”

“It has to be stopped,” you whisper.

“Yes,” he nods. “That’s why I left the police. Cops have to stay away from the Purge. I couldn’t any more. At least now I know I'm doing the right thing.”

“Right… Just… I’m just scared of losing you too,” you say very quietly, but he hears you anyway. His strong arms wrap around your body, pulling you closer, enclosing into his warmth. Making you feel safe.

“Hey, hey...” He whispers into your hair as he nuzzles into the top of your head. “It’s not gonna happen, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.”

You have no doubt your colleagues noticed who drove you to work this morning. But today no one is in the mood for comments, not even Stella. Even though the work goes on as usual, there’s still this tension in the air before the Purge night.

Through the window you can see a bunch of guys gathered around the car with an open trunk full of baseball bats and other stuff you can’t discern. The owner proudly shows off his stuff, other guys laugh, they look pretty chill and relaxed, and your stomach nearly twists at the sight.

All night you could barely sleep a wink. A knock on the door drags you out of troubled slumber. At first you’re not even sure if you really heard it or it was in your dream. But the sounds repeat and you jump off the bed and without even caring to slip something over the huge t-shirt you sleep in. Barefoot, you rush to the door, open it with shaky hands.

He looks so exhausted it seems like he can barely stand. The collar of his shirt that used to be white is now stained with blood. And yet… He’s smiling.

“Leo!..” you gasp, stepping towards him and bringing your hand to his stubbly cheek. “Oh my god, are you… Everything okay?..”

“I’m great,” he breathes out huskily, and his smile slowly turns into a wide grin. “We did it, baby.”

You don’t even try to hold back tears as you fall into his arms, bury your face into his chest. He smells a bit like sweat and blood, but you absolutely don’t care. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you mumble into his ruined shirt. “I’m here,” he whispers back, stroking your hair. Then you realize the two of you are still standing at the porch.

“Alright,” you say, drawing back a little. “Let’s get you in, you need some rest… And you’re probably hungry too… And you definitely need a shower…”

“Wait, y/n. Let’s just… Stay here for a bit? I think we both need to catch a breath,” he chuckles crookedly, reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. You smile back.

“Okay.”

Sitting on the porch with your head on Leo’s shoulder, his arm wrapped around your frame, you watch the sky becoming lighter and lighter as the dawn breaks. You can hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. The city’s slowly getting back to life, waking up after another nightmare.

You both know it’s not the end, the war isn’t won yet, but at least you won this very important battle. And for the first time in what seems like ages you have a good feeling about the future.

Thanks for reading!

Hugs, Lucy

#the purge #leo barnes x reader #frank grillo #fanfiction #the purge fanfiction #the purge anarchy #the purge election year #lucy tries to write

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differentkettleoffishalltogether · 3 years

Text

A Fool of Me

A/N: Hey guys! This one’s a request from @peachylemasters. I hope I did it justice, I had to tweak some details to fit the plot but I think I hit all the notes. If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Spencer runs into a toxic ex-girlfriend at an event a kind receptionist saves him from himself.

Category: Equal doses of smut, angst, and fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, spanking, alcohol consumption, brief descriptions of panic/stress, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 4.7k

Request: “Hey good morning or afternoon I heard you were taking requests. I thought of an idea we're Spencer Reid goes to a party and meets his ex. Things start off smooth and knows if he goes back to her, he will revisited bad and the good moments he had with her. Until a hostess see's Spencer going insane because he's talking to his ex. She helps him out and they start to know each other. Things get out of hands between them. So that was an idea. Don't know if I made it confusing. Have a great day✨❤”

Spencer had had enough socializing for one day. It was enough that he had to attend panels all day, which really, he didn’t mind that part. He just hated having all the conversations afterward.

So his battery was really draining by the time the post-convention event was supposed to take place in the hotel’s ballroom. It was supposed to be a time for all of the people who’d spent the whole weekend working to finally blow off some steam. Have some non-work related conversations.

But Spencer hated parties. He didn’t like being surrounded by so many people, or having to have the same little nothing conversations over and over all evening. At least he was put up in a hotel this time around so he could retreat to the quiet of his room for a little while in the middle of the day, but that could only last so long.

She’s the very first thing he notices as he walks through the doors to the ballroom. Rachel. Perched on a high stool at the bar, hair cascading down her back, in perfect contrast to her dress. It was red and hugged her perfectly, like it always did. He’d seen her in it before a few times, he knew it made her feel confident.

He has no idea if he wants to talk to her, part of him wants to race over and give her his room key without a word. The other wants to turn on his heel immediately and bolt out of there. But he doesn't get to make the decision, she’s spotted him in the doorway and is more sure of herself. Beckoning him over with a wave.

He takes the stool next to her, and already he doesn’t feel great about it. She had this way of bewitching him, over and over he’d end up lying next to her in bed and waking up to an empty space in the morning. They couldn’t seem to keep their distance for very long.

When he sits she’s already ordered him a drink, and it’s his usual, and he hates that she remembered it. Or he hates that he likes the way it makes him feel warm inside. That it wasn’t just him who held onto some of their shared memories. So he takes a sip.

—

It’s been a slow night on the reception desk, so when Y/N sees him walking down the staircase into the lobby she can’t help but gawk. His suit is navy and impeccable, it fits him so snug on the shoulders that it must’ve been made for him. Which is a funny juxtaposition next to his hair which looks like he ran his fingers through it at best, curly, and unruly on top of his head. But it suits him.

She follows him with her eyes from her perch at the desk, watching him until he stops abruptly at the doorway to the ballroom. There’s a swarm of people gathered inside so maybe he was just the kind of person who was nervous around crowds. But that doesn’t feel right, the look on his face is all together terrified until it softens and he walks inside.

She has to move along the desk a little so she can see where he ends up once he makes it inside. And of course he’s next to a woman, a beautiful one too, in a tight dress. So that solves the mystery of why he looked so nervous. But that does little to actually satiate her desire to keep her eyes on him. On them.

Something doesn’t feel right about it, as thought it might not even be a date, like maybe this guy really didn’t want to be there. It must’ve been the way he looked at her, or the way he sat so awkwardly in his seat, his body language betraying him.

—

Spencer lets himself take her in for a moment, his eyes raking up and down her figure as she takes a prolonged sip from her wine glass. She might actually look better than the last time he’d seen her.

It had been a whole year. And they’d already been broken up, and back together, and broken up a few times over at that point. So it really was his fault that it happened again, they’d slept together, and she’d promised him more, and left him again. Like always.

He knew, he really did, deep down he knew she was bad for him. But she was magnetic.

“Do you like my dress Spence?” she asks, sultry and smooth. And she already knows he does, he’s told her before.

“You look very nice” he tries not to give too much away.

“I seem to recall you thinking I looked a hell of a lot more than nice in this dress?” she leans in a little as she speaks and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. But it somehow makes his stomach drop in the same instant. She turns her body towards his completely. Leaning in even closer now, and she puts her hand on his fucking thigh, and for a second he forgets how to breathe entirely.

“As a matter of fact” she coos, “I think I remember you telling me to keep it on while you fucked me, what was it, a year ago now?”

“372 days” is all he can force out. And he wants to lean into her touch, he wants to melt into her, let her do whatever she wants with him for as long as she wants to. But he knows it’ll just break him all over again. He wants to pull away but he just can’t, and he’s absolutely transfixed on her fingers squeezing his leg when they’re interrupted.

“Sorry, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” the woman enquires, glancing at his little hand written name tag. He just forces a meek nod, “There’s a call for you if you want to follow me?” she motions for him to stand up and so he does, pulling himself from Rachel’s grip.

His immediate feeling is of overwhelming relief. He knew he was out of his depth from the moment he’d sat down. He was silently thankful for whatever case was about to whisk him away from this stupid convention.

He followed behind the woman, she led him out of the ballroom and down a quiet hotel hallway until she just stopped in her tracks in the middle of it, leaning against the wall. He could only look at her confused.

“The uh? The phone?” he tries to ask.

“Sorry,” she forces out a deep breath, “there actually wasn’t any call, I could tell— you looked like you needed some help?” she chances, “I’m really sorry if I overstepped, or misread that”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god”

“So I read it right?” she asks, relaxing against the wall now.

“So so right, you’ve got no idea” the relief only lasts for another moment before his eyes blow wide and he starts to pace frantically in the hallway.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, trying to decipher his sharp change in mood. He starts to breathe in short panicked bursts and he seems like he’s really about to freak out again. She ushers him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs that litters the hallway. So he does, and he immediately braces his head between his knees.

“Can I ask what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you some water?” He just shakes his head, his breathing unsteady and ragged, she recognizes it well.

“Spencer” She says it firm and commanding to get his attention, but soft enough not to startle him, “I want you to breathe in through your nose for me, we’re gonna do that for 4 seconds” she counts down for him, “now hold that breath for 7 seconds” she counts again, soft and slow, “then I want you to breathe all of that out through your mouth this time, and we’re gonna do that for 8 seconds.” He sits up straight and nods at her.

She counts out the cycle for him again and again until Spencer can feel his heart rate fall, settling into a steady rhythm of breathing until he feels calm again. And in this state he can finally take a good look at this girl. She’s crouched down next to him as he sits, with one of her hands resting against his knee. And instead of earlier, her hand feels comforting, grounding. It feels nice in an entirely different way than Rachel’s hand.

He looks down at the little gold name tag pinned to the lapel of her dress.

“Thank you Y/N” he says softly, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she tries again, gentle, not prying, just hoping.

“I left my jacket in there” he rubs his eyes with his hands like he’s in pain, “It’s got my phone and my wallet, but I can’t go back in there. If I go back she’ll suck me in again and I don’t want— I can’t!” she tries to soothe him, gently moving her hand along his leg.

“Don’t worry about that” she encourages, “Have you got your room key?” He quickly fumbles and pulls it out of the pocket of his slacks, and nods, awaiting further instruction.

“What room are you in?”

“407?”

“Great, you go on up, splash some cold water on your face and relax. I’m going to go get your stuff. I’ll tell that woman that you had an emergency and had to leave. Then I can can bring your jacket up to you. No problem” she says it like it’s obvious, and Spencer can barely contain his relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asks,

“Positive” she confirms with a soft smile and a pat on his shoulder as she stands up.

—

Once Y/N’s confident he’s making his way back up stairs she heads straight to the ballroom. Now that she’s actually about to talk to this woman she’s nervous.

“Sorry ma’am” she starts, and the woman turns to look at her, and she’s so intimidatingly beautiful up this close, “your friend had an emergency and he’s got to leave. He asked me to send you his apologies.” her perfect face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Y/N takes his jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over her arm.

“Can you give him a message for me?” the woman asks, gripping Y/N by the elbow just as she makes her move to leave, she nods politely.

“Just tell him that I’ll get him next time” she says it like it’s some inside joke he’ll understand, but Y/N knows what she means and it honestly makes her feel a little sick. As she walks away she’s already decided she’s not going to tell Spencer anything.

—

Spencer’s been pacing around his room for the last 17 minutes. Y/N shouldn’t be taking this long, he wasn’t entirely sure why but he was getting himself worried again, working himself up over nothing. But his body relaxed when he heard a soft knock against the door, he all but sprinted over to open it. To her standing right there, his jacket draped over one arm and a room service platter gripped in her hands.

“Thank you” he exhales, pulling open the door so that she can could walk inside and leave both items down on the bed. He points to the platter, its contents covered by a large silver dome. “What’s…” he’s not really sure what to ask.

“I hope you don’t mind, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up, thought you might like some comfort food?” as she explains she pulls the dome off the tray, showing him the plethora of desert she’d taken from the kitchen.

“There was no need” he starts but she cuts him off.

“Nonsense! The guys in the kitchen don’t mind. If there’s nothing you like here I can have something else sent up?” she says it in a polished ‘customer service voice’, sickly sweet. And all of a sudden he feels a little silly that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. She was just a good employee, going the extra mile for a customer. This wasn’t about him.

“No, god no. You’ve done plenty already, and besides, I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work?” he tries to give her an out as they stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“Actually I’m good, I wont be missed” she begins but stops her train of thought, of course this was overstepping, she was probably freaking him out, “But you probably want to relax, I’ll get out of your hair” she nods politely and starts to make her way back to the door.

“Unless” it rushes out of him and he's not sure where it really came from, “When your shift’s over would you maybe want to— This is an awful lot of food—“ he just gives up on his original sentence and tries it all over again, “When’s your shift over?” her asks plainly and it startles her. But she can’t really do much to contain the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

“What time is it now?” she asks, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

“Uh, 11:43pm?” he offers.

“So 43 minutes ago” she feels silly saying it out loud now. That she’d gotten carried away watching him while she waited for her co-worker to take over the desk, and she just couldn’t stop herself from intervening the second her shift was over. But he doesn’t look freaked out by her admission, he looks genuinely happy for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him.

“You— You’ve been off this whole time?”

She gives him a little nod, bashful, “You looked like you needed help” she shrugs, trying to play it off.

“But I— You should’ve gone home, I would’ve been okay” no sooner does he get the words out than he realizes they’re a blatant lie, “That’s not true” he confesses, “If you’d’ve gone home I’d probably have already made so many stupid decisions by now and I’d be having my heart broken as we speak”

“Would you maybe want me to stay with you for a bit? Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid?” she asks sultry, and it’s the first time she’s overtly flirted all night. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he nods wholeheartedly.

Admittedly he knows that if Y/N stays he’ll probably just make a different kind of stupid mistake, but he can allow himself this one.

“I’d like that a lot”

—

They sit cross legged on his bed for a while, sharing a slice of chocolate cake. Spencer had started trying to explain what his relationship with Rachel had been like but decided against it. She wasn't going to get to ruin any more of this night than she already had. Instead he changes focus in the only way he knows how.

“Did you know that chocolate can actually affect your mood significantly?” he says as she scoops a forkful of cake off the plate between them, “A key chemical in cacao stimulates the brains level of naturally occurring endorphins and increases the production of serotonin?”

She chews thoughtfully for a moment, “So that’s why cake makes me feel so good?” and he giggles, nodding enthusiastically, “Got any more genius?” she asks with a grin.

“Did you know that chocolate contains the amino acid L-arginine which can be an effective natural sex enhancer for both men and women?” he can already feel his face start to flush, why did he start saying this, “It increases nitric oxide and promotes blood flow to the sexual organs” he finishes the thought and feels like crawling in a hole.

She’s got no idea if he’s just passionate about facts and chocolate, or if this is just his version of putting on the moves, but what has she really go to lose here. So she takes the opening.

“You got me.” she says with a coy smile, “That was actually my plan all along, to ply you with chocolate” she scoops some of the chocolate icing from the top of the cake with her fingertip, popping it in-between her lips and sucking it off slowly, deliberately. She looks over at him and his eyes are fixed on her lips and the finger caught between them. When she removes it to talk she feels confident that she’s got his attention now.

“Did it work?” she almost moans it and his breathing pretty much stops.

Working on instinct he moves his body so that he’s right next to her, leaning right in, and he presses his lips to hers. She opens them right away and he can taste the chocolate that’s lingering on her tongue and it’s perfect.

It doesn’t last for long, but when they break apart she picks up the plate between them and places it safely on the nightstand. With the bed clear she sits up on her knees so she can move closer to Spencer, throwing her legs either side of his and straddling his lap. The skirt of her dress hiking up in the process to expose the smooth skin of her thighs.

Spencer’s hands fly straight down to them automatically, digging his nails in and pulling her closer, further up his lap. Her hands end up tangled in that perfectly messy hair of his, making it worse, but even more perfect at the same time.

They stay tangled like that for a while, grinding against one another, mouths moving frantically, hands squeezing, pulling. Desperately seeking contact.

It’s when she can feel him start to get hard beneath her that his mood seems to shift, changing his position so that he can flip her over completely. Laying her flat on her back on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of hers above her head as his other hand moves up the hem of her skirt. Inching further and further until he reached her panties, grazing the damp patch between her thighs.

“Fuck Spencer” she moans out at the contact, encouraging him, and he seems to appreciate it. His mouth attaching to her neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to leave his mark on her.

He lets up a few moments later, releasing her hands mostly so that he could begin to undo the buttons along the front of her dress, taking his time to unfasten each and every one of them so that it would fall open, exposing her to him.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans out, his hands starting to roam along all bare skin he could see. And she could feel every little touch, but she needed to see him, to touch him too. So she sat up as best as she could and began to undo the buttons of Spencer’s dress shirt. With his help they were both lying on the bed together in nothing but their underwear. Lips ferociously working against one another yet again.

“What do you like Spencer?” it comes out as a breathy moan when she can finally remove her lips from his for a second, “What do you want?”

He’s caught of guard by the question, Rachel never cared what he wanted. He looks down at her, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slick and a little swollen, and the pure kindness behind her eyes. For a second he thought he might be in love already, but he knew that was silly. He had to think for a moment before he found the answer.

“Control” it escapes him before he realizes why. He’s never had it before, not in his love life, not in his sex life. But now, now he feels safe enough to ask.

“You want to be in charge?” she asks and he nods his head in confirmation.

“Okay” she smiles, “So tell me what to do” her eyes lock on his and he swears he can feel his heartbeat all over his entire body.

“Turn over” is the first thing he thinks of, and so she does.

Flipping over beneath him, her face tilted sideways so he can still see her as she lays on her front on top of the crisp white linen. He plants a soft kiss at the base of her neck and slowly snakes down along her spine, coming to a stop around her hips. He places his hands either side of her, gripping her hips with probably more force than necessary.

“Up” it’s just shy of a growl, and she complies, lifting her hips up off the bed, bending her knees beneath her. “No” he breathes out against her ear, “Just your hips” she adjusts her position a little and can hold it just long enough for him to slide one of the fluffy hotel pillows into the gap between her and the bed. Tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Perfect” he groans right against her ear.

He continues to move back down her body, once he reaches the swell of her ass this time though he grabs it roughly, his nails scratching the delicate skin as he paws at her. She can’t keep her moan contained as it rushes out of her.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice absolutely dripping with lust.

“Uh huh” she whines into the pillows. He takes that as a sign of encouragement, taking his hand off her before coming down swiftly on her ass cheek, she could feel the heat of it right away, the sharp sting of pain it left behind felt way better than it had any right to.

“Ah fuck” her moan rips through her without warning, so he does it again, a little harsher this time. And the noise echos throughout the room, followed by the filthiest moan Spencer’s ever heard in his life. It gets a little muffled in the pillows but he can still hear it.

“Harder” she lets out, and it’s such a small little voice.

“What was that Y/N?” he teases, leaning over her grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face out of the pillows with it.

“Ah, harder, please” she begs this time and it makes him feel so, so good.

He returns to his position behind her again, raising his palm and letting it come down again in the exact same place where a raised handprint was starting to form already. The noises that escape her are pornographic and he had no idea his cock could even be this hard.

He takes some time to remove her panties, hooking his fingers into them on either side and peeling them down along her legs. The first thing he sees is how incredibly wet she is, dripping down the inside of her legs already.

“Oh you really liked that” he teases, “You’re fucking soaking wet from just a little spanking” she whines beneath him.

“Want you so bad” is all she can manage to say. He moves her legs a little further apart fully opening her up to him and he bites his lip at the picture in front of him. Taking two of his fingers he brings them right to her entrance, sinking them in slowly, curving them against her walls as he works in and out of her at an agonizing pace.

“Fuck, Spencer, oh my god” her breathing is frantic already as she squirms from the stimulation.

“Good girl, you think you’re ready to take my cock?” he asks, pushing in a third finger as deep at they’ll go, her back arches into his touch, forcing her ass further up against him.

“Yes, Spencer! Please!” she rasps as he drifts his thumb over her swollen clit.

“Okay baby” he pulls his fingers out of her, leaning forward again he brings his fingers up to her, and hooks them into her mouth, pulling her face up out of the pillows so he can hear her little whines. She sucks on the fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on them and at the same time she can feel Spencer’s cock pressed up against her ass.

Once she lets his fingers go he’s bracing himself above her, an arm either side of her torso, and his legs between hers. He takes some time to line up properly, before teasing at her entrance. When she’s practically begging beneath him he sinks in slowly.

“Spencer” she moans out uncontrollably. He’s not even fully inside of her yet and already she feels full.

“So fucking tight, so wet for me Y/N” he gasps, the feeling of her warm and clenching around him is almost too much. After she’s gotten used to the feeling of him he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting right against her walls every single time.

She’s nearly crying at the stimulation, getting fucked into the bed, his cock pushing into her impossibly deep each time, hitting spots she didn’t even know she had. And there’s the added pleasure of the way his hips slam right up against her bruised ass each time he thrusts into her that just makes it all the sweeter.

She can tell he’s getting close now, by the way his movements are growing faster and a little less controlled by the second. But she wasn’t far off either, she couldn’t take much more.

“So close Spencer, feels so fucking good” she mumbles out.

And then the does the unexpected he changes his position, leaning down closer, so he was nearly flush against her back, almost pinning her down with his weight but not quite. The angle he hits her from now is definitely something new, she’s pretty sure he’s hitting right against her g-spot with every motion and she can’t contain herself now.

“Fuck! Spencer! Gonna cum” she’s pretty much screaming into the pillows and he continues to fuck into her. He’s releasing himself a moment later, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he spills inside of her. Riding it out for another moment to two.

They stay like that for a little while, collapsed in a heap on top of one another, completely spent. When he does pull out he’s so careful, making sure she’s comfortable, racing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and whatever lotion the hotel had.

He takes some time to clean her up before any of the mess they’ve made can dry between her legs. Then he takes some of the lotion and smooths it gently on the skin of her backside, taking care not to irritate it. He puts on a fresh pair of briefs and grabs her a t-shirt from his suitcase for her to sleep in, and her heart softens at the gesture.

When they both snuggle up under the covers, completely exhausted, she takes him in her arms, cuddling up to his back and spooning him. He needed to feel in control earlier, but she could tell what he needed now was comfort, safety, and reassurance that she wouldn’t be gone in the morning.

“Spencer?” she whispers against his ear,

“Y/N?” he responds in kind.

“Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?” she asks, and he knows she can’t see it with his back turned but he can’t contain the sleepy smile that he breaks out in. He’s only known this girl for a few hours and she was able to read him like a book.

“Absolutely”

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poisonedapples · 3 years

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Patton’s Home For Traumatized Kids - Chapter Four

Self Care Day

Chapter Summary: Roman finally relaxes, and Virgil attempts to help.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety, panic, mentions of past trauma and abuse, very minor self-injury (rubbing a little too hard with a loofah), food, and swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,174

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258, @eternalmoonlight19, @remy-the-lemon-berry, @look-ma-im-on-tv, @mariniacipher, @bigwendymonster, @nonbinary-octopus

Notes: Thank you to Cornybird on Ao3 for betareading the chapter! You’re amazing and I appreciate you <3

It was one in the morning, and Roman was next to his bed pacing in circles so fast he was getting dizzy. It was officially the weekend and he was supposed to relax, but instead his mind was rushing a mile a minute and tormenting him. He was restless and exhausted, anxious and on the brink of tears, and Roman didn’t know what to do. He just wanted it to stop.

His head was spinning from all the pacing, so Roman sat on the foot of his bed and aggressively bounced his leg instead. He felt out of control, like danger was all around him and there was nothing to stop it. He felt like his heart was in his throat, sweat dripping down his face and making it hard to breathe. Roman gripped at his hair with both hands, physically recoiling at the feeling of grease and grime and-

…Oh. Wait. It made sense now. Roman hadn’t showered in a week.

He let out a deep breath, calming a little after finding a solution to his problem. He should’ve guessed, feeling dirty always made him anxious and stressed. He hadn’t had the energy to shower, but he was at a point where he had to force himself. If he didn’t, Roman would collapse from the stress.

He picked up his phone to look at the time again. 1:28 am, possibly the worst timing to sneak into the bathroom and try to shower without waking the house up. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He was exhausted and his brain was rushing through hundreds of thoughts. He needed some hot water to calm down.

Roman took the security bar off his door and slowly stepped into the hallway. He didn’t bother grabbing clothes to change into; his pajamas were clean and he could slip back into them after drying himself off well enough. He carefully turned the knob of the bathroom and snuck himself in.

It was very quiet in the house so early in the morning. Usually when Roman was in the bathroom, he could hear the TV downstairs or people talking outside the door, but now the only noise was the sound of his breathing and a slight buzz from the bathroom light. Roman stepped on the toilet to check for cameras inside of a vent high on the wall. Frustratingly, he found nothing. Patton’s camera-hiding ability was getting very annoying.

Regardless, he checked in the drawers and around the walls as well, flipping over shampoo bottles and toothbrushes just in case. He didn’t find anything, and Roman wanted to yell. Instead, he settled for clenching his fists and trying to move on with his task.

Fortunately, the shower had an opaque curtain that could make it harder for a camera to see, and Roman felt satisfied with that. Once he figured out how the shower worked and memorized where things were placed, Roman could also go back to showering in the dark again. He’d manage.

Roman wrapped himself in a towel in order to take his clothes off, folding them neatly on the toilet so that any water falling on the ground wouldn’t drench them. He skipped turning on the vent fan so he’d be quieter, stepping into the shower and tossing the towel outside the curtain on the floor for later. His legs clamped together subconsciously as he turned on the water.

Roman felt his shoulders relax a little when the hot water hit him. It helped the grease on his face and hair feel less gross, but the heat was also relaxing. He hugged himself and let the water fall down his face for a while.

…This is weird, Roman eventually thought, interrupting the rare silence in his head. He hadn’t felt this relaxed since he left the hospital. He thought after the trial that he’d be living on cloud nine for the rest of eternity, but the opposite was happening. His past and current situation was hitting him like a brick, filling him with constant anxiety and paranoia over the smallest things. It was getting unbearable.

Roman grabbed a shampoo bottle and squirted some out, slowly rubbing it into his hair and sighing. He was probably so on edge because he still hadn’t figured out Patton’s patterns. With his dad, Roman had lived with him for so long, he could guess his feelings by just a ten second conversation. He had detailed methods to work around him, how to sneak out of the house without getting noticed by cameras and how to delay the inevitable. But Roman didn’t know what Patton was thinking, what he even really wanted. Whatever it was certainly couldn’t be good, but at least if Roman knew, he could work around it. But here, there was no such luxury.

He stood back under the shower stream and felt the grease get cleaned out of his hair. Roman needed to change that uncertain feeling as soon as possible. He probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyway, so he could use this time to sneak around the house and at least find a hiding spot. At Roman’s old house, he had a little nook in a broken cabinet downstairs that his dad never opened, and he never found out where Roman’s hiding spot was. Patton didn’t have a basement, but maybe he had some place Roman could fit where Patton couldn't find him. It’d help him feel better if he found somewhere.

Roman ran his hands through his hair to check for extra suds and considered his hair clean now. Thank the heavens, there was nothing worse than feeling gross and exposed. Roman grabbed a bottle of body wash to clean the rest of himself next.

This was the tricky part. Roman had a habit of scrubbing too hard, and his aunt had a very long talk with him last time he came out of the shower redder than a lobster. He didn’t want Patton asking questions, so he had to watch himself. He couldn’t afford a spiral.

He poured some of the body wash on a loofah and tried to gently scrub. He didn’t realize how gross he felt, no wonder he was having panic attacks left and right. He was covered in grease and sweat and dirt that wasn’t even being rinsed, and Roman was getting more grossed out at the thought the more he realized. He really needed to start showering daily again, his hair was so thick and oily and teenager sweat stink smelled so bad, he couldn’t afford to miss a day-

…Shit, fuck, hang on, Roman thought, pulling away the loofah from his leg to observe the damage. He’d only realized what he was doing when he started to feel a stinging burn, looking away to see pink skin. Thankfully, he’d caught himself early enough where he’d be alright. He scooped some suds from the loofah onto his hand and gently rubbed the rest of the area so it wouldn’t be irritated, careful to focus on his movements from then on so it wouldn’t happen again.

He eventually finished without any further issues, rinsing off his body and turning off the shower. Roman dried most of himself as he stood in the shower, grabbing the towel off the floor and aggressively drying his hair with it. Usually he’d dry his hair with a hair dryer, but that would be too loud, so he settled with having a fluffy dog on his head for the night. Once he was dry enough, he grabbed his boxers and shirt to put on in the shower before stepping out to put back on his sweatpants. Despite the steam in the bathroom making it hard to breathe, Roman felt much better than before.

He turned off the light before he opened the bathroom door, stepping into the dark hallway wondering where to go. He still wasn’t tired, so he might as well look for that hiding spot. But where could he hide?

He slowly made his way downstairs, wincing every time a floorboard under him squeaked. The TV stand was an awful place since it was full of wires and CD cases, and behind the couch was far too obvious for a hiding spot. The entire kitchen was off limits since Patton spent most of his time there, he’d find Roman easily if he was hiding nearby. There was a small bathroom down here that barely fit a toilet and a sink, so maybe that could work?

Roman opened the bathroom door and looked inside, immediately becoming discouraged. There was no cabinet under the sink and everything was visible the moment you walked in, so that was a bust. He closed the door and looked around again.

The dining room off to the side of the kitchen was mostly bare, and hiding under the table wouldn’t work. Roman made a circle back to the stairs and looked around with his hands on his hips.

Suddenly, his eye was caught by a glass case display next to the stairs and it dawned on him. Underneath the stairs was a slight opening, but still too big to be a good hiding spot. But the display was pointed at a diagonal from the stairs, leaving a triangle opening that you couldn’t see by looking underneath the steps. Roman crawled under the stairs to see if he could fit in the hole.

It was a little cramped, but the cramped spots were always the best places. The only downside was that Roman was still visible from looking under the stairs, leaving his pants and shoes visible to anyone who could be looking for him. However, if he could get a box and paint it the same black color as the back of the glass display, he could rest on top of it and no one could see him. It could work!

Roman crawled out from the other end of the stairs and smiled. If he was quick and sneaky, he could hide under here and stay hidden for hours. Now he just needed a box he could paint black.

Roman opened the downstairs closet and looked inside, moving jackets and shoes around to look for what he needed. Nothing.

He walked into the kitchen to open the garage door and look inside, searching for any online shopping boxes Patton was planning to toss out. Nothing. Maybe he should sneak outside and check the recycling bin really quick-

“Roman?”

Roman froze like a deer in headlights at the sound of that voice. It was Patton, he didn’t need to look behind him to know that. To Patton, it must look like Roman was trying to sneak out through the garage door. He felt his breath stop.

“Roman, come back here. Right now.” Yeah, that was definitely what Patton thought was going on. His voice wasn’t angry, but it was firm and demanding, the voice a parent puts on when they refuse to be pushed around by you. If Roman didn’t think fast, he’d be fucked.

I can’t tell the truth, Roman thought. He can’t know I’m looking for hiding spots. But what can I do? Come on, Roman, make an idea! It’s the one thing you do so often!

…But there was that idea. An idea he used very rarely, but had yet to fail him.

Okay then, he decided, it’s go time. Lights, camera, action.

“Roman, I’m not joking. Come here.”

Roman deliberately ignored him, instead slowly closing the garage door and fumbling with the knob like he was stuck in a task. He kept his movements delayed and repetitive, just like people always told him he acted like in the stories.

Patton hesitated, like Roman’s reaction had confused him. “Roman, now.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute.” Roman mumbled. “It’s gotta break.”

“…What’s gotta break?”

Roman opened the door and stood there looking out at the garage. He didn’t respond to Patton’s question, instead he stood there without moving. He heard Patton step closer.

“Roman?” He asked, his voice becoming softer as he realized what was happening. “Are you awake?”

“That’s a lot off.”

Roman could see Patton smile in the corner of his eye. His plan was a success. “I think you need to go to bed, kiddo. You can break things tomorrow.”

Patton took a hold of Roman’s hand, a grip that was so gentle it was less of a grip and more of Patton holding the tips of his fingers. Roman tensed his toes to prevent himself from jerking away from the touch, letting Patton lead him back up the stairs and to his bedroom. Patton went slowly so as to not lose Roman behind him, but he eventually led Roman back to bed while Roman kept up his sleepwalking ruse. It was a trick that always worked on his dad late at night, and it was good to know it worked on Patton too.

Patton brought Roman’s hand to touch the sheets on his own bed, and Roman reacted by slowly crawling back into bed and relaxing. He felt Patton cover him up with the blanket and tried not to squirm away from him.

“Goodnight, sleepy prince.” Patton whispered. Roman heard his footsteps head toward the door before his door slowly clicked closed, leaving Roman back in his room.

Roman waited until the coast was completely clear to jump back up and put the security bar under his door knob again. He was officially stuck in his room for the rest of the night, but at least he felt more in control now. Maybe he could try to sleep now.

Roman shoved his face in his pillow and tried to drift off, breathing deeply to keep his mind from spiraling again.

Yeah. After all he’d been through recently, tomorrow had to be a relaxation day.

***

“So…” Patton said to Roman with a smirk, handing him a plate with pancakes and blueberries during breakfast that morning. “Roman, I didn’t know you were a sleepwalker.”

Virgil and Logan both looked at Roman for his response. Roman feigned surprise. “…How’d you find out?”

“Last night I caught you walking around the house. I also heard the shower running for a while. Strange thing to wake up to!”

Crap, Roman thought, gonna have to remember that for next time. “Well, yes, I sleepwalk when I’m stressed. So, quite often.”

Patton’s smile seemed to drop a little. “Do you always try to sneak out of the house?”

“Sometimes. It’s not very often, though.” That’s what Roman always told adults. In reality, Roman had never heard a sleepwalking story of him trying to sneak out other than the times he was faking it after being caught. He didn’t even think Sleepwalking Roman had figured out how to take the security bar off the door yet, let alone try to walk into the street. But adults didn't need to know that. It was more convenient that way.

“Well, I might have to see about getting some sleepwalk-Roman-proof locks on the door, then. I don’t want you walking into oncoming traffic or something.”

Roman shrugged, taking a bite of his pancakes. “You can try. Can’t guarantee it’ll work, though.”

“Why do you sleepwalk?” Logan asked, leaning in closer to where Roman was sitting. “Do you know?”

“It ran in my family.”

Logan’s eyes lit up. “That’s quite interesting. I don’t know much about the science behind sleepwalking, but perhaps it’d be an interesting topic to research on. Brain functions during sleep can be quite bizarre.”

“You have fun with that, John Darling.” Roman finished the last bite from his pancake and stood up. “However, I have a nice date with the living room TV, so I’ll be busy.”

“…You consider that being busy?” Logan teased.

“Yes. Disney marathons are self care, and you can’t complain because I haven’t had the TV at all since I got here.”

“You do gotta share sometimes, Logan.” Patton mentioned.

Logan huffed. “Fine.”

Virgil stood up from the table to put his dishes away, placing his cup on top of his plate and balancing it. “He’s a little TV hog, some of us also wanna play games, dude.”

“All you have to do is ask!”

“And face confrontation? No way am I- fuck!”

Everyone jumped at Virgil’s sudden loud swear followed by the loud bang of a cup hitting the floor. Virgil’s balancing act showed to be a failure, with orange juice spilt all over the kitchen floor. Virgil stood deathly still and stared at the mess in horror, practically shaking with his knuckles turning white as he clenched at the plate in his hand. Roman cringed, subconsciously scooting as far back in his chair as possible and tensing. All the kids were silent. Virgil looked ready to cry.

“Oops!” Patton’s cheery voice is what broke the tense silence, crouching down at the mess and picking up the dropped cup. He looked it over. “Well, thankfully this cup isn’t glass, so it’s not broken! I’ll put it in the dishwasher and it’ll be okay, an easy fix. Could you get some paper towels and clean this up, kiddo?”

Virgil still seemed shaken, digging his nails into the metal plate and nodding. He slowly moved to grab the paper towels on the counter and drop them to the floor to dry the mess. Logan didn’t seem bothered anymore, but Roman felt himself prepare to book it upstairs in case things went south. But Patton didn’t scream or throw a fit, just put the cup in the dishwasher and stepped back to let Virgil do his thing.

Once Virgil wiped up the mess, he set his plate in the dishwasher and ran upstairs. Roman and Logan both watched helplessly, but Patton just smiled to himself. “I’ll check on him in a second. I think he just needs space now.”

Roman tensed at the idea of Patton checking on Virgil on his own, still not certain what he did to them behind closed doors. Roman put his own dishes away and ran upstairs to his bedroom. He closed the door and locked it like usual, but he didn’t put the security bar under the knob. Instead, he sat against the door and listened for the sound of Patton’s footsteps.

Eventually, the footsteps did come. Roman heard him knock on Virgil’s door and announce himself, asking if he could come in before the door opened. He heard the door softly close again, and that’s when Roman took his chance. He snuck out of his room and crept his way to the door to listen to what was going on. If Virgil was in pain, he could at least hear it.

“-Mad?” Virgil asked, his voice sounding higher and shaky. Roman clenched his fist in preparation.

“Of course not, kiddo,” He heard Patton say, “I’d never be mad at you. It was just a little cup, and everything’s okay.”

“…Sorry I swore, too.”

Patton laughed. “It’s okay. Sometimes it slips out, just don’t make it a habit.” There was a pause for a long moment. Roman felt something ride in his throat when he heard the bed creak a little. “Can I have a hug?”

Roman didn’t hear a verbal response, but Patton didn’t get angry afterwards, so he assumed that Virgil agreed. The bed creaked a little more, but it was silent. Way too silent, and that creaking was making Roman’s skin crawl. He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust it at all.

Despite his better judgment, Roman swung the door open to catch him. He was breathing heavily and staring daggers, ready to throw a man twice his age across the room, but Roman froze when he processed the reality. Instead of whatever Roman was expecting to find, Patton had Virgil wrapped up in a tight hug as Virgil looked spooked from the sudden intrusion. Roman just stared, wishing more than anything now that he could reverse time. Oops, too soon.

“…Kiddo,” Patton eventually said in a confused tone, “You gotta knock before you enter.”

“…Yeah.” This didn’t make any sense. His dad had never gone this long being nice, so how hadn’t he caught Patton yet? What was he doing differently that made Roman not notice?

Patton rubbed Virgil’s back to help him ease up again. “How about you close the door and give us some privacy, then?”

“…No.” It was a trap. Roman was convinced it was a trap, and he refused to fall for it. He wouldn’t leave Virgil alone with him.

Patton seemed confused. “Why no?”

Roman was shaking. “Because.”

“Roman, I can only help if you tell me why you don’t wanna leave.” Patton’s face was still soft, rubbing Virgil’s back and letting him hide in the crook of Patton’s neck. If he was angry, he wasn’t showing it. “Can you tell me more than because?”

“Because.” Roman kept his voice sharp, remembering Patton’s ‘no yelling’ rule and trying not to push his boundaries more. But there was no way he was telling Patton his plans if he still hadn’t picked up on it.

Instead of exploding at Roman for being a brat, Patton seemed to focus intently and consider his options. Eventually, his eyes widened, and he smiled softly again at Roman. “What if you gave Virgil and I some space, but kept the door open? Would that be easier?”

Roman’s chest felt strange. Heavy, but like electricity was running through him around his heart. “Why do you want space so bad?”

“Because Virgil deserves privacy when he wants it, just like everybody does. Right?”

Roman looked at Virgil, who was peeking out from his hiding spot in Patton’s neck. He looked tired, but that wasn’t the only thing Roman noticed. He looked… Annoyed. Staring right at Roman with a death glare saying do you mind?, and Roman’s heart sank. Fuck.

Without saying a word, Roman ran off with the door still open and locked himself in the bathroom. He sat on the floor and put his head in his hands, still listening carefully for any concerning noises that might come from Virgil’s room, but he knew it was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

What the hell was wrong with him recently? He told himself last night he was going to spend today relaxing, instead he was freaking out and speeding up the process until Patton realized Roman knew what he was doing. Maybe that’s why Virgil seemed mad at him. He’s being an idiot and speeding up the inevitable for everyone, taking away the points of ignorant bliss between the horror. Roman should understand that. He was also guilty of wanting to pretend his dad loved him, and he was being a prick. He was going to get everyone in trouble if he kept this up.

Roman went limp on the floor, leaning his head against the door and sighing. He needed to leave them alone for a second and stop freaking out over everything. It seemed like Patton was in a good mood since Roman came along, it’d be bad news to ruin that. He wasn’t going to be the reason Virgil got hurt.

Roman shakily stood up off the bathroom floor and left, making his way downstairs to the TV. Logan still hadn’t turned it on, so he took this as his chance to claim it. He sat on the couch with his knees tucked close and pulled up a streaming service to look for some Disney movies, his eyes lighting up when he found one of his favorites as he switched the language to French and hit play.

He used to watch Beauty and the Beast all the time as a kid. It took place in France, so his mom would always say the movie should be played in French too, and Roman agreed. Now the English version sounded too weird for him to enjoy it the same.

Roman curled into himself as the intro played, the familiar prologue story of the beast’s curse that Roman could recite from memory by now. He slowly moved to rest his head on the couch’s armrest with his arms still wrapped around his own legs, keeping him tightly curled up. Maybe later he could make himself some tea, too.

Roman got through a good portion of the movie without interruptions, up to the point where Belle first came into the castle. Then, Virgil suddenly stood in front of the TV with his arms crossed.

Roman grabbed the remote to pause the movie, taking a moment to respond as his brain tried to remember English again. “What?”

“First off, why are you watching Disney in French?”

“I speak French, next question.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Come with me.”

Roman sat up and raised an eyebrow at Virgil. Virgil didn’t respond, just made his way up the stairs and expected Roman to follow. His curiosity got the better of him, so Roman did what he was told.

When he made his way up the stairs, Virgil was waiting in the doorframe of his bedroom. He motioned for Roman to follow him inside, so Roman did.

When Roman walked inside, Virgil moved to close the door behind them. “Don’t,” Roman warned.

Virgil gave him a look. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t close it. At least, not all the way.”

Virgil didn’t question further, just kept the door cracked open and wandered over to sit on his bed. Roman didn’t follow, just waited for Virgil to tell him what was happening.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Virgil said.

“I gathered.”

“Sleepwalker, huh?” Virgil teased. “That’s a load of shit.”

“I am a sleepwalker. It happens sometimes!”

“I was downstairs the same time you were, dude. You definitely weren’t fucking sleepwalking until Patton caught you.” Virgil smirked as Roman’s face dropped. “I’m impressed by the acting though, not gonna lie.”

Roman tried to think of a convincing lie, but he sighed and gave up, crossing his arms as he looked at the floor. “…Alright, it was an act. But I do sleepwalk. I just…wasn’t sleepwalking at that exact moment. But regardless, what were you doing awake? And why didn’t I see you?”

Virgil shrugged. “I’m a master at hiding. Every time you came around the corner, I just moved. I haven’t been caught by Patton in a long ass time.”

“Did you call me here just to boast then?”

“Nope.” Virgil popped the p, then smirked. “I called you here to teach you how to do the same.”

Roman seemed taken aback. “…Why?”

“You’re struggling a lot, I figured I might be able to put you out of your misery.”

“Wow, how kind.” Roman deadpanned. “I don’t need your help, for the record. I know I haven’t been in the system long, but this isn’t my first rodeo.”

Virgil sighed. “Look, I’m not good with emotional shit, we’ve been over this. But when Logan first came around, I had a lot of chances to help him out and I just didn’t, and it was a dick move that I regret now. I want to do different with you, so don’t think too deep into it and just accept it. Deal?”

“Um…alright?”

Virgil walked past Roman and opened his door all the way again, looking out into the hallway before speaking. “Alright, ready for lesson one?”

Roman thought about it. “…Answer something for me first.”

“Shoot.”

“Are you okay?”

Virgil made a face at him. “What do you mean?”

Roman could feel his chest aching. “You were alone with Patton.”

“Patton’s chill, dude. He hasn’t smacked me once in the two years I’ve been here, which I didn’t know was possible. He was just worried about me after my freak-out, but I’m good.”

“The bed was creaking.”

Virgil seemed confused. “Beds do that when you move on them. There might be a loose joint or something I gotta fix, though.”

Roman wasn’t convinced. “He didn’t do anything at all?”

“Patton’s never laid a hand on me.”

“…That’s not true.”

“Why would I lie about that?”

“So that I won’t be scared so much.”

Virgil sighed and rubbed his palms into his eyes. “Whatever, believe what you want, you’ll get there eventually. You want my help or not?”

“…Yes.”

Virgil stepped out of the room and gestured for Roman to follow him, just going to the hallway in front of Roman’s room. Once Roman moved to stand in Virgil’s doorway, Virgil motioned for him to stop. Roman stayed right where he was.

“Alright, lesson one, making it downstairs without being a loud ass.” Virgil pressed his foot on a specific part of the carpet where the floorboard squeaked underneath. “The upstairs has a lot of squeaky floorboards, no clue why. But there’s a way to dodge it. When leaving my bedroom, you take one step, skip a step, take two steps, turn left, skip a step, take one step, go right, then just don’t step on the first step of the staircase at all, the whole thing squeaks. You can try it if you want.”

Roman’s curiosity got the better of him, so he did what Virgil suggested, keeping his steps close together so his heel was touching his toe and followed Virgil’s pattern. He skipped all the places Virgil told him to and made it to the stairs without squeaking the floor for the first time since he came here.

“I have a pattern for a trip to the bathroom and to the stairs. Our rooms are pretty close together, so your pattern probably wouldn’t be much different than mine.” Virgil put one foot forward and tested the floor methodically, seeing which areas squeaked and which ones didn’t. He slowly made his way to the stairs where he stopped on the second step, seemingly satisfied with himself. “Skip a step, take two steps, skip another one, turn right, skip a step, then one more step. Though your feet are bigger than mine, so your pattern might be different.”

“Awww, you’re a shorty.” Roman teased.

“Shut the fuck up.” Virgil deadpanned. “Okay, next lesson. Follow me.”

Roman followed Virgil down the stairs, noticing the way Virgil stepped down them. He stepped in specific areas on each step and skipped some entirely as he made his way downstairs, effectively making a lot less noise than Roman did just walking normally. Though, Virgil did say he’d been living here for two years, so it’d make sense that he knows all the tricks to get around Patton. Maybe him and this stormy night could be partners in crime.

Virgil motioned for Roman to follow him into the kitchen and around where the garage door was, pointing to a window once Roman caught up to him. “Lesson number two, this window is your best friend.”

“How so?” Roman asked.

“Well, first off, it’ll help you sneak out without getting caught like an idiot. You know, like last night.”

Roman put an offended hand to his chest. “I was not trying to sneak out!”

“What were you doing then?”

“I was looking for something, and no, you don’t get to know what.”

Virgil gave him a look. “Right. Well, for when you do sneak out, this exit is the way to go. Patton has security cameras pointed at the back, front, and garage doors of the house. This is the only window out of the sight of all of them. Then, you sneak your way around the side of the house and go on your merry way until sunrise.”

Roman crossed his arms at Virgil. “And how often do you use this?”

“Like, twice a week.”

“Twice a week!? Not even I sneak out that often!”

Virgil shrugged. “I don’t go far, usually just to the park down the road. I haven’t gotten kidnapped yet, so it’s whatever.”

“You scare me.”

“Good.” Virgil motioned for Roman to follow him again. “Back upstairs.”

Roman scoffed. “We were just there.”

“And we’re going back up there again.” Virgil smirked mercilessly and walked back to the staircase. Roman rolled his eyes, but he was enjoying Virgil’s tips too much to not follow him. He went up the stairs and met with Virgil next to the closet.

Virgil pointed to the closet door. “This thing right here? Lesson number three, this place is your best friend.”

“It already is my best friend. I use all the paints up there.”

“More than that.” Virgil opened the closet door and turned on the light, motioning for Roman to come inside with him. Roman wasn’t very inclined to because of the cramped space, but his curiosity was greater than his fear for once, so he stepped inside and closed the door behind them while Virgil turned on the light.

“The attic makes a great hiding spot. There’s a lot of drawers and small spaces up there where it’s easy to hide. Granted, it’s easy to tell when someone is up there because you can’t pull the stairs back up when you’re in the attic. But that’s where this comes in.” Virgil grabbed a rope off one of the closet shelves. “Tie it around the doorknob and tie the other end to the stairs. No one can open the door if you do that.”

“Sounds like a great way to give away where you’re hiding if no one can open the door.” Roman pointed out.

Virgil shrugged. “Patton doesn’t try very hard. He might test the handle, but he gives up if the door won’t open. He’ll ask you if you’re okay once you leave, though.”

Roman liked his hiding spot better. It was enough in the open that no one would check it, and there was no indication that Roman might be hiding behind the cabinet. This could be a good temporary spot, though. At least until he could get a black box that could support his weight.

Virgil pulled down the stairs to the attic, grabbing the rope and tying its ends to the stairs and doorknob like he described. He then went up into the attic as Roman followed behind. When Roman peeked his head up into the attic, Virgil was crouched beside a box full of Christmas decorations. Roman walked over to where he was.

“Lesson four, keep your mouth shut about this or else.” Virgil reached behind the box into the corner of the room and pulled out a smaller box that had been hidden behind it. When he opened the small one, he let Roman take a good look at what was inside. Granola bars, a container of salted peanuts, water bottles and chip bags. Roman grabbed a granola bar and a water bottle as he gave Virgil a questioning look.

“Having a spot with hidden food just makes me feel better.” Virgil explained. “I’ve never had to use it, Patton feeds us like he’s four grandmas fucking combined. But if you’re hiding up here and you get hungry, I stash it regularly.”

“Does Logan know about all this?” Roman asked, opening his water bottle to take a sip.

Virgil shook his head. “Like I said, I didn’t show Logan jack shit when he first came. And it’s too late now, and it’s not like Logan would ever use it anyway. Lucky son of a bitch never feels the need to hide.”

Roman laughed. “Lucky is one word for it.”

Virgil didn’t respond, just took the container of peanuts and hid the box back in it’s hiding spot. The two ate in silence for a while; a kind of silence that wasn’t awkward or tense, but wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Maybe because Virgil still felt like a stranger to him.

After a while of them both relaxing next to each other, Virgil finally spoke up. “Tell me your trauma and I’ll tell you mine.”

Roman raised an eyebrow at him, “And knowing your trauma benefits me how?”

“You feel a little less alone. Also solidarity and shit.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m not spilling. Share whatever you want, but it won’t be reciprocated.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.” Virgil ate a mouthful of peanuts. “I have a theory, you know. Less of a theory and more of the truth, but still. Patton purposely fosters abused kids.”

Roman snorted. “Sounds about right. Easy targets.”

“I think it’s more about him wanting to help us.”

“Believe whatever you want, Hot Topic.”

Virgil smirked. “Hot Topic?”

“Am I wrong?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but he still smiled a little. “Whatever.”

They didn’t talk much after that, only enjoying the silence together in their own world trapped away in the attic. It wasn’t exactly Roman’s plan, but he still felt safe. He sipped on his water and thought a lot about Virgil’s lessons, trying to ensure they were deep in his memory. But he didn’t need them now. Instead, he sat in the corner of the attic, comforted by the knowledge of the door being locked underneath them, with a silent acquaintance a good distance from him.

It wasn’t the self-care day Roman had planned, but he wasn’t complaining. It worked.

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #Prinxiety #foster au #platonic prinxiety #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #panic #past trauma #past abuse #food mention #food #swearing

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cuddlesslut · 3 years

Text

Part Eight: Hope

Atsumu x fem reader , Suna x fem Reader, Hinata x Fem reader

A/N: I’m so sorry it took so long to put out this chapter I’m gunna try to do better on posting faster. I’ve had a lot of stuff happening irl. I love see so many of your write in for the poll 😂 I did not expect Sakusa to pop off! I hope y’all like this chapter. Again it’s still kind of short but I wanted to get it posted. Also you can’t convince me Hinata doesn’t use an all in one cleanser!

Warning: crude language, not much angst, some fluff.

Part Seven: Regrets

Hinata stared at his phone questioning whether he should message you again. It had been four days since you ran out of his apartment. You had yet to respond to any of his texts. As concerned as he is he knows no good will come from spamming you. Although he wants nothing more than for you too talk to him. He was so confused where you both stood. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that things couldn’t go back to the way they were before. He can’t go back to pushing down his feelings and pretending he doesn’t want to be more. That he didn’t want to call you his and show you off to the world. To take you out on dates try new experiences and make memories with you. He can’t keep acting like he doesn’t dream of waking up to you in his arms every morning. He wants to be there with you every step in life and support you no matter what. He wants to show you that you are the most amazing woman he’s ever known. As much as the sex is amazing it’s not worth holding back anymore. He knows you may still not be ready for a relationship and he wouldn’t think about pressuring you into one after how horribly your last ended, he’d gladly wait for you to be ready but he has to be honest with his feelings instead of torturing himself.

The sound of his alarm snapped him out of his daze. Time to get ready for practice, he groaned pulling himself from the comfort of his bed before heading to the shower to start his day. He shuffled in the bathroom hooking up his phone to his Bluetooth speaker starting up with morning playlist beginning his morning routine. He loved jamming in the shower. He turned the water on letting the heat build as he brushed his teeth before climbing into the steaming shower bopping his head to the beat of silhouette by Kana-boon having to refrain himself from attempting to naruto running in the slippery bath. He stood there for a moment enjoying the heat hitting his back and loosening his muscles. Losing himself in the music as he grabbed his three in one, body wash, shampoo and conditioner. He scrubbed his hair and body screaming the lyrics to the next song. “Sawaras nai kimi wa shojo wa na no Boku wa yarichinbitchi no osu da yo !!,” he was jamming out when the song was interrupted by the sound of a notification. He thought nothing of it figuring it was just Bokuto-San. When the chimes continue his curiosity won out as he peeked out passed the curtain still covered in bubbles to see who was spamming his phone. His eyes grew wide as he saw your name lighting up his notifications. He rushed for his phone loosing his balance and slamming the shower wall to keep himself from falling on his ass as he scrambled out still dripping and soapy as he stood in bathroom unlocking his phone.

YN-Chan 🧡: Hey Shoyo

YN-Chan🧡: you’re usually up by now so I thought I’d message you to say I’m soo soo sorry for how I ran out the other day.

YN-Chan🧡: honestly I should have messaged you days ago but I’ve just been dealing with a lot . It’s no excuse but still I’m sorry.

YN-Chan 🧡: look I totally understand if you don’t want talk to me after how I acted but if you do I was hoping we could get together and talk?

Hinata could see the text bubble at the bottom showing she was typing but he wasted no time pulling up the call button needing to here your voice. It rang two times before connecting. His heart clinched hearing your soft hello.

“Hey Sho,” you answered.

“Hey there YN-Chan,” he greeted back.

He could here a sense of nervousness in your tone. “Hey sorry if interrupted anything.” He realized how hard he was breathing from excitement and from nearly dying trying to escape his shower.

“Oh no no, its fine I wasn’t busy,” he feigned nonchalance. There was a beat of silence as you both searched for words.

“Umm you had said you wanted to talk?” He questioned. He was really concerned for why you ran off that day.

“Oh yeah but I’d much rather talk in person, is there anyway we could get together soon I understand if you’re busy,”

“I’m free tonight,” he cursed himself for how desperate he sounded, “uhh do you want to come over tonight?”

You chuckled at his eagerness. “If it’s okay with you maybe we could go out... to like dinner maybe,” his heart froze his mind reeling with excitement you had never gone out before. Always just opting to have food delivered and eating in. He couldn’t help but let his hopes rise.

“I know it’s not what we usually do so I get if you’re uncomfor-”

“I’d love to!” He cuts you off. Not wanting to miss this chance.

“A-awesome um is 7:30 good for you?” You questioned.

“Yep!” He could feeling his heart soaring as the plans started to solidify.

“Great well I’ll message you all of the details later, bye Sho umm I’ll see you tonight.”

“Goodbye YN-Chan, can’t wait!” He heard a small laugh leave your lips before the line disconnected. There is a wide smile spread across his face as leaning against the wall next to him not even upset that his shower water was now starting to run cold.

Hinata’s day was instantly better with thought of seeing you tonight the Idea of having a date with you filled him with joy. Everyone could see the difference in the outside hitter today compared to the last few practices. It’s was like he was in the zone. He was all over the court making the cleanest receives and his spikes were just so on point. It was time for there first water break and stretch. He sat on the bench taking a gulp of water a big smile present on his face when he checks his phone to see a message with a restaurant address. His teammates shared a look at the way the ginger stared at his phone.

“What’s got you so happy Hinata?” Sakusa questioned.

“Yeah Sho you’ve been on fire today plus you won’t stop smiling at your phone!” Bokuto boasted wrapping an arm around his newest teammate.

“That obvious huh?” Hinata grinned. “Well uhh the girl I’ve been talking to wants to go on a date tonight!”

“Oh yeah?” Atsumu smirked “the same girl that’s been marking up yer back recently?” Bokuto and the Setter busted into laughter when Hinata’s faced turned red. Sakusa rolled his eye at the childish behavior.

“Uh haha yeah that’s the one,” he chuckled rubbing the back of his head.

“Well if you’re already fuckin her why are you getting all giddy over a date?” The setter asked

“We’ve actually never been on date before,” Hinata admitted.

“Damn Sho, first date! Why’d you wait so long dude?” Bo wondered.

“Really Hinata-Kun I didn’t take you for the casual sex type,” Sakusa stated

“She’s a friend but I’ve like her pretty much since we met but she’s just not ready for a relationship,” he explains “ she has some bad history but we kept fooling around as friends. I’m so excited cause she asked if I wanted to get dinner so I’m hoping maybe she’s starting to open up to the idea.”

“Ha well good luck then bro,” Bokuto smacked him on the back laughing. The rest of them agreed in the well wishes before the whistle blew signaling the end of their break.

They resumed their intense training. Right now focusing on their serves and some indurance training. The coaches were wearing them out today going over and over drills. Soon enough they were in the locker room showering up a bit and changing as they got ready for their lunch break before they’d have to return to practice. The locker room filled with chatter as they discussed different plays they wanted to work on or where they wanted to grab lunch. There conversation was interrupted when one of the coaching assistants poked their head in.

“Miya-San your fiancé is here to see you, she waiting by the gym entrance.” He stated before turning to leave. All eyes were on the setter when he dropped his phone a look of shock present on his face. His mind was going a mile a minute he was so sure he miss heard the man . There was no way you were here. He stood up rushing to finish getting dressed. There was a pressure in the room he was ignoring some of his teammates sharing a confused look.

“I didn’t know you had a Fiancé Tsumu?” Hinata asked excitedly as the team started following behind the setter.

“That’s because he doesn’t,” Sakusa stated bitterly. Atsumu shot a dirty look back at the wing spiker.

“She left him months ago before you joined the team Shoyo-Kun, she’s are really nice girl though always brought us the best snacks when she’d visit,” Bokuto explained his hungry mind straying as he thought back to her delicious cooking.

“Oh I’m sorry Atsumu,” Hinata apologized.

“Don’t he deserved it,” Sakusa scoffed.

The setter paid no mind to comment there was no point in getting angry with the neat freak he was completely right. It didn’t matter at the moment what mattered was seeing you. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. You were looking at your hands picking at your nails. He could see you were nervous. So was he. What was he supposed to say he knew he owed you an apology and much more but it felt like he couldn’t breath looking at you. You looked up at him your eyes locking. There was a look he couldn’t quite pin point. It wasn’t exactly a look of hated which it was what he expected but it also nothing like the looks of love he used to receive. He didn’t even realize the boys had stopped behind him watching the scene. His eyes only focused on you and nothing else.

That is until he hears a sharp breath from behind him as Hinata called out your name. Bokuto and Sakusa’s eyes snapped to the ginger some confusion present. Atsumu however didn’t look away from you not even when you gaze shifted from the setter to his teammate. This look in your eyes he could distinguish. It was one you used to look at him with. It shattered Atsumu as he realized right then you were the woman Hinata had been talking about. It obvious when he saw a similar look of happiness on Shoyo’s face. It felt like a kick to the gut. An array of emotions swirling through his mind. He was hurt to think you moved on. Disgusted as he thought back to his earlier convo with the man and how they had discussed the scratches on his friends back and now realizing how they were from you. He felt like he was going to puke thinking of his teammate with you in that intimate way. But he knew he had no right to feel this way not after all he put you through so he pushed those emotions deep inside. Returning to the moment.

“Hi Sho,” you gave a small smile as you shuffled nervously in your spot.

“I thought we were getting dinner? We can switched to lunch if you need to tho.” He stated.

Sakusa and Bokutos eyes grew wide finally coming to the same conclusion the setter previously had. Sakusa had to stifle a laugh as Bo muttered “oh shit” under his breath at the awkward situation.

“Um actually Shoyo, I’d still like to get dinner with you. I know this must seem really confusing, and I promise to explain everything tonight, but uhh.. I actually here to see Miya-San.” You explain sheepishly.

Atsumu tried not to flinch at the use of his last name.

You turned to the blonde with a stoic face. “Can we get lunch, we really need to talk.” He nodded not knowing how to use his voice.

You turned back to Hinata with a pleasing look. “I’ll call you later before our date, Sho.” Before turning to leave with Tsumu.

Hinata may be beyond confused right now not yet connecting the dots. But that didn’t matter he couldn’t stop his heart from skipping. Date. It’s a date. He wasn’t overthinking or wishing hopefully. It was an actual date with you! The woman he can’t get out of his mind. And that one little comfort was enough for him to trust the situation as he watched you walk away.

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littlesniggy · 3 years

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Nice Hair

Anon: AAAA i've been meaning to send you a request, but i've just been stuck on interesting scenarios. i think i've got a good one (hopefully). what about f! reader coming back from a mission Law sent her to, it's almost been 2 weeks, but she comes back with longer hair than before which gets different reactions not only from the crew but especially law (he doesn't express it until privately). things get steaming and basically lots of hair pulling from law and h's more dominating in bed.♥ thank you!♥♥

Thank you so much for the request! Hair pulling is just the best and I bet Law (even though he probably wouldn't admit it right away) loves doing it to his partner. I hope you like it and please let me know! Warning: 18+, nsfw, smut, hair pulling Paring: Law x female reader Word count: 2.2k

“There she is!” Bepo exclaimed and waved at you while the submarine was approaching the small island. You were sitting on a tree stub, waving back at him with a smile. “Captain! There she is!” he called Law, not stopping waving. The others hurried to the bow, joining Bepo and calling your name. Law came out, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, watching you from afar as you told the others how your mission went. Law was listening but he was a little bit more occupied by a small but noticeable change in your appearance. “Your hair looks amazing! Are you gonna grow it even longer?” Bepo complimented. You blushed slightly, taking a strand between your fingers. “I don’t know yet but I like this length.” You said with a smile, receiving even more complements. Only Law stayed silent which made you a little nervous about your new look. Did he not like it? “Y/n-ya, once you’re done talking can you come to my office? I want you to tell me how the mission went in detail, especially if you got all the information we need.” Law said and without waiting for an answer he went inside. His crew watched him leave in slight confusion that he didn't welcome you back at all but started babbling again not thinking too much about it. Your eyes lingered on his back a little longer but eventually you joined them, enjoying to finally being able to talk to them again. Law never liked to show affection to you in public so you wouldn't push him.

A hesitant knock on the door notified your presence. “Come in.” he said, watching you enter the room. “Good to see you, Y/n-ya. I’m glad you’re fine.” He said, getting up from his chair and rounding the table, coming to a stop in front of you. You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. “Good to see you, too, captain.” You got up on your tippy toes, giving him a soft kiss to the lips. It seemed like a huge load fell of his shoulders as he kissed you back. He was worried something might’ve happened to you during this time. He would’ve blamed himself for the rest of his life. “So, you wanted to talk to me about the mission?” Law looked at you with a smirk, his hand coming up to your shoulder and twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers, inspecting the length from up close. “That can wait. I’m way more interested in this new look of yours.” He mused, pulling your hair slightly towards him, capturing your lips in another kiss. You reciprocated the kiss, putting one hand on his neck and pulling him even closer. He pulled you with him to his desk, leaning against it with his back. One hand moved down to you hip the other one was buried in your hair, massaging your scalp with his nails. You felt his hard dick press against your lower stomach and you grinned into the kiss, breaking it for a moment. “Someone seems to be excited to finally get some action again. Have you been lonely without me, captain?” Law grabbed a hank of your hair and yanked your head back, exposing your throat. Instinctively, you pressed your hair on his, trying to pray them away. Law grinned smugly, leaning down to your ear. “It seems like you’ve forgotten your manners on that island. I think I have to teach you again.” He nibbed on your earlobe, biting down and nibbing on it again. You gave a small moan, pressing your lower body against his. The captain’s smile widened a little to your reaction, starting to kiss your neck. Law pulled your head by your hair to the side, giving him even more access to your delicate skin. He kissed, licked and sucked on it, leaving red and wet trails for everyone to see. After the initial surprise of him pulling your hair you let go of his hand and instead grabbed his clothed dick with both hands, one stroking his shaft, the other one grabbing his balls through the thick denim. Law panted against your skin, stopping for a moment to compose himself again. His free hand moved to your stomach, opening the button of your pants with a swift movement. His hand found its way inside right after, passing your panties and sliding against your clit, feeling your wet cunt. You moaned

in response to his touch, grabbing his balls a little bit tighter as a reflex. “Damnit, Y/n-ya.” He hissed, his dick twitching in its restraints. You giggled, moving your hands up and opening his pants as well, pulling them down together with his briefs. A sigh next to your ear told you how relieved he was to finally be free. You grabbed his dick with your hand, tightening your grip a little before you started to move your hand up and down; slowly, to let him feel every inch of your hand. Law grunted dissatisfied and his hips bucked against your hand but you didn’t give in. Slightly annoyed at your teasing he pulled his hand out of your pants, a harsh look on his face. “I’ve just told you that I needed to teach you some manners and here you are trying to tease me? I thought you were cleverer than that, Y/n-ya.” His voice was calm and predicting, not leaving any room to argue. Plus, you wanted him to pay your hot core more attention so you decided that it was better to apologize. “I’m sorry, captain.” You panted, starting to move your hand faster but Law didn’t have any of that. “Nice try, Y/n-ya. But you had your chance. Now, we’re gonna do it my way.” A shiver of excitement ran down your spine and you could just nod at him. With a swift motion he span your around, pressing you against the desk, his warm body pressed against your back. His dick was sandwiched between your bodies but you could feel its heat nevertheless. You tried to move your ass against it but Law was having none. His hand found its way back into your hair, grabbing it almost painfully, his other hand disappeared into your pants once more. He let two fingers slide over your slit, spreading your lips a little before moving up and circling your clit. “L-Law…!” you mewled under his touch; eyes half lidded and mouth open. “What is it, Y/n-ya?” he asked. You could feel his smug grin against your neck. His fingers were always this close entering you but they pulled away just before you could feel them inside of you. “Please what, Y/n-ya? I need you to be specific.” A hot thrill rushed through your body making you coat his fingers even more in your juice. “Put your fingers in me, Law.” You panted, desperate for his touch. “Why? I can feel you throb under my touch just as I speak. You will come in no time so why would I want to waste my time?” He as right. With each circle of his fingers, with each slide of them over your slit you got closer to your orgasm. But this wasn’t what you wanted! “I want to feel you inside of me!” you whined, grabbing his wrist and trying to push his fingers into your dripping cut. A sharp pain pulsed through your head as he had yanked your head to the side painfully, leaving you gasping. “Don’t get too cocky, Y/n-ya. You don’t deserve to cum around my fingers. So, if I say you will come by me playing with your little clit, you will cum, understood?” You could only nod at his words, feeling your orgasm rush closer. “I haven’t said you could cum yet, have I? If you cum now I will fuck you cunt today but stick to your mouth from then on until you’ve learned how to behave, understood?” He knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it in; you were already pushed too far towards the edge, it was just a matter of seconds. Law pinched your clit between his index finger and thumb, twisting it a little bit, making you jolt against his touch. Your nerves were on edge, ready to burst any moment but you were adamant not to climax yet. You tried concentrating on something else, anything else, really but Law was too good with his hands. You were like wax in his hands, melting into his skillful touch just to be formed to his liking. With a sharp push against your clit he sent you over the edge, making you cum in your panties. Panting, you were leaning forward, on both hands on the surface of his desk, supporting your trembling body. Law watched you for a moment before he pulled out his hand, a disappointed frown on his face. “I’ve told you not to cum without my permission, haven’t I?” his tone was flat but something animalistic resonated with his

words. You barely realized him pulling your pants and panties down, leaving your lower body exposed to his eyes. He grabbed your thigh and lifted it up, placing your knee on the desk. You looked at him over your shoulder, your cheeks bright red. “I’m not done yet.” He simply said before he sneaking his arm around your body to the front, touching your clit again. You tried moving away but his hand found its way back into your hair (yet again!) and held you in place. Law pushed his hips forward, his dick moving against your wet folds but not entering you. A long moan rumbled through your body. Out of the corners of your eyes you saw the thick tip of his dick move over your slit and soon, after he pulled his hand away a little, against your clit. God, he felt so good! You started moving your hips against his, trying to feel more of him. The captain pulled away a little, examining his glistering dick and grinned at you. “Take a deep breath, Y/n-ya.” Was the only warning he gave you before pushing himself inside of you. You arched your body to this feeling, a loud moan echoing throughout the room. It hurt slightly due to him not properly preparing you but you enjoyed the feeling nevertheless. His grip in your hair tightened and he pulled your head back, making you look at him as he leaned over you, pressing himself deeper inside of you. “Good girl.” He murmured. His hips started moving against you, loud skin on skin sounds could be heard even outside his office. His free hand found its way to your clit again, rubbing at the swollen nub, making you moan out in pleasure. Law pulled your head back as far as possible then capturing your lips in another hot kiss. Your neck hurt, your back arched but it was all forgotten when he pinched your clit again, clenching hard around his dick. He groaned in pleasure against your lips, picking up his pace. You could feel your juice running down your leg, leaving a hot trail on your skin. The sounds you let out were dirty and lewd, making anyone who might be listening blush in response. You wanted to move against his thrusts, wanted to feel him deeper inside of you but he hold you tight, not giving you any room to move on your own. Law broke the kiss and let his grip a little loose in order not to hurt you too badly. His hand on your clit also let go and was instead placed on your ass, smacking it lightly. With each light smack you clenched around him, bringing the two of you closer and closer to your climax. The captain’s grip tightened in your hair, grabbing it with such a force you feared he might rip them out. You moaned in response, closing your eyes and letting him handle you as he pleased. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he panted, watching his dick disappear inside of you over and over again, making him feel oh so good! “Y-yes!” you sounded breathless but he understood you, picking up his pace again. “This time, you’re gonna cum when I tell you, understood?” He demanded, knowing he was pretty damn close as well. But he wanted to tease you for earlier. “I-I’ll try!” Law was satisfied with you answer, leaving over you again, his mouth right next to your ear. “On the count of three you will cum around my dick, okay?” A nod was your only answer, your brain at the point where it couldn’t produce coherent sentences anymore. “One….” He started, licking over your ear. You pressed your eyes shut, concentrating not to mess up this time as well. “Two….” He continued, smacking your ass again. “Hngh!” you suppressed a moan, wanting to cum so desperately but not wanting to disappoint him. It took forever for him to say ‘three’ but when he did you came with a loud scream, throbbin with him still inside him. But it didn’t take him long to cum as well. With a couple more thrusts he got into an upright position, arching his back and cumming deep inside of you with a low groan.You felt his semen fill you up and his grip in your hair let loose. Tired, your body collapsed on the desk. Law pulled away after a moment, cum dripping out of your cunt as proof of the naughty things you’ve just

done. “I really like you new hair. I bet it’s great for face fucking you as well.”

#one piece #op #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece imagine #op Imagine #x reader #ns.fw #scenario

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nintickleswitch · 3 years

Text

Yet Another Twist

A Magnus Archives tickle fic. Michael Distortion/Reader (gender neutral), typical Spiral mindfuckery, chasing, praise, CNC-ish (reader denies that they're into it until the very end). Inspired by the fact that there are no TMA avatar tickle fics aside from JonMartin fluff and boy do I want a giggly Spiral monster to wreck me!

A nuisance. Not how one would typically describe a spectre haunting their every step, always waiting around the corner to seize them and pull them into its nightmare dimension, but that's what Michael had become to you. His campaign of terror had started off well enough, at first a gradual flickering in the corner of your eye, tiny things to make you doubt whether your eyes were telling the truth. Then, as soon as your paranoia had ripened for harvesting, the door had appeared in your home.

There was nothing unusual about it. A perfectly plain, yellow door with paint peeling slightly from use. Except for the fact that... it wasn't there. It had never been there, and certainly had no cause to exist when it should have lead to a significant drop outside. Curiosity had killed the cat, but hadn't satisfaction brought it back? At least, that's what you thought when your hand began to turn the knob, a dire sensation tugging at you to stop, turn around and run from there until your thighs were aching and lungs were burning before anything happened to you. And then, he happened to you.

The creature that called itself Michael was the rippling, distorted shape that stalked the halls of that place lit only by stale, tinny yellow lights, where the ever changing wallpaper made you dizzy and the mirrors reflected that which scared you the most. It had preyed on your fear for the longest of times, leading you on endless chases through that evil maze of its until you found a mirror to smash, a door to fling yourself through to blessed freedom. You couldn't say when it dawned on you that it never truly intended to catch you, simply deceive you into thinking it was always getting closer and drinking in your panic like it was nectar. When you finally turned your back on it out of sheer spite, eyes ringed with dark circles from the sleepless nights he'd caused - that was when he became a pest.

Not that the frisson that traveled from your scalp through your spine disappeared when he actually spoke to you instead of simply laughing at your suffering, the words floating and dreamy through a haze of static, but you were capable of contending with him. The chases continued to be a part of your daily life, and you'd almost come to welcome them as somewhat of a break from the dullness of your work. Almost. What actually surprised you was the degree of interest it seemed to be taking in you. While he'd made it clear that there was no guarantee of your safety should you choose to repeat that little stunt, the display of bravery had surprised him. Clearly, it would take more creative methods to get you to crack. So began your twisted little relationship, punctuated by chats conversed entirely in riddles, the occasional drop in at work where you'd scramble to hide his intrusion and he'd simply laugh at your efforts, and of course, the thrill of the hunt.

It had been an overcast afternoon, where time flowed like molasses, thick and viscous. The tea in your cup had been swirling there for hours, hot steam curling in the air, rising in spite of the fact that it should have gone cold a long time ago. Why had you only now just noticed that fact? Your eyes darted to the couch across the room, and of course, there he was.

"Michael," you groaned in the voice of someone far too tired to deal with his petty shenanigans. "How long have you been sitting there already?"

High, clear laughter flowed easily from him, though you weren't even sure if he was moving his lips. It seemed to reverberate slightly, as if one track was layered atop the other, producing an unnerving effect.

"It can't have been that long, your coffee is still hot," it replied with a wry smile.

You looked down at your cup. Coffee... No, it was tea, and it must have been cold, not hot... Was it?

"Cut it out, Michael," you rolled your eyes at him, pushing away the illusory cup. "What do you want from me anyways?"

"You looked awfully glum today. I thought you could have used some cheering up."

His grin was ear to ear, never leaving him.

"If that's what you're after, let's start with stopping... Whatever you're doing right now, I don't like it."

The light headed feeling you didn't even realize was present had faded, and the cup was full of sad, cold tea once again. You almost felt worse for it, like he really had been trying to perk you up. A sigh left you.

"If you're looking to mess with me, I don't think you're going to get far."

"And why is that, I wonder," he spoke with a little less of that derisive edge, its grin softening into a closed smile - although it still stretched across his face. Since when did he care about how you felt? You gave it a vague shrug, not particularly interested in explaining the details of your mood, especially reluctant to admit that, well, you had been feeling lonely as of late. But you had no intentions to give him any more ground than he'd swept out from under your feet already.

"Tragic," it replied, putting sharp emphasis on the last syllable. Michael rose elegantly from the opposing couch, as if to take his leave. And he did appear to consider it, passing through the very same impossible door he entered through, the shade of yellow which you could never quite pinpoint... Until you heard the familiar creak of it behind you.

Quicker than a flash, its fingers curled around your chin, sharp and threatening despite the Cheshire grin that you could feel in your very bones. You dared not move, in spite of the shot of white hot panic passing through you. His lips brushed against your ear, at which you noticeably shuddered, producing another wave of dizzying laughter.

"I thought you might have appreciated my company~"

At this, he ran a long digit over the outer curvature of your ear, nails sharpened to inhuman proportions. To your utter horror, you were incapable of containing the burst of giggling the teasing provoked. It was something you tried to keep long out of reach of your conscious mind, a fact of your existence that had not been exploited for years and filled you with dread at the thought of Michael discovering: You were intractably, agonizingly ticklish. Immediately you tried to conceal the fright that flashed across your expression, but it was far too late. The air thickened, swirling around you, and you started to feel dizzy and light headed as your heart began to race. How much of this was Michael's doing, or simply your own anxiety at this discovery, was entirely your guess.

"Oh? What's this?"

His words buzzed around in your head, almost frenzied with excitement at all of the possibilities of what he could do to you. The blood drained from your face. There was no way you were giving him that satisfaction. Before it could tighten its grip around you, you broke away from the couch, racing towards the first exit you could find. Michael's laughter turned uproarious, keeping pace with you, hot on your heels. Fueled by instinct alone, you flung open the door to your apartment and tore through it, slamming it shut behind you as soon as you'd made it through. In the absence of rational thought, you'd forgotten that it had never been painted a sickly yellow.

Realizing your mistake, you whipped around to the door behind you, pounding on it, begging to be let out. You hadn't begged since the very beginning, but now you knew there was a dire consequence to being caught.

"Mercy?"

A high pitched voice came from just behind you, its hair draping over your shoulders. You froze.

"By now I thought you'd know better than to expect mercy from me~"

Your heart almost leapt from your throat as you pushed past it, the swipe of its claw missing you by centimeters. Running was pointless within its domain - well, not entirely. It made the meal of your fear just that much sweeter, but still you ran through the endless hallways with their swirling wallpaper, always changing colors, curving impossibly inwards. Giving him exactly what he wanted. Before long you felt your muscles begin to ache, faltering noticeably. The predator would inevitably outrun its prey... But it didn't have to. For in the far, far distance of the corridor you'd just ducked into was a shimmering mirage of what you could hardly call a person. Your fear was only compounded by the knowledge that if you looked back, the turn you took would be gone. All you could do was inch back, not daring to tear your eyes off the figure in the distance. Not realizing that it too was inching backwards, slowly, painfully twisting in the funhouse mirror, until it and you collided with your pursuer.

Letting out a surprised scream, you lurched forward, but only succeeded in falling to the floor, fingers sinking into the thick rug which curled and tightened around them, trapping you. The air buzzed and crackled, his soft curls spilling over your back as his triumphant laughter filled the space between you.

"It's not fair!"

You cried out to no avail, the anger in your voice noticeably cracking with your anticipatory smile.

"I would never be so cruel as to be fair to you," he replied, wiggling his fingers just barely over your skin. You couldn't see it happening, but the warm tingling in your nerves it produced made you fight even more desperately to keep composure.

"P-please, why are you doing this to me?!"

At this frantic question, it seemed to pause. Then, his form curled over yours, tracing your earlobe with his long tongue and sharp teeth, leaving faint imprints in the cartilage. At the same time, you could feel giant, raking claws drawing up the hem of your shirt from your hipbones to your ribs. And still you were pinned, with nowhere to go but down, down, down, hiding your burning blush and poorly concealed giggles in the softness of the carpet.

"I missed your laughter."

Came his reply, drunken on how soft and pliant, how sensitive you were.

"Well, I'm - I'm not going to give you any more of it!"

A defiant lie that the throat of delusion incarnate himself would have been proud of, had he not taken it as a challenge.

"Is that so..."

You suddenly became painfully aware of your bare midriff, its fingers inching closer towards your skin with each passing moment. Eyes widening, you did your utmost to writhe away from them, but the attempt made it all the more obvious how stuck you were, only able to watch as he... Struck in the blink of an eye, causing a loud squeal to erupt from you, skittering his nails across your tummy with careless abandon.

"Then what's this sweet melody," it teased, ignoring your cries of his name in the midst of shocked and horrified laughter. Incapable of replying, you twisted from side to side to escape if only for a second. Never had you remembered being this sensitive, feeling this vulnerable. He knew exactly how to get to you, a fact which you were reluctant to admit. Even as he tortured you, he drew gentle, swirling patterns on your soft skin, which seemed to make the ticklish sensation of applying them last even longer. No matter how much you smothered your face in the rug, your laughter rang loud and clear throughout the halls, which seemed to shiver in pleasure at your torment.

"It's - ahahahahahaha - fuhuhuck you!"

"Oh, you'd like to, wouldn't you," he smirked, idly drawing an inward spiral around your navel as if you weren't screaming already. "But I'm afraid you're not in the position for that."

"Shuhuhut up!"

"Besides, you seem to be enjoying yourself as you are right now," its other hand traced outwards, grazing your lower ribs, which made you buck away, and that sweet spot between your hip bones and your stomach. You violently wrenched from him this time, which did not go unnoticed by the now cackling Distortion, who seemed to have discovered a spot he was all too fond of.

"Of - of course not!"

Why did that sound so unconvincing, when every twitching nerve in your body agreed that you couldn't stand one more second of this?

"I don't believe you..."

He spoke in that light, sing-song voice of his, before he closed his grip over your hips and you shrieked as all ten claws, although it felt like so many more, dug in. Prodding, pinching, squeezing, anything that would let your laughter pour from you like the sweetest wine. You tried your utmost to cry out, to appeal to some non-existent sense of humanity for him to stop, but in that moment your mind couldn't even remember what words were. And some small, hidden corner of your mind that you refused to admit was present thanked your lucky stars for that.

"You've always been a terrible liar."

Much to your horror, you found that even one hand was enough to cover the frame of your hips, and the other was now free to busy itself on spidering the backs of your thighs, occasionally sampling the tender inner part. The mock pity in its tone electrified your skin, and with two of your absolute worst spots being tickled out of your wits, all you could do was scream and thrash at your inescapable fate.

"You're a teheheror, Michael!"

You finally cried out after what felt like centuries, moments before he did the last thing you would have expected - he stopped. As your chest heaved and sweat trickled down your forehead, attempting to regain what composure you had left, he leaned his elbows on your back, hands folded together in a languid pose.

"That's the point, dear."

The grin on his face had clearly grown wider.

"What did you call-"

Your angered sentence broke off near the end when you felt those sharp, heavy points settle down to rest on your ribcage. A string of repeated no's tumbled from your lips before it became a cacophony of giggling at their gradual, yet deliberate movement.

"I called you dear. Or would you have preferred darling - "

He gently plucked at your lower ribs like guitar strings, sending you into a fit of helpless, silent laughter.

"Sweetheart-"

You gasped for air, pinprick tears in the corners of your eyes. Nothing had ever tickled you so much in your life, and you were never more desperate to escape as the creature that tormented you began cooing terms of endearment into your ear, sickly sweet like syrup. It only heightened the adrenaline rush you were experiencing, fighting to squirm out of his grasp like it was for your very survival.

"- perhaps pet would be more to your liking?"

A particularly loud howl broke your silence at the impossible sensation of him both kneading and lightly scratching over your ribs, both in front and behind. Every patch of new ground he covered was worse than the last, especially when he targeted multiple spots at once, two inhumanly long nails raking across the soft hollows of your underarms, down towards your ribs, then back up your inner arms.

"You seem positively enamored with that one, my sweet little pet," it threw its head back, the sound of his laughter tasting like pop rocks in your mouth. You could handle him being actively terrifying, but the saccharine praise on top of the excruciatingly witty tickling threw your head into a tailspin you weren't falling out of any time soon. Merely being in his presence was disorienting enough, but the prolonged torture had pushed your mind to a space you didn't even know existed. Perhaps it occupied some liminal space between the real and the unreal, where agony poured over into ecstasy. A low, flustered whine of resignation rose in your throat at his teasing, between hiccuping laughter and half-sobs. This was it, you were completely and utterly broken. Or so you'd thought before he paused to brush away a tear, leaving a lightly stinging mark on your cheek where the razor sharp talon had made contact.

"Come now," it spoke softly, accompanied by a loud cracking sound. You looked up from the refuge of the warm, comfortable carpet, and there was his face, hanging inches from yours. No matter how many times you'd been chased by that thing down the warm, dark hallways, you were never prepared to see the Distortion's true appearance. Its features approximated a nose, eyes, and lips, but they were simply dancing lines that never connected in any way that your fragile mind could make sense of, and its curls shone in the light like an oil slick in rainwater. In a burst of energy that constituted primarily of panic, you yelped, attempting to leap back. Still you were firmly stuck, incapable of moving under the form which draped over you in a position that was... more than compromising. There was no willing down the heat rising in your cheeks.

"I assure you," it purred. "Our fun isn't over yet."

Before you could ask what he had meant, you felt yourself plunging headfirst into the answer. Suddenly it seemed to surround you all at once, leaving no inch of your body unmarked - fingers spreading your toes, lovingly raking over your bare soles, up your calves and the backs of your knees, squeezing your thighs, kneading at your sides, far, far too many hands and fingers than he had, than you knew he had. What filled the gaps he could not reach writhed softly against your skin, gentle yet merciless in its titillation, playing against the nape of your neck, the tenderness of your palms. All the while, time and space twisted themselves into shapes that you could not imagine, a torturous century squeezed into what may have been a brief instant of tangled limbs and broken smiles. And you laughed. You laughed, and laughed until there was not an ounce of anything but laughter filling your body. The squirming fractal mass had drowned out all rational thought, dragging you deeper and deeper into itself until by the very end of it, when he'd finally let you surface for air, the only question you could repeat as you lay there on your back was why. Why had you ever opened that door, why did he insist on tormenting you so? A million fragments of a million broken, senseless questions ran through your brain, but not more than one syllable of them could have been formed by your tongue past the frenzy of that horrible tickling.

"Aren't you a curious one, love," he laughed, now filled with a cruelty that chilled you to the bone, his speech barely comprehensible as human. "I suppose I owe you one honest answer. It's very simple. Your fear is intoxicating."

He paused, letting the dawning horror of your situation sink in.

"You really have no idea how long you've been here, do you? It could have been minutes or hours or weeks... But you don't know, because it's been an eternity to you and you're terrified this will be all that remains."

"No... No, no, no, please, I'm begging you-!"

"No?"

It asked with mocking incredulity.

"Your screams could feed me for decades, after all, I see no reason why I shouldn't keep you here for the rest of your existence."

A shot of genuine, primal dread pulsed through you. Paradoxically, but undeniably, somehow that notion excited you.

"What do you think," he traced under your chin with a light touch. "You could give up your tedious little life to be my tickle pet."

"I-"

The gentle proposition had caught you completely off guard. For how terrifying he was, his ability to fluster you on a dime was far worse than anything else he was capable of doing to you. Slowly you shook your head, unable to help the small whine you let slip as you buried your face in your hands.

"Such a shame... I think you would have enjoyed it."

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Oh, but I think you do," he replaced his hands at your sides, the playful lilt in his tone evident. You felt your lips cracking into a smile, but kept your face covered, refusing to let him see the truth of your expression.

"I think you like having your mind played with, twisted into paths impossible to trace."

Its claws began to move again, swiftly eliciting a steady stream of giggles from you, hips shaking from side to side.

"It's just as much of a game for you as it is for myself, isn't it," he leaned in, his tongue flicking at your ear, honey-sweet words pouring from his lips. "The adrenaline, the chase. The thrill of twirling into the arms of madness itself."

By now his fingers spidered relentlessly across your torso, and still you refused to give in, even though you were sure you couldn't take one more second of this, thrashing helplessly in his grasp.

"The door opens both ways, my pet, and you let me in~"

"That's- that's not true!"

"Really? Then answer this for me, if you still can: Do you ever remember telling me to stop?"

The grin that split his face was wider than you'd ever seen on him, practically triumphant as your eyes went wide in shock and you tried feebly to pry his hands off you, only succeeding in making them clamp down tighter on you, squeezing your hips until your laughter went silent.

"Oh, no no. I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy. You're going to have to admit something."

"W-Whahahat?!"

"That you're enjoying this, of course."

His assault was unrelenting, and on your very worst spot, you knew you couldn't last much longer. Your attempts to scream, curse and kick at him faded into soft wheezing and limp giggling, tears streaking down your burning cheeks. With your pride having been torn to shreds long, long ago, there was only one way out of this for you.

"Okay, okahahay! You win, Michael..."

You huffed, resigned to your fate.

"And?"

He stared down at you expectantly, fingers still hovering dangerously over your sides in warning. You took a deep breath, praying that admitting this to his face wouldn't make you combust on the spot.

"I... I like being tickled by you."

As soon as you spoke the words, he let go. Scrambling to a sitting position, you backed yourself up against one of the walls of the corridor, chest heaving with exhaustion. Michael stretched out across from you, smiling like the cat who got the cream. If you didn't know any better, you would have said there was a certain fondness to it.

"There, that wasn't so hard now, was it~?"

Its eyes glittered in the dim, hypnotic light.

"... Shut up," you replied in as gruff a tone as you could manage, before crawling over to him and flopping into his lap, defeated. It chuckled softly, carding its fingers through your hair, twisting it into wild, spiralling shapes, until the line between dreams and reality blurred completely and you found yourself drifting off peacefully in the Distortion's arms.

#tickling #tickle fic #the Magnus Archives #michael distortion #TMA tickles #minors dni

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yellowsuitcase · 3 years

Text

Prophecy Problems // Draco Malfoy

Request from @lovecatsnotpeople

A/N: For this imagine, please pretend Hermione becomes the Minister of Magic much sooner than 2019, lol.

Summary: Draco is Y/N’s boss and she comes to him after she makes a mistake. He gets angry.

Warning(s): SMUT, Unprotected sex, choking, rough sex, slight voyeurism (but not really)

Word Count: 4k

Y/N walked through the hallways of the Ministry with guilt sitting heavy in her gut. She knew her boss would be angry at her, there was no doubt about it. To say she had fucked up was an understatement. Since she was the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecy, she had done her daily rounds that morning. However, when she was leaving, she noticed a new prophecy waiting to be placed on an open stand. Disaster struck when she picked it up and read the name on the tag. She was so unprepared to see that name on the paper and thus dropped the orb. When the sound of it shattering reached her ears, Y/N knew she was done for. The silvery smoke circled around her feet and then was reduced to white ashes. Once she processed what she had done, she sprinted out of the hall quicker than she ever thought possible of herself.

And now Y/N stood outside her boss’s door. It looked more daunting than ever. She adjusted her brown suede skirt, clenched her hands, and inhaled deeply. Slowly, she raised her fist and knocked on the wooden door. “Come in,” said a firm voice.

Y/N turned the door handle and stepped one foot into the room, but before she was entirely through the archway, her eye caught sight of the plaque on the wall. Draco Malfoy, Head of the Department of Mysteries. Her heart began to pound. She’d only been in this office a handful of times, despite wishing she could visit more often. It was a spacious room filled with white and black decor. The walls were a stark white, making the black picture frames and tapestries stand out. To her left were a coat hanger and stand-alone closet. In the back corner sat a tall plant in a silver pot; it had orange flowers sprouting from it. The floor was covered with the same stone from the hallway, but there was a large emerald rug with intricate details in this office. And in the center of the room was Draco, sitting at his desk. It was littered with parchment as well as empty chocolate frog boxes. The man himself was tossing a green apple up into the air and letting it fall back into his hand. He looked to be in a good mood. He caught the apple in his firm grasp, the veins in his hand becoming visible, and set it down on the cedar desk. He looked up at her with interest in his eyes. But that soon faded when he noticed the remorseful look upon her face.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” he said curiously. “What brings you to my office?” he asked as Y/N closed the door behind her; she still hadn’t made eye contact with him. She was already terrified of what his reaction to her news would be, and it didn’t help that he was quite possibly the most attractive man in the building. “Well, you’re my boss, so I have to report to you if something ever goes wrong,” she replied, cutting to the chase.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Has something gone awry?” he questioned while gesturing to the leather-clad chair in front of him. Y/N gulped, stepped forward. She scanned Draco up and down while still avoiding eye contact. He looked particularly striking today. His hair was perfectly styled. The wispy bangs on his forehead appeared soft. He was wearing a long black jacket as well as a button-up paired with a green tie. The chandelier in his office provided perfect lighting; his skin was almost glowing. His legs were spread to provide support for his elbows. Y/N couldn’t help but steal a glance at his bulge, wondering if the rumors were true about Draco’s size. Of course, she couldn’t tell just by looking. She felt ashamed of herself and averted her eyes as she took a reluctant seat.

“I’m afraid so,” she answered once she was settled. She then began to pick at some loose thread on the seams of the chair, her nerves getting the best of her.

“Quit picking. You’ll pull out the entire stitching,” Draco ordered sternly. Y/N’s hand immediately released the thread and found a new place on top of her lap. She was growing more anxious by the second, and Draco’s irritation was increasing. Y/N gulped before finally making eye contact with the man. He was looking at her intently, expectantly almost. His hands were clasped underneath his chin as he stared at her. Y/N decided to spit it out.

“I was doing my rounds this morning, and there was a new prophecy, and I accidentally dropped it, and it broke,” she said quickly, her words mushing together. Draco smiled at her and separated his hands. “That’s not the end of the world, Y/N, you know that,” he assured. “Whose was it? We’ll send them an owl to inform them of the accident,” he said as he sat up in his chair. It was clear Draco didn’t understand the gravity of the situation as he picked up the apple again and took a bite out of it. Y/N took a deep breath before responding. “It was Hermione Granger’s.”

Draco stopped moving, a stoic expression fell over his face. Y/N watched as his eyes grew dark. He stood up from his chair, walked over to the bin, spat out his food, and tossed the apple in with it. Y/N looked down, feeling sick to her stomach. She heard him coming towards her. His feet came into view; they were right in front of hers. “Stand up,” he commanded. Y/N gripped the arms of the chair and hoisted herself to a standing position. She stared intently at the smudge on her glossy black flats as fear began to stir in her chest. “Look at me,” Draco said quietly. Y/N didn’t move an inch; she was too afraid.

“You’re telling me you dropped the Minister’s prophecy? Is that correct?” Draco asked. Y/N could feel his breath on her face; she nodded solemnly. “You do realize I’ll have to take the blame for your fuck up, don’t you?” he asked, his tone sharp. “She’ll be angry, hell, she’s hardly forgiven me for our time at Hogwarts, she’s not going to be happy to hear her prophecy was smashed to smithereens, is she Y/N?” Draco asked condescendingly; he was raising his voice now. Y/N shook her head.

“That’s what I thought,” he snapped. He stormed over to his desk and ran his hands through his hair. Y/N’s curiosity got the better of her, and she spared a glance up at him. He was positively fuming; she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam bursting from his ears.

Draco breathed heavily as he shuffled through papers on his desk. “Fuck!” he yelled, making Y/N jump. The man reached for his neck, roughly loosened his tie, and yanked it over his head. Y/N felt her skin turn hot; she averted her eyes back to the floor. “Bloody hell, Y/N. If I lose my job for this, you’re coming down with me,” he shouted. Y/N flinched at his words. Suddenly, his hand was on her face, her heart stopped.

“Look at me,” Draco growled as he forced her chin upwards. His face was tight, and his teeth were bared. Even though fear coursed through Y/N’s veins, she couldn’t resist a peek at his tempting lips. Draco tightened his grip on her jaw. “You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I’ve seen you looking at me.” Y/N held her breath. She stared into Draco’s eyes, where once they held anger, they now held lust. “Every day in the hallways, I see you. I see you looking me up and down. I notice how your eyes linger, Y/N,” Draco said as he began trailing his hand down her face and onto her neck. He applied light pressure, just enough to send a pleasant buzz through her body.

“Frankly, I find it flattering, almost endearing. But, darling, let me ask you this…” Draco trailed off. His left hand remained around Y/N’s neck while his right traveled to the small of her back. She breathed heavily as he began to trace small circles on the fabric of her skirt. Suddenly, he pressed his palm flat against her. Y/N felt herself growing lightheaded with desire. Draco chuckled lightly and pushed her hips forward, firmly pinning her against him. Y/N started to gasp, but Draco tightened his grip on her neck, cutting off her airflow. He smiled down at her as she squirmed.

“Are you sure that this is something you want?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. Draco cocked his head, prompting her to answer. She was unable to speak, so she gingerly nodded her head. Draco smirked. “Is that so?” his face turned dark, “then prove it,” he whispered. He released his hold on her neck, and Y/N jumped into action, smashing her lips against his. Draco smiled into the kiss and slipped his tongue inside Y/N’s mouth, where he gently began to swirl it around hers. Y/N couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as Draco then began to suck on her tongue. Y/N pressed her thighs together and felt her wetness growing.

Draco pulled away to look at the woman in front of him. Her cheeks were flushed, and her white shirt had been drawn up, revealing her stomach. Draco put his hands on her cheeks and pulled her close to kiss her swollen lips. He nibbled on her upper lip before pushing away and spinning Y/N around so that her butt was pressed against the front of his desk. He smirked at her before crouching down to his knees. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Draco pushed her shirt farther up her torso. He sensed Y/N’s eyes on him but paid her no mind. Swiftly, he took out his wand and cast a quick, locking spell on the door. He turned back to Y/N and gently kissed her stomach while simultaneously gripping her thighs underneath her skirt, preventing her from rubbing her thighs together like she had been doing previously.

“Draco,” she mewled. The man pulled away from her immediately and glared up at her. Even though she was looking down on him, his next words still made her falter. “Call me, sir,” he whispered. Y/N shuddered as she felt his breath fan over her stomach. Draco kissed her again, this time taking some of her skin into his mouth, biting and sucking softly. When he released her, there was a red mark beginning to form next to her bellybutton. Draco kept a firm grip on her thighs as he pressed a kiss to her lower abdomen through her skirt. It had a little corset in the front instead of a zipper or button. He considered untying it but figured it would be more fun to have her keep it on. He removed his hands from her thighs and grabbed the hem of her skirt, lifting it over his head. He was now facing her crotch. Y/N was breathing fast above him; he could only imagine the thoughts running through her mind.

Draco hovered his mouth over her inner thighs, teasing her. She attempted to close her legs, trying to create friction, but his hands flew to her knees and gripped them tightly. He then pressed his mouth to her clothed pussy, eliciting a sharp gasp from her lips. He slowly began to lick her through her underwear, making it even damper than it already was. He could tell she was getting impatient because of the way she was pushing her hips upwards, so he took the fabric in between his teeth and yanked it down, revealing her pussy to him. Draco pursed his lips and blew air directly onto her clit. Y/N whined and tried to buck her hips, but Draco’s firm grip kept her pinned to the desk. “Stay still,” he ordered before sticking out his tongue and dragging it down her slit.

Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a cry from escaping her. She never thought in a million years she’d be in this position. But there she was, pressed against her boss’s desk and being eaten out by him. His tongue was thrusting in and out of her entrance slowly, steadily. It was making Y/N dizzy. She desperately wanted him to get on with it and slip himself inside her. Alas, Y/N knew Draco. She knew that anything that happened between them would only occur according to his terms. Y/N had no control in Draco’s grasp; that was obvious. And while that aroused her, it also frustrated her to no end.

Draco continued flicking his tongue within her, but then he added his thumb into the equation. With it, he began to rub her clit, drawing out a long moan from Y/N, whose fingers were squeezing the edge of the desk. She felt her legs begin to tremble, the weight of her body was getting to be too much, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up much longer. Despite the burning in her calves, Y/N held herself still as she felt her climax approaching. “Please, sir,” she pleaded. Draco’s tongue began to speed up while his thumb maintained a consistent pace. The contrast between slow rubbing and fast thrusting brought Y/N to the edge. She clenched her walls and prepared for orgasm, but it never came. At the last second, Draco lifted his thumb off her clit and retracted his tongue, leaving her empty.

Laughing, Draco pulled himself out from under her skirt. He pushed off his knees and stood up, looking into Y/N’s eyes. “Did you really think I’d let you cum?” he asked, an amused look on his face. Y/N stared at him silently; she couldn’t think about anything besides the intense throbbing between her legs. “Lemme let you in on a little secret, darling,” he said while putting his large hand on her neck and pulling her close, “The only time you’re allowed to cum is when you’re wrapped around my cock and begging for it. Understood?” he growled in her ear. His words had a physical effect on Y/N’s body; she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled, feeling his hand against her throat.

“Louder,” he demanded. Y/N swallowed thickly before repeating herself. “Yes, sir, I understand.” Draco tightened his hold on her neck and then abruptly let go. He pushed her to the side and laid his hands on his desk, swiftly brushing off all the papers onto the floor, not caring about the mess. Y/N didn’t waste a moment; she kicked her underwear off her feet and rushed to the end of the desk. Putting her hands on top of it, she jumped up and laid down. Draco cocked an eyebrow; he looked pleasantly surprised by her actions.

“Somebody’s eager,” Draco mused. Y/N let out a whine and arched her back. She wanted him badly. Draco tutted and walked around the desk, where he positioned himself between her legs. He locked eyes with Y/N and maintained contact with her as he took the bottom of her skirt and lifted it up, exposing her bare pussy to the air. Y/N couldn’t help but moan. She was the most aroused she’d ever been in her life. Draco extended his index finger and gently slid it inside her. With his opposite hand, he held her hips down, already anticipating that he’d have to if he didn’t want her to squirm.

Y/N, with her legs spread and waist held down, was rendered helpless to Draco’s touch. All she could do was moan as he inserted another finger and slowly thrust into her. In between thrusts, he spread his fingers and began to stretch her out. “Sir…” Y/N called quietly. Draco hummed. “What is it, princess?” he asked.

“I need you,” she replied, feeling Draco insert yet another finger. Y/N clenched down on his digits inside her. When he gave her a particularly hard thrust, she whimpered. Then he grabbed her chin roughly. He held her face in his hand and put his thumb over her lips. She instinctively took it into her mouth and began to suck. Draco smiled and said, “I’m gentle now, but don’t worry darling, I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. How does that sound?”

Y/N groaned and felt a blush rise to her cheeks, painting them red. Draco let go of her face and continued to slide his fingers in and out of her, making sure to go slow. Y/N waited a few more minutes before saying, “Sir, please, I’m ready.”

“Are you now?” Draco asked, still stretching his fingers within her. Y/N whined and wriggled on the desk, feeling her frustration grow. He wasn’t listening to her. “Yes,” she retorted, letting her annoyance be known through her tone. She gasped when she felt a sharp slap land on her inner thigh. “You’re ready when I say you’re ready,” Draco growled. Y/N gulped and remained silent, letting Draco put a fourth finger inside her. He thrust hard and spread his fingers; the drag of his digits against her walls sent sparks through her body. She could feel her wetness begin to drip, and she felt as though she was going insane with need.

Finally, Draco removed his fingers. He smirked at Y/N as he began to unbutton his pants. She watched as he pushed down his underwear, and his dick sprung free. He rubbed it a few times and aligned the tip with her entrance. Y/N held her breath and bit her lip as he slammed his hips forward, filling her to the hilt. She was hardly able to breathe in as he immediately began to pull out and force himself back in. He set a harsh pace; the desk was shaking underneath them. “Fuck! Don’t stop,” she begged.

Draco grunted and gripped her hips, pulling them towards him so that they met his with each thrust. Y/N reached for something, anything to hold onto; she needed to ground herself. Draco seemed to take notice of her panic. He let go over her hips, grabbed her thighs, and brought them to his waist. Y/N got the hint and wrapped her legs around his middle, bringing the pair even closer, allowing Draco to pound her even harder. Y/N nearly screamed when he found a deeper spot within her. She noticed Draco had repositioned his hands. They were now pressed to the desk on either side of her head. Y/N reached up and gripped his forearms. This was a mistake. She watched as a vexed expression formed on Draco’s face. In a swift and aggressive motion, he turned his arms out, forcing Y/N to let go of him, and when her hands were in the air, he seized her wrists, pinning them to the desk. Y/N felt butterflies erupt in her stomach. Unknowingly, she clenched down on his cock, making him laugh. He peered at her with a prideful look on his face. “Did you like that, Y/N? Does pinning you to the desk make you wet, hmm?” he cooed tauntingly. Draco stared at her expectantly. When she didn’t reply, he slowed his speed.

Y/N whimpered and jutted her hips, trying to urge him to resume his brutal pace. Draco shook his head. “Answer me, darling, maybe then I’ll make you cum.” Y/N closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. God, he was too much. “Come on, princess, who makes you this soaked? Tell me,” he commanded. Y/N desperately needed to reach her high, so she told him what he wanted to hear. “You, sir.”

“Who?” Draco asked again while slamming his hips into her.

Y/N gasped and cried out, “You sir, you make me wet!” Draco smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he grunted. To Y/N’s delight, he began to increase his pace. His face was close to hers; she could feel his breath on her face. Then he hit it, her g-spot. Once the head of his cock touched it, she screamed, letting Draco know he’d found it. He released her wrist and instead wrapped his fingers around her neck, forcing her to look at him. Y/N couldn't move her head as he slammed into her, hitting that spot repeatedly. She felt her climax approaching but was unable to warn Draco. All she could do was take it.

But Draco was perceptive; he knew Y/N was nearing her high. “You gonna cum on my cock, darling? Go on then, cum,” he said. And with that, she was pushed over the edge, crying out as she fell. The world seemed to stop spinning; all Y/N could feel was the electricity running through her body. Every one of her muscles was tense as she endured the waves of pleasure. Draco was nearing his end as well. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, and within thirty seconds, he was releasing inside her. His body jerked with pleasure as his cum filled Y/N’s hot pussy. Draco groaned and let his body fall on top of the woman underneath him.

The pair panted heavily as they came down from their orgasms. When Y/N felt strong enough, she raised a shaky hand to Draco’s face and stroked it softly. He kissed her hand while opening his eyes. “That was incredible,” Y/N breathed, still reeling from what just happened. Draco chuckled lightly. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Y/N felt her blood run cold; she looked at Draco, terror on her face. Her boss, however, looked more relaxed than a sleeping baby. “Just a moment,” he called out. Swiftly, he pushed himself off Y/N, reached under her arms, and picked her up. He walked them over to his chair and sat down, the impact forcing his cock deep inside her. Draco then took out his wand and wordlessly summoned the papers back to the top of his desk. “Come in,” he said calmly as he unlocked the door.

Y/N felt her heart drop. She was sitting on Draco Malfoy’s lap, his dick still inside of her, and he just told whoever is outside his door to come in. As quickly as she could, Y/N ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make it appear as though they had not just had rough intercourse. Just as she was pulling down her shirt, the door opened, and Y/N slapped a soft smile onto her face. When she saw who stood in the doorway, she felt bile rise in her throat. There stood Hermione Granger, the current Minister of Magic.

“Hey Malfoy, I was just stopping by to tell you that - oh! Y/N, I-I didn’t know you were here,” Hermione stuttered. Despite her apparent confusion, she didn’t ask why Y/N was on Draco’s lap. “Well, anyway, it’s good you’re both here. I was informed that a prophecy came in today with my name on it. Did you see it, Y/N?” she asked. Y/N gulped and nodded. “I did.” Hermione smiled. “Oh good, well, then you must know where it is, right?” she inquired. Draco gripped her waist, but Y/N ignored her boss and answered Hermione. “I do. Why do you ask?” she questioned with a fake smile on her lips.

“Well, it turns out that it’s not actually my prophecy. See, the Seer was actually talking about someone named Helga Graingle. Apparently, she’s a rather old witch. Or I suppose, was, is the better term. She passed away early this morning,” Hermione told the pair. Draco cleared his throat. “How unfortunate,” he replied. Y/N nodded, “That’s horrible. She didn’t even get to hear her prophecy.”

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I know. It’s a shame. But anyway, I just wanted to let you know about the mix-up. I’ll be on my way now…” she trailed off as her eyes flickered to Y/N’s hips. Obviously, something was up, but the Minister said nothing; she simply nodded her head and slinked out the door, shutting it behind her.

Once she was gone, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. “Merlin,” she muttered. Draco pressed his lips to her neck. “Got lucky, didn’t you, princess?” he taunted. Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed him away lightly. “Shut up, Malfoy.” Draco chuckled and squeezed his arms around her waist. Y/N felt her heart stutter, the things this man did to her.

#draco lucius malfoy #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x yn #draco fanfiction #Draco #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco smut #harry potter #smut

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing: August Walker x OFC Freya (Forest Nymph) Original Female Character is described as white/pale, short and of small build, hazel eyes, long dark hair.

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of past abusive relationships, on the run, alcohol consumption, Daddy Kink, DD/LG, Pet names, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, hyperspermia, cum play, cum feeding, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy test.

Previous Parts:

Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand Castle Under The Stars. Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1 Vampire Walter: Chapter 2

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

The blood slowly trickled across the board and off the table, coating the floor before running into the drain. August raised the heavy cleaver, and with one thunderous swipe severed the femur clean in two. The cleaver made a metallic clang that echoed around the stark tile lined room, and wiping his hands on his apron he lifted the product of his work and inspected his efforts closely. A smile spread over his lips as he looked up;

“There we go Mrs Mackenzie, a nice juicy bone for your dog”

The old woman smiled, her purple tinted grey hair in tight curls that barely moved as she nodded;

“Oh yes, that’ll be perfect! My Clarence will love it!”

At that very moment Clarence started yapping outside where he was tied to the specials chalkboard that sat on the sidewalk outside Walkers Meats, 10lbs of teeth, fur and anger wrapped into the body of a small West Highland Terrier;

“I’m sure he will. I’ll wrap it up for you and Freya will finish ringing up your order for you. We’ll get it delivered this afternoon…”

August walked around the counter and set the wrapped bone into the box, nodding to his assistant to finish up the order. She knew that the bone would be free of charge, but that Mrs Mackenzie would insist on tipping and sliding her $10 which August was more than happy for Freya to keep. The slight girl turned and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, before she quietly nodded and continued with her duties.

Returning to the butchery area August glanced up and caught sight of his reflection in the painted mirror, the design obscuring the scarring on the side of his face, giving him that moment of relief from those memories of a past long ago, a life he had left behind when he had sought out quiet solitude in the peaceful mountain town of Blackwater Lake. People minded their own business there and didn’t ask questions. If you had a skill that could help others you were welcomed into the community. How August got into the meat business is a story for another day, but as his gaze travelled across the mirror to where Freya was measuring out the wild herb mixes into small mason jars he smiled and remembered instead how she came into his life.

Pulling the sign in from the sidewalk August was exhausted. Running a business completely on his own had seemed like a good idea when he’d started, he enjoyed his own company and he distrusted anyone else to do the job to a standard he would approve of. What he hadn’t counted on was the residents of this sleepy little town not only accepting him, but joyous that he was there and wanting to talk endlessly every time they visited his store. Although he was always polite and did his best to end conversations quickly, after eight hours of it he had jaw ache and knew he would need to work well into the night on the new sides of beef that had been delivered that morning if he were to have any stock to sell the next day. He glanced longingly at the small sign that sat propped up in the window; ‘Help Needed - Enquire Within’, yet he hadn’t had any takers in the month the sign had been up.

The icy winter wind curled at his neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he let out a sigh, heaving the heavy sign into the building so it didn’t blow away in the night as a icy squall blew in from the mountains. As the door slammed shut behind him it echoed a knock around the store, but when it came again he turned and let out a far from masculine yelp; the face of a pale young woman stared back at him like a ghoul in the darkness. Clearing his throat and smoothing down his blue and white striped apron, he approached the door and opened it;

“May I help you Miss?”

She nodded down to the sign;

“Do you still need someone?”

Her teeth were chattering, and it was hardly surprising as she was barely dressed for the weather, the knitted cardigan doing little to ward off the cold wind. August opened the door to allow her to enter, looking down at the top of her head as she slunk past him.

“Let me get a pot of coffee on, you must be freezing”

As he disappeared into the back office he set the pot of coffee on to heat before grabbing an old jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, returning to where his visitor stood in the store a few moments later, handing her the jacket;

“Its cold in here, we can’t have the heat on because of the meat”

Nodding she took the jacket, her teeth still chattering;

“T-t-thanks… its still warmer than outside”

He handed her a mug of steaming coffee;

“Sorry, i don’t have any creamer or sugar…” She wrapped her delicate fingers around the mug using it more for heat than sustenance as he leant back against the counter on the other side of the store; “So… you’re wanting a job? What experience have you got? You worked in retail?”

She shook her head and muttered a quiet no, keeping her eyes averted from him as she spoke;

“But i will try anything… just looking for a new start”

“Are you running from something?” A gentle nod of her head and the way she clutched the mug tighter told August it was a someone not a something; “Look, if you’re willing to learn, work hard and pay attention, i’ll give you a trial. I’ve gotta level with you, you’re the only person who’s shown any interest in the sign, and i’m getting desperate, so if you want you can start tomorrow”

Her head snapped up and for the first time he saw her eyes, deep hazel peering out from behind long strands of dark brown hair;

“Really?”

“Yes. Really” he stated in a matter of fact way; “I’ll need to get your address and details for the wages…”

“Oh… i’m not… i’ve not got anywhere. I guess i’ll find a cheap motel…”

August paused;

“Kid, there’s no motel in town… at least not this time of year. But i might have a solution for you”

Her eyes widened in fear and August realised whatever she was running from had done more damage than she showed;

“No no, not that” he assured her; “There’s a small apartment above the shop - two in fact, i’ve got one and the other i’ve never rented out, never got round to it… its small but completely self contained, your own entrance and everything, completely secure”

Once a few forms had been filled out August had gotten the girl settled in the small studio apartment. He’d shown her how the fold out bed worked, explained that the hot water fed off the furnace for the whole building so she could use as much as she wanted. A couple of minutes after he’d left her in the apartment he knocked at her door, surprised to hear the locks sliding across at first, but then realising she needed to feel safe. When she peered around the door she almost looked surprised to see him there, as if it would be anyone else;

“Umm yeah?”

August handed her a box of things he’d scavenged from his own kitchen;

“Here’s just a few things to see you through the night… I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, but the bread was in the freezer and it’ll defrost pretty quickly if you put it in the toaster”

He handed the box to Freya, surprised at how smooth but also small her hands were as she took it from him as they brushed against his own. She nodded and smiled;

“Thank you Mr Walker”

“Night. See you bright and early tomorrow morning”

The next morning August woke to an insistent knocking on his door. Grumbling to himself he pulled on his robe and stalked across his small apartment, pulling the door open with a thunderous look on his face, ready to give whatever maniac that was knocking on his door at 5am a piece of his mind;

“WHAT THE… oh… hi…”

Freya was standing on his doormat, a look of shock on her face;

“Hi… i’m ready to start”

“To… start?”

“Work. You said bright and early”

August ran his palm over his face;

“I… When i said…” he let out a long slow breath; “I meant 8am”

“Oh.”

That was a long day, but by lunchtime Freya had mastered the cash desk and had already started to come out of her shell, the locals more than welcoming for the tiny girl with the woodland eyes, and with her help August was able to catch up on his work.

Over the following month her input had helped August expand his products, suggesting a range of seasonings in reusable jars, where if the customer returned the mason jar they’d get a discount off the next one they purchased. He discovered she had this unfathomable knowledge of herbs and plants, but also had this connection with nature he couldn’t quite understand. He’d sometimes catch her staring out of the window at the trees blowing in the wind, as if listening to their songs that were beyond his own ears.

One thing was for sure, there was a sense of magic to her and August thanked the stars above that she walked into his store on that cold winter night.

Back in the present August was busy cleaning the cutting table as Freya busied herself with her jars - it was her own little enterprise now and one she was absolutely proud of. He could see that she kept glancing outside, gnawing on her lip;

“Freya, everything ok?”

“Yes Mr Walker. I was just thinking, the next batch wild garlic is ready to be picked, if i collect some this afternoon i can have more chimichurri mixed ready for tomorrow, and that’s when the beef delivery is coming in”

August let out a chuckle;

“How many times do I have to say to call me August…” he met her gaze with a smile; “And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. The store’s quiet and i’ll be doing deliveries in a while, so sure, go exploring”

“Thank you Mr Walker”

August rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, watching as she hung up her apron and grabbed her foraging basket, skipping out of the door and towards the creek that fed into the lake a couple of miles away.

Three hours later August was driving back along the gravel road that led into town, having made his deliveries. The spring air was damp but warm, rain threatening to spill but the clouds unwilling to release their bounty just yet. Rounding the bend he looked out over the soft marshland, the grass knee high already and he saw a familiar figure stepping through the green undergrowth. With a smile he pulled his SUV to a stop at the side of the road, stepping out of the vehicle he leaned against the door as he watched Freya as she slowly made her way through the field, before she stopped as her attention moved to the treeline. Following her gaze he watched as a bear emerged from the woods and his heart sank. The native wildlife would be coming out of hibernation, and would be grumpy and hungry. He went to shout but a sudden rush of wind silenced his voice, watching as she held her arm out and the grass flattened in front of her as if a wind devil had made its way through. Glancing back to the bear it had stopped in its tracks but was still staring at her, but then started to circle around on the spot before settling down as if for a nap.

August anxiously watched, knowing if Freya ran she could make it to the car as long as the bear was weak, but he didn’t want to risk that it hadn’t had a belly full of salmon yet, so he quickly reached into the vehicle and pulled his unregistered handgun from beneath his seat. Back at the side of the road he raised the firearm at the bear, glancing at Freya who had now spotted him waiting for her. She started to quicken her pace through the grasses, eventually breaking into a run as she neared the embankment of the road. August glanced to where the bear had been and let out a yell as he saw it was starting to approach them;

“Freya, RUN!”

Doing as he instructed she broke into a sprint, her legs carrying her through the grass and up the embankment. Flinging his door open he motioned for her to dive in, her basket being launched into the passenger footwell as she tumbled across the centre console and into the passenger seat, August launching himself into the driver's seat and gunning the engine as he slammed the door shut, the urgent crunch of tyres on loose gravel dulling the sound of the grizzly’s roar as it had caught up, but was now rapidly disappearing into the distance of the rear view mirror.

August only slowed down as he reached the urban centre of Blackwater Lake, Freya’s breathing having finally levelled out as she turned to him;

“So… there’s bears here?”

He slowed the vehicle and pulled to a stop in a parking lot before turning to her;

“Yes. And moose and cougars and mountain lions… hell sometimes I even hear howls in the night so there’s probably something wolfy up in those mountains too… We need to get you better prepared for nature” August paused; “And what was that thing you did with your hand? That made the grass flatten and the bear sit down…”

Freya shrugged;

“I’m not sure… it's just this thing i’ve always been able to do, calm animals down”

“Huh. Didn’t seem to work this time…”

She glanced at him, her eyes wide;

“I think that was because you were there…”

August let out a laugh, before sitting back in his seat;

“Okay, point taken. I need a drink. We’re at Big-G’s, I'll buy you dinner…”

August regretted his decision. He hadn’t factored in how slight Freya was in comparison to her ability to consume alcohol, so three drinks later where all he’d had was lite beer, Freya was completely wasted. The giveaway was when she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder whilst he’d been talking to Geralt - the bar owner - and she’d started to drool on his shirt. Geralt had told him to ‘get his girl home’ with a wry laugh, telling August his meal was on the house. Something had stopped August from correcting the ashen haired man, looking down at the imp of the girl leaning on him.

He’d managed to carry her to his car fairly easily but the journey up the steps at their building had been more of a challenge. He’d managed to get her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but had been surprised when she’d also wrapped her legs around his waist. Although it meant he could use one arm to hold her up, the feel of her warm body clinging to his sent a rush of heat through his stomach straight to his groin, he was just thankful she was so out of it she didn’t notice the tent in his pants.

As he juggled his keys he found the spare for her apartment but then thought better of it, unsure how she was when she’d had alcohol, and instead opened his own apartment. Crossing the almost dark room he reached the couch and slowly lowered her down to the cushions, her whimpers of loss as he started to pull away making him pause;

“Mmmm Daddy, you’re so warm…”

Holding her still a low rumble slowly bubbled through his throat when she nuzzled against his neck;

“Daddy smells so good…” and she pressed a kiss to the stubble on his chin.

August knew she was drunk, probably didn’t even realise it was him, after all who would want someone as broken and scarred as he was, but for that briefest of moment’s he relished her touch and what was going on in her tequila addled mind. He couldn’t help himself and pressed the briefest of kiss to her cheek;

“Time to sleep now little Kitten” he muttered before reluctantly uncoupling himself from her grasp, pulling a blanket over her as she dozed on his couch. Raking his hand down his face he let out a sigh, before grabbing a glass of water and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her. A scribbled note on the back of a flyer explained that she was drunk and he wasn’t sure if she would need his help, and he didn’t want to invade her privacy of her own apartment.

Having poured himself a generous glass of vodka, August withdrew to his own bedroom, silently closing the door before stripping for bed. It was an early night but without the TV to entertain him and no desire to get lost in a book, he settled on top of the covers in just his underwear, sipping at the ice cold liquor as he willed the swelling of his loins to subside. However every time he tried to clear his mind, all he could imagine was Freya. The thought of her small body beneath his, their bodies sweaty and writhing as one. Finally with a curse he gave in to his desires, pulling his underwear down and taking his hard length into his hand, pumping dry to increase the friction as his mind descended further into taboo territory. He imagined it was her hand, calling him Daddy as she asked if she was doing it right, that her perfect lips would duck down and take his bulbous tip into her mouth, her tongue lapping at his slit as her hazel eyes would stare back up at him, wide with innocence. With a strangled cry he came in violent spurts, covering his hand and stomach in ropes of his cum, thoughts of the delicate woman in his lounge lapping at his spent seed prolonging his orgasm until he was aching and empty. With a curse he looked down at the mess he’d made, realising he needed to clean himself up.

The quiet click of his front door woke August the next morning, pushing himself up off the pillow as he heard small footsteps down the outside of the building and the quiet beep of his car being unlocked. Wondering what the hell was happening he leapt out of bed and peered out of the window, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw a dishevelled Freya gathering the wild garlic that had been scattered around his inside of his vehicle the day before.

A few minutes later the thud of his keys falling onto his doormat where she’d posted them through the letterbox sounded through his apartment, and when he went to collect them he found a small note with them;

‘Mr Walker, thank you for your help, I hope I didn't make a fool of myself last night. Your car stinks of garlic now, i’m going to walk up the creek and collect some herbs that will help reduce the odour, Freya x’

An hour later when she hadn’t returned, August set off towards the creek through the pleasant woodland, the sunlight leaving dappled patches of gold on the forest floor. Coming to the wide bend in the creek where the water was shallow, he saw the swing over the water that someone had put there years ago, mismatched ropes and a wooden seat, and how someone had now woven wildflowers into the ropes, and as he glanced upstream he saw Freya knee deep in the water, a butterfly dancing on her hand.

Something overcame him and he pulled off his boots and socks, rolling up his pants as he stepped out into the water and sat on the swing, silently watching as she charmed nature beyond a simple human’s comprehension, having control of the elements like a forest nymph. August had seen a lot of unusual things in the time he’d lived in Blackwater Lake, he knew those that had something a little special about them gravitated towards the sleepy little mountain town, so as he watched Freya make her way upstream towards him he realised there was magic in the air. Small water spouts rose from the water as she took each step, as if chasing after her touch as she stepped from rock to rock submerged under the water.

As she approached the shallow bend in the creek she finally looked up and saw August, a smile spreading over her lips;

“Hi”

“Its so pretty here, isn’t it?” she asked wistfully

“Beautiful from where i’m sitting”

She approached where he sat, stopped at arms reach, a hint of blush warming her cheeks;

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate last night… thank you for taking care of me, i’m not a big drinker”

“You weren’t inappropriate…” he reassured her; “But it's been a while since a beautiful woman called me Daddy… since before… since before i was broken...”

Her gaze moved to the scar on the side of his face, and without a word she stepped forward and pressed her hand to the spidery scarring. In that moment August felt the magic in her touch, prickling at his skin before she nimbly climbed onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist and she lowered her lips to his, softly brushing against his as she spoke;

“You’re not broken, no more than I am…”

The kiss was soft and slow, and as her tongue started to gently tease at the seam of his lips she eased her weight completely onto his lap, her core pressing to his, the heat of their growing lust growing like an ember between them.

Her small tongue licked into his mouth, tasting him as she pressed her body flush to his chest, small whimpers coming from her as his hands splayed over her back and pulled her firmly down onto his growing arousal. When the need for oxygen finally took precedence August’s lips traced a path of kisses down her jaw and neck, her fingers winding through his dark curls as her head fell back to give him better access to the pale expanse of her collarbone;

“Oh Daddy…”

“That’s it my little one, i’m going to treat you so well, my little Kitten…” August’s mustache brushed against her heated skin as he spoke, the gentle sway of the swing letting their bodies move against each other.

Just at that moment an ominous creak sounded above them, drawing their attention up into the tree’s canopy, just in time to see the rope that held the swing up snap, plunging them down into the shallow creekwater below.

With shouts and screams the moment of passion was lost, taken over by the shock of the water hitting their heated skin. August helped Freya up, her dress plastered to her skin in much the same way his shirt was, soaked head to toe he shook the water from his hair;

“Home?”

“Yes Daddy” Freya purred, pulling into his touch as he wrapped an arm around her to help her out of the water.

Pushing in the door to his apartment, clothes were being pulled from each other's bodies even as the door was still ajar. As he pulled his shirt off, Freya’s hands were curling into the hair on his chest, an almost feral growl bubbling from her lips as she ran her hands down to his stomach and rested on the buckle of his belt. Catching her hands in his he held them gently, only speaking when she looked up and met his gaze;

“Kitten, I want to be sure you want this… You’re in total control here, you set the boundaries, you say when you need to stop. But if you do want this, i’ll be your Daddy and take care of you like a Princess”

Freya voice shook as she spoke;

“I want this… my last… he wanted to be my Daddy but didn’t treat me right. He took more than I could give…”

August lifted her small hands to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with such great care and tenderness her heart almost melted before she finally spoke again;

“We should really check for leeches”

“WHAT?!”

Freya had never seen anyone strip their clothing off quite as fast as August just had. For a big man - and a pretty tough one at that - the mere thought of little blood suckers had him stripping completely naked in a matter of seconds, Freya pulling her dress off a little slower until she stood in just her simple underwear. August was still patting himself down, turning to look at his behind;

“Am I ok?”

Freya couldn’t help herself, stepping forwards and taking two handfuls of August’s pert asscheeks, giving them a squeeze before running her palms over the perfectly rounded globes of his buttocks;

“More than ok”

In the following moments August carried her to his small bathroom, turning the shower on before he stepped under the warm jets of water, pulling her with him so he could soap her down. The scent of sandalwood of his soap as he carefully washed every inch of her body was overwhelming, taking care of her to wash any last traces of creek water from her body. He paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, waiting for her agreement which she quickly nodded for him to continue, his large hand sliding between her legs and caressing her lips. His skilled fingers soon sought out her pearl, teasing it gently from its hood before he slid a finger into her waiting heat, a cry falling from her lips which he quickly swallowed with a kiss. His work calloused hands quickly drove her to an orgasm - a first of many - and as she came she called his name, like a prayer on her lips.

Shutting the water off, August carefully lifted her out of the bath, wrapping a large towel around her before scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed. On the messy covers her hair clung to her skin, before he carefully lifted the long tendrils from her chest and was able to take in the sight of her petite naked body laying fresh and prone on his bed. Her hand reached out for him, pulling him close;

“Daddy, I want to feel you…”

August smiled;

“Will you be a good girl for me Kitten? Do you think you can take me? You’re awfully small, and I'm pretty big…”

She sat up, pressing a hand to his chest;

“Can I try? Can I go on top?”

Nodding August lay on the bed, propped up against the pillows, lifting her petite frame on top of him. He watched with pleasure as she wriggled down the bed, her hands gripping his thighs as she settled between his legs. Wrapping her small hands around his generous length she looked up at him as she started to give small licks to his hot flesh, her fingers struggling to encircle his meaty girth. Opening her mouth she took a good three inches between her lips straight away, a litany of curses falling from August’s lips as he felt the hot wet heat of her mouth engulf him. It was better than he could ever had imagined, and he had to grip at the bedsheets to stop himself from cumming at that very moment. Steadying his breathing he let out a low sigh before he reluctantly pulled her off, a trail of spittle hanging between his dick and her mouth;

“But Daddy, I want to taste your cum…”

“I know Kitten, but it's going to be a lot the first time, and I want to see your cunt dripping with me, knowing your tight little pussy is going to overflow with the amount I'm going to pump into you. Now be a good girl and see what you can do, let's make it fit…”

Straddling his thick thighs she positioned herself over his hard shaft, her hand holding him steady as she swiped him through her folds to douse his gnarled girth with her juices, before settling with the tip at her entrance. August ran his hands up and down her arms, comforting her and hoping to get her to relax. He was a patient man but the feel of her soaked flesh pressing against his crown was becoming a struggle not to grab her hips and pull her down until he was balls deep in one swift thrust.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Freya slowly lowered herself onto August’s shaft, going at a pace she could cope with, but the strain of holding back caused perspiration to bead on August’s forehead;

“Doing so well Kitten… I know its a lot, but you can do it… you’re so fucking tight…. Fuck…”

Taking a deep breath Freya finally let herself fall the rest of the way, feeling him part her silken walls until she was settled on his lap. Tears fell from her eyes, tiny diamonds adorning her cheeks at the overwhelming sense of fullness she was experiencing. Seeing these August kissed them away, his praises made her swell with pride as he admitted to her he was struggling not to cum from just the feeling of her tight walls engulfing him. He pushed a hand between their bodies, resting his palm on her stomach;

“Put your hand here… you’re so tiny I can feel myself deep inside you, your little tummy blown out with my dick…”

His thumb crept down and grazed at her pearl, making her cry out before yearning for more. With his ministrations she was soon relaxed enough to start to ride him, her nimble thighs bouncing on his meaty counterparts, feeling the slick push and pull as he filled her whilst she drove them towards their peak.

Unsurprisingly Freya came first, the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her body was all too much to hold back, and she came with a silent scream, her body gripping August so tight it set him off, pushing in so deep he was sure his dick had kissed her cervix, before flooding her with endless ropes of his thick seed, soothing her inner core with his milky gift. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her to his chest, holding her tight as the floods of emotions surged through her, stroking her back tenderly.

Eventually he carefully lifted her onto the bed, peppering her bare skin with bristly kisses, before parting her thighs and leaning back to admire his handiwork, a thick sheen of white covering her swollen petals. With a single finger he carefully swiped through his mess, before holding it to her mouth;

“Taste Kitten… taste our passion…”

Holding onto his wrist she sucked the digit into her mouth, her tongue tasting their combined essence. When his finger finally dropped from her lips his gaze fell down and hers followed, her eyes going wide when she saw he was hard and ready for more. Laying back she hooked her hands behind her knees and spread herself open for him;

“Daddy, will you fill me up again, please?”

Positioning himself at her cum soaked hole August smiled, a dark hint of lust glinting in his eyes;

“It would be my pleasure Kitten”

Three weeks later

Freya chewed nervously on her lip, having circled the isles of the drug store too many times to count now, waiting for a time when there was no-one near what she needed. Finally it was the right moment and she slunk into the isle, grabbing the thin rectangular box before stepping back and bumping into someone, her item tumbling to the floor as a third set of feet appeared;

“Freya! Mrs Syverson! Good Morning!”

It was Sue from the coffee shop, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere just as Mrs Syverson had backed away from the opposite shelf to keep little baby Luna from grabbing the glass bottles of antacid medicine. Mrs Syverson immediately clocked what Freya had been holding;

“Oh Freya, could you just reach those things for me? I can’t reach down with Luna here…”

With shaking hands Freya handed the bag of cotton wool balls and the pregnancy test to the woman only a couple of years her senior, who in turn smiled at Sue as she laughed;

“Sy’s always keeping me on my toes… in more ways than one” She winked before tugging on Freya’s arm; “Sweetie, I need to place an order for a big cookout we have coming up for Sy’s birthday…”

Steering her away from town gossip Sue, Mrs Syverson lowered her voice;

“I’ll meet you outside sweetie, don’t worry about it, i saw you circling the shop”

A few minutes later Mrs Syverson appeared at the door, two drugstore bags in her hand before handing one to Freya;

“My advice, tell August now, do the test together”

“Are you sure? Do you think he’ll be angry?”

“Angry? Hell no, i think it’ll be what he wants, and no matter what the result he’s always had puppy dog eyes for you, we could all tell from the moment you walked into his life”

Peering into the bag Freya saw there was also a bag of Hershey’s kisses;

“You’ll need the sugar, to calm your nerves afterwards”

“Thanks Mrs S… i appreciate it”

“No problem Freya… and i’ll see you tomorrow, i really do need to place that order, but get today over and done with first”

That afternoon Freya and August took the test, then feasted on kisses of every kind.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker smut #august walker x ofc #henry cavill

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dreamingofaizawa · 4 years

Text

Short Stack

Okay, so I recently started a series called Saving Her Sanity, and I had only gotten one part posted. But the more I reread it, the more I really hated the way I’d written it. So I’m postponing that and starting a different series. It’s gonna be a real rollercoaster ride of emotions, so buckle up.

Pro Hero! KiriBaku x ProHero! Fem! Reader

**18+ Fic**

Warnings: Angst, fluff, habitual self-harm, dissociation, swearing from obvious sources, alcohol. Coming up in later parts: smexy times, biting kink, double penetration, unprotected sex, more angst, traumatic past (but not super detailed cuz I can’t handle that shit my heart hurts already)

Word Count: 6.9k

Author’s Note: Alright folks, the reader is a fucking savage and stronger than the fucking hulk cause why the fuck not? Tbh body type isn’t discussed, the only thing is that she’s short af and the angry pomeranian and redhead boulder are freaking giants. Also, everyone’s in their mid-late twenties here.

Part 2 - Part 3

Enjoy the read!

You dove out of the way of chunks of concrete, barely making it behind the corner of the alleyway. You took off sprinting, hopefully drawing the villain away from civilian activity. Thankfully he chased after you, onto an abandoned street, out in the open where you had the upper hand. Twirling around, you materialized a scythe and swung it straight at the enormous arm coming at you, nearly chopping off the villain’s fist completely.

He stopped in his tracks and howled in pain, giving you the opening you needed. You charged him and dropped to the ground, taking his legs out as you slid under him. A chain materialized in place of the scythe and you wrapped it around his ankles and his undamaged hand, hog tying him in place. You’d only been fighting the villain for about five minutes, and backup wasn’t going to be there for at least another two, so you put a quirk cancelling cuff on him and began to wrap his bleeding wrist to keep him from bleeding out.

As you waited for backup, you sat down and leaned against the villain, who’d passed out from blood loss, and tended to your own wounds from the encounter. Backup arrived, but it wasn’t what you expected. Instead of police, stomping toward you was none other than the number two hero Ground Zero. His vermillion eyes glanced between you and the villain that was quite literally twice your size, and the expression on his face looked ever so slightly confused at the scene he was witnessing.

He stopped at your feet, glaring down at you for a few seconds, looked back at the villain, then back at you, and when he opened his mouth to speak the most absurd thing you’d ever heard came from his lips.

“How the hell did you do that?”

You looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, slightly irritated at the implication behind the question. Without a word, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your butt. You walked a few yards away, pulled out your phone and dialed the police, making sure they came with a vehicle that could fit the huge villain. When you turned back around to face Ground Zero, you didn’t expect him to be so close to you. He leaned down so you were face to face, narrowing his eyes at you and letting out what sounded like a growl. “I don’t like being ignored, dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes and glared right back at him. “Well I don’t like to be undermined, Ground Zero. I may be small but I can handle myself in a fight.” And it was true. You were very small, at a whopping 5 feet tall (152 cm). His eye twitched and jaw clenched, and you could almost see the steam coming from his ears. Before he could retort, you saw something being launched from behind him. You swung your leg under him and pinned him to the ground just in time to dodge a manhole cover as it whizzed above your heads.

Without hesitation you launched toward the second villain that appeared and quickly had him immobilized and cuffed on the ground next to the first. You turned back to the number two hero, who was still on the ground watching you with wide eyes. You walked over and held your hand out to him, offering to help him up. To your surprise he actually grabbed your hand and let you pull him to stand. He didn’t let go of your hand, instead looking at it, bewildered.

“Can I have my hand back?” you looked at him blankly. He blinked a few times before releasing his grip. Soon the police arrived to take the villains, and once they left, you began to walk back to the agency since your patrol had ended a little while ago. Ground Zero ran after you and grabbed you by the wrist, turning you around to face him.

“What’s your name?” You raised an eyebrow at the man. “My hero name is Inventory. Now If you don’t mind, I’ve got paperwork to fill out.” He let go of your arm and walked alongside you. You knew why he was walking with you, seeing as you worked as a hero at his agency. As you walked into the building he turned to you with a quizzical look. Without even glancing in his direction you gave a small sigh. “Why am I not surprised that you don’t even know I work under you?”

He seemed slightly shocked. He made it a point to know who was working for him. After all, he couldn’t have anybody screwing up his agency’s reputation. Somehow, though, you’d managed to slip under his radar. Though considering your stature, hero rank, and the fact that you hadn’t made a single mistake since your debut, he figured he’d just brushed you off.

After you filled out all your paperwork, you changed out of your hero costume and into workout clothes and hit the agency’s gym. Like you always did, you went straight to the separate room reserved for sparring, expecting to have to go back out and find a partner. Today, though, you didn’t. As you entered the room, there was a certain angry blonde and a very muscular red-haired man sitting against the wall.

“Well if it isn’t short stack” Ground Zero called out to you. Well that’s one way to get you mad. You tilted your head sharply to one side, then the other, your neck popping loudly as you took a deep breath to calm your anger. “Hello, Ground Zero. I didn’t expect you to be in here. I’ll just leave you to it then.” The irritation seeped into your voice as you turned around to leave the room.

Of course, the jackass had to go and say something else. “What? You too scared to spar against me? Am I too big for you to handle?” God damn it. You both knew you had taken down much larger opponents than him, and you knew it wasn’t very smart to fight your boss, but at this point you were pissed. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose.

He stood up and began stalking towards you, his heavy footsteps ringing in your ears. You dropped your duffel and whirled around, walking to him and meeting him in the middle of the room. At least sparring was only hand-to-hand combat, because you knew he’d easily overpower you if he could use his quirk. But you trained almost exclusively in hand-to-hand, because your quirk wasn’t combat related.

As you dropped into your fighting stance, he narrowed his eyes at you, clearly confused at the odd stance you were in. In all your years of training, you had developed your very own fighting style. He quickly shrugged off his confusion and put his arms up in front of his face, ready for whatever you were about to throw at him. The two of you stood there, waiting for the other to make the first move. As predicted, his patience ran out and you easily ducked and dodged the first few quick jabs he threw.

He kept throwing punches, each one a little more intense, and you could see he was getting irritated from how you were dodging every single one. Soon enough he was lunging at you with each punch he threw, his anger getting the best of him. Five minutes of him punching and you dodging had him fuming. You hadn’t even thrown a single punch. Still, it was a game of cat and mouse with you dodging everything he threw.

The whole time he’d been aiming at your face and shoulders, keeping his strikes high. But suddenly he launched at you and his right fist aimed straight for your stomach. Got him. You planted your right foot and spun counter-clockwise, grabbed his wrist with your left hand, grabbed his shoulder with your right, and used his own momentum to fling him over your head. He landed on his back with a thud, all the air pushed out of his lungs from the impact.

You knew he’d have to take a few seconds to get up from that, and that meant you won the match in a single move. You stood over his head, smirking down at him. He glared up at you with eyes wide as saucers, wheezing from the throw, and the redhead cackled from his spot against the wall. You kneeled down and hunched over, your noses inches apart, and said, “Still think you’re too big for me to handle?”

Staring down at him, you stood again and walked over to the redhead. “Hi, I’m (y/l/n) (y/n), hero name Inventory.” You introduced yourself and held your hand out for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself as Kirishima Eijirou, a.k.a. Red Riot. You walked back over to Ground Zero and once again held your hand out to help him up. This time, he slapped your hand away and got up himself. “The name’s Bakugou Katsuki,” he said, scowling at you.

Kirishima got up and came over, “Come on Bakugou, don’t be a jerk just cause you lost. Sorry about that (y/l/n), he’s just prideful.” You chuckled lightly, waving it off, “It’s fine. I’ve heard ALL about Ground Zero’s friendly personality and peppy attitude. Anyway, It’s been fun, but I should get going.” Kirishima stopped you before you could walk away. “Hey, (y/l/n), we were gonna go out for drinks after this, you wanna join us?” You looked over to Bakugou, who didn’t give any input, choosing instead to glare at the corner. “Sure I’ll meet you outside in ten.”

You picked up your duffel and went back to the locker room to change into your civilian clothes. The bar was only a couple blocks away, so you all left your stuff in your cars and walked over. Bakugou didn’t say anything the whole way there, still wallowing in his humiliating defeat. You, being the smartass you are, decided to poke the bear.

“Stop sulking Bakugou, I haven’t lost a sparring match since high school. Besides, if we were to use our quirks you’d most likely win the match. You don’t gotta be all depressed about it.” His head snapped toward you and his hands popped and crackled at his sides. It was probably meant to scare you, but you only put your hands up in mock surrender.

When you got to the bar you all ordered your drinks and sat down at a booth. Kirishima looked at you and started asking questions. “So, (y/l/n), if you’re so sure you’d lose to Bakugou’s quirk, what’s yours?” You answered him like you answered everyone else who’d asked you the same question. “Basically, it’s like an inventory in a video game, hence the hero name. I can “store” things in a pocket of space and materialize them whenever I need them,” then you held out your hand and materialized your car keys and cell phone.

His eyes went wide and he started gushing about how cool and convenient that is. Meanwhile, Bakugou just rolled his eyes and mumbled “showoff” under his breath. Kirishima elbowed him and told him to behave, making you giggle at the dynamic of the two. Despite being at a bar, the only one that drank any alcohol was Kirishima. What really shocked you was that he was a terrible lightweight, and getting him to walk back to the agency was proving extremely difficult, because he was leaning nearly all his weight on you and Bakugou didn’t bother to help.

In fact, Bakugou was busy snickering at the sight of you trying to keep Kirishima from stumbling out onto the road and taking you with him. You’d be lying if you said Kirishima wasn’t heavy, but years of weight training and hero work pays off cause you could easily squat over 200 lbs even if you were tiny. So about a block from the agency, you’d had enough of trying to keep Kirishima from falling over and you just stopped walking.

Kirishima was too out of it to notice. But Bakugou turned and started teasing you for not being able to handle the weight. You just rolled your eyes at him. Before Bakugou could move and take him off your hands, you took a deep breath, and hauled Kirishima onto your shoulders in a fireman carry. Bakugou’s jaw dropped, and he froze in place, just staring at the scene in front of him. That both annoyed you and made you extremely proud, cause you just impressed the number two hero. You were sure the scene was at least a little funny, a giant hanging off your tiny frame, but you ignored it.

Once you had Kirishima secured on your shoulders, you started the trek to the agency. Again, Bakugou was completely silent, but you could tell it wasn’t because he was sulking. Once you were back at the agency, Bakugo led you to his car and got Kirishima settled in the back seat while you stretched out your arms, popping your shoulders and neck. You were about to say bye and head back to your car when Bakugou stopped you.

“Thanks for carrying him. It was impressive. Unexpected,” he said, not making eye contact, “And the match earlier…You did good. I haven’t been beat that bad in a while.” It almost looked like he was blushing, but it was so subtle you couldn’t tell. You smiled softly at the compliments. “Thanks, Bakugou. I had fun. I’ll be going now.” You turned to walk to your car, but he stopped you again. “Oi, short stack!” You froze at the name, and turned around with a sickly sweet smile on your face, “Yes, Bakugou?” “What’s your number?” It was your turn to be shocked. But you got over it and recited your number to him as he punched it into his phone.

When you got home it was just after midnight, so you got ready for bed and lay down to sleep. The next few days passed relatively quickly, occasionally running into Kirishima or Bakugou. There wasn’t any villain activity in the area, and your gym time was productive. You got a couple of people to spar with you when you needed it, and spent any extra time weight training.

The next day you were off, just like every day you had off, you went straight to the agency and hit the gym. You spent a solid hour at the punching bag and went to go spar again. This time there were five others in the room, which was extremely rare. Normally the room was empty. Two pairs were already going at it, so you asked the fifth if she wanted to spar.

You’d already worked up a sweat at the punching bag, but you needed the spar, so instead of finishing quickly you made sure to take a couple punches and throw a few before ending the match. You kept the same partner for a few matches, winning each one, and soon the others were watching as you won two more rounds.

The partner you’d been sparring with tapped out to get water, and someone else quickly took her place. You immediately jumped into another match. And then another. And another. Soon they tapped out as well, and by then there were a few more people filing into the room to watch. It confused you, because you’d never seen more than ten people in the padded room, but you ignored it and began another match with yet another partner.

After another few rounds, your new partner tapped out, and you decided it was time to get some water. But it wasn’t until you stepped back out into the center of the room that you realised nobody else was starting a match. Nobody else was sparring with anybody, all their eyes locked on you. As you looked around the room, you noticed it was getting crowded with people, all your previous opponents had already left, and a new opponent stepped out to challenge you.

Now this was strange. Even with your opponent getting into his fighting stance, you looked around the room, confused as to why there were so many people. You dodged a jab, snapping your attention back to your opponent. Well that was a dirty move. At his next swing you ducked under his arm, lunged to his side and swept his legs out from underneath him, ending the match before he could even blink. Playing dirty gets you knocked the fuck out as far as sparring goes for you.

The crowd that had gathered cheered at the quick takedown, and yet another opponent stepped out. You lost track of time, sparring dozens of different opponents, never losing a single match. If you began to tire all you did was end the match quickly to regain energy. After you went to refill your water for what must have been the 20th time, you checked the clock. It was already noon. You’d been sparring for five hours.

When you went back into the room, another opponent waited in the middle. You apologized and said you had to leave, and the crowd dispersed within minutes. You showered and changed, and as you left the locker room you got a text from a number you didn’t recognize.

Oi short stack, what are you doing right now?

Correction, you knew EXACTLY who this was.

You:

Just got out of the gym. Why?

Bakugou:

Where?

You:

At the agency

Why?

You didn’t get a reply, but you didn’t need one, cause Bakugou was waiting for you outside the building, sitting in his car, with Kirishima in the passenger seat. “You haven’t had lunch yet right?” Bakugou asked. You shook your head no. Kirishima spoke this time, “Great! Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” Bakugou rolled his eyes and told you to get in, and you chuckled as you got into the back seat.

During the ride Kirishima asked about your day, and you told him about the strange occurrence while you sparred, with a crowd forming to watch and people popping out of nowhere to challenge your winning streak. “Wow (y/l/n)! You still haven’t lost? I should spar with you and see if I can win!” You giggled at that and agreed to spar with him next time. And you kept reiterating how strange it was that there’d be so many people in the room at once, when normally there’s only a handful at a time.

They both questioned it but soon shrugged it off as Bakugou parked the car in front of the sushi restaurant. Lunch was a whirlwind of Kirishima asking you questions, you asking them questions, and Bakugou bickering at Kirishima when he ignored Bakugou entirely. It was fun seeing the two so close. Eventually the conversation rounded back to your sparring matches earlier.

“So how long were you there? If a crowd formed you had to have been at it for a while.” Kirishima asked, trying to figure out how long you’d fought people. You answered sheepishly, a bit embarrassed that you’d lost track of time so easily, “Well...when I checked the clock it’d been about five hours.” Both of them froze, staring at you with wide eyes. Your face burned and you took a sip of your water. Bakugou was the first to talk. “You’re a fucking beast.” Kirishima’s expression went from shock to concern. “Are you ok? Like, how are you not passed out right now?”

You assured him you were fine, and explained how much time you spent in the gym nearly every day, even after patrol. Your gym time only seemed to surprise them more, and after they told you about their gym schedule, you realised just how much time you spent in the gym, and the more you thought about it, the more you realised how lonely you were.

Kirishima seemed to catch on to your stress and smoothly changed the subject. After lunch, Bakugou drove you back to the agency, and Kirishima asked if you wanted to go to their place for drinks. “Sure, as long as I don’t have to carry you again,” you laughed. Kirishima turned and looked at you, his cheeks nearly as red as his hair. “Wait...you carried me?”.

Bakugou barked out a laugh. “Yeah shitty hair, she threw you over her shoulders and hauled your wasted ass back to the car.” Kirishima’s face somehow burned brighter and apologized profusely, but you waved it off. “Nah, it’s fine! Besides, if Bakugou wasn’t being such an ass I wouldn’t have had to carry you. I just got sick of trying to keep you standing upright while he snickered at me being short.” Bakugo scoffed. “Well you’re definitely not tall.” “I don’t need to be to kick your sorry ass.”

At that Bakugou went silent and Kirishima exploded in a fit of laughter. “Put a sock in it shitty hair! And you!” Bakugou glared at you in the rearview mirror, “I’m gonna beat your stubby ass next time!” You looked at him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Ground Zero?” He growled at the mention of his hero name. “Yeah short stack, it’s a fucking challenge.”

Soon the car parked in the parking garage, and you all went up to their shared apartment. It was spacious, and very modern. Bakugou pointed out the bathroom and went to the kitchen to grab three bottles of beer. The three of you settled into the living room and the conversation went just like lunch did. Most of the questions were directed at you, and you answered honestly.

The questions were generic and friendly, what you like to do in your spare time (besides going to the gym), your favorite foods, colors, your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves. After the first round of questioning you’d only got through one bottle of beer. “Hey, what other kinds of alcohol you got?” you questioned Bakugou. He got up and listed his menu from the kitchen. You asked him for a glass of the cream liquor, and he returned with a glass filled with the liquid.

After hours of aimless conversation and a few more glasses, you found yourself slowing as the alcohol permeated your system. That was your signal to ask for a snack and water, and you stopped your intake of alcohol. Bakugou caught on to your self cut-off. “You don’t need to limit yourself. We’ve got a spare room if you need to stay the night, and if you need to call in tomorrow the agency has plenty of people to take over your patrol.” His statement shocked you, and you looked at him like he was crazy.

He spoke again, “If you’re cautious about sharing a place with two guys, Kiri’s nearly wasted already, he can’t do shit, and if I were stupid enough to do anything I’m sure you’d kick my ass before I got within a foot of you. As for tomorrow, both of us are off, and like I said, the agency is not short-staffed. And i’ve got meds if you’re worried about a hangover, and I don’t mind lending you clothes if you need them.”

You were stunned. Completely and utterly bewildered. But he made good points, so you decided to take up his offer to spend the night. “You know what, I’ll stay. But I'm gonna slow down with the alcohol, because hangovers are a bitch to deal with even with painkillers.” And with that, the three of you continued talking. Soon Kirishima passed out and Bakugou hauled him into his room. Surprisingly enough, when he came back out he actually engaged the conversation.

He asked about your fighting style, how you developed it, how long you trained. Most of his questioning was about your physical strength and tenacity, nothing personal. But then he asked why you spent so much of your time in the gym instead of with friends. And you answered honestly and bluntly, probably mostly because of the alcohol. “To be honest, I’m not much of a social butterfly. I don’t really have friends, because I don’t ‘make friends’ with people. In fact, you could call me antisocial. I don’t really like talking to people. I don’t speak unless spoken to or unless speaking is necessary.”

And he only dove deeper. “Why not? The world too scary from down there?” he teased. You laughed darkly at the comment, choosing to drain your glass of alcohol in favor of answering the implied question. He looked at you and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You avoided the question.”

“Well it wasn’t really a question, just a jab at my height again”

“Yeah, and you didn’t jab back.”

You huff, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Just drop it Bakugou.”

“I won’t drop it. Not until you give me some kind of answer.”

“Are you always this insensitive or is it just the alcohol?”

“Spill it (y/l/n).”

“Ugh fine! But I’m not giving you any details.” You crack your knuckles, take a deep breath, and a long drink of water before you talk again. “I used to like making friends. But all the friends I made turned out to be liars and fakes. I was used. A lot. After a while I finally had enough, so I stopped approaching people. I decided if people want to be in my life they can approach me. I got good at reading people, and I shut them out fast if they weren’t good for me.” You sighed, praying that was enough to sate Bakugou’s drunken curiosity. It wasn’t.

“And if people approached you with the intention of using you? If you read them wrong?” he pried. Screw it. You already spilled this much right? Might as well get it out. “I got really good at pretty bad things. I don’t usually read wrong, because I’m suspicious of everyone that walks into my life.” Internally, you prayed that was enough for him. “What kinds of bad things?” Well that’s unfortunate.

“Things like eavesdropping. Spying. Hiding. Manipulation. Lying. Deceit. Long story short, I have trust issues. It’s easier to keep people at arm’s distance than make friends that could hurt you.” At that, Bakugou goes quiet, his eyes studying your face. And you stare back at him, waiting for the judgement that comes with opening up to people. Waiting for the ‘maybe you should openup more’ and ‘just give people a chance’. But his answer is unexpected. His face softens ever so slightly as his eyes lock onto yours, his voice low, soft and somewhat comforting. “Sounds rough.” You look away, trying to keep your breathing steady, not giving tears the chance to fall, “I’m gonna turn in. Good night, Bakugou.”

Moving quickly, you disappear into the spare room and curl up into the bed sheets. Why the hell are you crying? You’d talked about this before. So why now, of all times, are you suddenly sobbing into your hoodie, clinging to it like your lifeline? You try your best to keep quiet, hoping the only other person awake doesn’t hear you. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you hear the door handle turn, and you freeze, closing your eyes and steadying your breath, going completely silent in mock-sleep. It was a technique you’d perfected long ago, turning off your emotionsin order to avoid confrontation.

You hear heavy footsteps, knowing who it is that just stepped in. He was the only other one still awake. You feel the bed behind you dip, and strong arms curl around you and turn your body, burying your face into Bakugou’s solid chest. His deep voice rumbles softly in your ear. “I know you’re not sleeping shorty. I listened through the door and heard you crying. Just let it out.” And before you can stop them, the tears you’d willed to disappear begin to pour down your face. So you sob into his chest, his arms tightening around you as your entire body shakes.

Soon you’re drifting into sleep, your body giving in to exhaustion. You’re in a deep sleep, and Bakugou stays there, holding you, until the last hiccups subside. He leans away to look down at you, and brushes strands of hair away from your face. “How long has it been since you’ve cried, princess? How long since you bottled up those emotions inside you?” He questions your sleeping figure. He presses a soft kiss into your forehead, gets up and tucks you under the blanket before silently leaving the room and going to bed.

When you wake up, your eyelids are heavy and swollen, making it hard to open them. You tenderly massage them open, remembering the reason they’re so puffy and sore. Despite the discomfort of your eyes, you feel refreshed and light, a weight lifted off your chest that you didn’t know was there in the first place. No, it was more like it’s been there for so long you’d gotten used to the pressure. Slowly, you sit up and blink away sleep.

You check the clock and it’s 8 am, a couple hours later than you normally get up. At the foot of your bed is a set of folded clothes. You quickly change out of the clothes you slept in, and into the t-shirt and sweatpants that you assumed were Bakugou’s. As expected, they’re giant on you, but they’re comfortable, and they smell like Bakug-- NO. Stop. You shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it came and go out to see if either of the guys are up.

You quickly get your answer when you see Kirishima lounging -- freaking SHIRTLESS -- on the couch. Talk about eye candy, damn. Like sure, his hero costume doesn’t exactly hide anything, but it’s different when he’s laying across a couch in nothing but gray sweatpants. Again, you clear the thoughts before they screw you over, and greet him. “Hey (y/l/n) how’d you sleep?” “Pretty good, thanks. I’m surprised you’re up so early Kiri.” He laughs at the observation, “Yeah. Bakugou got me up a little while ago and I couldn’t go back to sleep.” Yeah, that makes sense. You nod and make your way into the kitchen, and as expected, Bakugo is there.

“Good morning Bakugou,” you greet him. “Morning shorty. How’d you sleep?” You answer with the same reply you gave Kirishima a few seconds ago. You lowered your voice a little and leaned slightly toward him, “Thank you, by the way. For last night. I really needed that.” He just nods, focusing his attention to the fridge to find breakfast. Satisfied with that, you turn and head back to the couch and chill with Kirishima until Bakugou calls you to the table to eat.

You ask them what they do on their days off, and today the plan was just to stay in and lounge around the house, not doing much of anything and just relaxing. So, that’s what you did. As the hours passed, you found yourself liking the company of the two men, despite their imposing size. You didn’t feel small with them. But the question lingering at the back of your mind was why? Why were you so comfortable around them?

Thoughts buzzed around in your head like a hurricane, mixing with the doubt that they were in any way comfortable with you, and the fear that they were only using you for what men always seem to want. Soon you were telling yourself all the bad scenarios that would end in them leaving you all alone again. You didn’t even know them all that well, but you had become attached and were already bracing yourself for the inevitable loss of the two. The memory of crying to Bakugou last night swirled into your mind and wouldn’t disappear.

You were spiraling into a panic like you always did when people got close. But it was hidden, suppressed, contained. Whenever you panicked it never showed, the only telltale sign being your sudden need to scratch the soft flesh on the inside of your elbow. You hadn’t scratched in so long that any previous wounds had completely healed over, the only evidence left were small patches of discoloration, only evident if you stare long enough. That was about to change as your nails dug furiously while you stared off into space.

Kirishima was the first to snap you out of your spiral, grabbing your wrists and shaking you out, calling your name frantically. Your senses began to drift back, and the next thing you noticed was the sting on your forearms and the light stain of blood on your nails and fingertips. Your eyes drifted from your wrist up to your inner elbow, and you winced at the sight of blood seeping out of the shredded welts. It looked like it should have hurt more than it did.

“Bakugou! Get the first aid kit from the bathroom! (y/l/n)’s bleeding!” Kirishima called out to him. You heard quick heavy stomps and a curse from the blonde before he came over to examine your arms. He looked at you, and you looked back at him, still dazed from your inner turmoil. He knew from that look you were out of it. Instead he questioned the redhead to ask what had happened while he was in the kitchen figuring out what to make for lunch.

“I don’t know! I was watching tv and when I turned to ask her something she was staring off into space and scratching at her arms! She was bleeding before I even turned and I grabbed her before it could get worse.” Bakugou clenched his jaw and went to get a wet washcloth to clean up the blood. You were watching this all unfold before you, still not quite attached to reality. When he returned, he put the cloth on his lap and grabbed your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with calloused thumbs. He called your voice, attempting to ground you, and didn’t stop until you finally took a few quick breaths and blinked, answering him with a small ‘sorry’.

He grabbed your wrists, which Kirishima had already released, and spoke to you in a hushed tone, but still strong and intense. “(y/l/n) I need you to listen to me. Are you allergic to anything? Anything at all?” It took a few moments for you to regain your mental balance, but you shook your head. “No. Nothing.” He let out a soft breath and with that he began to clean and dress your arms, wiping away blood and cleaning your fingers and nails in silent concentration.

By the time the entire ordeal was over, the different sensations from the sting of the alcohol wipes to the cool ointment and the soft gauze had grounded you completely. As Bakugou went to put the first aid kit away, Kirishima reached out and gripped your shoulders, looking over your face and into your eyes with tender concern. “You okay little pebble?” He moved his large hands so they rested at the sides of your neck, his thumbs gently brushing at your jaw.

You blush lightly at the endearing nickname and the new sensation of his hands. Leaning slightly into one of his palms, you nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t really wanna talk about it, but I’ll be just fine. I just got distracted.” He looked at you with a face that said he didn’t believe your excuse, but he’d drop the subject because you asked him to. Letting his hand release you, he gives you a toothy, mischievous grin. He leans in closer to you and nearly whispers, like he was about to reveal the world’s biggest scandal.

“That was the most gentle I’ve ever seen Bakugou. Thanks for bringing that side out of him,” he says, flashing another smile. You giggle a little at the thought of the explosive male being gentle, not quite believing it if you hadn’t been subject to it. Then you remembered why he’d been there, tending to the wounds you’d subconsciously inflicted on yourself. Your eyebrows knitted together lightly, remembering the spiral and being shaken out of it by a panicked Kirishima. When Bakugou came back, you grabbed one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” you say softly. After a few moments of silence, you decided you owed them an explanation of some kind. “And thank you for catching me. The scratching is a nervous habit when I’m stressed. I thought I got rid of it, but obviously I haven’t. It’s been a long time since it happened last, and it was triggered by my own drifting thoughts. It’s purely subconscious and I don’t realize what I’m doing until the pain becomes too unbearable and snaps me back to reality.”

By the end of your explanation, the two were looking at you with concern and understanding. Kirishima gently smiled, and Bakugou’s features relaxed, when you squeezed their hands appreciatively. The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a low growl. You laughed at the comedic timing of your stomach and glanced at the clock. It was just after 12:30, and Bakugou got up to go make lunch. After eating you asked to wash your clothes, and asked to use the shower. Kirishima got you a spare towel and plastic wrap to cover your newly dressed forearms. Five minutes under the hot water and you were already feeling suffocated. The steam clouded your lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe.

You knew you had a problem with hot water. You always have. Jacuzzis were never relaxing for you, and you loved the cool water of the ocean the deeper you dove toward inky blackness. You turned the handle in the shower, letting the water turn cold. Your body shivered slightly from the sudden temperature change, but quickly relaxed as the cold water washed away all the stress from a few hours ago.

When you had finished up you went to go relax on the couch again, settling into the space between the two. Now with your mind clear, you began to wonder something that you probably should have wondered a while ago. How tall were they, really? They stood over a foot taller than you, so they had to be at least 6 feet tall. You looked from one to the other, your head swiveling back and forth, before you decided to just ask them.

Bakugou barked out a deep laugh, “Why you wanna know shorty? Finally realizing how scary we look from down there?” You rolled your eyes at him, but he answered anyway. “I’m 6 foot 4 (193 cm).” Kirishima looked down at you and beamed, “I’m 6 foot 6 (198 cm).” Bakugou scoffed, and you giggled at the blonde getting upset over height. Suddenly you bounced up from the couch and turned to the two, barely containing the thought that suddenly popped into your mind. Out of the two, the redhead seemed like the more likely to carry out your request, so you turned to Kirishima with wide excited eyes and a lopsided grin like a kid in a candy store.

“Can you carry me?!” you blurted out a little too loud. Kirishima blushed hard, and then you realized how ridiculous the request sounded and rushed to explain. “Sorry! That sounded weird right? I just wanna know what life looks like from that high up! I’m only 5 feet tall so…” you rambled a little before Kirishima laughed and stood up. “Sure little pebble.” He turned you around and squatted down, put his left arm around your waist and right arm against your thighs just above your knees and told you to lean back and sit on his arm.

Once you were seated snugly, your back pressed against his chest, he stood up and you gasped a little from the new angle. The floor looked so far away, and you knew that if Kirishima decided to hold you by your armpits your feet would dangle a foot from the floor. Bakugou looked up at you from the couch and scoffed. “Alright shitty hair, put her down before you drop her and she breaks her legs from the fall.” Your hilariously rebellious brain took that as a challenge. You smirked at Bakugou, his eyes daring you to do exactly what you were thinking. But before you could move he looked at the redhead behind you, and the arm around your waist tightened as he reached to grab his right bicep. He slightly activated his quirk, locking you in place.

“Aw, c’mon! You’re no fun! I’ve jumped from buildings before and landed perfectly fine!” You whined as you squirmed in Kirishima’s arms. Both of them laughed at your struggle, and once again, your brain instantly settled on ‘challenge accepted’. You quickly surveyed your surroundings, going about the best way to escape Red Riot without damaging any of the heroes’ property.

Before either of them could react, you materialized quirk-cancelling handcuffs and clasped one side around Kirishima's left wrist. The instant it went into effect, you brought your foot up and back down into the redhead’s stomach just hard enough for his grip on you to loosen up. When his right arm dropped to grab his abdomen, you slipped down along his body, grabbed the free cuff on your way down and snapped it around the leg of the coffee table, Kirishima landing flat on his ass with an ‘oof’.

Once again, Bakugou just stared in shock. You crossed your arms and smirked at him, “What was that about dropping me, Bakugou?” He was silent. Kirishima chuckled from his spot on the ground. “Damn, you’re a sneaky one little pebble.” You turned back around and took a deep bow. You materialized the cuff’s key and released him, storing them back in your quirk’s storage space. Finally recovering from his shock, Bakugou looked at the time and said, “Alright, short stack. Let’s go spar.” You turned to him and spoke what your brain had thought only moments before. “Challenge accepted.”

#kiribaku x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima bnha #bakugou bnha

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