#/but the notes for Four is he is VERY BRAVE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gracieheartspedro · 2 months ago

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Dagger In The Heart

pairing: ellie williams x afab! reader

post about palestine - please be aware and know who your content comes from. this post informs you about the tlou writers and creators, as well as how to help the Palestinian people.

word count: 6.1k words

warnings: MINORS DNI!!! 18+ ty!!! abusive relationship mentioned, reader's bf is a cheating asshole, calls her names, makes comments about weight, talks of cheating, some lowkey cheating from reader, sharing clothes with ellie, ellie is 18+ but her age not specified, talks of hardly eating food at dinner, reader is a bit confused with her sexuality and wants to explore (which is fine!!! and normal!!!), wlw relations, pussy eating, fingering, tribbing, tattoos? lots of tattoos, dirty talk, reader being a bit desperate, getting caught (but not really), mentions of a strap, men being drunk and stupid. that's it. I think.

description: when you get the chance to meet your asshole boyfriend’s family, you take a liking to his sister, ellie. when a conversation about her tattoos turns into talks of what you’re really into, you can’t help but want to explore it more.

author’s note: hi girls, gays, and theys! I am so happy to be bringing this request to you. it was an anon request from july and I just suck at getting my life together to actually write. but here we are. FYI, I don't condone this behavior or cheating. anyway I hope you enjoy. I will also be putting this on my ao3 soon, so if you see it there, don't worry, it's just me (;

“You gotta chill, babe. Your anxiety is giving me anxiety.”

He was never very good with comforting you, so you bite back your snappy comment and just fake a smile.

You had been dating your boyfriend Matt for almost a year. You two met in your college biology class and really bonded over your love for folk music and Greek food. He had kind eyes, mousy brown hair and the brightest smile you had ever seen.

At first, you thought this was the best relationship you ever could ask for, but Matt grew distant after four months together. You didn’t know why, but his temper had shown itself one too many times. He fought with you constantly. He was quite jealous. You could never be seen with another boy without accusations of cheating. But every time you two argued, he always came back with an apology and a bouquet of flowers. You could not help but believe you could fix him.

It had been 10 months, you had to brave meeting his family. Unlike you, his family lived two towns over and he visited them quite often. He was close to his younger brother and mom, so he made a point to see them as much as he could.

He brought up the idea of meeting them back around the holidays, but you were planning to board a flight and visit your family across the country. He understood but was pretty disappointed you could not try his mom’s infamous pumpkin pie.

You had no excuse when summer came. So here you are, standing with him at his childhood home’s front door as he scrambled to find his keys.

You were sporting something more dressed up than your normal. Matt loved this one black dress on you, so you decided to wear that with some cute flats. You were sorely regretting the shoe decision, the pointed-toed shoes squeezed your big toe and the arch was not high enough to be comfortable.

He unlocks the deadbolt and the red door jolts open. You are instantly met with the scent of BBQ and cornbread. His childhood is cozy and lived in. The entrance is lined with shoes, everything from high heels to sneakers that have run through countless puddles. It was a sigh of relief, they were a no-shoes in the house family. You kick off your uncomfortable shoes, holding on to Matt’s shoulder for balance.

His mom is the first one to enter the hallway to meet you two at the door. She is quite beautiful, her hair darker than Matt’s. She was shorter, wearing a nice blouse and jeans. She welcomes you both with a bear hug and cheers of excitement. When she pulls you out of the embrace, she gets a better look at you.

“You are more beautiful in person, pictures do not do your gorgeous smile justice,” She remarks, squeezing your hands.

You shake your head, trying your best not to let out that you are beyond nervous about this entire encounter. “You are too kind, thank you so much for hosting us.”

��Come meet the crew!”

Matt eyes meet yours, noticing how tense you are. You had hoped for him to hold your hand and guide you through this experience, but instead he just nudges you with his shoulder. He brushes by, heading after his mom.

The hallway opens into a kitchen and living room, which is littered with random strangers who, in some way, resemble your boyfriend.

His brother, Collin, stands up first from the barstools, racing over to your boyfriend to dap him up. When he glances your way, you just smile and introduce yourself. He extends his hand to shake yours, which you gladly accept.

His dad is next to stand up from a recliner in the living room. He makes your acquaintance quickly, telling you he’s so glad to finally meet you after months of hearing all about you.

When he moves away from in front of you, she comes into focus. You had not even noticed her sitting on the couch across the room.

She’s slender, her dark locks framing her chiseled jawline. She looks like Matt, but more like a person who belongs in a Renaissance painting. Her eyes are a more dimensional brown. She has freckles scattered around her pale complexion, which only added her beauty.

You do not realize you are gawking until Matt nudges you. “This is my sister, Ellie.”

You blink again, bringing your focus back to the situation. She extends her hand, and that’s when you take notice to her tattoo-filled arms. Her tank top raises a bit and you catch a glance of her midriff, exposing more tattoos littering her abdomen.

“Nice to meet ya. Heard plenty about you.”

You swallow, taking her hand and shaking it. “I hope good things.”

“No, I only tell her the worst things about you.”

Everyone giggles except you and Ellie. Luckily it is filling the room with enough noise to drown out your thoughts about your boyfriend’s beautiful sister.

Ellie rolls her eyes before whispering, “Don’t worry, it’s only ever good things, sweet cheeks.”

Matt’s dad loves to talk and you can tell it annoys Ellie. You were seated outside on their patio set, drinking some homemade lemonade Matt’s mom was adamant you had. He was helping her with all the sides that were still yet to be made, so you took up Ellie’s offer to check out the backyard space. You did not expect Matt’s dad to come with you two and tell you all about the flower beds he curated.

But you listened, smiling and nodding while sipping on your tart drink.

He got occupied with grilling, so you and Ellie were left on the couch near a very used and abused firepit.

You wait for her to say something. She was truly making you nervous, her eyes trailing you every so often.

“So, you and Matt met in science class?”

You finally look back at her wandering eyes, “Yeah, he was my biology partner.”

“Gotcha,” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees. You do not know what comes over you, but you cannot physically pull your eyes away from her arms as they flex. “You good?”

“I like your tattoos,” You barely manage to say, “They are… hot.”

You want to jump into the unlit firepit for that one.

No other adjective came to your horny mind? Really?

She giggles, enjoying watching you practically squirm under her gaze. “Thanks, dude. My ex girlfriend was a tattoo artist so I let her practice on me.”

You remember a moment about 5 months ago when Matt mentioned his sister being gay, but for some reason, you finally connect that duh it’s Ellie, you fucking idiot.

You also remember some choice words he had about her. You remember cringing when he called her a slur and said she could not keep a girl to save her life. You held your tongue and refused to reply.

“That’s awesome,” You scoot closer to her, bridging more of the gap between you two on the couch, “Which one is your favorite?”

She smiles at your intrusion into her space and questions. You realize you two are almost sizing each other up, right in front of her family, your boyfriend’s family. They could easily peek outside of the kitchen windows and see you two eye fucking each other. She leans back, her eyes tracing all the tattoos on her arms.

Then she laughs. A deep guttural laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing,” She brings her front teeth down on her bottom lip before speaking up again, “It’s a tattoo I can’t show you.”

“Why not?”

She looks towards the window, checking on her brother and mom. Her expression changes when she turns back to you.

“Because I’m not pulling my tits out in front of my family.”

Your pussy practically pulses when you hear her say it. What is wrong with you? You are dating her brother. What is wrong with you?!

“Your… boobs are tattooed?”

She nods slowly, bringing her one hand up to your bare exposed thigh, “Bet that shakes a sweet one like you to your core.”

The comment insinuates that you are an innocent little girl who knows nothing about the world. And sure Matt is your first real boyfriend. Sure he was the first person ever to eat you out because your high school crushes did not even know that was a thing. Sure you never have been sexually promiscuous. Sure you thought you were straight.

Sure.

But something inside you was crawling its way out. This small interaction with your asshole boyfriend’s sister was enough to send you into a spiral. You never gave a girl a chance so how were you supposed to know you did not like it?

“What if your family wasn’t around?”

Ellie is gobsmacked by your comment, her jaw practically hitting the floor. You can tell she realized she was flying too close to the sun. She pulls her hand away from your leg.

“You are my brother’s girlfriend. I am not going to be the one to corrupt you,” She states, scooting over a bit away from you. Your cheeks get flushed, instantly feeling embarrassed for asking such a question. But the more you sat in silence, the more you realized that you really did not care. The feelings Ellie made you feel within the last 10 minutes were more exciting than any feeling Matt had given you in 10 months.

You clear your throat, “Luckily for you, Ellie, you would not be the one to corrupt me. That has already been done.”

She looks at you quizzically, “Is that so?”

“Yeah, I may look sweet and innocent,” You creep in close to her, “But I am really a freak.”

Now you are just lying.

Before she can utter a word, Matt’s brother comes out to let you two know dinner was done. You hope and pray he didn’t take notice to how close you two were. Or how Ellie stared at your ass as you walked away.

You sit between Matt and Ellie at the table.

Every so often during the meal, you would place your hand on Matt’s leg. He would push you away, rolling his eyes when you glared at him. When the conversation came around to him, he would find a way to demean you and then continue blabbing about school or his internship.

You answered questions from his mom and dad, but you were sorely uninterested in them. But then the conversation comes around as to whether you two would be staying the night tonight. At this point, Matt had already had four beers, and you knew he probably would not want you driving his new Mustang.

“You can take Matt’s bed and he can sleep on the couch,” His mom suggests, indicating that you two would not be sleeping together. You understood that they were a bit more traditional, but you were not expecting to sleep in your boyfriend's childhood bed without him.

“That’s a great idea, Ma. We can stay, right?”

You look at the plate of practically untouched food in front of you. You just nod, finally saying, “As long as you give me some comfy sweatpants to wear.”

“Mine are all back at my apartment, but I’m sure Ellie has something you could borrow. Plus, you probably wouldn’t fit my sweatpants.”

Matt constantly made comments about your figure and how he could not share clothes with you. He refused to share his clothes with you, stating that you would not be able to squeeze into them and you also “left your scent on everything”.

God, he made you feel terrible about yourself.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you think about wearing Ellie’s clothes, though, and you completely drown out the separate conversation happening around the table. You feel a hand creep up your thigh, but it's not coming from the side you expect.

Her hand is so soft and delicate as it creeps up your leg. You cannot help but glance at her direction, catching her smiling over at you.

“Don’t worry, I got something you can wear.”

Dinner finishes up and Matt expresses that he wants to go for a round of drinks with his high school friends and brother at the local tavern down the street. He never asks if you want to go, telling you “It would just be high school friends that you don’t know, anyway.”

He tells you that his Mom and Ellie would get you all set up. He gives you a pat on the back, and heads to the door, right behind his brother. You watch him leave and almost breathe a sigh of relief.

When you turn back, you see his Mom already going upstairs.

“I’m gonna get your bed all set up and then I’m probably going to retire to my bed, too.” She states, slowly making her way up the wooden staircase.

You wanted to scream because this only meant one thing. You were alone with Ellie.

You follow her up the stairs and look around the hallway. She heads to the right and begins pointing at the only room with the light on. You didn’t even know that Ellie was upstairs.

“Have Ellie get you something to wear, I’ll make up your bed!”

The door swings open and Ellie stands there, having changed into her own bedtime clothes. And for fucks sake, she’s not making this easy for you.

She is sporting a tight white tank, no bra, and shorts that ride up to the very tops of her thighs. Her legs are tattooed as well, but not as much as her arms. There isn’t a touch of her freckled skin that isn’t marked with art. You can almost see through her shirt, making your mouth go dry.

“Let’s see what you fit into!”

She lets you into her space. Her room is decorated with posters of space and heavy metal bands. From the looks of one corner of her room, she’s an artist. She has different art styles, anywhere from charcoal to watercolors, littering a desk and her walls. It’s messy, but it’s not dirty. It smells like incense and clean laundry.

She walks over to her dresser, opens up the top drawer. Everything is neatly folded, which kind of surprises you.

“I have some sweatpants, shorts, boxers-“

“Sweatpants are fine,” You retort, not wanting her to list off anything else, “Do you have any t-shirts I could wear?”

“Well of course I do, sweet cheeks. What do you want, loose or tight?”

You stare at her dumbfounded. You know what she’s doing. And you hate yourself for liking it so much.

She pulls out a pair of navy blue sweatpants, still waiting for your reply.

“Loose.”

She starts to dig through another drawer when Matt’s mom pops her head in.

“It’s all set up for you, sweetheart. If you need anything, you let one of us know. I’m going to downstairs if you need me.”

You smile, thankfully. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Williams.”

“If she needs anything, I’m sure I could help her find her way,” Ellie says, absentmindedly. She pulls out a white t-shirt from her drawer and tosses it at you.

“Goodnight, girls!”

And then you two are alone. Ellie slowly saunters to her door and shuts it.

“You can get dressed here. Just make sure what I gave you fits.”

You silently turned your back to her, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “Can you unzip me?”

You are not even thinking straight. You are so caught up with being alone with the girl you have had weird sexual tension with. She walks over to you confidently, before grabbing the top of your black dress, which lands right at the middle of your back. She pulls down the zipper, ensuring it reaches the very end of its track.

The hairs on your back stand up in her wake. You breathe deeply, before shimmying the dress off your shoulders. You were wearing a bra, so you were just going to keep it on. You step out of the dress, leaving you in just underwear and the push-up bra Matt gifted you not too long ago.

You don’t turn to her, but she just comes around to your front, nonchalantly.

“Jesus Christ,” Ellie stammers, before plopping on her bed. You shakingly step into the sweatpants she gifted you to wear, unsure how to respond. You rack your brain trying to gain the confidence you had before dinner, but your mouth is dry and your brain is dazed from seeing Ellie in her pajamas.

You finally manage to glance up at her hungry eyes, smiling softly.

“I never knew I would be jealous of my brother.”

You swallow, “Jealous?”

“Yeah, he gets to have someone like you every night and I can’t even find someone worth hanging out with around here. Never thought a nerd like him would win over a woman like you.”

You are standing in the sweatpants and your bra, not able to digest her words completely. A woman like you?

“Your brother is sweet. And we don’t have sex every night.”

“Just sweet?” She steps a bit closer to you, “And I said nothing about sex, darling, I said he gets to have you.”

She is looking at you like you are her prey. You almost fell to your knees and begged her to put you out of your misery, but you resisted. Instead, she just stands up, trying to catch your nervous glances.

“H-he, uh, does what he can, when we d-do, yanno.”

Her fingers trace up your arm, her eyes trailing as she does it. You bite the inside of your cheek, waiting for her response. She clicks her tongue a couple of times, shaking her head.

“I am sure he tries,” She sputters, standing back from you, “Do you even really like him?”

You furrow your eyebrows, suddenly snapping out of the situation you are currently in. You reflect for a moment.

Matt was an asshole but you sometimes enjoyed his company. He made you laugh on occasion. But deep down, you knew that he wasn’t made for you. He lacked emotional intelligence and made sure to put you down any chance he got. You had inklings he was talking to other girls and his friends were probably the most intolerable people on your college campus. And then there was that one time when the inklings were just.

The realization that you maybe didn’t like him made you sick. You wasted so much time and now you have met his family.

“When he’s not mean to me. When he isn’t cheating on me.” You admit quietly, almost too humiliated to say it.

She crooks her neck, “He cheated on you?”

You hate talking about it, it made you feel as though you were never good enough. He made it out that it was your fault because you would not have sex with him when you had the flu. “It was just some hand stuff, baby,” he said to you.

“Just once. I forgave him because he told me he loved me.”

“People who love you don’t hurt you like that,” Ellie says without a beat.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Is he mean to you all the time?”

You think back to the last nice thing he said to you. Your ass looks fat in that dress. And even that could be seen as a bad thing. You shake your head, trying to find a good way to paint her brother. From the looks of it, she doesn’t really like him all that much anyway.

“Most of the time.”

“So, what I’m hearing is my brother is an asshole that doesn’t know how to treat a woman both in life and in the bedroom. Is that what you’re saying?”

You stand there pondering her question, coming up with nothing. She was right, but were you ready to admit that?

So you shrug.

Ellie stands with her arms crossed now, chewing on the inside of her lip. She’s contemplating something, her eyes falling to the floor for a moment.

“Listen, I am not just saying this because it has taken everything in my power to resist sinking my teeth into you,” The first half of the sentence put your heart in your throat. Nonetheless, she carries on, “But I have an inkling that you don’t like my brother at all. I think you like girls and you’ve never had the chance to explore that. You want to say you are a freak, but you really don’t know what that even means.”

“Ellie, I d-”

“You need to break up with my brother,” She states plainly, “And then, after all is said and done, I can show what it looks like to be taken care of.”

You agree, sadly. You do need to break up with Matt. And on the basis that you believe that he’s probably at the bar hanging out with old friends, probably with other girls, probably flirting with those other girls. You decide you are not going to wait anymore. He cheated on you once, what’s stopping him now? Ellie was right about everything, and while that revelation changes your entire perspective on life, you settle on jumping head first.

“Show me now.”

You watch all the blood drain from her face. She fumbles with her inked hands, waiting for you to say you didn’t mean it. That moment never comes.

“Are you sure about that?”

Swallowing hard, you just nod. You do not even realize what you are getting yourself into, but the undeniable chemistry cannot be ignored anymore. You don’t even want to waste another thought on Matt. You know if you think too hard about it, you’ll talk yourself back into staying with him.

Ellie’s face gets closer to yours and your lips connect seamlessly. She wastes no time, bringing her hands down to your waist to pull you in. You wrap your arms around her neck while fireworks erupt in your chest.

Her lips taste like mint and a dab pen your college roommate made you hit a couple of months ago. She was borderline intoxicating.

She backs you up towards her bed, letting your knees hit the edge of the mattress. You plop down, disconnecting from her lips.

Through hooded lids, she asks you, “Do you want to see my favorite tattoo, then?”

Your breathing hitches as she does not even wait for a response, she just pulls her tank top over her head.

Each piece is connected somehow. Her stomach piece is what appeared to be a dragon flying up towards her under-boob area. It was extremely detailed and took up a large half of her upper stomach. Around her collarbones were very intricate lines that almost rain over her body like veins. They spread down her chest onto her boobs, where around her nipples were two matching daggers appearing to go through her areola.

You smirk at the idea that these are her favorite tattoos. The cheeky ones around her tits.

“Holy shit, Ellie.”

You reach out and touch her tits, ever so delicately. You use your finger to outline the daggers, smiling to yourself.

Being this close sends a pulsating feeling down to your pussy. You have never felt a lightning strike quite like it before.

She’s letting you feel her up, but when you change your tune and start pinching at her nipples, she throws her head back with a groan.

“Hmm, you should try putting one in your mouth,” She remarks, hoping to God you would be eager enough to do so. She was very in tune with you because you leaned forward taking her right nipple into your mouth. She’s guiding you around every turn, whispering how good you are doing already.

You release her with a pop and sit back. You reach around to release your own, but she stops you.

“Lemme do it,” She says mounting your lap. You place your hand on her hips while she runs her fingertips across your back. She unhooks your black bra, letting your tits spill out.

You feel the tops of your hands stand up as soon as her hands begin to knead your tits. You glance down at her movements, watching your sensitive nipples perk up due to the attention she’s giving them.

“Mmm, you like that, sweetness?”

You just groan, your lips needing to do more than just talk. You pull Ellie’s ajar mouth down to yours, diving your tongue between her teeth. You never had such a hunger for anyone else. No guy ever made you feel this way.

She nudges your shoulders, having you fall onto your back. Her lips move away from yours and start to trail down your neck and chest. When her wet mouth touches your tits, you cannot control the sounds that leave your throat. She bites down on your supple skin, which makes you groan more.

“You gotta quiet down a bit. Don’t need anyone hearing us.”

You try to manage your noises, but as soon as she starts to kiss down to the hem of the sweatpants she loaned you, you know you’ll never be quiet like she needs you to be. She tugs at the waistband, taking your underwear with it.

You are now butt naked on her bed. And god, the air is hitting the wetness between your legs is titillating.

“Listen, sweets,” She whispers, palming your thighs with her tattooed hands, “I’m going to make you cum on my tongue first. Then I am going to fuck this pussy so good, you won’t know any other cock but the fake one in my side table. You hear me?”

Your stomach is in knots, but you know that this is what you really want. “Okay, Ellie. Please do whatever you think I will like.”

“You’re gonna like it all, baby girl. And if it gets a bit dodgy, you just let me know and we can stop.”

You shake your head positively as she smiles between your legs. She starts by kissing up your thighs, keeping you completely in a trance. When her mouth finds your slit, she licks a long stripe. She takes her time, working her tongue in between your pussy lips. The wet sound that happens when she shakes her head is pornographic. When she finds your clit, she encases it and starts to suck lightly. You scream out in pleasure, never feeling this sensitive before. It usually took a whole lot of Matt lazily fingering you and fucking you to illicit such a response. Ellie is building up an orgasm within you in record time.

She uses her fingers to open up your pussy a little bit more. You instinctively want to close your legs, but her left arm has your legs locked on her bed. Her middle and index fingers curl inside you with every motion forward.

Her eyes are closed and you are laser-focused on her expressions. She’s putting her all into making you feel good and it’s relieving to watch someone put so much care into it.

You notice the small little freckles that scatter across her nose get lighter as they reach her cheekbones. She’s so fucking pretty.

“Jesus, you’re doin’ so good sweetheart. You feel so good.”

“Oh my god, Ellie, please don’t stop,” Your voice is strained, begging her to continue fucking you. She chuckles and begins to pick up speed. Your mind is cluttered, unsure how you can feel this good.

When the peripherals of your vision begin to get white, you know it’s over. She latches her lips back onto your clit, humming to drag the orgasm out of you. When it happens, your deep guttural moans get muffled by her palm.

You think your heart is going to stop beating.

Once you begin to feel your muscles relax, Ellie is crawling on top of you, hovering over your chest, her lips kissing your collarbones.

“You did such a great job, baby girl,” She dotes, her short hair falling across her forehead, “You’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

Your heart swells up a thousand sizes. You never got called that before, let alone felt sexy. But Ellie had this aura to her. She made you feel sexy, desirable, wanted.

Your hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “Please show me more.”

She nods, before she leans back on her knees. She balances on one leg before shoving her pajama shorts down. The ink travels to every part of her body and you wonder if the ones around her hips hurt. The snakes that travel up her thighs, have their heads resting right on her hip bones.

You sit up and observe her movements, she’s fumbling with something in her drawer. She seemingly cannot find what she’s looking for and slams it shut.

“How about this,” She says with a huff, “I want you to see what it feels like to grind that pretty little pussy on mine anyway. The strap will have to wait.”

You feel the blood drain from your face, “The strap?”

She giggles at your not-so-faux innocence. “We will try that next time.”

You aren’t ready for her to grab onto your legs and move you like a rag doll around her bed. She rests her body horizontally from yours, her lower half lining up with yours. You were not sure how this worked, but you had heard of scissoring before. The technicality was lost on you.

You sit up waiting for instruction, but Ellie is so hypnotized by your wet slit, she doesn’t even look at you. You watch her reach out and touch your dripping center and it sends an electric shock down your limbs. You throw your head back, hissing at the action.

“God, that cunt is so pretty.”

You finally look back at her, wanting nothing more but to fuck her like she fucked you. So in return for her toying with you, you hastily reach out and touch her pussy. You are confused by what to do, but by her reaction, you know you did something right.

“Tell me what we are doing,” You beg, closing your legs in closer to hers. She nods, watching your fingers pull apart her pussy lips.

“Pull your cunt against mine and ride me like you’d ride Matt’s dick.”

You halt your movements, “Ride him?”

“You’ve never ridden him before?”

Your response was your silence. You had never explored much with him, simply because he was quick to get his nut before traversing to other territories.

She helps you sit up, hover your cunt over hers. You can not lie, the sight of her sticky wet pussy was hot. She guides you down so your mound is on hers. She bites her lip as you practically drool watching your purely untouched body against her painted figure.

“Now move your hips back,” Her hands are gripping onto your hips, showing you the way, “And forth.”

The friction is immediately overstimulating, but it feels like an itch you’ve never scratched. So fucking delicious.

“Shit…” You groan at the response your body is giving you.

“Practice makes perfect, baby. Keep moving those hips.”

You have never been on top, but it’s almost freeing to be in control of the movements. You weren’t sure what you should grip onto as you rubbed your pussy against hers, so you grip onto your own shoulders. Your hips gyrate, the slickness between your legs starts trailing down to Ellie’s navy blue sheets.

“God, this pussy is so fucking perfect,” Ellie says through gritted teeth. She holds down your hips, somehow trying to get you closer to her.

“It’s yours.” You whine, letting the lust take over your speech. You had no clue what that meant for this situation, you just knew that Ellie knew how to fuck you and it was bliss. Your hands leave your shoulders and eventually find Ellie’s tits.

“This pussy is mine? The first cunt you fuck is the cunt you fuck forever?”

You want to laugh, but the bubble in your stomach is about to burst already with how fucked out of your mind you are. “If the cunt is yours, then yes. I want this forever.”

Ellie sucks on her two fingers before she reaches down, finding the very top of your cunt, and begins to press down on that sensitive little bud. The saliva only mixes with the messiness of your liquids. You squeeze her nipples in response.

“Never going back to my stupid fuckin’ brother, hm? This pussy belongs to me.”

“Yes, Ellie, fuck!”

She smiles at your quickening pace. She knows you’re reaching your breaking point, and she knows that she’s close herself.

“Come for me, baby. Come all over my fuckin’ cunt.”

You jolt forward, your hips stilling over hers. You don’t know if you’ve felt a sensation quite like it. You had tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body felt like a volcano erupting. The curses leaving Ellie’s lips as she came from your orgasm only added to the high you felt. You knew words were leaving your mouth, but they were just jumbled together strings of sentences.

“Jesus Christ…”

“It feels so good…”

“I want this pussy forever…”

You fall over next to Ellie, your legs still intertwined with hers. She was trying to catch her breath, her body still jittery from her high.

“That was per-”

“Babe!!”

Your stomach drops to your ass when you hear Matt’s voice.

You jump up from Ellie’s bed, finding the closest clothes you can grab at. Ellie does the same, but takes her time throwing a tank top over her bed head. His footsteps are practically running up the steps.

You are still wobbly on your legs, practically falling over trying to put on the pants she loaned you. You just keep saying “fuck” over and over again, knowing that you two will probably be caught. You just finished putting on a shirt when he barges into the room.

He’s drunk.

“What are you still doing in here?” He asks you in an accusatory slurred voice. Collin is close behind him, trying to shush him.

“Chill, dude. I was just showin’ her some of my art.” Ellie defends, plopping down on her bed. She’s trying to mask the fact that her bed is wet with your cum.

While he blabs about how Ellie sucks at art, which he is very wrong about, you notice a red blotch on his shirt collar. You zero in on it because you fucking knew.

“Matt, what’s on your neck?” You interrupt.

He stops his rant to look down at you. His eyes are bloodshot. He’s so gone that his mind can’t make up an excuse.

“It’s from Sophie,” He blurts out, his lips getting ahead of his brain. Ellie pauses and the entire room goes dead silent. You had no idea what to say back to that. You had no clue who Sophie was. You honestly did not care, your relationship was already done in your head. You were just kind of shell-shocked that it happened exactly how your mind doctored it.

You glance over at Ellie who is already looking at you. Collin clears his throat.

“I think this a conversation for the morning,” Collin says, grabbing Matt’s arm to tug him out of the room.

You nod, “Yeah, Collin, great idea. Why don’t you take Matt to bed? Tuck him in and give him a sweet kiss like Sophie did.”

Matt’s face turns bright red, the same thing it always did when he got mad at you. Before he could lash out at you, Collin drags him out of the room and into the hall. Before shutting the door behind him, he says, “I’m sorry.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “It’s fine. It’s not the first time. But it will be the last.”

When the door clicks shut, you hear Matt whisper yelling at Collin about how big of a bitch you are. How you didn’t deserve him. Yadda-yadda-yadda.

Ellie just gawks at you. The tone of the room changed so drastically so quickly that you felt almost disconnected from reality.

“You okay?” She asks innocently, her hand holding onto your shoulder.

Your legs are still weak. “Yeah, I think I’ll need more practice though.”

She is confused, you can tell by the look on her face. “Huh?”

“I’ll need more practice riding you. And, hey, you didn’t get to use that fake dick on me, remember?”

taglist (for those who said they wanted this haha)

@cavillscurls @satellitespinner @mourningdovee @hockeyhughes @stonerzdaze420692 @00ops1e @sunflowerwinds @holilogram @whoucallingalesbian @aurelialuna

#writing this took so long cause I hate everything I write sometimes #thanks for you patience #anon request #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou part 2 #ellie williams au #gracieheartspedro

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 3 months ago

Text

The Lost Condom

Synopsis: You were in the middle of a spicy time with your boyfriend, when something odd happened: the condom disappeared. Inside. Of. You.

The solution? Go to the hospital.

The problem? Your family didn't know about your relationship.

Pairing: Jon Kent X Gn!AFAB!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: 18+; Only mention and slight description of genitals and sex, but nothing too explicit; All characters are aged up of course; English isn't my 1st language.

Word count: 1,8k.

Requested? Nah.

Extra notes: This isn't an original idea of mine, it's based on a real life story someone told me. Also the family finding out scene was inspired by this fanfic from @dccomicsimagines and this scene from Megamind. Also, eventually I will work on the asks waiting for me I swear 😭

General masterlist

So… You were in the middle of… Having fun… With your boyfriend… When suddenly, he said something that really confused you.

— Hmm… Babe… Where’s the condom? — Your head snapped back to look at him, since you were on all fours.

— Where's the ‘what’? — Your eyes were wide, unconsciously. Jon was blushing intensely, looking from your eyes to your entrance. He didn't know how to explain.

— I-I-I put it inside with the condom on, but now it's… Gone! — You narrowed your eyes. You watched him wrap and then enter you, you didn't feel him pull out at any moment, and even if he did, why would he tell you that he pulled out, took the condom off and then put it inside again secretly while you were still going at it?

You were both silent for a few seconds.

— Search for it! — You practically yelled at him, making him scramble to get off of you. You laid with your back down and legs open, looking at the ceiling, trying to calm down and not feel embarrassed. You felt him entering you with his fingers and searching around for minutes, grumbling and getting frustrated. The sensation was good… But you had bigger priorities at hand!

You huffed and changed positions a few times. A pillow underneath your butt, legs up, on all fours. Nothing worked. You even searched around the room and the bed, just to be sure. At some point, you both defeatedly decided it was best you go to the hospital.

The thing is, your relationship was still new, and no one in your family was aware. Lois and Clark already knew and approved, and you thought Cass suspected you were seeing someone, but you hadn't told them yet.

Especially Damian.

You and Jon knew each other years before Damian was even part of the family, since Bruce raised you since your birth — you were the product of one of his affairs, your biological mother didn't want to raise you, but she also didn't want to abort, so she and Bruce agreed that he would have you as soon as you were born — and he's best friend was Clark. Although, you didn't see each other much back then. It was after the Supersons became a team and besties that he started frequenting the manor more. You always had a childhood crush on each other — Jon thought you were beautiful and nice, and you thought he was cute and sweet, very different from the gross and rude boys from your school. —. Until you were each other's first kiss, then years later, first relationship, and first time. Of course, all in secret from Damian. The older family members only knew about your crush because of your physical language, but since you grew older and learned to hide, they assumed it was just a childish crush from the past.

Lois and Clark knew and approved, but they also always reminded you that you needed to tell Bruce soon, or at least Alfred, especially after you started being sexually active.

Unfortunately, the day came. Yes, you and Jon were old enough to have sex, but too young to be mature and brave enough to go to the hospital by yourselves. Lois was in another country for work, Clark was in the Watchtower in a League meeting, your dad was there too. Leaving the 2nd best option: Alfred — the best would be Lois, then Alfred, Clark, Cass, and then you would have to discuss which one of your other family members would it be.

Since you were in Metropolis — again, no one knew. More privacy wink wink —, Jon flew you back to Gotham, and you both almost cheered when you realized you were completely home alone, except for Alfred, of course.

Poor Alfred knew something was up when you suddenly were back from your “shopping trip”, with messy hair and clothes, red face and Superboy looking almost sick. He released a long sigh.

— Mx/Miss/Master (Y/N). Young Mr. Kent… — You cleared your throat.

— Alfred… We need help…

After you explained everything, Alfred looked ten years older. He didn't comment on anything, but his face showed how unimpressed he was. He just gestured for you to follow him to the garage, took the keys and started driving.

— Let me warn Master Bruce while we are-

— NO! — You yelled, started. He looked at you through the rearview mirror disapprovingly.

— Should I remind you that he will see the hospital bill and go after the truth? — You bit your lip.

— No, I know that. Just… Can't we pay on cash? — You smiled at him hopefully and nervously, but it was more like a grimace. Alfred was silent. You groaned. — I will tell him okay! Tonight! — Jon’s eyes snapped to yours, wide. — Relax! You're not gonna die!

— Yeah, until Damian whips out a kryptonite sword… — He groaned, hiding his burning face in your neck. You huffed, now wasn't time for him to be adorable.

— He doesn't have a kryptonite sword. Dad didn't let him do it. He would have to build it first. That would give him enough time to calm down. — Jon looked at you, indignant. Alfred cleared his throat.

— While we're there, I can't make any promises that if your father asks, I will hide the truth. He will know. — You and your boyfriend groaned, rubbing your faces with your hands.

— Yes, Alfred, I know…

Two hours later, you were finally laid down in position for the doctor to begin the procedure. Since if wasn't anything serious, you were on the emergency and there was only a curtain separating you from the rest of the patients outside. Alfred was sitting just outside, waiting, while Jon was standing by your side, holding your hand, as if you were about to give birth. The doctor was amused by your story, and her jokes helped you calm down.

She searched around you for a few minutes, the instrument she was using inside you being a little uncomfortable. Jon was silently horrified when he saw, you were startled too, but maintained the composure.

— AHA! Found it! It was really deep inside, almost on your cervix! — When she pulled out the condom, you both let out a breath of relief you didn't know you were holding.

You quickly put your clothes on again, you and Jon chatting as everything seemed lighter, and then left.

What you didn't know was that when Bruce got home and you and Alfred weren't there, it made him call, finding out just that you were in the hospital. Alfred refused to say much more than reassure him that it wasn't urgent and that he would soon know, thus he didn't have to crazily drive all the way there. That didn't stop him from alerting all your siblings.

When you got home, your whole family was there.

— Jon?! What're you doing here? — Alfred kept a straight face. Wow, he really wasn't going to help.

— Hmmm... — Jon subtly and subconsciously hid behind you. You shifted from one foot to another. Damian got up with a threatening scowl. You just came from the hospital. With a kryptonian.

— Kent! If you hurt my sibling I will-

— I didn't! — Jon almost yelled, then covered his face with his hands.

— Then, what is happenning here? — Bruce got up with a raised brow, analyzing the situation.

You thought for a moment. You either told them now and made things easier, or you spent all the way to dinner with them bothering you to tell. You could take it, Jon couldn't.

You took a deep breath.

— JonandIwerehavingsexwhenthecondomdisappearedinsideofmewecouldn'tfinditanywheresoweaskedAlfredforhelpandwenttothehospital.

They blinked.

— … What?

You huffed.

— Jon and I were having sex, when the condom disappeared inside of me. We couldn't find it anywhere, so we asked Alfred for help and went to the hospital. — You said, slower this time, although uma lower, more abashed tone.

Silence.

— … But… It was stuck inside? Weren't you wet, though…? — Tim's analysis broke the silence.

— SEX?! — Dick and Jason exclaimed.

— YOU WERE HAVING SEX WITH MY SIBLING?!

— Knew it. — Cass smiled and nodded, proud of herself.

Bruce heaved a sigh and sat down again.

— I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS! — Damian threw Tim's coffee mug in your direction and Jon zoomed in front of you. The mug broke. Jon had a sheepish expression.

— Tim, go grab kryptonite. — Jason ordered and got up, walking toward the hidden compartment in the shelf where he kept his guns. Dick held him back while Damian threw a flower vase at Jon.

— No! Don't do that, Tim. — Dick ordered back. Tim shook his head.

— I wasn't going to anyway… — He mumbled. Damian threw the center table.

— YOU ACTED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU TRAITOR! YOU- OUCH! PENNYWORTH STOP! — Alfred tutted, pinching his ear.

— I'm sure civilized conversations don't involve breaking the forniture. — Alfred shot a pointed look at Bruce. — Master Bruce! Say something! — Your dad just kept gazing at you and your boyfriend.

Cass sighed, stepping toward Bruce and sitting beside him.

— (Y/N)’s happy. He’s good. They're careful. — Bruce nodded, finally showing some reaction and looking pleased. Jason stopped struggling against Dick and looked at you.

— I don't care. I'm going to kill him. — Damian growled, starting to pace around the room in anger. Jon silently sighed in relief that Damian kept his distance by being on the other side of the room, the couch and the whole family serving as a barrier. You stepped forward.

— It's not casual. We've been together for almost two months now. — Everyone but Alfred and Cass gasped. Damian burned holes in Jon’s head with his eyes and your dad looked at you, masking his mix of emotions.

Cass tsk.

— So clueless. Many signs. — She shook her head.

— (Y/N), why didn't you tell us before? — Dick asked carefully, walking in your direction and stopping in front of you. Jon fiddled behind you. You shrugged.

— Didn't want to deal with you all while we were just starting things. Especially if it didn't work out.

— When were you planning to tell us? — You pouted.

— I don't know… In a month or two? You guys probably would find out by yourselves. — You shrugged.

— You've been sneaking out a lot… — Tim spoke up for the second time, catching everyone’s attention. He was fiddling with his laptop, likely doing his own investigation. The ones closest to Tim looked from the monitor to you again.

— When did you go to Metropolis?! — Jason exclaimed, indignantly.

— Hehe…

Damian growled.

— So that's why you've been ditching me?! — Damian pointed a finger at Jon, who scratched the back of his head.

— Surprise...? — Jon weakly sang the word.

Bruce cleared his throat.

— So that's why Clark’s been acting like he was happy he knew something I didn't… — He got up and pointed at you. — No more sneaking out. Ask permission before going anywhere. — You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. — Either that or you're grounded. — You pursed your lips and nodded in defeat. — Now we will talk about birth control…

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @hxsun4 @silverklaus @toast-on-dandelioms @bluewillbon

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sempersirens · 8 months ago

Text

DAUGHTER LESSONS | a joel miller oneshot

masterlist

summary: would it kill joel to just touch you?

warnings: established relationship, infidelity, jackson-era, no mention of age, angst

author's note: so... i have been disgustingly obsessed with COWBOY CARTER (duh! i have taste) and have fixated on the duality of daddy lessons and DAUGHTER, which thereby produced this lovechild of the two. you guys know i love me some religious imagery and angst...

Nothing could’ve confined you to a pew in your youth.

Your knees had breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of a blood-red kneeler when you were granted Sunday morning autonomy. Only your grandmother’s morbid prophecies of watching mass from above this time next year herded you between the rows of wooden benches at Easter and Christmas.

Maybe it was her you were trying to reach; chin tipped to the ceiling as if you would be overcome with the smell of potpourri and Irish coffee, heart flooded with all the right answers.

Still, nothing good came.

“Didn’t expect t’find you in here.” His familiar drawl pricks at the hairs on your neck.

“I was trying out solitude.”

Joel had always moved with surprising stealth for someone of his build, but nothing he did these days surprised you anymore.

You had given him everything since meeting shortly after his and Ellie’s arrival in Jackson. It hadn’t taken long for you to witness his undoing.

But this time, Joel doesn’t move.

Rather, he stands in the middle of the aisle taking in the sight of you on your knees four rows ahead and to his left. Your hands are clasped so tightly together he can see the whites of your knuckles from this far back.

Joel knows the back of your head more intimately than he probably should.

You have a habit of turning away from him in bed at night the second you were overcome by the smallest amount of fatigue.

Too damn hot you would mumble from your tenure of the mattress. And he can’t say he minded too much.

Often, he would reach a hand to your hair spilling across the pillow onto his side before regaining sense and propping the hand underneath his head instead.

During your waking hours, languidly reciting the steps of your morning routine around his small kitchen, he feels the want to touch you.

He wants to smooth down the hair that always bobbled around the raised birthmark on your scalp. He wants to feel your cheek against the knuckle of his right index finger. He wants to take the coffee cup from your hands and engulf them in the warmth of his instead.

“She’s not here.” You mumble, so quietly that he’s not sure if that’s what you’ve actually said.

“Who?” He braves, wiping his sweating palms on the sleeves of his flannel shirt.

You respond with a scoff, confirming his hypothesis.

Of course she isn’t here. You both know very well that she isn’t here.

When Tommy had first introduced the two of you, he’d cornered Joel at the bar while ordering their third, or maybe fourth, round of drinks.

“She’s a good woman, Joel.”

“I’m figuring that out just fine.” He’d smirked, taking a preliminary sip of his beer before glancing back at you. Your elbows were perched on the wooden table, chin resting on your palms as you exchanged low-looks and snickers with Maria sat across from you.

“No, you don’t get it. She’s good. She’s kind. Her daddy’s the pastor here.”

“Not settin’ me up with a Bible basher are you, little brother? She gon’ make me wait until I give her a ring?”

He’d felt like an ass as soon as he’d opened his mouth, which was made worse by Tommy’s unchanging expression. He didn’t look irate or tired of Joel’s age-old shit – the face behind his warning was unwaveringly sincere.

“Just don’t hurt her.”

And in that moment, Joel couldn’t fathom anything as desacrating as hurting you. He had returned Tommy’s solemnity with a nod and carried your drinks back to your table; the remainder of the night blurring into the rest of his life.

He hadn’t fallen in love with you that night. Joel is stubborn in love, and it took months of langorous warmth to thaw his roughness.

You didn’t make him wait for a ring.

Nights spent in symphony with one another were the only moments Joel could bring himself to touch you. There, he knew how to work his hands, his tongue, his hips. Not once would he hesitate in reaching out to smooth a thumb across your forehead. He moved like a river, flowing into your body in desperation to meet the ocean.

And you wondered if he did it on purpose, or if he knew that he was doing it at all. Passing him in the intimacy of his home or the vastness of the food hall, you were only ever hungry for his skin against yours.

Slowly, you crept into his skin through his pores. You made his days sweeter and smoother wherever and however you could, hoping perhaps one evening his fingers would brush yours as you set a plate on the table before him.

But here you rise, swallowed in the rosy light of dawn with damp cheeks and all faith robbed from your chest.

“I can’t do this here, Joel.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and attempt to put as much distance between the two of you as you pass him in the aisle.

“Then don’t. Come home.”

For a second he debates reaching out to you, wrapping you in his arms and letting you beat against his chest as your body racks with sobs. But the moment soon escapes him and he’s following you into the morning air.

“I buried my home a week ago.” You spoke flatly, bones void of any remnants of anger or fight. “You know what my daddy told me before he died?”

He thinks he does. Moreso, he can hazard a guess.

Nevertheless, he can’t quite seem to find his voice as you bring yourself to a halt. The morning sun peeks between the buildings behind you.

“Told me one day you’d play me for a fool. And look at me now.” You shook with breathy laughter. “He’s in the ground and there’s another woman keeping the man I love’s bed warm.”

Jackson would soon be rising with the sun. It had almost been a full day since you’d come home from patrol an hour earlier than Joel expected.

In truth, it hadn’t been the clothes strewn over kitchen chairs and draped over the bannisters. Not even the warm smell of salt and latex that hit you before you’d opened the bedroom door.

Joel’s fingers grazed the small of her back, tracing lazy shapes up and down her spine. Your stomach tightened into a small fist, losing all composure you had truly tried to maintain in your ascent up to the bedroom.

You had never even really been one to fight. Your father had taught you to handle yourself, and you’d learnt what was necessary to survive in the new world.

Really, you wanted to pollute the skin beneath Joel’s touch. You wanted for him to never touch anything beautiful again; to never grasp at cold cotton sheets in the middle of the night; to never feel the slow threat of rain tapping against his skin.

Life began to creep in around the two of you. Ellie and Tommy would soon come looking for Joel to set off on morning patrol.

“One day, Joel, someone is going to give you exactly what you deserve. And I pray to God that I’m there to see it.”

You turn on your heel, leaving Joel to watch as your hair sways from side-to-side down your back. He swallows the lump formed in his throat and tilts his chin to the sky, blinking away the threat of tears moistening his lower lashes.

He wipes his hands against his jeans and straightens his torso, forcing a low cough to clear his throat.

Peaches, he thinks. Tonight he will bring you peaches, and he will watch as the juice spills from the side of your mouth. He will reach a thumb to wipe it away, and he will hold you. For as long as you let him; as long as he breathes.

#joel miller x f!reader #joel tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #tlou hbo #tlou #tlou2 #dee writes

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itoshiexx · 1 year ago

Text

words i want to say

synopsis: four times itoshi sae wanted to tell you he loved you, and the one time he finally did.

pairing: itoshi sae x gn!reader | words: 1.6k | warnings: established relationship, fluff

notes: why hello! i'm back with this 4+1 prompt that i absolutely love, i wrote this in like an hour so this is definitely not proofread lol and istg i'm writing the kiss prompts so bear with me :((

masterlist

it was a game like any other. at a certain point in his life, sae didn’t really felt a huge thrill by entering a stadium, already knowing he would win easily and beautifully destroy his enemies. this time, however, there was electricity dancing through his veins and prickling under his skin — and it was all because of you, who was sitting in the stands, wearing his jersey, for the first time.

and sure, he could swear such a thing did not affect him at all; he was the itoshi sae, after all, and anyone would die to wear his original jersey at one of his games.

but you weren’t just anyone. you were his partner of three months, and everything about your relationship was still fairly new, and for the first time in forever, sae really, really didn’t want to mess this up.

you were beautiful, sitting prettily in the special section of the crowd, reserved for family, partners and very rich people. sae could distinguish your smile from miles away, because it shined like nothing he had ever seen. he felt his heart beating faster, and it was not from all the running around the field.

as expected, his team won, with sae scoring a gorgeous final goal that made everyone jump in the stands. though, he didn’t care about the pats in the back from his teammates, the thumbs up from his coach or the shrilling screams of the crowd — all he could focus was on you, hugging his neck and beaming like the sun.

“you were amazing, sae!”

it was fucking early. he knew it.

but as he hugged you back and buried his nose in your hair, the words i love you flew through his mind.

ii.

“this is stupid.”

you giggled at his words. this sound always sounded more like a melody to sae, but he would rather die than admit that. instead, he just glared at you, sitting right beside him at a stupid photobooth.

“c’mon, baby, it’s gonna be fun!” you said, completely unaware of how the word baby did bad things to his heart. he wasn’t brave enough to call you pet names yet, but you were always more outgoing than he was.

“don’t wanna.”

“please?” you pouted, your eyes becoming googly like a puppy. he could only mouth a tsk, knowing he couldn’t say no to you even if he tried (he didn’t).

“fine. just do it already.”

you happily bent your body forward to click at the screen, starting the countdown for the pictures. then, returning to your place by his side, you lay your head on his shoulder and smiled for the first picture. sae did a simple peace sign, face still stoic as ever.

on the second pic, you waited until the last second to do fishy lips and cross your eyes, and that caused sae to snicker, which was fortunately caught by the camera. happy by that, you laced your arms around his neck, squishing your cheeks together in a cute pose for the third picture.

on the fourth and last one, you separated slightly, looking sae straight in the eyes with that sparkle that made his stomach churn.

you smiled, and he kind of stood there, dumbfounded, barely listening to the click of the photobooth. an i love you was the only thing he could hear.

iii.

seven months in and sae thought he had already seen all of you. despite his busy schedule, you saw each other quite frequently because of your flexible job, meaning you could travel along in his trips around the globe. he was used to your soothing presence and he loved every second of it.

but this — this was something that he wasn’t used to.

he hated to attend gala parties just to appease sponsors and snobby people, but he had agreed for the first time because you said you wanted to see how it was, and that it would be good for his career. you were always so thoughtful, and that never failed to make his chest fuzzy. but he did not expect to almost have a cardiac arrest seeing you all dressed up.

“do i look good?” you asked, bashful and uncertain. he wanted to scream. good wasn’t even close to what you were. you were perfect, divine, an angel on earth.

you were everything he needed.

“you look beautiful, baby,” he said, smiling ever so slightly in hopes of convincing you of the purest truth. his hands found home on your hips, and he gave you a little peck.

“thank you.” you smiled. “you look very handsome, too.”

then, you proceeded to fix his tie like it was already muscle memory, despite it being the first time either of you did this. you smiled again, sweetly, once you finished.

“all done. you’re good to go, mr. itoshi.”

the domesticity hit him like a truck. a lump formed in his throat, and it tasted a lot like i love you.

iv.

the beach was his favorite place in the world. being around the calmness of the sea always brought him peace, much like when he was with you. so combining both of his favorites was a bonus sae couldn’t deny.

the sand was warm and soft beneath his feet, and he sat on top of a towel, observing you standing nearer the ocean. the wind blew in your hair, and he could hear you laughing and squealing every time you tried to feed a seagull and they ran after you and your food.

“sae! help me, baby, they’re gonna kill me!”

“you can do it.”

“what if i can’t?!”

“i’ll cry at your funeral, don’t worry,” he answered simply, snorting when you gasped in pure offense.

when you finally got tired of running around, you sat next to him, panting a little. though you didn’t stay put for long — you never could. you grabbed a stick and started to draw on the sand, doing little shapes and words.

sae could only watch, mesmerized, as the orange hue casted a heavenly glow around your frame, almost like a halo. it complimented your skin perfectly, and he cursed himself for not having the guts to take a picture so that he could remember this moment forever. he wasn’t sappy, after all.

he casted his eyes down, only then realizing you drew the letters ILY inside a heart, looking at him with a fond gaze he didn’t deserve.

i love you, too, was what he wanted to say. but itoshi sae was never good with words, so his hand reached for yours and he gave it a little squeeze, before bringing your knuckles to his lips in a tender kiss. with the way the corners of your eyes crinkled, he knew you understood.

and he loved you even more for it.

you worked a lot. despite your adjustable routine, you often had to bring your laptop everywhere, just in case your boss needed something more immediate. in sae's penthouse, it was no different, and that specific day happened to be one of those urgent matters.

sae was grumpy. he wanted your attention for a while, but he would never stoop so low as to ask for cuddles, so he just sat by your side on the couch with his arms crossed. you’d say he was pouting, but that was absurd. itoshi sae didn’t pout.

you were pretty, he thought, all focused and dedicated like that. you were like a painting that sae could spend a lifetime admiring, without ever getting tired. the slight furrow of your eyebrows, the curve of your nose, the crease of your mouth… oh, he got distracted. you were now facing him and saying something he didn’t catch.

“what was that?”

“i said, let’s go.”

he grimaced, confusion etched in his face. “where are we going? i thought you had urgent work.”

“to bed, baby. it’s your nap time, isn’t it? i can finish this later. i know you sleep better with me in your arms.”

you grinned in a smug kind of way, but sae could barely register anything besides the three magical words that were hammering inside his heart, coming up to his tongue until all he could do was say…

“i love you.”

fuck, he thought. now the cat is out of the bag. he fucking loves you.

your eyes widened slightly, as if you weren’t expecting such a declaration, but your expression softened and your hand came up to cup his jaw. your thumb did a small caress at his cheekbones, and sae felt goosebumps rising up his skin.

“i love you,” he said again, because now that the dam had broken, nothing could stop that phrase from flowing. “i love you so much.”

your smile could rival the sun and light up any darkness. he loved you like this. he loved you in all your ways.

“i love you, too,” you answered, all soft and giddy, and sae finally released the breath he didn't even realize he was holding. “so much.”

his hand came to meet with yours, and he interlaced your fingers, standing up and pulling you along. you stumbled a bit, but he steadied you by gripping your waist, as if scared you would let go. his lips met yours almost urgently, but they were still soft nonetheless — because with you, sae knew to be soft, to be gentle. it’s what you deserved, after all.

when you parted, lips swollen and a little breathless, he showed you one of his rare smiles; the ones that always came easier when you were in the picture. you felt butterflies swirling in your stomach watching itoshi sae beam to you. because he loved you.

your fingers interlaced again, and he started to drag you towards the bedroom, ready for his 3pm nap.

“you’re right, by the way,” he confessed, and you looked at him, puzzled. “i do sleep better with you in my arms.”

1K notes · View notes

writingsbychlo · 11 months ago

Text

WHITE XMAS | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo comes to spend christmas with you and your family.

word count; 15,245

notes; I have never played chess in my life, chess girlies don't come for me. pic was made by @finalgirllx!

“So, Matty, what are your Christmas plans?” You murmur, head bopping lightly to the beat of the tacky Christmas CD that was playing over the Common Room speakers. “Will Tom be coming home for Christmas?”

“Are you kidding?” Mattheo muttered, cursing as he readjusted his grip on the dwindling charcoal in his fingers once again, peeking another glance over the edge of his tatty sketchpad to you. “Why would he?”

“Because it’s nice! It’s Christmas, it’s a time for family to come together.”

“Not mine.” He blew a curl from his eyes, pausing. Tilting his head, he narrowed his eyes as his gaze flickered between the page, and a very specific spot on your shoulder. “Tom has escaped, he doesn’t have to come home for the annual Riddle-family Christmas Horror Show.”

That brought a frown to your lips, and he tutted. “Keep smiling.”

“You’re not even drawing my face right now.” You snipped back, and the edges of his lips tipped up in a smirk, focusing as he dragged the tool in his hand over the paper, back and forth. Soft scraping filled the room, along with the general chatter of the few other students dotted throughout the room, background noise with their undecipherable muttering and the music. “You don’t like Christmas?”

“Why would I? Christmas magic never existed for me. The very day I first asked about Santa, Tom pulled me aside and told me he wasn’t real. Warned me not to ask about him.” With a sigh, he dropped the notepad to sit flat in his lap, resting the charcoal on the side table, and shrugging. When he wiped his forehead, he unknowingly left a smear of grey over his skin. “I was stupid, and four. I asked my father, and he laughed at me and told me not to be pathetic. Everything I got in this world was hard-earned, and came by his generosity, and his alone.”

“Matty…”

“Don’t pity me. Can’t love what I never had.” Despite his brave words, there was an underlying emptiness to his voice, the kind that formed over years of hurt finally losing its bite. The way scarred flesh didn’t hurt, but they never stitched up quite right.

You whisper, standing up and making your way over to him. He looked up at you now as you stood before him, hand raising to wipe the smudge away with your thumb. “It’s that bad?”

He only hummed. “I get to parade around, playing the ‘seen but not heard’ son as my father cashes in on a big business day. It’s such a great time to ‘make connections’. Normally I’d have Tom with me, and we’d spend the days counting down until my birthday, and his. On the 30th, we’d sneak out and get two cupcakes, right between. He’ll be back for New Year's, my father is making him, but I can’t begrudge him staying away for Christmas.”

“You make me so sad sometimes.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” He murmured, leaning up to pinch at your waist lightly, a spot he knew was ticklish. You jerked away from him with a gasp of a laugh, smacking his hand as you went. “Don’t worry. I’ll be at the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball. I’ll see you all then, I can look forward to it.”

“No.”

“No?” He echoed, a smile forming on his face, and he tugged you in closer, arms wrapping around your thighs. “The fuck do you mean no?”

“I mean, that won’t do. Your Christmas plans make me want to commit a festive crime. Hit your dad with a sleigh, or something.” That brought real laughter from him, a loud burst, his eyes closing a little as he rested his forehead on your stomach, his shoulders shaking. “I have a big family Christmas. All my aunts and uncles and cousins and their kids. There’s going to be at least twenty of us.”

“Now you’re just rubbing it in.” He muttered, shaking his head, frowning up at you falsely.

“No, I’m inviting you, if you’d let me finish.”

His expression shifted then, from teasing and humour to vulnerability and disbelief. Pretty brown eyes shone with shock as he stared up at you. Cupping his jaw, you smoothed your thumb along his cheek. “You’re what?”

“Come with me for Christmas Day, Matty. I cannot, in good conscience, enjoy my day, knowing how you’re spending yours.”

“You really want that? Your family wouldn't mind?” Hope raised in his voice, not a hint of denial in sight, and he smiled shakily when you nodded.

“What are friends for, huh? I promise it’ll be okay. My parents are a ‘the more, the merrier’, type.” He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, thoughts spinning in his gaze, before he pulled you even closer. Pressing his face against your stomach, your hands slipped to his hair instead, running through the curls. It was the same way you did whenever you stumbled across him smoking after a nightmare, or sulking after a letter from home. “We have a floo. You can step right in. I promise, you’d be welcome. Please spend Christmas with me, Mattheo.”

“Okay.” He mumbled, breath hot against your navel through your shirt as he breathed the word against you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He finally turned his head again, resting his cheek there instead, looking away toward the fireplace, throat bobbing. With a final squeeze, he loosened his hold. “I’d really like that.”

“I’ll write down my address for you, and give you all the details.” Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to his messy hair, and he was smiling faintly as you pulled away. “It’ll be great, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt.” Finally, he let go of you fully, and took a bracing breath. Resetting himself, he schooled his features, picking up his sketchpad again and diverting his gaze to it. “Alright, go sit back down. Try and remember your pose, I want to finish this before dinner.”

Rubbing at your eyes tiredly, you were never awake this early, even the children were still snoozing, only one or two other members of your family had woken. Your father had always been an early bird, forcing your mother to be the same, and the two were tinkering in the kitchen, quietly chatting.

One of your grandmas had woken, made her way downstairs, and promptly fallen asleep in the rocking chair next to the fireplace after lighting it with a flick of her wrist. You were sure one of your uncles— maybe a cousin, too— had been wandering upstairs, but perhaps, they’d gone back to bed.

Suppressing a yawn, you jumped when the soft pop of the fireplace sounded, flames changing momentarily from amber and orange to a truly festive shade of green. Stumbling through it was Mattheo.

He didn’t look nearly as tired as you did. More so, he looked alert, in every sense of the word. His eyes were wide, one hand clenched into a tight fist around a bouquet of poor flowers, the other tugging nervously at his collar. He was wearing a red Christmas jumper, a set of tasteful white snowflakes sewn in a band across the chest. His usual black jeans, the best pair he had, seeing as they had no tears or frays, and white sneakers that had been polished to a shine. Possibly, never even worn outside.

“Matty.” You mumbled, and he stepped down from the warmth of the fireplace as the flames flickered back to normal, your grandma merely offering a soft snore beside you both. Mattheo flinched again, like one of Theo’s pranks when he jumped out from behind doorways to scare you all in the dark, and you raised a brow. “You’re up early. Therefore, you naturally called me and woke me up early too.”

“Sorry. I had… restless sleep. I was anxious.”

“Aw,” You smiled, reaching out to pinch his cheek. “You’re all excited like… oh. Well, like a kid on Christmas Day. Huh.” The joke washed over you in waves, still not quite awake enough to be aware of your own words, and he gave you a flat look. “Cute sweater.”

“I just bought it.”

“Why?” You smiled, and his lips twisted like you’d asked a stupid question. He followed you as you guided him from the lounge to the hall, shuffling behind you quickly. “Because you said you would be wearing one!”

“You didn’t have to buy a—” Your words shuttered as his lips smoothed back out, face neutral, but a flicker of uncertainty passed through his eyes. Mattheo didn’t own a Christmas jumper. It made sense, he’d never had reason to, but it didn’t stop your heart from breaking a little. “Come on. Take off your shoes, and let’s go get something to drink. Maybe a really strong coffee, hm?”

He toed off his shoes, neatly stacking them onto the rack beside the various others, some left in a pile. It wasn’t like him, Mattheo left his things everywhere; the group was always picking up after him, but it was clear that he was doing the most to be on his very best behaviour.

Taking his free hand in both of your own, you squeezed it, bringing his attention to you. “Mattheo?”

He hummed, tugging at his collar as he stared beyond you to his reflection in the hallway mirror. Smoothing your hands over his shirt, you patted it down, his eyes dropping to you as you pushed his hand away.

“Mattheo. You’re worrying. You’re supposed to be here to have fun, not be the picture-perfect son like you would at home.” His lips pressed together, like he didn’t believe you, as he sighed through his nose. “You’re perfect just as you are, okay? You don’t need to worry. Everyone knows you’re coming, and they know who you are. I’ve been writing about you all in my letters home for years. Your name isn’t a surprise, and you’re welcome here. Okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“Mattheo Riddle, have I ever lied to you?” Your teasing finally brought a smile to his face. “Have I ever given you a reason not to believe me?”

“No.” He finally conceded.

“Then trust me, hm?”

He rolled his eyes, but his shoulders dropped. With one final glance at his reflection, he turned away, closing the page on those fears and ready to proceed with the day. After only a second of hesitation, he took your hand, squeezing for comfort as you guided him back through the house.

His fingers flexed around your own as you approached the kitchen, your mother laughing gently at some joke your father had told. Both of them turned to face you as you stepped in, tugging Mattheo behind you.

“Mama, Dad, my friend is here. This is Mattheo.”

Shaking his hand free from your own, he smoothed his palm over his jeans before shakily stepping forward and offering his hand. Your mother only smiled as your father shook it firmly. “Good to meet you, our daughter writes about you in her letters a lot.”

“Dad.”

“Oh, it’s true! More than almost anyone else.” Your mother cooed, your exasperated sigh doing nothing to dull their teasing as your mother only pinched his cheek instead of taking his offered hand. “Oh, you’re so tall! She never mentioned that.”

“Mama, stop teasing him!”

“I’m doing no such thing!” She scolded you, tutting as she peered over his shoulder. “It’s good to find a tall man. Like your father, they can reach the fresh stuff on the storage shelves that they don’t want you to get at when you go to the store.”

“Oh, is that all?” You muttered, crossing your arms as she went back to fussing over Mattheo. Your father rolled his eyes, sipping from his ‘World’s Best Daddy’ mug that you’d made when you were five. He saved it for every Christmas Day, like tradition.

“These are for you, Mrs—”

“Oh!” Your mother took the bouquet, admiring them, and not even seeming to notice the slightly crumpled stems that had been his substitute stress-ball. “They’re beautiful, look at them.”

She presented them to your father, who nodded approvingly, and Mattheo turned just long enough to glance over his shoulder. He was bewildered, and red-cheeked.

“Alright, have I sufficiently embarrassed you dear, or should I keep going? I haven’t even told you what a handsome young man he is yet—”

“Oh, I think you’ve done plenty.” Your droll tone made your parents snicker to one another, and she turned away to put the flowers in a vase. Reaching forward and grabbing a fistful of Mattheo’s jumper, you tugged him back to your side. “Is anyone else awake yet?”

“Only your grandma.”

You made a noise of agreement, grateful for the early rise if it meant being able to ease Mattheo into the crazy rush. Leaving his side for just a moment, you took two mugs from the cupboard, your early call also meaning you got the first pick, choosing the best ones and setting them out. Claimed, for the day.

Your mother arranged her gift, showing them off proudly before disappearing to the dining room to find a spot for them on the table. Your father followed, and only a moment later, Mattheo was sidling up close to your side as you worked.

“How’re you holding up so far?” You smirked, and he shook his head, a chuckle tumbling quietly from his lips.

“I think if all your family react like that to me, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Why wouldn't they?” You didn’t give him a chance to disagree, stirring the hot drinks before you and tapping the spoon on the rim. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Mattheo.”

“Some people would disagree.”

“Some people also like pickles.” Your nose scrunched up, and you sought out the pot beside the biscuits, popping the lid and sprinkling some marshmallows onto the steaming surface of each one. “Clearly, their decisions can’t be trusted.”

Turning to him and pushing a mug over the counter, he scoffed. Leaning down until your noses were almost brushing, he smirked. “I like pickles.”

“You’re gross. I’ve seen you drink from a random cup the morning after a party.” Taking your mug, you turned away from him, leaving him spluttering behind you as he grabbed his own and followed.

“First of all, that was one time. Secondly, I knew it was my drink! I’m the one who left it there!”

“Uh-huh.” He pinched at your hip in response falling back into step beside you, and allowing himself to be led into the snug. Smaller, cosier, with only one couch and two worn armchairs, it was one of your favourite rooms in the house. A wobbly bookshelf stood in the corner, and a chessboard sat out before you on the coffee table, a freshly reset game. The rest of the board games were stacked on a shelf. “Wanna’ talk about how the day will go? Put any last fears to rest.”

He glanced up, running his finger over the Queen on the board as he sat down, nodding, thankfully. “I’d like that.”

Settling onto a cushion on the floor instead, on the other side, you turned the board around. Picking up a pawn, you made your first move, and a spark went off in his eyes. “We’ll start with breakfast, when everyone wakes up. Mum loves making a big breakfast, she’s a breakfast foods kind of person. There’s a lot of stuff, a lot in the fridge. It’ll remind you of Hogwarts, but better.”

He smiled at that, picking up a pawn himself and shifting it across, playing the board as he waited to see what moves you’d make. Mattheo was surprisingly patient, and good at playing the long game. He never made a real move until there was more going on across the board.

“Then, we’ll open gifts. The kids will be desperate by then, so we’ll all cram into the sitting room. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to pinch a proper seat.” You shrugged, fingers brushing over your pieces, before plucking one up and making your next move. “After that, we do some baking. We’ll make things for dessert, as well as treats to have throughout the day. My mum has a big flow chart of all the cooking for the meal, most stuff we prepared over the last few days, but it all gets heated up and cooked after that.”

“Lot of kitchen work.”

“Oh, yes. Traditionally, all the ladies will do the cooking, and we leave all the washing up and cleaning for the men.” You gave him a wink, watching him play the board while grinning.

“Christmas Day chores, what a treat.”

“While food cooks, they’ll be… something. Maybe movies, I think one of my uncles put a quiz together, so maybe that. Something fun. Then we’ll eat.” You found yourself stuck already, watching as he already managed to be pinning you down across the checkerboard. You considered your play for a while, and he sipped at his hot chocolate, a pleased noise on his lips as he licked foam from his top lip. “Then…”

“Then?” He said, and finally, you decided what to do, shifting to knock down one of his pieces and snatch it up with a smirk. That smirk didn’t last long, not as you saw his expression. Like you’d fallen right into his trap. He moved quickly, striking like a viper as he swiped up without consideration, and you swore as he took a piece in return.

“Then… I don’t know. The rest of the day is mostly lazing around, letting the food settle, eating more food…”

“Can’t wait.” He whispered, and the moment you made your next play, he was grinning over the rim of his mug. He crossed the board, knocking down your Queen, and beaming as you scowled. “Checkmate.”

“Fuck you.”

“You lasted longer this time. That was, what, twelve moves? I’m impressed.”

“Bite me.” You scoffed, and he flashed his teeth, snapping them in a bite playfully, and you stuck out your tongue.

“Don’t be a sore loser.” Mattheo taunted.

“Didn’t you once punch MacLaggen after a Quidditch match because—”

“You be quiet or I’ll come over there and make you be quiet.” As his eyes shone with mirth, you flipped him off, gulping at your hot chocolate and letting the half-melted, gooey marshmallows sit on your tongue. “Much better.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Oh, now, don’t believe a word she says.” You jumped, turning to the doorway as your cousin poked her head through, and Mattheo stiffened instantly. “She told me she wished I fell off my broom last year, just because I won the little toy inside the last Christmas cracker.”

“Jess!” You beam, lighting up a little as she stepped into the room, her youngest following her inside. The girl who came behind her was only two, still dressed in her striped pyjamas, eyes half open and curls pressed from the side she’s slept on. “Mattheo, meet my least favourite cousin.”

“Now, now. That’s just rude.” She beamed, letting go of her daughter's hand as the youngest began to toddle over towards you on shaky little stomps, letting you scoop her up and place a big kiss on her cheek. As you fawned over her child, Jess reached out, shaking Mattheo’s hand as he sat nervously. “Nice to meet you, Mattheo. I’ve heard a lot about you. Better than the Italian one, that’s for sure.”

“You’ve met Theo?” His shock was evident. Jess scoffed while you just laughed and tickled your baby cousin’s stomach.

“Once, at family week. He happened to bump into us at Hogsmeade. Terrible flirt, isn’t he?”

“You were knocked up at the time, too.” You snickered, and she looked fondly at her daughter.

“Oh, that didn’t stop him.”

“Sounds like our Notty-boy,” Mattheo whispered, turning to look at you. When the girl on your knee looked up at him curiously, he wiggled his fingers, “Hello there.”

She only giggled, turning away to hide her face in your neck.

“You two coming out for breakfast?” Jess sighed, calling her daughter back to her side as you put her down, and she scooped the girl up onto her hip. She turned to Mattheo, mischief written onto her features, “There are some people who want to meet you.”

Standing up and brushing off dirt from the floor, he followed suit, your cousin leaving ahead of you both. Taking your mug in one hand, Mattheo ruffled his hair in the other, patting down the untamed stands.

“What are you— stop doing that.” Grabbing his arm, you didn’t fail to notice the light tremors from his nerves. “You’re squashing all your curls.”

“I should’ve styled my hair this morning. Your family will think I’m a mess.”

“It’s Christmas Day, and you woke me up before I could even wash my face. Trust me, you’re fine.” He only frowned, reaching his hand up towards his hair again, and you pulled it down. Running your hands down his arm, you clasped his hands, reassuringly. His fingers folded around your palm in return. “Ruining your pretty hair won’t make them like you any more, but it’ll make me like you less!”

“You think my curls are pretty?”

Heat flushed your cheeks as he stared at you, curious. He’d always been so pretty, and it never failed to astonish you how all your favourite parts of him were the parts he disliked the most. “Shut up.”

His lips twitched, but he refrained from replying, glancing at the door instead. In a bold move, he took a step toward it, evidently deciding he was ready, as he guided you both out of the room and toward the growing bustle of voices.

Only moments after you emerged, he was swept into the craziness; aunties and uncles and cousins descending on him, all asking a thousand questions a minute. They wanted to know about classes, and where his jumper was from, and if he preferred roast beef or roast turkey. He was taken from you, leaving you to hold both mugs and chuckle at the flustered look on his face.

By the time you’d refilled them both and returned to the pandemonium, he sagged with relief upon seeing you. Kids were already mithering about opening presents, raving madly about Santa, and he was able to slip away from the hustle and back to you.

“Before you chastise me for leaving you,” You pressed the mug into his hands the moment his jaw dropped, pre-empting his words, “I refilled your hot chocolate. I stood no chance, they’re animals, and you were the newest squeaky toy. Luckily, the young have saved you, by nagging about the presents.”

“I’ll let you out of it this time.” He shook his head, serious like he was really mad, even as he leaned in to kiss your temple. His mouth moved to your ear, “Your family are very friendly.”

“They were excited to meet you. You’re fresh meat. How are you at pub quizzes? Because they’ll be all over you.”

He chuckled, and before he could say anything else, your mother was making the call to start cooking breakfast. Just like that, the room seemed to clear of men, all of them slipping away at the word ‘cooking’, taking the kids with them. Only the grandparents were left in the living room, excused from all chores, naturally.

“You can go with the other men if you’d like.”

“I’d rather stay and cook with you… is that okay?” He glanced towards the kitchen, and smiled when you nodded.

“Course you can. Come on.” Leading him to the kitchen, your aunts and cousins were already bustling around, working wherever your mother assigned them to. Your mother snapped her fingers to you, pointing towards the griddle that was heating up, all the ingredients for fluffy pancakes laid out alongside.

Guiding Mattheo over to it after washing your hands, his cheeks went red as he stood before the bowl. “I, uh, maybe didn’t think this through. I don’t know how to cook.” He whispered, embarrassment tinging his voice as everyone around you both seemed to be getting on at speeds.

“That’s okay, why don’t you mix the batter while I add the ingredients, hm?”

That brought his sweet expression back, letting out the breath he was clinging to, and pulling the bowl towards himself. You added each ingredient, weighing them up and measuring them out as he stirred the bowl continuously, switching between arms as he tired. On and on you went, until you had enough butter to make pancakes for an army, and he was eating leftover chocolate chips from the bag while you greased the griddle pan.

He was watching eagerly as your cousin Ki grilled bacon, stacking up a pile that had his entire attention.

“Mattheo, dear, do you want a piece of bacon?” Your mother snapped him from his dazed watch, and his jaw dropped open, the tips of his ears going red.

You snickered, nudging him where he stood beside you, still clutching the bowlful of batter. With a shy nod, his mother picked up a piece handing it to him with a wink, and he beamed upon receiving it.

Tearing off a chunk with his teeth and chewing, he turned to face you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I think your mother likes me.”

“I told you she would.” You said, a happy sound leaving him at the confirmation. Once the tray was ready, you grabbed for a ladle, and he held the bowl securely, the two of you working to set off the first batch of pancakes to cook. He shuffled every step with you, and while they cooked, you began to work on the second batter batch. “You want to try this time? I can help you.”

“Alright.” He nodded, setting the bowl back on the scale like he’d seen you start with. Scanning his hands over the ingredients, he reached for the flour first, holding it up in question. Sieving it through until you told him to stop, he smiled to himself as he watched the dust fall perfectly. A sprinkle of sugar, and a dash of vanilla essence, and then he circled in the centre with a spoon to create a well.

“Alright, make sure you tap it lightly on the edge. You don’t want bits of shells in the food.”

He was so focused it was almost adorable, your heart skipping a beat as you watched him go, tapping the egg on the bowl so delicately your heart ached. “Like that?”

“Maybe a little harder.”

And then, he cracked it down with another force that the rim of the bowl went halfway through the egg, mangling the whites and the yolks, with splinters of shells going into the food. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

“S’okay, we can just pick the shell out and try again. Don’t worry.”

Dipping your fingers into the flour to pick out the pieces of shell, you discarded the broken egg to the side, and he helped fish out all the pieces, meticulously checking there was none left. Handing him a new egg, he eyed his cautiously now.

“C’mere, let me show you.”

Guiding your hand down his arm to cup over his, you guided his hand down with the right amount of pressure, cracking the egg enough to slip your nails in and pull it apart. Taking his other hand too, you huddled in close, your hands over his by the bowl as the pair of you pressed to one another, pulling the egg apart and letting it fall into the well.

“Perfect, see. You’re a natural.”

He turned to look down at you, eyes scanning over your face, a silent moment you didn’t know how to read, before he was turning back to it. You helped him with the second one, and then he did the third and fourth alone, cheering with so much enthusiasm about it that several of your relatives celebrated with him.

He whisked the batter up, flipping the ones already cooking, and stacking them up on a plate before ladling out the batter he’d made. By the time they were finished, he was so eager to try the first thing he’d ever cooked that he almost burned his fingers as he snatched one up. Blowing on it hastily, he took a large bite, huffing some further breaths to cool it down.

“So good.” He groaned, taking another large bite. Following as you took the plate to the dining table, lots of food was already laid out, your grandparents beginning to pile up their plates, and parents dishing up for their kids.

“Sit down, get some of your pancakes while they’re still hot and there’s still some there.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, sinking into a seat and grabbing for a plate. You sat with him, and soon, the whole family was gathered around, filling plates and chatting happily as the sleepiness wore away and the festive excitement settled in.

Chatter went on around you both as Mattheo gave it his best go to eat his body weight in bacon and pancakes, only pausing when you reminded him that there was still plenty of food left to go over the course of the day. He was happy to sit and listen to the conversation going on around him, but when the attention turned to him, he stuttered over his words.

He was nervous to answer any questions that came to him, your hand sliding into his under the table and pulling it onto his lap. It took him several questions to realise that they weren’t bothered by his family name. In fact, nobody asked him about his father, or his mother. He had one question about Tom, but only with respect to him being a brother, not a Riddle.

When this realisation washed over him, the way he lit up was obvious. Nervous responses became animated ramblings, talking with excitement and purpose as he responded to every attempt anyone made to get to know him.

He admitted to your Uncle Jamie that, no, he’d never been fishing. Your father asked him about his grades at school, and your mother berated him, before asking Mattheo about his favourite classes instead. Your Auntie Sally told him all about how she had been sorted in Gryffindor while her brother Steven had been Slytherin. They had epic battles on the Quidditch pitch, no pulled punches, and wondered if that rivalry still lasted. Your Uncle Steven asked him what his hobbies were, and he shyly admitted how much he loved art, which led to your grandad waking back up from his dozing just in time to start telling the same old story about the two-month spell he’d spent as a police sketch artist in the fifties.

He seemed more than happy to talk, settling into the dynamic of the room, and you took your plate to the kitchen, tidying it away. With a kiss on his cheek, you let Mattheo know you were finally going to change.

By the time you stepped back into the room fifteen minutes later, the children were frantically tugging at their adult’s arms to go back through for gifts, the sugar rush starting to kick in. Mattheo was helping to gather dishes away, arms out as your Auntie Sally piled plates and bowls into his arms, his eyes wide as she spoke to him about something.

You followed them through to the kitchen, not failing to miss the occasional drop of your name in the conversation, clearing your throat dramatically and stealing the spotlight. Your Aunt only grinned over her shoulder conspiratorially, unstacking the dirty dishes from Mattheo’s arms into the soapy water of the sink. Mattheo, however, sagged with relief as you appeared. The moment his arms were clear, he was sweeping back over to you, taking a handful of your Christmas jumper and tugging you to his side.

You stumbled along after him out of the room. “The second you left the room, they were all over me. What are my intentions, what are my feelings, when will I ask you out—” His voice hit a shrill note, and you chuckled, unclenching his hand from the material of your sweater.

“I made it very clear to them before today that we weren’t dating. You don’t need to worry about that, they’re just messing with you.”

“I wasn’t— I wasn’t worried, so much as intimidated! They’re scary people.”

“Are you trying to imply I’m not scary?” You tease, taking the edge off of his nerves as he rolled his eyes, focusing on that instead of the conversation you’d just freed him from.

“Oh, I’ve seen you in action. You’re terrifying when you want to be.” He muttered, leaning down to rest his forehead on your own, voice dropping low. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the way Draco screamed when you filled his bed with grass snakes.”

“Yes, well, perhaps that’ll teach him not to steal my skin products just because his own ran out.”

“Come on, you two. Presents time.” Sally emerged from the kitchen, clapping her hands and smirking, and you groaned. Taking Mattheo’s hand and guiding him through to the living room, you snatched up a seat on one of the sofas quickly, Mattheo squeezing in beside you.

Children were already tearing into their presents, ribbons and bows and paper were already scattered around the room in a messy storm. Your mother pottered through with a tray of mugs, your father following, and you smiled gratefully as she passed you a mug of herbal tea.

As the mayhem went on, Mattheo settled back into the sofa, tugging your wrist closer to himself and sniffling the contents of your mug before taking a sip. He was perfectly happy to sit back and watch gifts be opened, to gather wrapping paper from your presents onto his lap and scrunch them up into balls.

Until one of the toddlers, Elliot, pulled out a gift from under the tree and flipped the label over. He struggled over it for a while, sounding out the sounds he could see written down. “Math..ee. Matt-ee-oo.” He mouthed around the word as Mattheo stiffened beside you. “Matthew.”

His head snapped up, looking straight to Mattheo as his mother corrected him softly, lowering her camera from filming him and pointing. Elliot carried the gift over, placing it into Mattheo’s hands, before dashing back to the tree to search for more gifts of his own.

Mattheo smoothed his fingers over the paper and ribbon, flipping the tag over to be sure, as if he didn’t quite believe it. Your handwriting neatly scrawled his name on the paper, and his eyes flickered up to you. “You did this?”

“Mhm. Open it.”

You pulled up your legs, tucking them underneath yourself and watching excitedly as he ran he tugged at the bow. Undoing the ribbon, he curled it up carefully, setting it aside next to his leg and flipping it over. Running his fingers over the edges, on the left side, they bumped along, and a smile cracked on his face. He repeated the motion, feeling more firmly through the wrapping. “Is this was I think it is?”

“Open it and find out.” You poked him with your toes, and he pushed his fingers under the folds of the paper, opening the seals and tearing it away from what was inside. He stared at it once it was free, fingers dusting across the ornate cover, flipping it open to look through the blank pages, to admire the paper quality.

“You got me a new sketchbook?”

“Hm. Not just any sketchbook, though. It’s an enchanted one. It’ll never run out of blank pages.” His jaw dropped, turning back to look at it.

“I’ve never— I didn’t even know such a thing existed. Where did you get it?”

“An art store, at Diagon Alley. I was just going to get you a regular one, but then I found this.” You shrugged, and his eyes were glistening when he looked up again.

“I love it. Thank you.” He clutched it to his chest, never looking away, not hiding his emotions this time even as his nose scrunched up a little and he sniffed. The busy noise and action went on around you both, but as he stretched on hand out to squeeze yours, it was like the two of you were all alone. Emotion clogged in your throat, your chest ached for him, such a visceral reaction to such a small gift. Tipping your head toward the tree, you laughed lightly. “There’s a couple more over there for you.”

“What?” His voice was shaky, glancing at the Christmas tree as some of the others gathered around it now, the children done and satisfied as they began to pay with all their new toys amongst the mess.

“Go on, go and get involved.” When he hesitated, a smile breaking free on his face, you encouraged him again, and he took a seat beside your mother by the tree, one more look back at you before beginning to search for the ones with his name on in the pile.

You opened and smiled at the gifts you were handed, grateful for them all as your family passed presents around, but you were distracted.

Distracted, watching the joy on Mattheo’s face as he opened another present, looking up at you as he opened a new set of colourful quills and chalks, the blush on his face when he unwrapped an ornament with ‘Baby Boy’s First Christmas’ written on. He glared at you with red cheeks, but held it carefully, and searched for a spot to hang it on the tree at your mother’s insistence. Distracted as you pulled out your phone, taking covert pictures of Mattheo with one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen him wear.

He found another, settling it on his lap, his attention diverted as Jess’ son Aiden tugged at Mattheo’s sleeve, shoving a toy racecar into his face. Mattheo was polite, asking all kinds of questions, letting the boy run the car up and down his arm, and over his face, even as the small tyres went in his eye. When he finally grew bored of tangling the model Ferrari in Mattheo’s hair, he pointed at the gift still sitting in his lap.

Mattheo lifted it, showing it to him as Aiden slumped down across Mattheo’s shoulders lay across his back and tugging at the ribbon. He helped to open it, and while Mattheo’s face lit up, Aiden’s scrunched up, turning to glare at you on his new friend’s behalf.

“Ew, Auntie (Y/N), why did you get him a colouring book? Colouring books suck.”

Your laughter was hidden by Mattheo’s even as Jess scolded her son, and he stood, bringing it back over to you as his amusement died down. It was no ordinary book, it was a stress therapy colouring book, and by the way he was already flicking through the drawings inside, you could tell he liked it.

Stacking it on top of the sketchpad with his new quills and chalks. He reached for your mug, taking it from your hands and putting it down on the table by the sofa before tugging you up. Your body flew into his with the force of it, his arms wrapping around you tightly, and his face buried in your neck.

“Thank you.”

“Just a couple of gifts.” You smile, rubbing his back gently as he sank further into your touch, leaning his weight onto you. Your friendship group had already exchanged presents before leaving for the holidays, you’d done a Secret Santa exchange, and you’d given Blaise a new phone case and a basket full of chocolates.

“It’s so much more than that, stop playing it casual.” He muttered, words vibrating along your skin. With one final squeeze, he pulled back, the two of you dropping down onto the sofa, and you kicked your legs out across his lap comfortably. He reached for his new sketchpad, cracking open one of the new quills, a green one, and adjusting you. He propped your legs up on his lap to lean his book on, his head falling to your shoulder as his side pressed to your torso, and that oh-so-serious look took over his face once again as he began to sketch.

Sketching the Christmas tree.

Weaving your hand into his hair, you found yourself slipping back into that place where only you and he existed for a while, scratching lightly at his scalp and sitting still as he drew.

He stayed like that for a long while.

Long enough for the sun to start properly rising across the sky, and the Church bells on the horizon to start ringing. The children had rushed off to start a new game, and the group had dispersed through the house to keep up with their own activities. He’d long since finished his drawing, and was now lying quietly on your shoulder, your hand still in his hair, his eyes closed as he rested, mumbling responses to the conversation the two of you were barely carrying.

“I hate to disturb you two,” Your mother said, in a tone that suggested she very clearly did not hate to do such a thing, a grin on her face as she poked her head around the doorway, “But we’re about to start the baking. Did either of you wish to join us?”

Mattheo lifted his head, looking at you eagerly, and your hand slipped down to his shoulder as you pushed him upright again. “Go, make cookies.”

He stood, stretching out stiffened limbs. “Will you come too?”

You hadn't planned on it, much preferring to sit back and maybe take a nap. But, Mattheo was excited, and you’d long since decided that today was all about him. You could spare one Christmas to make him happy in ways he’d never forget. “Of course I will.”

He took on a happy look, and the two of you made your way to the kitchen side by side. Your mum left the doorway from where she ‘was not watching’, walking ahead. “So, what are we making?” Matt asked as the three of you joined the other few who had volunteered in the kitchen.

“We have brownies over here, cookies on the island, and apple pie being made on the table over there. Take your pick, sweetie.”

“Uh… cookies?”

“Perfect. You’ll work with me.” She took his arm by the elbow, pulling him towards the island in the centre of the room. You took over at the brownie station, washing your hands before joining in.

He put all of that polite, well-trained behaviour to good use as he chatted up a storm with your female relatives. They all loved him, laughing at his jokes and listening intently to his stories as he worked, barely aware of the attention that was on him as he stirred the bowl. Meanwhile, you spent the majority of the time trying to fight off all the little hands trying to reach up and snatch chunks of chocolate from the chopping boards, and stealing the bowls to lick.

You did, at least, manage to snap a picture of Mattheo with his cookie cutter before he spotted you.

The children were clamouring for the dishes by the end. You were elbow-deep in soapy water and washing, a tray of hot brownies and out, cookies cooling, and more batches already in the oven as several pies sat out waiting for later. Mattheo was talking to one of your older Aunts, charming her with boyish tales of him and Theo and Draco, when she took the brownie batter bowl out of a sprinting Aiden’s hands from where he had grabbed it and run.

He wailed loudly as his plot was foiled and she tutted at him. “Thieves don’t get treats, Aiden. You should’ve asked nicely. Only the nice boys get to lick the spoon.”

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, and knowing better than to fight back. She then turned back to the conversation, and held it out to Mattheo. “Matt, dear, would you like it?”

“Me?” He was as astonished as Aiden, taking the bowl and the spoon slowly and bringing them close to himself. You’d told your family a little more than you let on to Matt. You’d told them just enough to know that he didn’t typically have a good Christmas, that one of your favourite times of the year was one of his worst, and you wanted to make that better for him today.

He picked up the spoon, licking the batter off happily, and crouching down with the bowl in his hands, holding it to Aiden. Swiping his finger through it, your nephew was pleased once again, and soon enough, Mattheo had a swarm of children hanging from him as he made the mistake of sharing something sugary.

When he finally emerged, notably sans bowl, he wandered over to you, dropping the spoon in the sink. His jaw dropped to speak to you, attention stolen by the tugging of a small hand on his sleeve. Mabel was peering up at him, holding his colour therapy book in her other hand, and lifting it up.

“Can I colour in’y’book w’you?” She mumbled quietly, and your heart burst in your chest as he slipped his hand down to take hers carefully.

“Of course.” He let himself be guided away, back to the living room with Mabel, and your head dropped, hiding the smile as you continued to wash up.

Jess leaned on the counter beside you, a cloth in her hands from where she’d helped with the rest of the cleanup, and you turned to look up at her.

“I like him. He’s sweet.”

“You should see the pranks he pulls at school, he’s a menace.” Your joke amused her, a low sound leaving her as she wiped at the counters around you both for excess flour.

“Yeah, but, I still think he’s a sweetheart. And he’s into you, that much is clear.”

“Don’t start with this,” You groan, drying off your hands as the last of the monumental amount of washing up was completed. “I told you, we’re friends.”

“Yeah, just friends.” She shrugged, “But just because that's all you are right now, doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll ever be, or all you want to be. I see the way you look at him. You like him.”

“He’s pretty. Every girl looks at him like that.”

“No,” She shook her head, and you couldn't bear to look at her as she read you like a book. Instead, you began prepping a new mug of hot chocolate. “You look a him like you think his soul is pretty, not just him.”

“Shut up.” Her poetic words made you blush, and she closed in on you, ready to make the final strike. “Don’t you dare—”

“You looove him. You got a big, fat crush on him.”

“I will push you off your broom myself.” Your scowl didn’t ward her away, she was only torn from smirking at you as your mother began to unload the next set of food to start being prepared for dinner. The turkey was already in, had been for hours, but she began to unstack pigs and blankets as trays of sausage meat stuffing onto the surface.

Swiping up the mug, you followed the rumbling of Mattheo’s deep voice through the house. Sat on the floor of the snug, Mabel was lying on her stomach by his side as she coloured as neatly as possible onto the first page of his colouring therapy books with her crayons. Aiden was under his arm, holding up the instruction manual of a new Lego set, as a half-built model sat in front of them.

Elliot was playing with some of Aiden’s toy cars, and eight-year-old Jessop was lying on the sofa, reading a book. Knocking two knuckles on the door, five heads all snapped up to look at you. Mattheo smiled as you stepped into the room, and Aiden grumbled at his distraction, going back to the Lego even as Mattheo pulled away.

You offered him the new cup of hot chocolate, and he smiled as he accepted it, taking a sip.

“You know the men are all gathered in the living room watching some movie about cars. They have a lot of beer, and an empty seat, if you want to join them.” You sang the words enticingly, hands on his hips as you swayed him to the beat of your melody.

“What will you be doing?” He stepped a little closer, free hand going to your waist, too.

“I’ll help my mum with the cooking.”

“Can’t I help you cook, instead?” His whisper brushed your cheek as he leaned into place a kiss there, and your heart stuttered in your chest, taking you a moment to recompose yourself as he pulled back with a smile.

“Of course you can… if that’s what you want, but you don’t have to. You’re here to have fun.”

“What makes you think I’m not having fun?” He mused, peering at you over the rim of the mug as he took a sip. “I’m having a ton of fun. Best Christmas ever, all thanks to you. I just want to be wherever you are today.”

“Well, then I guess we’ll be in the kitchen,” Your words are hardly audible as you say them, swallowing back the emotion in your throat as he held eye contact.

“I guess we will, sweetheart.”

You turn to walk away, Mattheo following behind you as you lead him back to the kitchen.

He was more than welcome once again, immersed straight into girl talk as your relatives grumbled and complained over their husbands. Mattheo put his suspiciously good rolling habits to use, wrapping sausages tightly in strips of bacon, and almost choking when your mother complimented his skills.

He tried to hug you with raw hands, chasing you around the kitchen until your mother scolded him playfully, calling him back and having him lift the meats from the oven to be re-basted.

He was chopping and peeling potatoes, nudging back and forth with his hip as you worked beside him, when your already-exhausted-looking Uncle Jeremy peered into the kitchen, Elliot dangling upside down from his shoulder.

“The film ended. We’re going to take the kids out for a walk and burn off some of this energy. Anyone want to join?”

He looked like he was desperately waiting for them to tire out so the drinking could start, Elliot climbing all over him like a playground frame and your mother shooed you both away. “You can go, c’mon. Go for a walk, let your grandparents and I have some time.”

The kitchen cleared out, shoes and coats and scarves were put on, and then you were all trudging out into the snow as your father shut the door, hands in his pockets as he followed you down the frozen garden path. Mattheo wore an old coat he’d borrowed from your father, zipped right up as he kept his chin tucked down inside it, hands buried in his pockets.

“Oh, don’t pout, Matty. You’ve had colder than this.”

“How did we end up out here? I was cosy inside five minutes ago.” He pressed his hands even tighter into the coat as you linked an arm through his, snuggling up to his side as you followed the others along toward the fields you’d roam across for a while.

“My mum does this every year. We always host, but she kicks everyone out so she can check on my grandparents, and take a break for herself. She’ll have a large glass of wine, sit down in front of the fire, and watch an episode of whatever her latest reality TV show is, before we all come back.” The grass crunched under your feet as you stepped out onto the frozen fields, glittering and icy as far as you could see. “It’ll help you work up an appetite for the meal, though.”

“Your mother nearly gave me a heart attack when she asked me where I learned to roll pigs in blankets like that for someone who’s ‘never cooked a day in his little life’.” He produced his hands to make air quotes around his words, and only tucked one back into his pocket. The other, he took yours with, lacing your fingers together, and rubbing his thumb over your own.

“I know. Your face was priceless. I actually got a picture of it.”

“If anyone ever sees that picture, I’ll hex you.”

“You mean it wasn’t okay for me to send it straight to the group chat? Oops.” He stuck out his tongue, but sighed, taking in the countryside around him as you walked through it.

“You grew up here?”

“Nice, isn’t it? You murmur, looking around and letting the nostalgia wash over you as your thumb wrestled with his absentmindedly. “There’s a river nearby. We used to go down there as kids, this big group of us who lived here. We’d have picnics, and wade in the water and play on the rope swing.”

“Sounds fun.” He sighed, and you squeezed his hand, no words to comfort him coming to mind. He’d had no such freedom in his childhood, you knew as much from the snippets he or Tom would accidentally drop before they could stop themselves. “Sometimes I would walk around the grounds of the estate, but we were only allowed out if it was dry so we wouldn't get dirty.”

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you hugged his arm, snuggling into him as much as you could while still ambling on behind your chatting family. “Oh, Matty…”

“Normally, I hate hearing that. The sad, pitying voices.” He murmured, before twisting to face you, the tips of your noses brushing. “But when it’s you, I kinda’ like it. You don’t feel condescending, you just feel caring.”

“That’s because I do care.”

“I know.” He smiled, turning to face forward once again, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder instead, making it easier to walk along, huddled into his side.

You remained in silence for a while, letting him soak it all in, pausing occasionally to take a picture or two of him looking at things. Even when he walked away, to pick up fallen pinecones, or to look at initials carved into a tree, he still came back every time, to where you patiently waisted, his hand finding yours or tucking you back under his arm each time.

You were in the middle of taking several photos of him petting a walker’s dog when your father stopped, hands on his hips as he stared up at the greying sky overhead.

“It’s going to start snowing.”

Mattheo’s head snapped up, eyes wide as he let the dog go, running to catch its owner. “How can you tell?”

The excitement was clear in his voice, standing up and brushing his gloveless hands off on his jeans. You snorted, he’d really done it now. “Dad has a sixth sense about these things.”

“You see, my boy, those clouds up there are called nimbostratus clouds.” He pointed upwards, hands on his hips as Mattheo adopted a similar stance, copying him and staring up at the sky. “They’ve been settling in all day, and now the sky is full. Not to mention, it just dropped a degree or two a minute ago. Now, it’s not that perceptible when it’s already this cold, but I’m good with temperatures, you know. And it always drops a degree or two right before it precipitates.”

“And, how do you know it’s snow, not just rain? Or do those kinds of clouds only make snow?”

You laughed again, linking your arm through Mattheo’s, and he twisted his head to press a kiss to your temple. He stiffened a moment later, just as you did, and you wondered if he realised what he’d done at all until after. He didn’t take it back, though. Instead, he relaxed a second later, still listening to your dad talk about how he just knows, can feel it in his bones when the snow comes.

“So, how many different types of clouds are there?” Mattheo asked after listening to the whole explanation.

That was how you spent the entire walk back getting to hear about all the different types of cloud formations. To his credit, Mattheo seemed to be genuinely soaking up every word your father said. He had questions, and opinions, which span off into a new chat about the water cycle and glaciers.

It was only when you were ten minutes out from home that your father’s prophecy came true, and snow began to fall in heavy flakes from the sky. The children squealed excitedly, and Mattheo caught the flakes in the palms of his hands, watching each one melt against his skin with a small smile on his lips.

Finally, as everyone stepped back into the warmth to shake off the snow, and stomp mud off of their boots, it was like a stampede to get to the fireplace and warm up. Shaking out his hands and flexing his fingers, you took your time unwinding your scarf, hanging it up with your coat and peeling off your gloves.

His cheeks, nose and hands were pink, and he was rubbing at his arms to warm up now that he’d taken off his coat.

“My hands are cold.”

“I can tell.” You took them in your own, rubbing his frozen skin lightly. His fingers trembled a little in your hold, chilled to the bone, and you lifted your cupped hands together to your face. Softly parting your hands, you blew warm air between them onto his skin, your cheeks flaring with warmth at the gasp he made.

Rubbing again, you repeated the actions until the shaking of his hands stopped, and you finally chanced a look up at him. He was staring down at you, eyes practically glittering and lips parted. He seemed lost for words for a moment, toying with the thoughts in his mind before finally settling. “I like it when you fuss over me.”

He took his hands back, tucking them faster than you could stop him under the back of your jumper, cold fingers splaying across your back as he tugged you into his body. His face pressed into the crook of your neck, cold nose dragging along your skin. No matter how much you groaned and wriggled, his grip was tight, chilling you with him as he stole your body heat.

Eventually, you just gave in, sighing as you stroked his back, letting him snuggle in for warmth rather than fight for a space next to the fire. Amongst the woodsy smell of his cologne, and the gingery pine scent of the Christmas candles your mum burned every year, something else lingered in the air.

Berries, citrus fruit, and spices.

“I think mum made mulled wine.” Your words were right beside his ear, and at that, he raised his head, scrunching his nose sweetly a couple of times before sniffling the air. “Want some?”

“I’ve never had any. Is it good?”

“Seriously? Matt!” Grabbing behind yourself for one of his hands, you hurried him through the house. Just as you’d suspected the morning’s tanker of hot chocolate had been swapped out, and now, a steaming vat of mulled wine replaced it.

Grabbing two glass mugs, you set them out, pouring some from the little tap, and passing it to him by the handle. The cinnamon and orange smell so much stronger in the air now, and you moaned under your breath as you breathed in the steam.

He held the mug in his hands, not even seeming to feel the heat seeping through as he blew on the surface, several times, before taking a tentative sip. You waited for his reaction, practically on the edge of your seat, if you’d had one.

“It’s…”

“It’s..?” You burst, waiting for his reply, and he dragged it out just to tease you.

“It’s really good.” He eventually caved, taking another sip, and another, as you cheered. “Don’t ever tell my boy Theo I said that. He’d skin me alive. He hates the idea of mulled wine and refuses to touch it. It’s an insult to his Italian heritage, he says.”

“So is cream in carbonara, breadsticks, and chicken mince lasagne.” You scoffed, and he grinned at that.

He drank some more, the two of you sipping quietly on your glasses, before hearing the opening tunes of a movie on the TV. Refilling your glasses, you headed through. The room was only half full, some sat about chatting in the dining room, others upstairs, and some likely in the snug or their bedrooms. It left you plenty of space to lie out across one of the couches, stretching happily, and your toes didn’t even reach the other end.

The kids were all gathered around on the carpet, and Mattheo paced slowly behind you, with no attention on his movements but all his attention fixed on the animations taking place on the screen. He sat next to your legs nudging them up into the cushions before twisting and leaning back, settling himself against you with his head on your shoulder, back to your chest, as he continued to watch.

He didn’t see your flushed cheeks or your shy surprise, not as you hid your face behind him from the watchful eyes of the few members of your family that were in here, too. Reaching for one of the rolled-up blankets along the back of the couch, you shook it out, spreading it over his body for an extra layer of warmth. He made a happy sound, shuffling back further into you, and letting the hand not holding his cup fall to clasp your calf by his hip, stroking slowly.

Your arms crossed over his chest, giving up on what little pretence you had. This day would already be one of your favourite memories that you made, you might as well give into the full depth of what you wanted, and really make it the best it could be. Whether anything came from it or not, you’d still have this moment, cuddling with him on the sofa as he watched The Snowman for the first time.

Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging out wind-tangled knots loosely, and playing with the curls around your fingers. You were oh-so-fond of Mattheo’s natural hair, dipping down to bury your nose in the strands, and kiss to top of his head. He squeezed your leg again, tipping his head back enough to leave a kiss brushed on your chin, before quickly looking back to the screen, and finishing off his mulled wine.

Your cheek rested where your lips had once been, glancing around the room. Most of your relatives only gave you a small smile, while your mother winked at you, and your dad offered a thumbs up. You merely rolled your eyes, thankful for the dark of the room and that they couldn't see your blush.

By the end of the movie, Mattheo was turning to you, abject horror evident on his face, as everyone else seemed to get on like normal. “He melted?”

“He’ll be back next year, don’t worry.” You smile, and Mattheo shook his head, brows furrowed, a deep ridge between them that showed just how bothered he was by the ending.

“But he melted! How is that— I thought this was a child’s movie!”

“It is!”

“That’s like killing the dog in a Christmas movie.” He stuttered, trying to keep his voice low despite his growing concern. You left a kiss on his forehead in an attempt to hide your amusement from him.

“Then you’re gonna’ hate The Snowman and The Snowdog.”

“Say sike. You say sike right now, or I’m getting in that floo and going home.” He pointed in the direction of the fireplace, and your laughter broke out, spilling into uncontrollable giggles. He was not pleased with your laughing, even if he did wrap you up into his arms, smothering your face into his bicep and grunting unhappily. “You cruel, cruel woman. Finding joy in my misery.”

That only made you laugh more.

The day was going by too quickly for your liking, it felt like all you did was blink, and you found yourself instead sitting at the dining room table, Mattheo on one side, your Uncle James, Grandma Alice and Grandpa William teamed up with you as you tried to count through the Premier League teams before the other teams.

Someone else hit the buzzer first, and you cursed in a very unladylike manner that made your Grandpa chuckle.

Mattheo wasn’t much help with general knowledge, but he was enthusiastic. He tried as much as he could to participate in the rounds, and whenever he did happen to get something right, the look that took over his features was enough to light the night sky. He’d cheer, and kiss your cheek, and scribble the answers down on the big answers sheet you’d been assigned.

It went on and on, only ending when the timer went off for the turkey, and raucous shouting took over from every adult as the quiz was cut short. Mattheo was laughing, loud, his arm looped around your waist as he nestled you into his side, immersed in the noise and hubbub. One of your cousins was adding up the scores, and you already knew you hadn't won, but hearing all of the scores being read, you cringed at just how badly your team had done.

Mattheo laughed into your hair, the other arm hooking around your shoulders to pull you into him more fully.

“That was more insane than a Common Room party.” He grinned, spoken close to your ear, and you laughed.

“Why do you think I’m so good at handling you lot when you’re drunk and rowdy, hm?”

“I have never seen anyone corral drunk Italians like you.” He pulled back enough to peer down at you, and you smiled.

The moment was snapped away from you both by the clearing of the quiz sheets away. The pens and markers were being gathered by Aiden, while Mabel followed him around with a basket for him to drop them into. Once the seats were clear, the settings all started to come back, and you watched as the room was transformed once again from a disaster zone and back into an elegant eating space. Cutlery went down after the plates, napkins and glasses and a cracker at each space.

Mattheo was called away to help carry in bottles of wine, filling each glass around the table while the parents began to get the children settled in at their small table in the corner. Meals had already been prepared for them, a small chicken carved up between them all, a couple of roasties and just enough veggies that there would be no tears on Christmas Day.

Then, the adult table was filling up, you carried bowls of food back and forth; several different kinds of vegetables, potatoes, meats and gravies, sides and stuffings up and down until the table was full from one end to the other.

When you finally sat down and tucked your napkin down to cover your lap, Mattheo settled in beside you. He was checking out every bowl, the dish of roast potatoes you’d mentioned being most excited for seemed to have conveniently found itself placed right in front of you both, and he smirked into his wine as you mentioned as much.

Your father stood at the head of the table by the turkey, ready to carve, and the room fell quiet as all attention moved to him. Save for the ecstatic chatter of the children, that is. Your father held the meat-fork in one hand and the knife in the other, pausing just over the top of the turkey. Looking back up, he pulled back.

“Mattheo,” The man beside you still as he placed his glass down, and all attention fell to him. “Come and carve for us.”

Mattheo’s stumbled response was adorable, and he untucked his chair when your father repeated himself. He walked slowly toward the head of the table, taking the instruments from your father’s hands. He paused, splotches of read coming back to his face, but before he could admit to being lost, your dad was guiding him on where to poke and how to slice.

As soon as the first slice fell out and he lifted it off, clapping and cheering sounded around the room, and you made sure you were the loudest, his proud smile directed at you as he looked right at you. “First slice for you, sweetheart?”

You passed your plate along, all the way to get the meat from where he stood, before it was passed back to you.

He kept going, slicing again and again until his wrist hurt, and he put down the knife and fork carefully. Stepping back for your father to take over, he clapped Mattheo on the shoulder. “Good job, son.”

It was spoken mindlessly, casually, as your father got back to work carving the meats, but it meant the world to Mattheo. His jaw dropped, and for a second he was frozen. You were almost worried he’d bolt, before he was speeding back over to the chair and took his seat beside you once again. He didn’t mention it, but he did let out a shaky breath, and took a heavy gulp of wine as his hands shook.

Your hand landed on his thigh, stroking lightly as he reached for the bowl of potatoes. “You okay, honey?”

“Never been better.” His tone sounded flat but you believed his words, watching as he dished up some potatoes onto your plate and his, picking out the ones that looked the best to give to you. “I carved a turkey.”

“And did a mighty fine job of it too.”

“You think?”

“Mhm. I’m very impressed.” You served up carrots and parsnips and Mattheo did mashed potatoes, dishes swapping about across the table, up and down until everyone had what they wanted.

In a blur of good talk and food, you set into polishing off the plate before you, watching Mattheo try each and every item.

“What’s normally on your Christmas Dinner?”

“Uh… well, father goes hunting with his business partners in the week leading up to Christmas, and normally he makes me and Tom go too. He’ll choose the best pheasant from the day, and that’s served. Along with a turkey, gammon, beef, lamb, and some kind of vegetarian wellington or roast.”

You watched him slice off a piece of his turkey, eyes rolling a little as he hummed happily, combining it with a piece of stuffing.

“All the usual trimmings, too, to put on a show. But we weren’t allowed to eat them. Mother only let us have things that could be considered elegant.”

A snort left you, and he smirked. “What exactly is considered an elegant Christmas dinner food?”

“Things that can be eaten with a fork. Meat, roast potatoes,” He chopped smoothly down the centre of a crispy roast potato, stabbing it in one smooth move and putting it neatly into his mouth. “Stuffing and sprouts. That’s about it.”

“That’s awful! What about the pigs in blankets?”

“Roll around too much when you try to chop them.” He shrugged, and you scoffed.

“So do sprouts?”

“Ah, but sprouts are a classic Christmas dish, and mother is nothing, if not traditionally elegant.” He made a show of chopping into a pig in a blanket now, savouring it as he ate it. “First time I ever had a Yorkshire pudding was second year, Tom took me to a pub in Hogsmeade. Changed my life.”

“Matty…”

“Don’t feel too bad for me, sweets.” Turning to you, he dipped a little closer, a smirk on his lips as his voice dropped. “If I didn’t have my sad, pathetic life to tell you all about, I wouldn't have a sob story to use to get a pretty girl to fawn over me.”

“Oh, please,” You muttered, shaking your head to hide your blush as you turned back to your meal. “Now you’re just flirting.”

“I’ve been flirting this whole time, you just never want to see it.”

Your eyes rolled at his smirk, and you twisted away, tuning back into the conversation going on around the table.

Mattheo loved his dinner. He ate everything on his plate, and at your relatives’ encouragement, he had seconds. Christmas crackers were popped, jokes were read and the little toys were exchanged around the table until everyone had a useless trinket they were happy with.

He proudly wore a bright green paper crown on his head, and forced you to wear the orange one that popped out of your cracker too.

By the time he was nibbling his way through a third plate, his hand was on your thigh, squeezing as he sat slumped in his seat. Jeans unbuttoned under his sweater, he patted at his stomach, content and full. You dipped another roast potato in a pool of gravy on your plate, dragging it through slowly. Lifting it, you took a bite, and he tipped his head, lips parting for the next bite.

You offered it to him, and he pulled the bite from the fork, chewing with a hum as he listened to the storytelling of the previous Christmas’ that was now taking place.

Before the food took you out into a food coma, your mother forced clean-up to take place. Bin bags were stuffed full, gifts were tidied away to respective cars and bedrooms, and the washing up was done, the table was cleared. When everyone put their minds to it, it didn’t take long, and you found Mattheo stacking the lad of the leftover tubs into the fridge.

“We’re going to put some more movies on, and drink mulled wine ‘til we get tipsy. You staying for that?”

“Wild horses couldn't drag me away.” Mattheo smiled, turning to you as your arms wrapped around one of his, guiding him back to the living room before all the seats had been taken. You sat down first, and he quickly found a home leaning on your chest once again, your arms crossed over his chest, and one of his hands laced with your own.

The other rubbed up and down your forearm slowly, getting himself comfortable as he groaned, spreading out as much as he could. “Did you eat too much?” You teased, and he pinched your arm, shaking his head.

“I will never be defeated by food.” Despite his claims, he shifted once again, lowering into the couch cousins. Wine was handed out, the lights turned down, and Love, Actually began to play. Clearly, Grandma Judie had chosen the movie.

That statement came to haunt him halfway through, though, when your mother arrived with a cheeseboard, handing out small plates, and pressing one into his hands. He was ever so polite, he’d never turn it down, and as she passed the box of crackers around to him, he piled three neatly onto the side of the plate.

“Take more than that, dear. Come on.” She encouraged, and you hid your face against the top of his head to hide your laughter, as he added another three. Then came the cheese, and you swore you could feel Mattheo’s hesitation as he added slices and cubes of various cheeses to his plate, all under your parent’s watchful gaze to make sure he was taking enough.

As he settled back, you brushed a kiss to his temple, and he tipped his face up towards you a little more. A smile was on his lips, the plate untouched and balanced in his lap.

“You sure you’re not being defeated?”

“Me? Never.” He grinned, lifting a cracker with a slice of mature cheddar on up to you. “I made sure to get enough for us both, don’t you worry.”

You didn’t have a chance to argue, the moment your mouth was open, he was forcing the savoury snack into your mouth, a wicked glint in his eye as you chewed slowly. Over mulled wine and cheese nibbles, the movie finished and another one began, this time chosen by one of your cousins. It was more upbeat, not a classic like the last had been, and there had almost been a row over it.

Classic, or new. Mattheo had sat back and watched in astonished amusement as comments were thrown around the room in an argument for which was better. Eventually, a coin was flipped, and half the room had to grumble and accept it as the other half sat smugly.

The night was fully upon you by now, darkness had taken over as the evening ticked by. The curtains were drawn, candles were lit, and both your sets of grandparents had called it a day and gone up to bed already. The babies had long since fallen asleep too, setting a kind of quiet and peace over the house.

Mattheo had gone still in your arms a long time ago, dozing between sleep and awake, finally having conceded after his second cracker and left the plate alone on the coffee table. You were sure he’d never admit it, though.

You were comfy and happy. With the weight of him pressing down against you, and the blanket you’d thrown over your bodies covering you both and keeping you snug, you were sure that this was what you’d call perfect.

The smell of spices and apples filled the house, your excitement renewing toward the end of the second movie as the time ticked on. Most of the children had fallen asleep, bowls of ice cream left on the kitchen counter from their own desserts, and long since tucked into bed to sleep.

Your Aunt got up to check the oven, and moments later she called to let you all know that the treats from earlier in the day had finished cooking. “Mattheo.” You nudged, excitement racing through you, and the man in your arms stirred a little. He grunted, rolling over slightly and gripping one of your arms a little more firmly. “Matt!”

“Not right now, sweetheart. M’ sleeping.” He muttered, huffing a heavy breath out, and you chuckled.

“You’re gonna’ miss dessert, though.”

That got his attention, one eye cracking open, quickly followed by another, and he sniffed at the air. “Smells good.”

“Mhm, so get up, and we can go and get some.”

Your family had already begun filing through to the kitchen, a new excitement surrounding the food as chatter took back up, laughter and new energy taking over. By the time you finally managed to join them, all of the various tray-bakes and puddings had been dug into, and you snatched up a plate to begin serving some to yourself. Some apple pie at one corner, some brownie at another, a scoop of ice cream in the idle, and a stack of cookies at the edge.

Mattheo shuffled in a few moments later, sleepy and stretching, trying to hold in a yawn as he looked around. Upon finding you, he made his way over, slumping down to rest his head on your shoulder as you plucked two mismatched spoons from what was left in the cutlery drawer.

Handing him one, he sighed, breaking off a large chunk of brownie and some ice-cream, before finally raising his head and eating the spoonful. With a groan, he told you just how good he thought it was, and went back in for more before even finishing his mouthful.

The two of you shared the plate between quiet chatter, talking about his day, as Mattheo recounted for you almost every moment. His eyes were sparkling as he got a second helping of brownie for you both, forcing his spoon between your lips when teased him for his excitement, and wiping the edge of your mouth when you glared at him. He was so light, bursting with a kind of happiness you rarely ever saw in him.

So much tended to weigh Mattheo down, so much of the time. He was a person who was burdened with struggles and troubles, and while he was exceptionally good at making the most of it, and finding silver linings, sometimes, it would eat away at him after too long. Darkness would crawl in at the edges, in the form of exhaustion and temper and emotional outbursts, and you’d find him staving off a panic attack with a cigarette between his lips, leg unable to keep from bouncing as he stood atop the astronomy tower.

He didn’t look hopeless and world-weary now, though. Right now he looked happy. Full of the kind of happiness that lit a person up from the inside out. He looked like he was at peace, even as he stood huddled with you in the corner of your kitchen eating a shared piece of brownie, while your family around you began to trickle out as the night went on.

Soon enough, even one more bite of sugar was too much, and you were slumped lazily back onto the couch. Mattheo was lying half across you as the last of your aunts and uncles quietly carried their snoozing children to the fireplace of the cars, ready to floo or drive home. Each and every one of them had bid him a goodbye, telling him how nice it was to meet him as he returned the sentiments with red cheeks and a bashful smile.

“I suppose it’s my turn to go now.” He mumbled, your fingers running once through his hair, and your mother poked her head out of the kitchen where she’d been chatting with your aunties who were staying, over a cup of tea. At least, you thought they’d been chatting, clearly, she’d been eavesdropping.

“Oh, Mattheo-dear, you’re not staying over? We thought you would.”

“You did?” He sat upright a little more, eyes wide, and your mother only nodded to him. “I’d like that… as long as I wouldn't be a burden to you.”

“A burden? ‘Course not, dear. You’re a treat to have, and an extra set of hands on Boxing Day is always handy.” She hummed, clearly pleased with her meddling as she disappeared. Mattheo accio’d for a notebook and a pen, sending a lazily scribbled note addressed to his housekeeper through the floo, to inform them of where he was staying for the night.

As he stood by the fireplace, folding the note and waiting for the flames to change colour, you wrapped your arms around him. Pressing your face between his shoulders, he sagged back into you, relaxing into your touch.

Orange flickered to green, and he tossed the note in, watching it disappear to ash in the flames in a split-second, before the warm glow was back.

“Come on, Matty. Let’s go upstairs.” You whispered, and he slipped a hand down to take one of yours from his stomach, lacing your fingers together. Lifting your hand up, he issued the back of it, before turning, and letting you guide him away upstairs.

You guided him through the house, the floorboards squeaking quietly under your feet in certain spots. “You can stay with me.” You murmured quietly, and he only nodded.

Opening up the door to your bedroom, his eyes immediately started flicking from one corner to the other, taking in every detail. It was fairly sparse these days, most of your most important possessions came to Hogwarts with you, and everything else, you’d had a big clear out of. Your skincare bottles were all lined up along the dresser, your laptop on the nightstand, and a few half-burned candles littered around.

One thing you always had, was candles.

Gathering the bottles you’d left out, you slipped away to the bathroom to get ready for bed before exhaustion took over.

When you returned, Mattheo was looking through the drawers of your wardrobe. “Searching for something, or just looking for all my dirty secrets?” You tease, and he jumped a little, but smiled as he turned to you.

“Where are your spare blankets?”

“Given out to all my cousins and relatives who are staying over. Why?” You pulled out a lighter from your nightstand drawer, moving from one candle to another and beginning to light them. He scratched at the back of his neck, and you raised a brow. “Matt, you’ll sleep in the bed, not the floor. Are you insane? It’s freezing, and uncomfortable.”

“I— Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You could never,” You murmur, flicking the flame out once they were all done. Most of your drawers were half-empty, and it didn’t take long for you to search through and find an oversized sleep shirt for him. Unfortunately, it was pink. “You want something else to sleep in? I can lend you a shirt, but I don’t have any shorts that would… suit you.”

A flush rose to your cheeks and you actively fought any kind of mental images from passing through your mind. Particularly any that involved Mattheo, and a pair of booty shorts.

He accepted the pink tee with a grin, stripping his jumper off and over his head. Folding it neatly and leaving it on your dresser, his t-shirt followed, and he donned the hot-pink band shirt with a half-faded Taylor Swift setlist on the back.

“Enzo would love this shirt.” He muttered, frowning at you as he admired the huge print of her across the front. Undoing his belt, you quickly diverted your gaze, turning back to the bed and tossing throw-cushions out of the way. You heard the rustle of denim, the clink of his belt as he folded it, and then the squeaky steps on the floor as he crossed the room.

“Do you want to watch a movie before we sleep, or are you—” Arms curled your waist, his face pressed into your neck, and your words stuttered off as he tugged you back into himself firmly. “Matty?”

He shuddered against you, and you turned in his arms despite his tight hold, cupping his face and forcing his eyes up to your own.

“Mattheo?”

“Thank you. For today, thank you so much.” He leaned in, a kiss on your cheek so soft you could barely feel it. Then another, and another, firmer as he worked, muttering his thanks between kisses all over your face, mumbling his appreciation. His voice cracked as he kissed your forehead, and he sniffled as he moved down to your other cheek. “This was one of the best days of my life, thank you.”

“Matty honey,” You pulled back, enough to see his face as his water-lined eyes shone gold in the flicker of the flames around the room. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I wanted you here. I was so happy to have you here, this was perhaps the best Christmas I’ve ever had, too. Watching you be so happy, making you this happy, it made it so. I love seeing you smile.”

He hiccuped a sob, nodding a little as your thumb swept over your cheek. He attempted to choke back tears, and you shushed him quietly. “I didn’t— I didn’t get you any presents, I’m sorry—”

“Mattheo, stop. Please, look at me. See how happy I am right now.” His eyes scanned over your face, fighting the battle against the tears wanting to spill over. He was clinging to your waist, hands bunching at the sleep shirt you wore as he tugged you in a little closer. “Please smile. That’s what I want you to get me for Christmas. I got snow, I got my family, I got to see you. Now let me see you smile.”

He sniffled through a laugh, the lines of worry etched onto his face finally smoothing out. He smiled, watery and weak, but he smiled, letting out a heavy sigh.

“There he is, my pretty boy.” You pinched his cheek, his head tipping a little further into your hold, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I’m in love with you.” The worst bubbled from him in uh a rush they almost blurred together, but his body finally sagged, like he was losing the very tension that even kept him upright Swaying forward, his forehead fell to settle on yours, like he was collapsing. “I’m so, so fucking in love with you, and I just had to tell you that. After today, after everything, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore.”

His nose nuzzled against your own as the words he’d said settled over you. “Oh, Mattheo. After all that I just said, you don’t know how I feel about you?”

“‘Course I do. Why do you think I finally had the courage to say it?” Tipping his head up, he kissed the tip of your nose, arms sliding properly around your waist.

“I love you, Mattheo.” You murmured, shifting up enough for your lips to brush his own, and he smiled against your lips.

“You are the best thing in my life, sweetheart.” His confession was followed by his mouth closing over your own. A kiss that emptied every part of your mind, you could only focus on him. The slow movements of his lips, drowning in the feel of him pressed up to you, mouths making slow motions as you crossed that line between friends and more.

He pulled back for a breath, and you chased after him. Your mouths collided once again, needy and desperate this time, his hand slipping up to tangle in your hair as the other slid low down your back. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling yourself up to a better angle as your heart pounded against your ribs, a steady drum beat to match the rhythm of your lips.

This time, when your mouth slid from his own, he left kisses dotted along your jaw, panting onto your skin but unable to stop. Only when he had kissed down to your neck, face buried in your hair, did he pause Hugging you close, his chest rose and fell as he moulded you to his body, fingers massaging against your scalp as his hand still resided in your hair.

Eventually, the two of you shifted to the bed, tucking yourselves snugly under the covers, wrapped around one another as you balanced the laptop on your lap, pulling up a movie.

“What are we watching?” He whispered, between lazy kisses along your jaw, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“I was thinking Arthur Christmas. I think you’d like it.”

“Huh,” He murmured, pulling back as you turned up the volume and set it between you both. “Kinda’ sounds like Father Christmas, doesn’t it?”

You laughed against your will, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in for another kiss. “Godamnit, you’re cute.”

Suffice to say, he loved that one, too.

As fate would have it, Mattheo Riddle has a soft spot for animated Christmas movies.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #mattheo riddle/you #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth x reader #benjamin wadsworth/reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Cool for the Summer 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren't as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hellooooooooo. I've done it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The heat is suffocating. There’s so many people crammed into the tight space. Enough to smother you and make you sweat. You're close to the end.

The train is finally still and passengers rise to take down their bags and form a queue along the center aisle. You stay patiently in your seat. You’d rather wait there then brave the crowded shuffle as the impatience to disembark mounts.

At last, the doors open and people begin to move. You don’t stand until the last person passes your row. Your suitcase is at the front of the car with the bigger luggage.

Step-by-step you make your way up and slip your bag off the middle shelf. You haul it awkwardly to the door and the man on the ground helps bring it down. You thank him, looking only at his branded pin, and step off.

You drag the bag behind you and hike up the smaller bag on your shoulder. You’re exhausted and it’s not even noon. The automatic doors stand open as the other passengers enter the station. You follow and wheel your bag to the side so you’re out of the way.

You take out your phone. Your mother texted that she was here ten minutes ago. You can’t see much through the busy station. It’s summer and everyone is on their way somewhere; going home or heading out on vacation.

You’re relieved to be back but you won’t be able to relax until you’re at your mom’s house. You can’t wait to hide in your room and catch up on your reading. After four years at college, you have a long list.

As endless as your list may be, your reprieve won’t be. You have your degree now. You need to use it. Find a job, start your life, be an adult. The prospect is exciting but terrifying. More the latter as it entails associating with strangers. You’ve never been very good at that.

You did so well in school because it’s all you did. You didn’t go out and party, you didn’t distract yourself with dating or drinking, you didn’t even sign up for that book club that looked fun. You only stayed in and studied and occasionally ate in the cafe instead of boiling ramen or ordering in.

You don’t see her. You roll over to a free seat and sit. You text and ask where she is.

The general public stirs around you, blending into your peripherals as you stare at your phone and wait. You’d be better off waiting outside. Maybe. There’s a line of taxis and it’s all clustered with people trying to claim one.

“Ahem, excuse me.” The deep tone draws your head up but your eyes don’t go all the way. You focus on the man’s neck and the silver and brown stubble under his chin. He says your name and you sit up taller. “That’s you, right? Your mom showed me a pic. She’s just run to the bathroom.”

“Huh?” You clutch your bag tight.

“She did tell you I was coming, didn’t she?” He asks.

You shake your head and gnaw on your lip, “no. Who are you?”

You don’t know him. Not by his voice or the brief peek at his face. He’s older. Maybe her age. His dark hair is peppered with grey and his face is lined around his eyes and mouth, a few softer wrinkles in his forehead. His blue eyes are as bold as gems.

“Bucky.” He answers as if that should be explanation enough. He offers his hand. “Finally, we meet.”

You look around and accept his hand. You shake it. “Um, okay?”

He lets you go and grabs the handle of your suitcase. You reach for it in panic and stand. You nearly tip over and barely avoid brushing against him.

“She didn’t mention me. At all?”

You shake your head.

“Bucky,” your mom’s voice undercuts the awkward introduction. You turn to watch her flutter over. “Oh, sweetie, you’re home!”

Your mom seizes you and wraps you in a tight hug. She usually lets you have your space. You’ve never been touchy feely but you don’t protest. It has been a while since you saw her.

“Um, mom?” You murmur as she releases you.

She steps back and looks between you and the stranger. No, his name is Bucky.

“Oh, yes. You two. This is Bucky. Bucky--”

“We met,” Bucky interrupts.

“So sorry. I had an iced coffee on the way,” she trills.

“Bucky?” You raise your brows in your mom’s direction.

“You remember. I told you I met a guy,” she lowers her voice and nudges you. “This is him.”

“Oh.”

You vaguely remember her mentioning it after Christmas. You didn’t think too much about it. You don’t remember it coming up again. She always just said she went out or talked about chores. You wonder if she didn’t tell you on purpose. If maybe she expected you to overreact.

“We thought we could take you out for lunch as a bit of a homecoming. That train food isn’t very filling.” She smiles. “Well, it was Bucky’s idea. He’s so sweet.”

“Honey,” he chuckles. “Please, you’re giving me a lot to live up to.”

“Erm. If you want.” You shrug.

“Sounds like a plan. I’m starving.” Bucky pulls your bag away and you flinch again. “Ladies, first. Want me to get your other bag?” He offers and you shake your head.

Your mom moves first and you quickly catch up to her. You wish she’d at least warned you. You’re entirely unprepared for this. She knows you don’t do well with new people but maybe that’s why she didn’t say anything. So you couldn’t come up with an excuse to get out of it.

The sun beats down and adds to the sheet of sweat across your nape. Bucky looms behind you, his shadow skewing on the pavement, and you search for your mom’s car. You don’t see it.

She leads you to a dark blue car and you stare at it dumbly.

“Bucky drove,” your mom explains. The trunk pops as Bucky rolls your bag up. You step back as he lifts it inside. You thank him again as guilt bristles in your chest.

You follow your mom around the side of the car, waiting for her lead. When she opens the door, you open the back one. When she gets in, you get it. When she clips in her seat belt, you do. Bucky gets in on the driver’s side and drops his keys in the little tray between the cup holders. He jabs the button to turn the engine.

He doesn’t shift into gear right away. He does up his own seat belt, adjusts his posture, then fiddles with the mirror. You glance up as his eyes dart away in the mirror. Was he looking at you?

You pick at the hem of your sleeves button-up and lean into the door. You really hope you’re not in the way. You have that rotting sensation in your gut. You’ve ruined their day.

“Alright, everyone buckled in?” He grips the wheel with one hand, the other hooking behind your mother’s seat as he cranes and backs out of the spot. You stare at his thick fingers as you slump down in self-consciousness. You know he’s only checking his rear window but you’re always paranoid of being seen.

He rolls the car straight and steers between the slanted rows of vehicles. He idles behind the fleet of cabs and weaves his way through the chaos. Your mom sighs and shifts. She’s a less than patient driver.

“So, we were thinking the new bar and grill, figured you haven’t been around to try it,” your mom explains. “But if you miss Dezi’s, we can go there. Me and Bucky love getting Sunday lunch there. You remember how we used to go?”

Your lips twitch as you fright a frown. Dezi’s is your place. You and your mom went there since you were in grade school. Knowing she’s been taking him feels like a violation. The suspicion that you’re being replaced unnerves you. You don’t have any right to be mad about it. You’re grown now and your mom’s allowed to live her life. Thing’s change, they already have.

“New place is fine,” you grumble.

“Great! Megan recommended it. I’ve been dying to try it.” Your mom is elated.

She’s never short of enthusiasm but you don’t know the last time she didn’t have a single complaint. If it’s a nice day, she’s disappointed she can’t be at the beach. If she has the day off, she’s upset she has to do the laundry, even if you offer to throw it in with yours. And when she finally gets her food at a restaurant, she laments that she didn’t order the chicken instead of beef. Maybe change is good.

“Your mom’s a great tour guide. I don’t feel so lost anymore.” Bucky stops at a light and looks at her. “Uh, Lauren?”

“Straight then left,” she instructs him with a point of her finger. Her nails are done. Not her usual chipped paint on her short square cuticles; she has a full set with a lovely almond shape.

He follows her directions and continues through the green. You turn your attention out the window. You were only just home for the holidays but everything feels so different. Or maybe you are too.

There’s nothing ahead of you no, yet everything at the same time. You haven’t found much in your job search. Every job your mom sent you, you applied. You trawled the online boards and even used the student career center for help with your CV. A dozen articles littered your feed deeming the market oversaturated.

Another disappointment for your mom. You’re sure she won’t fail to mention this one. You exhale and twine your fingers together in your lap.

“Tired, sweetie?” Your mom asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. It wouldn’t do any good to share your worries. You still have time to find a job. Eventually, you have to get something.

“Alright,” Bucky flicks his blinker on and waits to turn. “Here we are.”

He pulls into the lot of the bar and grill. It’s built to resemble a log cabin and the entire theme has a rustic tint. He slides into a spot and shuts the engine off. In the silence, your stomach rumbles loudly.

“Hungry?” He chuckles and peeks back over his shoulder. As your mom jostles her purse and untangles her seat belt, he winks. Your blink dumbly and click the button to release yourself.

“Sure.” Your voice creaks as you pull the door handle. It doesn’t budge. You try again. Then frantically feel around for the lock.

“Oops.” Bucky turns and hits a switch. The locks thunk back.

Your mom gets out first and you follow. Bucky catches up and brushes by you as he passes. He beats you both to the front door and opens it for you. You trail your mom and he stays close as he enters behind you.

“Such a gentleman,” your mom praises and giggles. She sounds bubbly. You can’t remember her sounding like that before.

“Table for three,” Bucky says to the hostess.

Again, he lets you go ahead of him. Your mom is ahead of you as the hostess leads you into the dining room. You’re sat at a booth. You’re relieve to have a bench to yourself, facing your mother and Bucky, but she insists on being on the outside in case she needs the bathroom. That leaves you across from him.

“Drinks.” Bucky intones as he grabs the slender menu. “Cocktails?”

“What do they have?” Your mom leans on him as she reads over his shoulder.

“Hmm, interesting. Apple cider’s a bit out of season,” Bucky comments. “Figured we should celebrate. Baby girl is home and graduated.”

You wince at the reference. Baby girl? He sucks his teeth as he examines the menu then turns it around. He offers it across the table.

“Think I'll stick to beer,” he says.

“Go on,” your mom goads. “Get something special, sweetie. You earned it.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I’ll just have water.”

“It’s a special day,” she insists.

“Well, er...” you take the menu and nod. You look down at the listings as your cheeks burn hot. You don’t like to argue, especially when there’s no good reason.

You try to make sense of it. Blackberry sounds good but you’re not sure what bitters are. You don’t drink. You had one glass of wine at a New Years party with your mom’s friends a few years ago and didn’t really get the appeal. It made your stomach feel swishy.

There’s a lemonade that sounds okay. You like lemonade. You settle on that and put the menu down. Your mother scoops it up and you apologise. You should’ve asked her if she needed it.

A server appears and takes your drink orders as she doles out a set of larger menus. You take yours and listen as she recites the specials. You don’t really catch any of it. You’ve always done better with writing than oral instruction. She leaves and you wait for the others to open their menu before you do the same.

“This is nice,” your mom says. “I’m so happy you two are getting along.”

You force a smile and Bucky slips his arm around her and squeezes. Your eyes meet again and his cheek dimples beneath his beard. You quickly avert your attention back to the sandwich options.

Getting along? You barely know him. Not to mention, you didn’t expect him. No use in whining about it. He's here and your mother is happy.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #cool for the summer #winter soldier #captain america #avengers #au

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dontfearrr · 10 months ago

Text

Heard it through the grapevine

sorry guys i been so mia i literally have been in a weird funk but here’s a longer fic for u thrandy lovers and lmk if u want a part 2 maybe???

kisses to everyone, enjoy my elf sluts💋💋💋

Pairing: Thranduil x human!reader

Summary: reader keeps receiving gifts at her balcony, she has no idea where or who they’re coming from, she’s determined to find out…

Warnings: mild spicy content nothing crazy though

Category: fuck idk, fluff/hot n steamy?

Word Count: 2.1k

—————————

“strawberries and grapes this time!”

You shouted out to Tauriel who sat on your bed. She was just as intrigued with these series of gifts you’d been receiving. You both have been trying to narrow it down to who it could be, there was very few elves in this realm who spoke to you but the few that did, didn’t seem interested in you. So they were kind of at a dead end, yet the gifts never stopped.

You lifted the white basket off the floor of the balcony where they always were delivered, somehow unnoticed. You sighed and set the basket on the bed next to Tauriel as you both opened the note together. The thought of having a secret admirer was quite endearing, however it seemed a bit childish almost..but very intriguing nonetheless.

“read it out loud! i can’t do it!” you giggled as you handed Tauriel the note and she laughed with you, sharing the excitement. She cleared her throat dramatically and gave you a slight smirk before looking down at the note and she began to read.

“the grapes of the finest wine, the strawberries of the finest vine. for a woman oh so devine.”

She spoke out in a teasing tone. Your face heated up in embarrassment, these poems were always so corny, but who could be so brave enough to share them with you! “oh my, Tauriel..that is absurd” you laughed and shook your head.

You took the note from her and examined the hand writing, trying to get some kind of idea of who it could be! You thought for a moment, the gears in your brain turning ferociously until you tilted your head and looked at Tauriel.

“grapes from the finest wine…finest vine…Tauriel, arent these fruits from the private garden??” you spoke, picking up one of the grapes, it was bright purple, these were the grapes used to make the town wine. Tauriels eyes widened and nodded, they were in fact from the private garden! well this is something at least. “yes those grapes specifically are kept in the furthest corner, only very few people are allowed in that area” she told you, picking up the strawberries. “these are also from the same area. finest fruit indeed” she sent you a teasing wink and you just rolled your eyes at the elf’s childishness.

“are you able to get me a list of the people who are allowed to enter this area of the garden?” you asked her hopefully and she chuckled a bit, causing you to tilt your head in confusion.

“when i say very few people, i mean very few. grab something to write with.” Tauriel told you and you wasted no time scurrying off to find a quill and paper. Once you returned, you handed it to her and she began writing. you were nervous to see who was on that list, hands fidgeting eagerly as you hovered over her shoulder.

Six names were written on the list, this was amazing news. You snatched the paper from her hand and scanned your eyes over the list, it read:

Thranduil

Legolas

Lesysus

Elrond

Haldir

Aman

You were beyond perplexed. This list only made things even more difficult. The first thing you did was process of elimination. Elrond, he was in rivendell currently. Haldir, who was also with Elrond in rivendell….and that was it.. okay so six to four, not bad. But these were royal figures of the realm! There is no way any of these elves were even close to possible..

You looked at Tauriel who gave you a sympathetic look, she could tell you were stressing yourself out over this.

“do not dwell on it, my friend” she spoke gently, and you sighed deeply, setting the paper on your table and looked out the arched window of your chambers. “this was fun until now” you grumbled to yourself and looked down at the paper once more. “I think i’m just going to give it a rest, it’s clear whoever is doing this doesn’t want to be discovered so i suppose i’ll respect that” you told Tauriel and she quite literally laughed in your face, in a friendly way of course.

“i really love your optimism but we both know you’re not giving it a rest. just sleep on it, maybe you’ll get an idea soon.” she stood from your bed and gently rubbed your arm in reassurance before taking her leave.

You on the other hand, had a plan. A very determined one at that. You were going to do a steak out, spying over the royal garden! How incredibly stupid of you, but if the elf who was doing this was allowed in there, you saw no problem with taking a peek…for the entire night.

It was late now, nearly one in the morning, you decided it was a good time to go and spy on the garden. Tauriel had showed you a way to climb up into the trees to look down upon mirkwood, you figured this was perfect, that’s if you don’t get caught and probably executed. You chuckled to yourself at the thought as you threw on an elven cloak, putting the hood up and dressing yourself in your darkest garments to blend in with the night.

You may have been human but you had lived with the elves long enough to pick up on their gracefulness and swift movements. you swung from branch to branch, getting high enough in the twisting tree, maneuvering until you had a good view of the garden. You were crouched on a branch, quite high enough to go unnoticed hopefully. You hadn’t really thought through how long this would take but there was no going back now.

Three hours had passed by and your legs were beginning to ache so you moved to a simple sitting position, legs dangling off of the tree branch you sat upon. Your head snapped in the direction of the garden after hearing some noise, then you saw a shadow of a figure enter the garden. God damned elven sight, that was the one thing you didn’t have. It was simply too dark to see who had entered the garden, you were squinting and squinti-

“i know you are there, young one.”

A deep voice boomed through your ears and your eyes widened. They could see you? They knew you were there? This is ridiculous! Your mind raced but kept quiet until you heard the voice again.

“there’s really no use in hiding if i’m fully aware of your presence. come down. don’t be rude now.” the voice spoke again, you stared at the dark figure and sighed. Carefully jumping down the tree, landing on the top of the brick wall that separated the garden from the forrest then hopped down to the garden, standing slightly behind the very..tall figure. “i apologize, i was- i was…” you couldn’t even make up an excuse, you just accepted your fate at this point.

“you were spying on my garden? for a very obvious reason that is..” his voice was now VERY familiar to you, your face went white and your blood went cold. You’d just been caught red handed by the king. You watched him lift his arms and pull his hood down and slowly turn around to face you. He wasn’t wearing any kind of crown, not even a circlet. His white hair fell down his shoulders along with his hood and he stared down at you intensely.

“m-my lord.” You began to bow but he held up a hand, halting your movements. You obeyed and stood straight, looking at him.

“i see you’ve been receiving my gifts well. a curious one you are..” he said, a bit of amusement laced in his words. If he was being honest, he was quite impressed with your little idea, however he assumed it was only a matter of time.

“and please, call me by my name” he asked, stepping closer to you.

Your heart had fell all the way to your stomach, Thranduil was your secret admirer? this cannot be. you didn’t believe it for a second. That was until his hands reached up to pull your hood down, revealing you to him. “you are quite breathtaking, even in the darkness.” you could feel his index finger ghost over your cheek, the blood immediately rushing to your face causing you to blush deeply at his simple actions. The presence of the king was usually a lot more intimidating, but this felt almost..intimate?

“why me?” you asked quietly, looking him in his eyes despite it being quite dark, you were still able to make him out clearly.

He let out a low chuckle and dropped his hand back down, clasping his two hands at his front elegantly. “you think because you are mortal, that i cannot pursue you? i’ll have you know, i’ll pursue who ever i see fit..” he told her truthfully. He’s had a fascination for the girl for quite a while, though she had no idea of it.

He brought a hand up to your chin, gently lifting your face up so you can look at him properly, and so he can admire his sweet human. your face was warm and beet red, you were beyond flustered and truly had no idea what to say. “you wish to pursue me?” you asked him with a little bit of disbelief behind it and he simply nodded. God Tauriel would lose her mind if she seen what was happening! Your heart was beating rapidly, his touch felt like a dozen swans on a sweet pond. His thumb swiped over your jawline tenderly, causing you to take a step closer to him. He was more than pleased by this.

“i’ve desired you the moment i laid my eyes upon you” his hand was now cupping your cheek, his fingers threading through the hair behind your ear. “Thranduil..” was all you could muster up. He had you weak in the knees from a simple touch, it was quite cruel really. He absolutely loved the way his name sounded on your tongue, causing him to take a deep breath the calm himself down before he did something he regretted.

“will you have me?”

You placed a hand upon his chest, feeling his breath hitch in his throat as you did so. You slid your hand up, never breaking eye contact, feeling the porcelain skin of his neck as your hand continued higher, allowing it to rest on the back of his neck, your fingers nearly tangling in his perfect tresses. “i don’t want anyone else..” you told him and his caused his grip on you to tighten only ever so slightly. His thumb ran over your cheekbone before he dropped his hand, you were almost disappointed until his hand was now on your waist, pulling you against his own body.

Your body was on fire in this intimate moment, you were crumbling at his hand. He could tell you to jump off of the highest cliff and you’d comply without question. His head lowered down to your ear, his lips barely ghosting over your earlobe. “you keep me up at night, young one..” he purred, you could feel his warm breath against the skin of your neck.

You gasped at this and leaned your head to the side absentmindedly at his action, he took this as a delicious invitation as his head fit perfectly in the nook of your collarbone and neck. His lips connected with your skin, leaving open mouthed kisses to your neck, then unclasped your cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. his free hand pulled at the material of your tunic, exposing your shoulder as he hungrily continued his sweet kisses to your skin.

“Thranduil please..” you breathed out, the torture was far too much. Your legs were trembling and you gripped onto his cloak as if he was going to disappear. “please what, my love? use your words with your king..” his voice was like smooth honey, melting into your ears delightfully. You wanted to cry out in agony, but refrained from doing so as his lips connected with your collarbone this time.

You couldn’t take it any longer, you gently ran your fingers through his hair and cupped his face, pulling his head back to face you, his eyes were half lidded and filled with lust. Your mouth parted slightly as your breath slowed and you leaned your forehead against his, closing your eyes for a moment. You could feel his breath against your lips, you felt this was too much and decided to take matters into your own hands and you closed the gap, his lips molding perfectly with yours. he gripped your waist a little harder, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you with hunger and passion. You tugged his hair, earning a groan from him and backed him up against the brick wall.

The king had fallen completely under your spell at this point, he was yours…

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potatoplace · 3 months ago

Text

Control

Azriel x Reader

Part 2

Story Summary: On your 145th birthday, your mate Azriel has a very special day planned for you. His only requirement of you is that you give up control and follow your instincts.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence, killing your husband, ddlg, allusions to sex, egregious usage of pet names

Words: ~7.4k (~8.9k total)

Author's Note: okay so it's finally here! I know, I know, it took me a lot longer than I'd planned to get it out, but it's also 3x the length I had thought it would be... so there's that lol. Think of this as my apology for loml + my tears ricochet, some cute sweet fluffy goodness with Az to make up for the heartbreak. Also, I'm not sure how much I like this piece, the concept was really fun it was just a bit difficult starting and getting the words to flow. I just know that I appreciate all of the pet names... I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! Oh and there's a second part, since there's a text block limit on here, that will be up in a few minutes.

p.s. there may be a true second part to this, basically a smutty epilogue, if I feel like writing it later

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

Azriel had always tried and succeeded in making your birthdays special. He knew the way you were raised had ruined them for you, nothing but a count down to the day you would be sold off like cattle to a male, likely crueler than your parents.

And he had been. You had been married to a vile excuse for a fae, Marcus at the age of twenty. He beat you for every misstep you made, and in his view nearly everything you had done while together was one.

The food was never delicious enough, you weren’t beautiful enough for a male like him, you talk to other fae too often.

The final straw came when, five years into your arranged marriage, Marcus beat you half to death for not having given him an heir yet. That night, you vowed to yourself that the next day would be the last your husband drew breath.

You prepared him breakfast, even with the broken arm he had given you. Using the small packet of poisonous herbs you had bought when you were feeling brave a few months ago, you slipped some into the middle of his omelette.

And the rest was history.

You were free to live you life, though you had to put your minor healing powers to work to afford the basic necessities. But, you still had the home Marcus had owned, given that he had no living relatives, and it was enough for you.

You had lived your life for another hundred years, as peacefully as one could in the Court of Nightmares.

The first time you saw Azriel had been at a revel, one held for the High Lord’s birthday. Attendance had been mandatory, and as you rarely attended revels you dressed your very best, a black silk floor-length gown with a slit running all the way up your left leg and ending at the top of your thigh. It had thin straps to hold it on both shoulders, and you had never felt more beautiful. It was one of the few things you had saved up to buy, nearly working yourself ragged to do so, but it was worth it.

The way his eyes met your across the room once he entered was electric, and he had made your way over to you almost in an instant.

Your heels had made you four inches taller, but the moment you stood next to the Shadowsinger you felt as if you weren’t wearing them at all. His wings added extra height to him, and you felt so small in comparison. But he didn’t lean over you, attempting to use his height to intimidate you. Instead, he introduced himself.

“My name is Azriel. What is your name, please?”

“I know who you are, Shadowsinger.”

“If you know who I am, would it not be fair for me to know who you are?” Azriel countered. “I merely wish to know the name of my mate.”

Mate. The word struck through you, the bond snapping with such intensity you stumbled slightly in your heels. Azriel steadied you with a calm hand, and you internally scolded yourself.

One conversation and you’re acting like a fool.

“Y/N," you finally respond.

“Y/N,” Azriel said, testing your name out on his tongue. The sound sent instant butterflies into your stomach. “Would you care to join me somewhere more private?” You gave him a look of disdain, having hoped he would be different from the rest. “No no, nothing like that. I figure that the prying eyes and ears turned to hear our every word are something both of us would like to avoid.”

You thought about it for a moment. Truly, the male could have swept you away in an instant, whisking you away to Mother knows where. If he had ill intent, he most likely would have acted upon it already.

“I suppose another location could be nice,” you reply, holding a hand out for him to take. He took it in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Your heart fluttered, tugging lightly on the bond accidentally.

He winnowed the two of you away, and reappeared in a sitting room a moment later.

“I know that this is a shock to you, honestly it’s a shock to me as well,” Azriel started. “I never- I have not once believed that I deserve to be blessed with a mate, but I know that if you choose to pursue the bond, I will take care of you for as long as you allow. Even if you choose to reject the bond, if you would like I will provide you with a home of your own, anywhere you would like in the Night Court.”

Choose to reject- “What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A male- your mate- was offering to take care of you even if you reject the bond. That was… unheard of here.

“I want to take care of you, even if you have no part in my life. I would enjoy getting to know you if you are open to it, though.”

“I…” You hesitated. A mate was something out of your control. Already, you were acting on instinct instead of carefully planning each action. But… The Mother had judged you as equals, and if he was being truthful… “Make a bargain with me. Promise that you will allow me to leave you permanently and alive if I choose to.”

Azriel blinked at you twice before his face broke into a grin larger than you though possible for such a stoic male. “It’s a bargain, Y/N.”

A burning sensation sparked on your sternum, just below where your dress started. You pulled it back slightly, and saw a delicate moonflower wrapped in shadows. Pretty.

“Tell me about yourself?” Azriel asked lightly.

And you had.

The two of you had gone on a few dates before you even let him inside of your house, and another three months after that you let him stay the night for the first time.

You were slow to trust, even if Azriel had shown no signs of abusive behavior or anything similar. But over time he made his way into your heart, residing around the very middle of it. He was your world now, the one you would do anything for. Even if that made you weak, or soft, and he was the one person you allowed yourself to let your guard down around.

Over a year in, on your birthday, Azriel had spent the entire day with you, a rarity with his job and you occasionally being called away for healing duties. He had cooked you dinner while you watched, flitting around him and wanting to help, but Azriel wouldn’t let you.

The dinner had been wonderful, Azriel was truly gifted in the kitchen. After, Azriel had asked if you would live with him.

You said yes.

The two of you bought a house together in Velaris, a city that made the spark of hope that had ignited in your chest after meeting Azriel turn into a blazing fire. Here, the people were free. They could do whatever they wanted, be whoever they wanted, follow their dreams until the end.

Your dream, your wish that you kept so deeply buried inside of your heart, was to reclaim the softness that had been stolen from you, beaten from your bones.

Azriel had helped with that already, his love and affection melting away the hard exterior you had while in private with him. Five years after meeting, you had accepted the bond on his birthday with his favorite meal, and the frenzy that followed was absolute bliss.

This year was a bit different, Azriel’s sole mission on your birthday was to make your dream for yourself come true, twenty years into your mateship.

You were getting ready for bed, brushing your hair on the eve of your 145th birthday when Azriel called you into your shared bedroom.

“Yes, my love?” You asked as you entered, and then you saw it.

Azriel was holding a baby pink silk nightgown with lace along the hem and a bow on the middle of the collar, far cuter than anything you normally wore. And… you had seen it before. When you went shopping for a set of lingerie to surprise your mate, you had lingered in front of it, testing out the soft feeling of the fabric against your fingers, wishing you were brave enough to purchase something so cute, let alone wear it.

“I… How did you know?”

Redness spread onto Azriel’s cheeks as he confessed, “I might have had a few reports from my shadows about the things you seem to want, but do not buy for yourself. The one that sleeps on the back of your neck all day was particularly vocal about it. I wanted to surprise you, sweetheart, with a wonderful day tomorrow. But that starts tonight, with you wearing this to bed.” His smile was so sweet, your knees went weak. It was always so hard to resist him.

“What is tomorrow?”

“If you allow it, and place full trust in me, I have planned out a day for you to have to make no decisions, just following your instincts.” You wrinkled your nose, the idea of giving up all control was one you had rarely entertained in the dead of night, though it had always been to Azriel… “I know it sounds a bit daunting, but you know that I will never make you do anything that you do not want to, right?”

You nodded your head, that had always been the truth in your relationship. Everything was a mutual agreement, the both of you having issues with trust due to your childhoods.

“And we can drop at any time, and just have a nice day all to ourselves if you don’t enjoy it. All that I ask is that you give it a chance. Will you?”

Having that last piece of knowing it could end at any moment, that small bit of control to put your mind at ease.

“Yes,” you breathed, walking over to where he was standing, nightgown still in his hands.

“Thank you, babydoll. I promise, tomorrow will be wonderful. Now, let me undress you,” he said, setting the nightgown down on the bed and raising the hem of your shirt.

You let him, raising your arms to help. Next came your bra, gently undone with kisses placed on your neck as he did so. Then he unbuttoned your pants, shimmying them down your hips and tossing them away after you lifted your feet.

“Arms up, princess.” You blushed at the nickname, one reserved for tender moments in between the sheets, and did as he said. The nightgown slipped over your head, the fabric running down your body like water. The lace at the edges was soft, no hints of scratchiness to be found.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. So cute and sweet, and all for me,” Azriel whispered into your ear as he pulled you into a hug, your body softening against his after a few moments. A sigh slipped out of your lips, and Azriel kissed the crown of your head before pulling away slowly. “Did you need to do anything else before we go to bed?”

“No, I did everything already Az.”

“Let’s go to sleep then, lovely,” he said, and the two of you slipped beneath the sheets, your back to his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around your chest, one wing cocooning the two of you.

You fell into a peaceful sleep, the scent and feeling of your mate all you could ever think to wish for.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

The next morning you were awoken to soft kisses trailing down your neck, and the sensation of wet hair tickling you.

Az’s arm was still around you, and you wiggled in his hold, pressing your hips back against his.

“Now, now,” Az tutted, slight disapproval in his voice, and you stilled. “None of that right now, my sweet birthday princess. It’s time for your bath.”

“Mm I don’t want to get out of bed yet though, Az,” you whined. The sheets were far too comfortable, and the nightgown you were wearing was heaven against your skin, plus the hard press of your mate against your rear… no, you wanted to stay in bed.

“I promise the bath with be worth it, babydoll. Come on,” he said, getting out of the bed and taking you with him, carrying you into the bathroom and setting you on your feet.

The bath had already been drawn, a thick layer of bubbles covering the surface and a soothing lavender and chamomile scent wafting from it. Candles were set up along the edge, and a cup of coffee made just how you like was sitting on the counter.

You went to remove your new nightgown before Azriel’s hands stopped you.

“Let me do that, sweetheart.” He lifted the gown of your head and put it in the laundry basket. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring you your coffee.”

You did as he said, and the water was at the perfect temperature. Azriel handed you your coffee, and you took a large sip before looking at him.

“You aren’t going to join me?”

Azriel smiled and shook his head. “No, princess, this bath is all about you. I took one just before I woke you up. Drink your coffee, sweetness,” he said, tilting the cup toward your mouth again.

You do as he says again, even though your mind is fighting against it. He had asked that you try, so you would try as hard as you could to enjoy it.

And really, with your body warmed inside by coffee and outside by the luxurious bath Az had drawn for you, it wasn’t too hard to like it so far. Especially once Azriel started to wash your body with a soft cloth, taking is time to massage out any knots in your shoulders and arms. You always were tense with your healing work.

But all of that stress melted away with your mate’s gentle hands cleaning your skin.

When he finally pulled you out of the bath, he dried you off with a fluffy towel, pressing soft kisses all over you. You were feeling sleepy all over again, and just wanted to crawl back into bed with your mate.

“Alright, baby, we just need to get you dressed and then I’ll start breakfast.” Azriel went to the closet and pulled out a lavender wrap dress with short sleeves, another item that you had admired while shopping before. It was buttery soft as Azriel pulled it over your head, and it fell to right above your knees. You felt beautiful.

Azriel brought your slippers over to you, helping secure them on your feet.

“You look even better in this than I thought you would, sweetheart, though I don’t know how that’s possible.” You blush at his words, holding your arms out for a hug. He wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you tight against his chest. He’s so warm, and smells so good. His night chilled mist and cedar scent lulled you into a daze, your eyes glazed over when you met his after he pulled away from you slightly.

“Hello, gorgeous.”

“Hi,” you say back, your voice quiet.

“You doing good?” He asked as his hand caressed your face gently. You could only nod, so at peace and in the moment with your mate. A smile breaks across his face, and he tightened his arms around you once more before he disentangled himself from you.

“Come on babydoll, you can watch me make breakfast,” he said, leading you into the kitchen. He picked you up and set you on the island counter across from the stove.

He pulled out two wrapped packages, a carton of blueberries, and a bowl covered with a lid, then grabs three frying pans out of a cupboard.

"What's for breakfast?" You ask, resisting the urge to kick your feet as they hang in the air from your place on the island counter.

"Pancakes, sausages, bacon and some fruit, my love," Azriel replies, placing a kiss on your forehead when he turned to look at you.

"Do you need any help?" You ask out of habit.

While Azriel does take care of you as much as you allow, it has been hard kicking your old habits of always offering to help, any way to make your eventual suffering easier on you.

"No, sweetheart, I just need you to sit there and look adorable. Can you do that for me?" Azriel requests as he unwraps the sausages and puts them in a pan, then does the same with the bacon.

You sigh. Doing nothing? That's difficult. "I can try, Az."

"Good girl." Now that sent a thrill through you, and put a smile on your face. In the past couple of years you had noticed how much praise had begun effecting you, especially from the lips of your mate.

Azriel began making breakfast, pouring some of the batter he had made before waking you up into one of the pans. He places some blueberries onto it, being more careful with them than usual.

Az could feel your eyes on him, and turned to look at you. "Yes, love?"

"You're being careful with the blueberries," you state.

"Yes I am. I'm making smiley faces in the pancakes, sweetness."

You smile widened, the idea of it was so cute. "Smiley faces?"

"Mhm. I figured I would even make your breakfast cute, Y/N. After all, you're so cute you deserve to eat cute things too." His words sent blood to your cheeks, and your legs started kicking gently in the air.

Azriel returns to the stove, dutifully cooking until he hears you make to get off the counter. He whips around and holds your hips in place. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I... I wanted to help."

He kisses your lips, cheeks, then forehead. "You are too sweet, mate. I have everything under control, I promise. Just stay here and eat some blueberries, okay?" He hands the carton to you, and you pout slightly as you toss one in your mouth.

Azriel turns back to the stove, ready to get the food finished so he can pay more attention to you again.

In a few minutes, he's plated everything and brought it to the table, including a bowl of fruit from the fridge, before returning to you. He picked you up, carrying you over to the table as you giggle in his arms. Azriel gently sets you in your chair, then takes the seat next to you, scooting his chair over so that he's right next to you.

You go to pour some syrup on your pancakes- the smiley faces are pretty adorable- before a hand stops you, taking the bottle from your grasp. "Hey-"

"I told you, sweetheart, that you don't have to do anything today. That includes pouring your syrup and cutting your food." Az pours a generous amount on your pancakes, just the way you like them. He cuts a bite for you, and brings the fork to your mouth.

You look between the bite of food and Azriel, raising a brow.

"Open up, babygirl." His gentle tone coaxes you to give it a try, and you let him feed you the bit of pancake.

The blueberries are just the right amount of sweetness, the pancake itself thick and fluffy. Your eyes close for a moment as you chew, and when you open them Azriel has a soft smile on his face.

“Is it good?”

You nod your head. Azriel’s pancakes are one of your favorite foods he makes, always so delicious and fluffy.

“Good. Open wide,” he said as he brought another forkful to your mouth.

The pattern continued, Azriel taking bites off his own plate while you chewed yours. Before long you were full, turning your head away from the last bite of sausage Azriel was offering you.

“You full, babygirl?”

“Mhm, it was a lot of food, Azzie.” The nickname slipped out of your mouth without you even thinking, a sure sign you were relaxed and happy. “This is nice, so far,” you admitted.

Azriel’s face split into a grin, a rarity on his face, though it was becoming more and more common in your presence. “I knew you would like it, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead, then stood up from the table and offered you a hand. You take it and let him pull you into the bedroom. “Now, we are going to go shopping. But, with the weather, you need to wear a little more than you are now, cutie.”

He went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of white woolen tights, and turned back to you. “Sit down on the bed for me.” You do, and he goes to his knees in front of you. He takes off your slippers, then shimmies the tights up your legs until they’re all the way on your hips. “Perfect, sweetheart, you look so adorable in these. Do they feel warm enough to go out into the snow?”

“Yes, I think I will be warm enough. But I’m not sure I have a coat that will be good enough, though…”

Azriel chuckled. “I got one for you specifically for today, but I hope you will wear thicker coats more often. I hate to think of you walking in the cold in just a light jacket when I’m not here, sweetheart.” He pulled you up from the bed, leading you to the entryway closet that he opened, grabbing a puffy white coat that looked like it would go down to your mid-thigh.

You extended your arms without him prompting you, which made him smile again. He slipped the coat onto your arms, buttoning it up methodically. He then grabbed a pair of fluffy white snow boots which you slid your feet into, letting him lace them up for you. He pulled on his own coat, which he let you button up when you gave him a pouty look, then put on his own boots.

“Just a few more things, baby.” He wrapped a light pink knit scarf around your neck, making sure to cover as much skin as he could with it, leaving it loose in the front in case you felt like pulling it over the bottom of your face. Then he slipped matching mittens onto your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of each one beforehand. And the last was a matching hat with a pink puffball on the top. He fit it snuggly onto your head.

“You should wear a hat too, Azzie,” you point out. Especially if it was snowing, you didn’t want your mate to catch a cold. He merely smiled and shook his head at you, grabbing his own black hat and gloves from the closet.

“You worry about me so much, sweetie. I was always going to wear a hat, it’s been snowing since I woke up, after all.” He tapped your nose with his pointer finger, then leaned in for a kiss. It was so gentle and sweet, a perfect kiss if there ever was one. Then again, that was all of their kisses.

The two of you left your home, Azriel locking the door behind you. There was a thick layer of snow on the ground, most likely four of five inches deep.

Azriel grabbed your hand and began leading you down the street that would take the two of you to the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

The snow made the trek take longer than usual, but with your mate’s warm hand encasing yours, you didn’t mind at all. The two of you passed a few shops before you made it to your first destination, a bedding store that the two of you had come to in the past.

He brushed the snow off of your hat and shoulders, the pulled you into the shop.

“Now, sweetheart, I want you to remember to follow your instincts, pick out whatever you feel drawn to, okay?” You nodded your head; After all, the day so far had been amazingly comforting, the caring presence of your mate doing so much to relax you.

He let you wander around the shop, following closely behind you with his shadows swirling around your feet. You paused in front of a shelf of throw blankets, your eyes catching on a blush colored one.

Reaching a hand out, you went to brush your fingers on it before realizing they were still clad in mittens.

“Here, sweetness, let me take that for you,” Azriel said as he removed the mitten from your hand, leaving it free to brush against the blanket.

“It’s so soft,” you breathed. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at Azriel. “Can I get it?” Your voice was shy, still nervous about choosing cute things for yourself.

“Of course, princess. You can get anything you want, today and every day.” He picked the blanket up and held it in his arms. “Keep looking, there’s a lot more you haven’t seen yet.”

You followed his suggestion, walking further into the shop. Your eyes lock onto a sapphire blue pillow, fur all along the top side of it. Your ran your fingers through it- so silky smooth, you just needed to have it. “This too, please,” you whispered to Az, and he licked that up as well. The two of you looked through the rest of the shop, but nothing else caught your interest strongly enough to linger near it. Azriel gently led you with a hand on your back to the counter, placing both items on it.

“Did you find everything you needed?” The clerk asked as he wrote out the total on a receipt, crediting the purchase to your joint account.

“Yes we did, thank you,” Azriel replied, squeezing your hand in his.

“Were you needing a bag at all today?”

“No, thank you, we’ll be fine without one,” Azriel said, grabbing the pillow and blanket off the counter and leading you back to the entrance. Before you stepped outside, he handed the items off to his shadows, letting them carry the goods back to your home. He also pulled your mitten out of his pocket and slipped it back onto your hand.

You left the shop, heading further into the Palace. A few doors down, Azriel opened the door to a clothing store, ushering you inside.

Without prompting, you began to explore the store. This was one you had only looked into from the windows on the street, deeming the clothes, as lovely as they are, too feminine and cutesy for your daily life.

But once inside, you couldn’t help but pick out a decent number of outfits, taking them to into the dressing room to try on, Azriel waiting outside.

“Show me each one that you like, sweetie,” he requested, taking a seat in the chair meant specifically for this purpose.

You do, showing him a halter top and skirt set in a gorgeous blue that matched his siphons near perfectly. “This is perfect, love,” he praises you, pulling you by your hips to him. “It’s so sweet when you match me.”

You giggle softly, placing a kiss on his lips. “I definitely want this one.” You spin your hips, the skirt flaring out attractively from where it had rested at your mid-thigh. “It’s fun to move in,” you say, happiness in your voice.

“Good. Go try on some more, babygirl.”

A few outfits later, and you only found one other piece of clothing you wanted at the moment. It was a shade of pale pink with long, flowing sleeves that came down to the tops of your fingers. The hem reached yours knees, the skirt of the dress separated from the bodice by a matching ribbon at the waistline. The ribbon tied into a bow at the back, something that you would normally never wear out, let alone pick out to try on. But, Azriel had wanted you to try, and it was honestly easier than you had thought it would be to follow your instinctual taste.

You opened the curtain, and Azriel’s jaw dropped open- the only other time that had happened in public was your wedding and mateship ceremony.

“You look…” he paused, and your doubts started creeping in. “You look so, amazingly beautiful sweetheart, like a true angel brought to this earth to bless my life.” He stood up from his chair, scooping you into his arms and twirling you around, causing you to loose a giggle.

“I love this one, it’s so perfect. I feel like a princess,” you say after he sets you down, a wide smile on your face.

“I would have bought it anyways, just for the slightest chance you ever even thought of putting it on again.”

You change back into your clothes, letting Azriel redress you in your outerwear. He brings your two outfits to the front counter, once again handling the interaction for you as you leaned into his side. It was nice, not having to worry about any of the minutiae that went with shopping.

He pulls you out of the shop, a large bag in his hands which he keeps in his hand instead of sending off with his shadows. The two of you make your way over to the Rainbow slowly, enjoying the slow snowfall.

“In here, sweetheart,” Azriel says, guiding you into an art supply shop. “I have something specific in mind for you.”

“Oh? What is it Az?”

“Right here,” he says, extending a hand towards a set of ink pots, neatly packaged together in a wooden box with a glass lid.

“Inks?”

“Yes, I thought you could use something that’s easy, a bit mindless to do when you have free time. I asked Feyre what she thought about an ink set with a few books of drawings to fill in with color, and she thought it was the perfect idea for when you want to do something with your hands, but you don’t want to focus or think. It also comes with quills that are enchanted to return the ink to its pot when you hold it over the correct pot again, that way you won’t have a problem switching between colors… What do you think?”

You thought about it. While it did feel a bit… childish to color in pictures, the idea of having something simple to do when you’re tired but restless would be nice.

“That sounds nice, Az. Do they have books I can pick out here?”

“Yes, they do. They’re over in the back right corner, I’ll meet you over there in a second sweetheart.”

You wandered off into the direction he guided you, finding the selection of coloring books fairly quickly.

One instantly caught your eye, a collection of different creatures found in the Night Court, drawn in a cuter way than they appeared in person. You grabbed that one, and another of plants found in the solar courts.

Azriel came up behind you, placing a kiss on the top of your head, through your hat. You turn around to look at him and held the two books out for him to take, which he did.

“Did you want any others right now?”

“No, I think two will be enough for now. We can always come back again if I want more,” you said, and Azriel’s face softened before he kissed you.

“Alright, I’ll get this paid for and then we have one more stop before we’ll get some tea.”

In a few minutes, the two of you were leaving the shop, another bag in Azriel’s hands. The next shop he led you two was just two doors down from the art supply one, and it was a store you had considered going into every single time you had come to the Rainbow.

The windows were filled with various stuffed animals, plants, and fae. There was a whole half of a window dedicated to Illyrians, all fitted with differently colored siphons, though three you could tell were based off of your mate and his brothers.

That was one of the reasons you had always wanted to enter the shop, having a small miniature Azriel to keep you company while he’s away on long missions and the bond is quieted by the distance.

Azriel drags you inside, taking you over to the display holding the Illyrian plushies.

“Did you want one of me, babygirl?”

Color flushed your cheeks, and you bury your face in his chest before nodding.

“Did you want this small one? Or did you want a bigger one, one that’ll be enough to snuggle while I’m gone?”

“…Both?”

A chuckle vibrates through Azriel’s chest. “Both it is, baby. Go ahead and grab the small one, and look at the other options while I get the larger one ordered, okay?”

You grab the small miniature of your mate, then walk slowly towards the counter in the back of the store that Azriel was standing at. You pick up another plush, this one is your favorite flower, and join him at the counter.

“That will be ready in a week or so, Shadowsinger. We will send a note to your home, informing you when it is ready to be pick up. Ah, are these the other purchases?” The clerk asked, taking the plushies from your arms after you nod in confirmation. “Perfect, I will just grab you a bag, and you two are all set. Have a lovely rest of your day,” she says kindly, giving you a warm smile as she hands the bag to you.

Azriel guides you out of the store with a gentle hand on your lower back, and takes the bag from your hand once you’re back in the winter weather.

“How does tea sound to you, love?” Azriel asked, still leading you with that comforting hand.

“Something warm would be nice.”

He leads you to a tea shop that is decorated in soft pastels and smells heavenly, most likely because of the large case of baked goods that instantly drew your eyes. The two of you approach the counter, your eyes passing over every dessert in the case, lingering on a slice of strawberry cake and an adorable cookie, decorated with pink frosting and in the shape of a fox, it’s features drawn on in black frosting.

Azriel talks with the fae at the counter, but you aren’t listening, only looking between the slice of cake and the cookie, trying to decide between the two.

“Anything catching your eye, love?” Azriel asks softly into your ear, startling you from your thoughts.

“Oh, um…” you try to make a decision between the two, but your brain isn’t working fast enough.

“We can share a few, if you want more than one,” Az suggests gently, and when you point out the two items you want, he knows he found your dilemma.

“We’ll have a slice of strawberry cake and one of those pink fox cookies, please,” Azriel says, ordering for you and pressing a kiss to your head.

“But what about the tea-?”

“I already ordered some, love. Come on, let’s go take a seat.” Azriel pulls you to the side of store with a large fireplace, something you hadn’t even noticed when you walked in. He removes your coat, setting it on the back of a chair, then gently pushes you down onto it.

At this point, you feel like all you can do is follow his lead, so relaxed and in the moment that you don’t even want to make decisions.

Azriel sits in the seat next to yours, scooting as close as he can to you like he did with breakfast. He takes each mitten off of your hands, then removes your hat, smoothing out your hair after he sets it down.

Between the fire roaring in front of you and his wing covering your back, you were so warm and cozy you thought you might even be able to take a nap here.

“How are you doing, baby?” He asks lowly in your ear, wrapping an arm around you as well.

You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, something you usually would never do in public. But Azriel is so warm, and smells so wonderful. And he’s here, keeping you safe. Even from prying eyes, with his massive wing blocking you from the windows leading to back to the streets of the Rainbow.

“Perfect,” you sigh, melting further into his shoulder.

The fae who took your order comes over with a tray, a teapot, two teacups, and two plates with the desserts you picked out on top of it. You keep your head where it is, too comfortable to move, even if it means showing that to someone you don’t know. She sets all of the items on the table, pouring out tea for the both of you. “Enjoy,” she says with a smile as she walks away.

The two of you sip your tea, a sweet floral blend that you can’t quite name, but you suppose that doesn’t matter too much. Azriel feeds you bites of cake and the cookie slowly, taking his own every now and then.

You nearly fall asleep on him once the desserts are finished, so content in this moment you don’t want to move.

“Alright, princess, let’s get home for a little bit before dinner.” You groan, pushing further into his shoulder. “We can snuggle when we get home, princess.” That gets you to move, the thought of being snuggled together under your new blanket on the couch at home. You turn to look at Azriel, who has a fond look on his face.

“What?”

“You’re so cute, love.” He kisses you, then stands up and grabs your coat off the back of your chair. Your face scrunches as you stand, not wanting to leave the warmth of the fireplace behind either, but you let Azriel redress you in your winter clothes, smiling when he kisses you again. He picks up your shopping bags, the guides you out of the tea room, thanking the fae before closing the door.

The two of you make your way back home slowly, the snow even thicker on the ground now that you had spent another hour indoors.

Near your home, along the Sidra, you spot an untouched patch of snow, and pause in your tracks.

“What is it, love?” Azriel asks you, stopping and looking at you, then glancing to where your eyes were locked on to. “Oh, did you want to make a snow Illyrian, princess?”

You bite your lip, then nod your head. Azriel merely secures your hat further down your head, and checks to make sure that your mittens are still covering your hands. “Go for it. By tomorrow, all of the snow will have been trampled, sweetheart.”

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about what other would think of you being so childish-

No. You were going with your instincts today. Besides, hardly anyone was out no about today, and there was no one on this side of the Sidra to stare at you. And Azriel was here, he would keep you safe. So you got down on the ground, repeatedly moving your arms and legs in their full range of motion.

You had always wanted to do this as a child, but even on the times you were let out of the mountain during the winter, you had been kept on a tight leash.

But now, with your mate? You were free to do whatever you wanted, as he had proved time and again throughout your relationship, and so many times today alone.

You stop once you feel you’ve made enough of an impression on the snow, and Azriel reaches a hand down to pull you up. You take it, then step back into what you believe to be the road and glance back at your creation.

It’s cute, though it looks nothing like Illyrian wings, but you suppose that doesn’t matter much.

“So cute Y/N. But let’s go now, I don’t want my sweet little mate to catch a cold.”

The two of you make your way back to your front door, and Azriel unlocks it before ushering you inside.

He strips you of your outerwear before taking his off, and you beeline for the couch in the living room, where your new blanket and pillow are already waiting for you.

“Before we snuggle, princess, you should change out of your dress,” Azriel suggests, and you groan in protest.

“But I want to snuggle right now,” you say impatiently.

“I know, love, but it will only take a moment to change you into something different sot that your dress doesn’t get too wrinkled before dinner.”

You sigh then follow him into the bedroom. He deposits the shopping bags onto the bed, pulling something out of the bag from the clothing store, one that you didn’t recognize.

It was a sleepwear set, a tank top with a bow resting in the middle of the neckline, a pair of shorts, and a set of knee high socks, all in a pale blue.

“When did you pick that out?”

“While you were trying on all of those clothes. I thought I would pick out some to give you as a surprise princess, after all, it is your birthday.”

You approach the bed and peek into the bag, and see that it is mostly full, pastel sets of underthings on every shade of the rainbow.

“Do you want to wear one of the sets now?”

You pull one out, a bralette and pair of panties in a pastel pink. “This one,” you say, presenting it to him.

He sets the clothes down on the bed, then strips you of the clothes you’re wearing. You let him redress you in the new clothes, loving how soft all of the fabrics are, Azriel having shopped for your comfort as well as a softer look than your usual attire.

“You look so adorable in those, baby,” Azriel says, his voice soft and sweet as he puts the socks on you, then your slippers.

“Thank you, Azzie. I really like these, they’re so cozy,” you say, running your hands along the tank top. “Can we cuddle now?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I do have a couple of reports I need to write first, it shouldn’t take more than an hour, but I’ll have you rest your head in my lap, if you would like.”

Your lip slides into a pout, you wanted to cuddle with him now.

“I know, sweetheart, but I’ll be quick about it, okay? And you can hug one of your new plushies while you wait for me to finish.”

“Fine…” you agree, fishing the plush that resembles Azriel out of the bag and clutch it to your chest while you follow Azriel back into the living room.

He sits down on the couch, patting his lap in invitation. You follow him, curling up on the couch and resting your head on his lap, sighing when he settles the soft, blush pink blanket over your body.

Papers rustle as Azriel’s shadows bring him what he needs to complete his work, but your eyes are already closed. One of Az’s hands begins to card through your hair slowly, and you let out a quiet purr at the sensation.

Within a few minutes, you had drifted off to Azriel’s soft touches, quiet breathing, and the gentle scratch of a quill on paper.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

You were woken by Azriel shifting beneath you, attempting to move to lay down underneath you without waking you. You open your eyes, turning your head to look at him.

“Hello, beautiful. I’m all done with my reports, now it’s time for us to snuggle together,” He says gently, moving your body so he’s now laying on his back, you pulled over him, your head resting on his chest. You kick your legs against the edge of the blanket, managing to get it over Azriel’s feet with a bit of work. You let out a deep breath once you have, sinking down into Azriel’s warm body.

You fall asleep again in a few minutes, now soothed by the sound of his heartbeat steadily thumping in your ear.

💙🤍💙🤍💙

Part 2

(tumblr's stupid 250 text block limit cut it off like a page and a half before it was done)

#control #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader fluff #daddy!azriel #soft!azriel #daddy!az #soft!az #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #acotar x reader #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #tato writes

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animesmolbean · 4 months ago

Text

Words Hold Power

An “The Umbrella Academy” fanfiction

Five x Reader

(Female)

Author's Note: Welcome to my The Umbrella Academy fanfiction! I'm so excited to share this story with you all! TUA is my favorite Netflix show! I'm very sad to see it's in its final season, but all great shows come to an end! But at least we'll get to rewatch it over and over again, lol.

Speaking of which, please, no spoilers for S4 since I have not watched it yet. I'll let you guys know where I am in S4 in coming posts.

With that said, I just wanted to tell you guys this. There was one hesitation I had with writing this story. Handling Viktor's character. I know about the journey of this character and Elliot Page's journey as well. I know about the transition, and I wanted to tell you how I planned on approaching this.

I did research on this topic and wanted to be sure I was handling it correctly. I researched how I should write transgender characters and their journeys throughout the story.

I also read other TUA fanfictions for research to see how other authors handle it, and like the research, it's a mixed bag. Some use Viktor only, and some show the name change.

After researching, I decided on an approach.

I will follow what the show does and show the transition story Viktor has. I chose this because I believe it's a beautiful journey, and the show does a great job handling the topic.

One last thing, all the main characters (The Hargreeves siblings) are aged up a little.

With all that said, I hope you enjoy the first chapter! ♥️

~Character Info~

Reader's ability is cursed speech. She can make anyone do what she says with only a few words. It's similar to Allison's, except she doesn't need to say certain words first like her, and her ability is much more powerful. To the point where she has to be extremely careful about what she says.

(As you can tell, this was inspired by the anime character, Toge Inumaki from Jujutsu Kaisen.)

Chapter 1: We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals (Family Reunion)

On the twelfth hour of the first day of October 1985, forty-three women around the world gave birth.

This was unusual only in the fact that none of these women have been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got eight of them.

Many years later, the kids grew up and went on with their lives as adults.

There was Number One, aka Luther Hargreeves. Big, strong and was currently on the moon, studying and preparing for whatever his mission was.

There was Number Two, aka Diego Hargreeves. Impulsive, brave and works as a vigilante of sorts.

There was Number Three, aka Allison Hargreeves. Famous actress who was currently on the red carpet in front of paparazzi.

There was Number Four, aka Klaus. A lazy, free-spirited soul who is currently leaving rehab and using the money he got from the rehab to buy drugs. He ended up in the back of an ambulance.

And, there was Number Seven, aka Vanya Hargreeves. She was quiet, timid, and was currently leaving the theater after practicing her violin.

However, their lives would change forever with one broadcast.

Their father was now dead.

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY

☂

Vanya rode a taxi to her childhood home. A place she lived for many years.

The Umbrella Academy.

A tall condo-like building with a black gate.

Vanya approached the building and opened the doors, whose windows were decorated by umbrellas.

The foyer was fancy still. The middle was open with a chandelier hanging above a small round table in the middle. Tall, smooth white beams holding the sides which held the second floor. A staircase that leads to that second floor was behind the small round table.

It was just as Vayna remembered it. Every little detail was still there.

“Hey, Mom.”

Vanya called to the woman in the living room. Said woman sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, which currently had a fire going. She stayed still as she stared into the dancing flames.

“Mom?”

“Vanya?”

A familiar voice turned Vanya’s attention elsewhere.

“You're actually here.”

She turned and saw her sister, Allison coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Allison.”

“Hey sis.”

Allison now stood before her sister. She chuckled and brought the other girl into a hug, which Vanya quietly but graciously returned.

“Ah. What is she doing here?”

A new voice spoke through the quiet foyer.

“You don't belong here. Not after what you did.”

It was Diego.

“You're seriously gonna do this today?” Allison spoke up, her tone telling that she wasn't in the mood for the male's attitude.

“Way to dress for the occasion, by the way.” She added, mocking Diego’s attire as he ascended the stairs. He was still in his “hero” gear; knives and everything.

“At least I'm wearing black.” Diego shot back nonchalantly as he turned left on the stairs, disappearing from the girls’ views.

Vanya, now uncomfortable, spoke up quietly, “You know what? I- Maybe he's right. And I shouldn't-”

“Forget about him.” Allison interrupted her. “I'm glad you're here.” She spoke softly. Vanya’s lips quirked up a little at Allison's words. The sisters shared a moment of silence.

☂

Diego arrived at his late father's room, to see Luther there checking the windows. He leaned against the doorframe.

“I can save you some time. They're all locked. No forced entry, no sign of struggle. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

As he spoke, he walked over to Luther who was also walking towards him.

“Oh, you got big, Luther. What's the secret, huh? Protein shakes? Low carbs?” Diego asked mockingly.

“What do you want?” Luther asked, not wanting to deal with Diego's attitude.

Diego reached into his pocket and pulled out a few folded pieces of paper, handing them to Luther. “The autopsy report.”

After he teasingly tried to pull them away from Luther, the latter brother snatched them out of his hand.

“And you have this, why?” Luther asked.

“Well, that's because I… broke into the coroner's office.” Diego explained as he sat down in an armchair. “And surprise, surprise, Dad's death was… normal. Just a boring, old heart failure.”

“Yeah, so?” Luther looked at Diego.

“So, why are you in here, checking all the windows?”

“Were you the first one on the scene?” Luther asked.

“Pogo found him.” Diego answered.

“Yeah, I talked with Pogo. He said he couldn't find Dad's monocle.”

“And your point being?” Diego asked in a bored tone.

“Can you think of a single time you saw Dad and he wasn't wearing that monocle? No. Which means someone took it. Which means there's a chance he wasn't alone when he died.”

Diego sat up from the armchair. “There is no mystery here. Nothing to avenge. Nothing to solve, nothing like that. It's just a sad old man who kicked it in a big empty house. Just like he deserved.”

“You should leave.” Lither spoke, not liking Diego's tone with that last sentence he spoke.

“Whatever you say, brother.” Diego said in a mocking tone as he turned to leave. Before he did, he turned back to Luther. “By the way, did you visit (Your Name) yet?”

Luther shook his head. “No. I was about to, actually.”

“You know where she is.” Diego simply said.

☂

Vanya entered the living room, looking around at the interior. She spotted a comic and new articles on their group, The Umbrella Academy. She looked at the bookshelves and pulled out one book in particular.

The title read, “Extra Ordinary My Life as Number Seven”

It was her autobiography book. The one she wrote when she left the academy.

She observed it solemnly until a voice spoke out.

“Welcome home, Ms. Vanya.”

She turned and saw Pogo, a human sized monkey dressed formally with a cane and glasses.

Vanya walked over to him and hugged him. Pogo hugged back with a hum. “So good to see you.” He noticed the book in her hand. “Ah, yes, your autobiography.”

“Do you know, um…” Vanya paused before continuing. “Did he ever read it?”

Pogo thought for a moment before replying, “Not that I'm aware of.”

Vanya turned her attention to the portrait above the fireplace. It showed a boy, around seventeen in age, sitting with a neutral but sophisticated look on his face.

“How long has it been since Five disappeared?” She asked.

Pogo turned to look at the portrait too. “It's been sixteen years, four months, and fourteen days.” The two looked at each other. “Your father insisted I keep track.”

“And… how long has (Your Name) been in that coma?”

“Sixteen years, four months, and six days.” Pogo replied.

“You wanna know something stupid? I always used to leave the lights on for him. I was scared that he would come back, it would be late, and the house would be dark and he wouldn't be able to find us, so he'd leave again. And he would take (Your Name) with him. So, every night I'd make a little snack and make sure all the lights were on.”

Pogo nodded. “Oh, I remember your snacks. I'm pretty sure I stepped in half those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches, and those (Favorite type of Cookie) cookies.” He sighed a couple times before he spoke again, “Your father always believed that Number Five was still out there somewhere. He also believed that one day (Your Name) would wake up. He never lost hope.”

“And look where that got him.” Vanya said solemnly.

☂

Allison went up to her late father's study, looking around the area. The familiarity of it brought up a memory.

〰️

Reginald Hargreeves was working in his office, as usual, when Grace knocked on the door. She entered before closing the door.

“The children are ready for bed, sir. They wanted to say goodnight.”

She turned and walked a couple of paces and opened the sliding door.

On the other side revealed the eight children, all wearing matching pajamas. Allison was in the center while the others surrounded her. Little (Your Name) stood between her and Five, a black cloth face mask covering her mouth and nose.

The children were all smiling as they waited for their father to acknowledge them. But he was so into his work that he didn't even glance up at them.

Sensing the awkwardness, Grace quickly dismissed the kids. The kids, of course, were disappointed but not surprised. As they left slowly, (Your Name) tugged on Allison's sleeve, silently asking her to come.

“I'll be there in a minute (Your Name).” The girl whispered. (Your Name) tilted her head to the side. Allison spoke again, “Why don't you go hang out with Five for a bit before bed? I know you planned on it.” She gave the masked girl a small smile. (Your Name) felt her cheeks warm up, but she nodded, leaving and quietly walking over to Five. The boy saw her coming and, with a nod of his head, gestured to her to follow him. (Your Name) nodded and started to walk beside him. As she did, she heard Allison,

“He's always busy.”

〰️

“Where's the cash, Dad?”

The sound of a voice diverted Allison's attention and she walked over to her father's desk, hearing clamoring noises. She leaned forward to look to see who was over there.

“Klaus? What are you doing in here?” She asked.

Said boy looked up and gasped at the sight of his sister. “Oh! Allison! Wow, is that you?” He asked as he stood up. He embraced her slowly; Allison slowly returned the hug. “Long time. Too long.” He pulled away. “Hey, I was hoping to see you, actually, because I wanted to get your autograph. Add it to my collection!” He planted his chin onto his hands.

Allison let her brother act because it was how he always behaved when she noticed the white paper bracelet on his left wrist. “Just out of rehab?” She asked.

“No, no. No, no, no, no. No. I'm done with all of that.” Klaus replied with a sigh as he removed the bracelet. “I just came down here to prove to myself that the old man was really gone.” He smiled. “And he is! He's dead. Yeah!” He clapped, making Allison smile a little, shaking her head a bit.

“You know how I know? Because if he were alive, not one of us would be allowed to set foot in this room.” Allison silently agreed with Klaus.

“He was always in here, our whole childhood, plotting his next torment, right?” He said with a chuckle as he sat in the armchair behind the desk, putting his feet on the desk. “Remember how he used to look at us? That scowl?” He pointed to the man's portrait onto the wall behind him. “Thank Christ, he's not our real father, so we couldn't inherit those cold, dead eyes!” He stretched his eyelids to show more of his eyeballs. He fake screams, making Allison chuckle a little as Klaus started to dramatically imitate their late father.

“Get out of his chair.”

Klaus turned his head and saw Luther standing by the doorway. “Oh, wow, Luther! Wow, you really, uh… You really filled out over the years, huh?” Klaus said as he stood and flexed his arm muscles.

“Klaus.” Luther warned.

“Save the lecture. I was already leaving. You guys can talk amongst yourselves. I am going to visit (Your Name). Oh! The precious little sister of ours.” He chuckled softly. Before he could leave though, Luther stopped him. “Drop it.”

“Ex-squeeze me?” Klaus said.

“Do it. Now.” Luther ordered.

Klaus pulled his arm away from Luther and went back to the desk and started to empty out his pockets, which held a few of his late father's belongings. “It's just an advance on our inheritance! That's all it is!” Allison chuckled silently at her brother. “No need to get your little panties in a bunch.” With that, Klaus left, closing the door; leaving Luther and Allison alone in the room.

“So, Klaus is still Klaus, in case you are wondering.” Luther started.

“You know, after all these years, I find it strangely comforting.” Allison stated.

“Did you see Diego?” Luther asked.

“With his stupid outfit?” Allison added in amusement.

“Oh, I know. Do you think he wears that thing in the bathroom?” Lauther asked.

“Like in the shower?” Allison asked for confirmation.

“Yeah.” Luther confirmed.

“Yes, absolutely!” Allison laughed.

The two went on to talk about how their lives are going now that they are adults. Luther was the only one to stay while the rest went their separate ways. Their conversation ended talking about Allison's family and her powers.

〰️

A little later, everyone congregated in the living room. The fire was still going in the fireplace as everyone sat in silence.

Luther started talking about doing a memorial service for their late father. Some like Allison were mostly confused by this or making fun of it like Klaus.

“Is that my skirt?” Allison asked, noticing Klaus wearing a skirt now.

“Oh, yeah this. I found it in your room. It's a little dated, I know, but it's very breathy on the bits.”

Luther stopped Klaus before he could go further and started to talk about their father's death. He had a theory that he didn't die simply of heart failure. He recounted how he was acting suspicious and requested Klaus to try to communicate with him. Klaus was not interested.

“I can't just call Dad into the afterlife and be like, “Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?”

“Since when? That's your thing.” Luther said.

“I'm not in the right… frame of mind.”

“You're high?” Allison asked, not surprised.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Klaus laughed. “I mean, how are you not listening to this nonsense?”

“Well, sober up, this is important.” Luther said.

Klaus only sighed.

When Luther started talking about the missing monocle, Diego concluded that Luther was suspicious of all of them, saying that Luther thought one of them killed their dad. This caused everyone to get upset. Diego insulted Luther's leadership, Klaus got up and jokingly said that he might as well go murder their Mom and (Your Name), unless she was already dead. Vanya left in silence and. Allison left in silence as well. Luther tried to defend himself, but it was too late.

They weren't always like this. When they were kids, they were tight knit.

〰️

17 YEARS AGO

“This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for Channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

The armed men surveyed the bank as they pointed their guns at the bound up hostages and pushed them behind the counter as they proceeded with the robbery.

Unexpectedly, a girl with curly black hair, in a school uniform and mask, walked casually to one of the robbers.

It was Allison.

“Hey, get back with the others.” The robber ordered the girl.

“I heard a rumor.” Allison spoke.

“What? What did you say?”

Allison leaned forward and used her ability, “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

The robber pointed his gun at one of his partners and promptly shot him in the foot, knocking him down. The hostages screamed at the sound of the gun.

Suddenly, someone, dressed in a boy's school uniform with a mask came crashing down from a window above and landed behind the counter. It was Luther. He punched one robber and threw him out the window with surprising strength.

Then, another kid dressed like Luther came from the other side of the bank. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He threw two long knives at one of the robbers only for them to redirect to another robber and immediately killed him.

There were now only two robbers left in the lobby.

One of them climbed onto the desk and pointed his gun shakily at the three kids. “Get back, you freaks.”

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” Diego, the knife throwing kid taunted.

“Get back now!”

“Wouldn't want you to get hurt.” Allison taunted as well.

“Or what?”

A fourth kid appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sitting criss cross on the desk. A taunting smirk on his face. This was Number Five.

The robber shot at Five, but he disappeared and reappeared on the other side. When the robber turned around and tried to shoot him again, he suddenly realized that he was not holding a gun.

“Ooh! That's one badass stapler!” Five taunted before smacking the guy's hand holding the stapler into his head. This knocked the robber over.

All they had to do now was get rid of the robbers in the vault.

Or so they thought.

There was one more.

He loaded his fun and his gun cocked, catching the kids off guard.

“Down you freaks!” He yelled.

Suddenly, running from a hidden place behind a wall was a fifth kid, dressed like Allison, as she pulled down her face mask. She directed her attention to the robber.

“Explode!”

The single word echoed loudly through the bank, and just before the guy could turn his gun to the girl, his body suddenly exploded, body parts, guts, and blood spreading out everywhere. The hostages screamed in fear. The girl quickly covered her face again, breathing heavily as she ran to her siblings.

She gestured to all of them. They couldn't see much of her face, but they could tell she was worried by the look in her eyes.

“We're okay. Thanks (Your Name).” Allison said.

(Your Name) hummed, nodding as she walked over to behind the desk with the others, while two more kids dressed like the rest of the boys joined them. Five looked at her. “That was pretty badass. Good work.” He complimented, giving her a smile. (Your Name) felt her cheeks warm up a little, and she tilted her head a bit and closed her eyes. Most people wouldn't be able to tell her expression behind the mask, but Five knew she was smiling at him in thanks.

“Do we really have to do this?” A meek voice asked.

“Come on, Ben. There's more guys in the vault.” Luther told the boy.

Ben sighed as he walked to the vault door. “I didn't sign up for this.”

He entered as the hostages all ran for their lives out of the bank. Inside the vault, the last of the robbers were eyeing slaughtered by Ben's ability. He screeched and roared as his tentacles ripped them apart and threw them against the walls. Blood splattered all over the windows.

Once it was quiet, Ben came out, covered in blood. “Can we go home now?” He asked, his breathing shaky.

It was time to leave.

The seven kids started walking towards the entrance of the bank. (Your Name) pulled out a small vial and turned the cap. She pulled the bottom part of her mask up and put the bottle to her lips. She tilted her head back and started swallowing the liquid. She finished it and placed the empty bottle back in her pocket.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Five's voice made (Your Name) turn to him. She nodded and hummed in thanks. Five offered his arm to her. “Ready?” He asked. The girl nodded again, and she hooked her arm with Five's. Five smiled at her, and they started walking after their siblings.

The seven kids emerged from the back as the news reporters pointed their cameras at the group, and they all clamored to try to talk to them.

Above on the top of a building nearby, stood Reginald Hargreeves, observing the other kids with a mini telescope. An eighth kid, dressed like Allison and (Your Name), minus the mask, stood next to him.

“Why can't I go play with the others?” The girl asked.

“We've been through this before, Number Seven. I'm afraid there's just nothing special about you.” Reginald said as he lowered his telescope.

The girl looked down. “Oh.”

Eventually, Reginald came down to stand with the children.

“Our world is changing. Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary. I have adopted seven such children.”

‘You mean eight.’ (Your Name) thought to herself as she looked down temporarily, her arm still linked with Five's.

“I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

Many news reporters asked many questions.

“What happened to their parents?” One asked.

“They were suitably compensated.” Reginald replied.

“Are you concerned about the welfare of the children?” Another asked.

“Of course. As I am for the fate of the world.” Reginald said.

〰️

☂

Everyone was in separate rooms, having their alone time after the little dispute from earlier. Klaus was still in the living room, trying to talk to their late father but he ended up knocking the vase filled with his ashes over.

Luther was walking through the hallways, reminiscing until he got to his room.

Allison was looking through her belongings until she found a gold heart locket with ‘A+L’ carved onto the front.

Klaus took the vase into the kitchen where he proceeded to take more pills.

Diego laid on the couch in the living room, playing with one of his knives.

Vanya sat on the stairs, a solemn look on her face.

Luther eventually found a familiar record and played it on the record player.

“I Think We're Alone Now” by Tiffany started to play.

Everyone heard the familiar tune all throughout the house and they all started to dance in their respective rooms.

Childhood nostalgia ran through their bodies as they all danced like no one was watching. Even Pogo moved a little to the beat.

But suddenly, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.

The music stopped as the house reacted to the violent disturbance.

The siblings all ran to the courtyard and saw a giant hole, surrounded by blue lightning.

“What is it?” Vanya asked.

“Don't get too close!” Allison warned.

“Yeah, no shit.” Diego said.

“Looks like some sort of temporal anomaly. Either that or a miniature black hole. One of the two.

“Pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan.” Diego insulted.

“Out of the way!” Klaus exclaimed as he came out with a fire extinguisher and tried to spray it but it was out of steam. So, he just threw it at the mysterious anomaly only for it to get sucked in.

“What is that gonna do?” Allison asked.

“I don't know. Do you have a better idea?” Klaus asked.

The anomaly got stronger and Luther ushered everyone behind him to protect them. Klaus wanted to run. Luther and Allison held hands.

The electrical crackling intensified and someone emerged from the anomaly, arms out. It disappeared and the person fell out of the sky and landed on the ground. The sky cleared up as the siblings walked towards the person, who stood up. He was dressed in a suit way too big for him.

“Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?” Klaus asked.

The boy known as Five looked at himself then back at the siblings.

“Shit.”

☂

The six were now in the kitchen. Five was busy making a sandwich while the others watched in shock.

“What's the date? The exact date.” Five asked.

“The 24th.” Vanya replied.

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Luther spoke up. “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?”

Five didn't reply. He just continued with making his sandwich.

Silence fell for a couple of seconds until Luther stood up. “It's been seventeen years.”

Five scoffed. “It's been a lot longer than that.” He blinked over to the cabinet.

“I haven't missed that.” Luther muttered.

“Where'd you go?” Diego asked.

“The future. It's shit, by the way.” Five replied as he blinked back to the table.

“Called it.” Klaus said.

“I should've listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” Five looked up at the siblings. “Nice dress.” He told Klaus.

“Oh, well, danke!” Klaus said, playing with the article of clothing.

“Wait, how did you get back?” Vanya asked.

“In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time.” Five explained.

“That makes no sense.” Diego spoke up.

“Well, it would if you were smarter.” Five sasses.

Diego stood up to confront the boy but Luther stopped him, holding him back.

“How long were you there?” He asked.

“Forty-one years. Give or take.”

Luther and Diego sat back down. “So what are you saying? That you're fifty-eight?” The former asked.

Five looked at Luther. “No, my consciousness is fifty-eight.” He finished his sandwich. “Apparently, my body is now seventeen again.”

“Wait, how does that even work?” Vanya asked.

“Delores kept saying the equations were off. Eh.” Five took a bite out of his sandwich. “Bet she's laughing now.”

Vanya was confused. “Delores?”

Five ignored her and looked at the newspaper that told him about Reginald Hargreeves’ death. “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How'd you know about that?” Luther asked.

“What part of the future do you not understand?” Five asked. “Heart failure, huh?”

“Yeah.” “No.” Diego and Luther said together.

Five hummed before clicking his tongue. “Nice to see nothing's changed.” Then, he got a good look at his siblings again. He realized that one was missing. “By the way, where's (Your Name)?”

The other five siblings looked at each other, solemn expressions on their faces now. “Well…” Vanya started. “There isn't an easy way to say this.” Allison said. “She's in a coma.” “She's dead.” Klaus and Diego finished. “Diego!” Allison scolded.

Five looked at his siblings, a subtle look of worry on his face, but on the inside, his heart was beating faster. “What happened?”

“Well…. like I said… this isn't easy to say.” As Allison tried to explain, they suddenly heard soft footsteps approaching the kitchen. They slowly turned their heads and what they saw shook them to the core.

There stood…

(Your Name).

Klaus yelled in surprise.

“Holy shit.” Diego said.

Everyone else looked in surprise.

(Your Name) was alive.

#the umbrella academy #tua #tua season one #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreaves x you #five x reader #five x y/n #five x you #tua five #tua fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #x y/n #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n

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brummiereader · 5 months ago

Text

MASTERLIST PREVIOUS PART

Uptown Girl (Part Four)

Summary: You and Tommy suddenly find yourselves in a small predicament as the impending hour of your engagement ball draws near. Only to be made worse when you make an unexpected bold move in your war of words. As alliances begin to form between the gangster and an unlikely guest later that evening. Yours and Tommy's feelings also begin to show when he makes a move that will leave you as equally breathless. But with someone watching from afar, another problem comes your way. One that could leave everything in jeopardy.

Warnings: Language, angst, domestic violence, use of one racial slur, very brief 18+ themes.

Word Count: 5692

Authors Note: The waltz played at the engagement ball is called "Second Waltz" by Dmitri Shostakovich. Which was also used in my trailer for this series.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" you asked with gritted teeth, hovering over the workman with half his body buried deep under the intricate rail work of pipes as you silently prayed for a better outcome than what the current situation held.

" Busted main pipe, Miss" Mr Potts grunted as he hoisted himself up from under the dusty floors of your aging home.

Well, bollocks, you thought to yourself as you wiped the layer of sweat that had accumulated on the back of your neck. The sweltering heat that had descended over the country, having no mercy on you and every other citizen that was accustomed to summers your southern neighbors would consider dreary and wet.

" Is it possible you could fix it...by tonight?" you questioned in hopes things could be swiftly sorted before your engagement ball set to take place that evening. The soirée you had no choice but to put a brave face on for. But not a sweaty, frazzled-haired one if you had any control over your bathing habits.

" Mr Potts?" you queried once again when a hearty crescendo of laughter left the plumbers jiggling girth at your lack of knowledge for manual labor, and the hours it would take to fix such a problem.

" Tonight? Are you 'aving a laugh?" he snorted as you crossed your arms, the deepening creases of your brow furrowing with every chuckle that left his raspy lungs.

" It's not that funny..." you mumbled as he continued to echo his amusement. Could probably fix it myself, given the chance, your strong willingness pushed through your pouting lips when Tommy came striding down the hallway.

"Y/N" he greeted you with a soft smile, dressed in only a vest and suit trousers, his suspenders hanging loosely from his hips. It would almost be unusual to see him fully dressed in your presence at this point, you thought to yourself as you watched him wipe the sticking heat from under his chin down to his toned collarbone. Hot. So...so, terribly hot...

"Mr Shelby" you greeted him back with flushed cheeks, pulling yourself away from your steamy thoughts as he stood arm to arm with you. His darting eyes unable to divert from the beads of perspiration that had settled on your rising chest, dripping down to the curves of your...fuck

" Pipes about to burst " you said, catching his wandering eye as you subtly shimmied the frills of your dress over your steamy display.

" Right" he replied as he cleared his throat, finding a degree of innuendo in your passing statement he felt would be best kept to himself than shared with the room and it's causing effect. You.

As you both watched the plumber plod about, a silence momentarily settled between you both, free from the bickering, cocky remarks and slamming of doors.

Something had unexpectedly changed since Tommy turned up in both support and respect to your father's funeral. The sudden shift away from butting heads, replaced by the echoing spark of yearning from your first encounter. But for how long, until you faced yet another bump in your precariously winding road to admitting your sentiments towards the other?

"Me and my boys will be 'round first thing tomorrow" the workman announced as he settled his cap on his head, breaking the tension between you both.

" But...but how are we supposed to wash?"you hurried after his heavy footsteps, left inconveniently in the lurch.

" Servants' quarters aren't connected to the main buildings' plumbing" he replied, turning around as his pout belly bounced into yours, the sudden impact causing you to fly back two feet. " Their bath is hooked up to the pipes for the horses stables. That ain't gonna be a problem is it now, Miss? he asked with his hands on his hips as his eyes honed in on your bumbling lips.

" I...I didn't build this house, Mr Potts" you said with darting eyes and reddened cheeks, feeling like you were suddenly the one to be blamed for the houses' layout, and the divide it created between classes.

" I can assure you, had I been the one to oversee the architecture..." you rambled off into an incoherent speech on how you was for workers rights as the plumbers' brow began to scrunch at your nattering to a comment he made in jest.

" No, it's not a problem. Absolutely, definitely not, a problem" you answered, catching your breath with a weary smile as your embarrassment for not being able to reply to a simple question without going into a rant caught up with you.

" Splendid" he replied, hooking his thumbs under his suspenders as he turned around. A chuckle leaving his lips for the high society lady he had left in a dizzy.

Spinning on your heel, you came face to face with your smoking squatter, casually leaning against the wall as a small grin of amusement he had no intention of hiding, lurked behind the fumes of tobacco as you slowly padded towards him, awaiting the dose of humiliation you were sure was on the tip of his tongue.

" One bath" he said stood in front of you as his eyes darted back and forth to the servants' quarters.

" Hmm" you hummed as you watched him brush the droplets of heat from his brow. Both of you in dire need to cool down. But with only one bath, the race to it's location was now tethering on the starting line as you both waited for the other to make the first move.

"Excuse me" you said before taking off down the very hallway he'd been eyeing up, attempting to get a head start on your mutually shared agenda.

" Stifling isn't it?" You said, flapping the top of your dress in attempt to get a draft down to your sweating crevices as he quickly appeared beside you, matching your quickened pace as you both exchanged pleasantries to hide the determination you had to get to the only bath with running water.

" Suffocating" he replied as you jogged breathlessly next to his long strides, distracted enough for him to take a quick peek at the beautiful sight of your bouncing bosom.

" You dropped something, love" Tommy warned you as he glanced down at your feet, causing you to momentarily stop in your tracks.

Dropped something, your eyes narrowed in on him briskly walking away with a throaty chuckle. Dropped your guard for him mischievously fooling you more like!

" You cheat!" you pouted as you summoned the will of your inner child, racing after his steps like a charging young boy, red-faced and sweaty about to tackle down his biggest rival, when you came to a stumbling stop into his body, quickly wrapping your slippery hand around his on the brass handle of the door as you both fought for dominance.

" Ladies first" he relented to the gentlemanly way of doing things, gesturing for you to go as you blew a lock of hair from in front of your eyes,

" No, you go" you replied coyly, intending to play a back and forth game of politeness until your graciously gave. Ignoring the fact you had launched yourself into him seconds earlier, ready to fight him to the death on who gets first dibs.

"Well, if you insist" he opened the door with a smirk, swiftly shutting it behind him.

"But..but..." He left you muted and mumbling as you stood with crossed arms, your eyes darting in disbelief to and from the room he had just entered.

What a... you scoffed to yourself unable to find the appropriate insult as you heard him turn the water on, obnoxiously whistling to himself in the process.

And to think you thought the unspoken ceasefire between you was a treaty you had both signed.

What was he doing, practicing his butterfly stroke? you thought to yourself as your eyes honed in on the bathroom door. One hour. One full hour he'd been in there bathing himself as if he was a Greek goddess in the seas of Pathos.

" Right" you stormed up from the chair placed directly outside the door you had been waiting in front of for the hour of your life you'd never get back.

"Mr Shelby?" you politely knocked for the first time since his arrival, only to have a response of silence.

"Mr Shelby!?" Your patience lasted all but two seconds as your fist began to pound on the door before you dramatically swung it open. It's not like you hadn't already seen the lengthy manhood the gods had bestowed upon him, you reasoned to yourself as you charged through to see him with his head lulled back against the ceramic bath, a cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

" Get out. It's my turn" you huffed with your back against the sink as you watched him with annoyance, peacefully submerged in the cloudy water filled with Epsom salts.

" Oh, It's you. I would've never guessed" he opened one eye with a smirk to see you getting furiously irritated by the locks of hair sticking to your face.

" It's been an hour. Now leave" you said as you turned to the sink, fiddling with the cold tap to relive yourself from the heat radiating from your skin.

"It's been ten minutes" he said, lifting his cigarette to his lips as his eyes roamed over your dress adhered to your skin with sweat.

"You've used all the water! I can't...I can't believe you!" you snapped, turning the silver faucet to the very end for only a pitiful drop of water to settle in your palm.

" You can use mine when I get out" he said, causing your eyes to widen as big as his cocky grin. He may very well have been accustomed to sharing mucky bath water when he was a child in a bid for his mother to save on pennies, but you had never done anything of the sort. Let alone with a grown man you had only known for a matter of weeks. "Or there's a pond at the bottom of the garden"

" Pond?!"

" Too posh for ponds as well, ey princess?" a sly smirk settled on his ridiculously plump lips as he waited, watching you in the corners of his blue irises with amusement.

"Leave" you demanded, succumbing to the realisation that you had no choice but to bathe in his leftovers than share a pond with any potential slithering beings that lived in it.

" Five more minutes" he said closing his eyes, blowing a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. Had he become so accustomed to your daily bickering, that he was in fact doing this on purpose just so he would have an excuse to interact with you? Yes.

Whatever possessed you to do what you did next, when you propped your foot on the edge of the toilet seat and unclasped your garter straps, shimmying the stockings from your legs along with them. Would plague you for the rest of the evening if not, your entire life.

" Out" you approached the side of the bath, throwing your most intimate of undergarments on top of his bundled up clothes on a nearby chair.

" I think I'd rather stay, darling" he said watching you pull your dress from over your head as his cigarette slowly submerged itself under the murky water. The sight of you now only in your under slip leaving him momentarily stunned.

"Fine" you said forcing a sarcastic smile through your slowly evaporating bravado.

There's no going back now, you thought to yourself, dipping your foot into the bath as Tommy bolted upright until his body was firmly against the back of the cool enclosure.

"Fuck, what are..." he was lost for words at your unexpected display of both competitiveness, and a boldness that would match any Small Heath lass he'd ever encountered.

" What does it look like I'm doing? I'm having a bath, Mr Shelby" you replied, following through with your endeavor without a blip as you poured a tinned jug of water over your locks, watching Tommy shift position as he rubbed the droplets of water sitting on the curls of his long lashes away with his hand. Was he seeing things? Dreaming, hallucinating?

" Do you ever relax?" he asked you after silently observing you laver the soap onto your chest and arms in the quickest manner you could possibly achieve to do it in. Watching the bubbles of perfumed lavender seep down to your ample cleavage as your entangled legs and little room to move, made matters worse for the growing predicament he now found himself in.

" Huh!" you scoffed at his remark that would be better attributed to himself as you went to reach for the bar of soap, when your slippery hands had it sinking to the bottom of the watery deep. Inconveniently close to his side of the bath. Dangerously close to his side.

Locking eyes, you cautiously dipped your hand under the water when you felt him grab hold of your wrist, saving you from discovering the effect you had on him, and grabbing something he'd prefer stayed attached to his body.

With a heaving chest your eyes met in a lustful gaze as you felt the gentle tightening of his hand around yours in the cool water. Beckoning your thoughts to join him in the unspoken line he wanted to cross. The line you had both been dancing precariously close to ever since you met.

Whether it was fear of what would come after, or the nerves you felt about being intimate with someone again after your first disastrous time. You abruptly stood up as Tommy's mouth fell agape at the sight before him. Your body sheathed in your slip, drenched in enough water to see through the thin fabric to reveal your bare body beneath. Knickerless. Fuck.

" Stay" Tommy's breathy voice churning with desire mumbled, swallowing the lump in his throat as his straining cock twitched at the sight of your bare body in front of him. His hands edging to wrap around your legs and pull you down on top of him to relive you both of the tension you had let build through weeks of bickering.

" I won't" you left, leaving him with the angry echo of your voice and the puddles of your parting footsteps. Anger you felt only for yourself, and the yearning you had to indulge in your forbidden desires. Knowing it would only further confuse your mounting feelings for him, and the emotional web it would create if your future dealt you the wrong hand.

" Fucking hell..." Tommy threw his head back, slowly engulfing himself until he was fully submerged under the water. You'd be the death of him.

What the hell was you thinking, you pushed your damp hair away from your face as you walked down the heavy wooded stairs into the foyer. The sight of an unknown woman in the dining room capturing your attention enough for you to momentarily forget your impromptu bath with the blue-eyed trespasser.

" Ghastly, isn't it?" you said with crossed arms coming to stand beside her as she pulled the cigarette from between her ruby painted lips, lowering her sunglasses enough from the large portrait of Tommy to look at you.

" So you're the one" she said with a pursed smile, her hazel eyes igniting with a shared mischievousness for infuriating your mutual acquaintance.

" And you must be?" you queried as she stubbed out her cigarette on the frame of Tommy's imposing painting.

" Polly Gray. Aunt Polly to some" she said, reaching her immaculately painted talons out in a polite handshake before returning her eyes to the large framed picture.

" Whatever do you think possessed him to commission such a monstrosity?" your nose scrunched up at the beady-eyed horse and it's owner looming over you.

"Grand home, grand aspirations" she waved her hand in front of her at the strokes of paint, and it's ill fitting placement. A dining room. His mug watching everyone eat their breakfast. How delightful.

" Grand ego, more like" you said when a puff of smoke to your left came into view as you carried on your torment, knowing the very owner of the painting both you and his Aunt were ruthlessly insulting was standing right beside you.

" Well, he certainly has enough of that" she replied with a smirk, as Tommy furrowed his brow at you both simultaneously ganging up on him, having only met moments ago.

He liked his portrait, he thought to himself as he stiffened his posture, admiring the work that had been done when a burst of giggles came from next of him.

" You two finished?" he said as you both pulled your eyes away from the brooding painting of himself to the grumpy human version.

" Oh, Mr Shelby. I didn't see you there" you said with your hand to your chest, his shaking head not joining you and his Aunts shared amusement.

" Tommy. Y/N and I were just getting to know each other. Or rather, your interesting painting" she said, turning to pick up the folder of documents her nephews' distracted thoughts had forgotten to sign, when Tommy ceased the opportunity to enclose the small space between you as his Aunt bundled her belongings together.

" You left these with my clothes" his hot breath whispered into your ear with a curling smile, prickling the skin of your neck in a gentle wave of pleasure as he reached into his back pocket to pull out your laced underwear.

" Give them" you said quietly through gritted teeth, as you both tugged on the delicate item of clothing until they ripped and Tommy let go with a breathy chuckle.

" What's with you all of a sudden, eh?" Tommy quietly mumbled to you, gently elbowing you in the side to get your attention, you reciprocated back twice as hard just as Polly turned to see the tense display between you both.

Don't think she hadn't noticed, nor the fact both of you had hair still damp with water. Just what had you two been up to?

" It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gray" you bid his Aunt goodbye with the bundled knickers scrunched in your hand behind your back as Tommy's thumb gently brushed over the fleshy part of your wrist.

Why were you suddenly playing so hard to get? You had got in the bath with him for Christ' sake, he thought to himself as his eyes followed you out the room. Were you playing games? his thoughts further nagged him with the idea of you toying with him. He'd seen you looking at him. Seen you stealing glances when you thought he wasn't watching. How long were you going to keep pretending you didn't want it as much as him?

" Until next time" she said with a curious smile, intrigued to know more about you and what had her nephew away from the office so frequently after mouthing to anyone forced to listen, how much you got under his skin.

" Now that's a rare sight worth painting" her drawn lips closed into a tight smile as the door closed and her head turned to see the pining eyes of her nephew, held in captivation for the woman that had just left the room.

" Be careful Thomas, anyone might just think you're in love" she arched her brow with a matching smirk before making her way to his office. Leaving a huffing Tommy with a disgruntled thrown as he shoved his hands into the depths of his trouser pockets.

Shit.

" Don't think I haven't noticed, Mr Shelby" your Grannie lifted her chin, her eyes looking at the gangster from head to toe stood beside her.

"I've seen that look" her lips pouted with a knowing smile, catching him staring at you from across the ballroom later that evening, as your fiance loomed over you. A look she herself had shared with a man not so different to Tommy.

" And what look would that be, Dowager? Tommy said through the toying smirk on the corner of his mouth as he took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, before taking a seat on the gold plush settee next to her.

" A look as old as time" she said, lifting the glass of bubbles to her lips as Tommy's eyes creased into a mischievous smile.

" Your secret is safe with me, Mr Shelby" Grannie's eyes met the spark of youth in his as she returned to keeping a watchful eye on you. Her loathing for the gangster having taken a sudden blow after witnessing his attentiveness to you at her son's funeral in the absence of your betrothed.

"Brute!" her eyes filled with anger as she watched Cal grab hold of your arm, pulling you into the darkness of the corner of the room.

" I can have him find his way into the cut, if you'd like" Tommy scoffed cocking a brow, passing your Grannie the small pocket square of white cotton from the front of his tailored tux, to usher the tears for your bleak circumstances away.

"Behave" she let a small giggle slip, patting his leg as her new budding companion for the evening sent her a boyish grin as she dabbed her eyes through her laughter.

" I'm afraid my dear girl will have even dire choices if Mr Astor happens to go missing. Her last remaining option looking ever the more bleak with each passing day" she sighed as her head cast down in exhaustion to her fingers clutched tightly around the champagne glass resting in her lap.

"Arrow House" Tommy let a breathy exhale out. Your Grannie only confirming his suspicions as to what had you clinging on for dear life to the house that would be better torn down than the many repairs needed to fix the state your father had left it in.

" For what it's worth, Mr Shelby. Your arrival may have thrown a spanner into my granddaughter's secret scheming, but it also brought a spring in her step for the life she once lived to it's full. Something I haven't had the joy of witnessing for many years" she confided in him, resting her aged hand creased with the wrinkles of wisdom she had earned on his arm. "And for that, I'm forever grateful to you"

" You're hurting me" you flinched at Cal's hand clasped tightly around your wrist, his eyes darkening into a bottomless glare of blackness.

" I will have you answer me, Y/N" he demanded, pulling you further into his body, hiding your guests from the controlling nature of your relationship.

" Why was he there, hm? Did you invite him?" his eyes blazed at you with fury. Breaths away from insulting you for his own insecurities having learnt of Tommy's appearance at your father's funeral from your brother.

" Are you whoring yourself out to him?" His paranoia spat through gritted teeth, his tightening hold numbing the extremities of your throbbing hand as your eyes welled with fear." Answer me!"

" Y/N?" Tommy's concerned voice drifted to you with his enclosing footsteps.

" Mr Shelby" you turned away from him, wiping the tears from your eyes with your bruising hand.

" Once again, Shelby. You seek out my fiance" Cal seethed though a throaty laugh, stretching the strain from his fingers that were moments away from snapping your wrist.

" It seems he is quite fond of you, dear" he scoffed with amusement as Tommy handed you a glass of gin, his look of disgust for the man beside him and the state of upset he had left you in further angering him when your limp hand had no strength to hold the small glass of liquor you quietly mumbled your gratitude for.

" A backstreet gypsy boy trying to win himself a woman of society. Whoever gave you the idea you could achieve such a thing?"

" This backstreet gypsy has never been one to turn down a challenge, Mr Astor. Especially not something as pretty as your wife to be" Tommy raised his brow, letting his mouth fall open with a challenging smirk, knowing the bastard in front of him wouldn't have a leg to stand on if he tried his luck with the cutthroat gangster, notorious for killing anyone who dared to come up against him.

" Fellas" your brother came between the two men in an attempt to calm the tension before a bloody shootout ensued.

"Dicky, Harold, meet Mr Shelby. My baby sister's houseguest" he turned to the men beside him as Tommy and your fiance continued to lock horns with a glaring, shared stance.

" Oh yes, the criminal" they tallest sniggered as the other took a chuckling bite of fish eggs on the wafer thin piece of bread in his hand.

" Harold Sterling. We share a business acquaintance" Tommy's head snapped to the giggling duo as he pointed his finger.

" I doubt that" he scoffed as his wife appeared beside him, curious as to who the smartly dressed gentleman was.

" Mr J.R Hughes from Hampstead, London" Tommy reminded him, lighting a cigarette, blowing the first drag of tobacco in his smug face.

" He mentioned you'd be attending this evening's ball. Said for me to send his regards to your wife, Kitty." His eyes narrowed in as Mr Sterling's widened with embarrassment.

" Your secretary, you've been sleeping with her again, haven't you? You dirty pig" his wife quietly snarled at him, as he tried to usher her away from causing a scene in front of the many dignitaries and fellow business partners present.

" Oh I'm sorry, I mean Gladys" Tommy named his second mistress through his cigarette loosely sitting between his lips before he could escape his dues.

" You bastard, you rotten bastard!" She snapped, swatting him across the arm as he cowered away.

" Dicky, how's your old man? Hear he got locked up?" Tommy turned to his next victim, picking them off one by one as you looked down at your drink, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to stop the smile of amusement you had for Tommy's brutal onslaught of the insufferable gang of merry men your brother spent time with.

" You have the wrong man, Mr Shelby. You don't know my father" he spat, turning to leave.

" The whole of Birmingham north of Aston knows him. The butcher of Bordesley Green"

" Your father's a butcher?" Johnathan's brow furrowed as his friend's lips wobbled without an answer.

" If butchering people is a profession" Tommy raised his brow. Ruthlessly unveiling the man's secret, his family had done their upmost to keep hidden from high society. But not from the backstreets of Birmingham his father's midnight killings had landed him in a life long stint at his majesty's pleasure until the noose called his name.

" Good lord, man!" Johnathan looked to his friend in horror, taking a step back from him and the small caviar knife on the porcelain plate in his hand, he feared he would use to gauge his organs out having learnt of his father's murderous hobby, as Tommy watched your finances eyes dart back and forth to him, waiting for the gang leader to reveal his own dirty secrets.

" Gentleman" Tommy left with a wicked smile of satisfaction. Leaving Cal momentarily with the comfort that his own legacy was safely secure. Safe for now, that is.

Watching you from afar at the side of the ballroom later that evening, Tommy continued to quietly endure your brother's nattering of unwarranted business ideas. Only entertaining his nonsense so he could peacefully steal glances at the woman who truly held his interest.

" Compelling, Johnathan" Tommy absently noted, pulling his eyes away from you as he took the last sip from his emptying glass of whisky.

" Another, old chap?" Your brother pointed to his glass, eager to continue his ridiculous business proposition he hoped would earn him big money.

" Yeh" Tommy cleared his throat, passing him his empty tumbler, thankful to be rid of him as he made his way to the lonely seat next to you.

" Mr Shelby" you looked up at him, away from the dancing guests as he settled himself beside you. " I want to thank you, for earlier" your tired eyes looked to him, hoping he understood the depth of your gratitude for intervening.

" Y/N..." he sighed, taking your battered wrist into his comforting touch, brushing his thumb gently over your bruising skin deepened once again with the marks of control your fiance had over you.

" Please, please don't say it. Just let me forget, if only for a moment" you interrupted him, resting your fingers gingerly over his hand as Tommy let out a stifled huff of frustration.

"So, what's this one?" Tommy changed the subject, turning his head to the swaying of ball dresses being guided in step around the ballroom.

" The waltz" you answered, thankful he'd not insisted on the matter you knew looked painfully frustrating to any bystander.

" And why aren't you dancing it, ey?" he turned back to you with a playful grin, keen to see you be spun around if to only have you smile for just one moment like he had witnessed at the ballet.

" I'm untouchable, I'm afraid" you said, raising your left hand and the diamond sitting on your finger. " Only male family members and Cal are seen as suitable dance members" you scoffed, looking down at the weighty piece of jewellery in your hand, only ever letting it grace your skin for events such as tonight's.

" You lot" Tommy chuckled leaning back in his seat, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the rules and expectations of the world you lived in. Small Heath didn't seem so bad after all.

" They show no mercy when they start gossiping" you looked back to the full room of unknown people who were only connected to you by wealth and status.

" Then let them talk" Tommy grabbed your hand, pulling you up and away to the patio doors as Grannie watched from afar with a hiccuping smile in her seat of observation as Tommy shot her a wink.

Naughty boy, she giggled to herself as the years of her own youth and the excitement it brought hurtled back to her.

" Wouldn't happen to have your hawk eyes on Mr Shelby, would you Grannie?" Your brother appeared beside her with two glasses of whisky, as he scanned the room for Tommy.

" Johnathan, must you lurk! Go make yourself busy, child" your Grannie jumped with fright, taking one of the glasses of liquor from his hand, then swatting him away with the other as Johnathan wandered off with a pout.

"Mr Shelby, what...what are you doing?" you breathlessly gasped, having been pulled from your seat to the outside patio quicker than you had time to react to.

" What does it look like, Y/N? I'm dancing " Tommy arched a brow as he pulled his wrapped hand around your waist further into his body.

" Don't be ridiculous, you can't dance" you rolled your eyes, trying to distance yourself from his strong frame, and the blushing effect it had on you.

" I'm a quick learner, love" he smirked as he straightened his back, grasping your hand in his.

As the booming drums rumbled from within the ballroom, Tommy began to lead you into a waltz with your guidance, or what he would best describe, bossy instructions he suspiciously didn't seem in need of, having picked up the steps of the dance astonishingly quickly for a novice.

Quick learner, your skeptical eyes looked up at the cocky grin trying to push past the bottom lip he was biting down on when the interlude of pounding drums had Tommy stomping his feet in unison.

" Stop it!" You huffed, swatting his arm at his playful mocking, when the thunderous sound of the strings recommenced and Tommy suddenly spun you around in his hold, freeing you both from the small patch of concrete he had kept you in as he guided you with long strides across your impromptu dance floor like he had danced it a thousand times.

" Tommy!" His name slipped past your squealing lips when he unexpectedly lifted you up to the starry night of stringed twinkling lights as your dress bloomed around you. The sound of his name and your beaming smile sending his thumping heart racing when he brought you back down into his arms, while your flushed cheeks and darting eyes revealed the embarrassment you felt for losing yourself in the moment.

" Mr Shel..."

"Y/N, shut up" Tommy quietened the use of formalities you had continued to insist on when he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, holding you tightly in his strong hold.

Breathlessly pulling back, your glistening eyes shone through the nervousness settling in your chest as your hands reached to rest on his pounding heart as he wantonly looked down at you, when the urge became too strong and you mutually crashed your lips back together in a passionate hold filled with a longing you had both been desperate to fill. Lips plush against each other, tongues intertwined in a secret dance only you knew.

" Mr Shelby?" Your brother called for the man who was currently locked in a heavy embrace with his sister as he pushed the French doors open with his back, simultaneously sipping from his whisky tumbler.

"Oh, dear" he quietly muttered as the remaining amber liquid poured to the greying concrete floor from his limp hand as he turned to see the unexpected sight of you together, oblivious of his presence.

Now this was a problem. A problem for him and your impending nuptials he was hoping would get him out of the small pickle he found himself in.

Oh dear, oh dear...

NEXT PART

Tag list: @weaponizedvirtue @un-interneted (unable to tag) @mama-ivy @kmc1989 @leighla3

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@tiedyedghoulette @mostly-marvel-musings @classygirlything21 @dana-rmz

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader insert #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x female reader #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders series #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby x you

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almond-tofuuu · 9 months ago

Text

Please don't say goodbye...

Zayne x reader

Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of death, very little comfort, not proof read

Summary: after receiving orders from the Hunters Association that you're being sent on a dangerous mission, one you might not return from, you have to break the news to your childhood friend and doctor, Zayne...

Word count: 2.8k (holy- Idk how that happened)

The beginning of this fic is written by anticyra as the intro for her Zayne chatbot on c.ai, full credits go to her!!!

"Late for your checkup again, I see," Zayne said in his usual blunt manner, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork when you burst into his office.

If it were anybody else who decided to book an appointment right at the end of his shift, and then turn up half an hour late for it, Zayne wouldn't have bothered staying to wait. But since it was you... well, it wasn't like he had anything better to do that night anyway. Plus he was too distracted by all the other medical reports he had to review to really notice the time.

Setting his folder down, Zayne finally glanced at you, taking in your flushed and slightly disheveled appearance. It was clear you had been in a rush to get here and the thought made the ice of his gaze melt just a little.

Giving him a small, apologetic smile you make your way to the seat opposite him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips as you can finally relax for a moment.

"I'm really sorry, Zayne. I would've been here sooner but I was called into an urgent debriefing at the last minute.... I couldn't get away any faster" you explain quietly, just the thought of the meeting is enough to flood your mind with stress, though you try not to let it show.

Zayne sighs audibly at the mention of a 'debriefing' and decides to drop the matter of your tardiness immediately. Knowing you must've had important things to deal with, his annoyance dissipates. Folding his arms over his chest and leaning his weight back in his chair, his eyes noting the crease in your brow and the dark circles forming under your eyes. "And this was regarding a Wanderer attack, I'm guessing."

Heaving a tired sigh you nod your head in confirmation, running a hand through your slightly messy hair, "... there's been a sudden increase in attacks recently in the mountains. The Hunters Association is planning on sending a team to clear out the wanderers and investigate the source of their appearance..."

Zayne made a mental note of that. Wanderer attacks. Not exactly good news.

When the Hunter's Association made movements like this, that usually meant the situation had become dire or they'd received some alarming intel. Either way, a bit of extra caution wouldn't hurt right about now. Zayne shifted in his seat as he considered his next question.

"Are you going? To the mountains I mean," he asked, looking down at the file in front of him and flipping through your medical history.

Nodding your head in confirmation you let out a nervous exhale, the unusually serious expression on your face causing Zayne's apprehension to rise.

"....That's actually what I wanted to speak with you about..." Pausing for a moment, you consider the easiest way to break the news to him, deciding it's best to just get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid. "I'll be joining the team the Association is sending into the mountains.... There's no way to know how long the mission will take but....they say it will last at least 4 months..."

Zayne froze, although his expression remained calm and professional, his thoughts were anything but.

In the mountains...with wanderers...for up to FOUR MONTHS?!

Clearing his throat, he fought to keep his voice level, "so...I won't see you for four months then." It was all he could manage to get out, not trusting his voice to keep his true emotions concealed.

Swallowing nervously, you stare down at your lap, desperately wanting to avoid his piercing gaze, knowing he would see straight through the brave front you were putting up. "Well, four months is the minimum....it's likely I'll be there longer... And..." Your sentence trails off as you hesitate, reluctant to tell him the truth.

Zayne remains silent, waiting for your answer, but he could already guess the rest. You were going into the mountains, fighting wanderers. If you got injured or--he didn't even want to think about the possibilities.

Four months was already a ridiculous amount of time to spend on this kind of mission, but if something happened before that... he didn't want to entertain the idea.

"...And," he repeated, in a slightly harsher tone than he intended. His thoughts spiralling dangerously with every passing second.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to steady yourself, gathering your courage before continuing in a soft voice, "...the situation in the mountains is pretty bad... The place has essentially become a warzone and we've already lost a lot of hunters.... There's a strong chance that... I won't make it back..."

Won't make it back...

Your words seemed to barely register for Zayne. Won't make it back. He felt like someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart. It was as if time itself has slowed to a halt as this new reality finally sank in. Zayne froze. He was surprised to find his hands clenched into fists at his side and had to make a conscious effort to unclench them.

He stared straight at you with a blank expression as he forced himself to stay calm. He wouldn't-couldn't- let himself lose his composure. Not now, not in front of you. "I see.... Why are you telling me this?"

Finally you look up to meet his gaze, eyes softening as you take in all the small details of his face, wanting to commit them to memory. You struggle to keep your voice steady, not wanting to breakdown in front of Zayne. "I'm telling you because you're my friend. You're someone I care about and i-.... I felt I owed it to you to tell you this myself"

Your eyes held his for a moment longer than he was comfortable with and Zayne was sure you could see it as well. A tightness formed in his throat as he fought to keep his the thin string he was hanging on by from snapping.

"I see," he said, his voice flat. "You're going to the mountains to fight wanderers and there is a strong possibility that you'll not return." It hurt to even say the words. "Is there anything else?"

Your eyes widen at his matter-of-fact tone, not expecting his complete lack of concern. It hurt to see how stoic he was, to know that the news of your possible death didn't seem to affect him at all. You had so much more you wanted to tell him but his indifference made you second-guess whether to continue or just leave. After a short internal debate you decide to just tell him what you want to say, even if he didn't care at least you could leave here without any regrets.

"...I just wanted to say that I appreciate everything you've done for me.... And if this is the last time I get to see you, then I want you to know that the time I've spent with you has been the happiest time of my life...." Your voice trembles, breaking slightly as you try to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

Zayne felt his chest get tighter as your words sank in. A small amount of moisture built up in his eyes but he refused to let it fall, biting his lip as he looked down at the files on his desk, their words blurring as his vision became clouded with tears.

the... the happiest time of your life...

His brows furrowed together as a frown crossed his face.

...if nothing else... If something did happen... Was the time he spent with you... the happiest time for him as well?

Finally. His expression shifted as the dam broke and his control slipped.

"y/n..."

He stood up, taking a quick step and grabbing your hands before you could pull away. And then he pulled you towards him in a tight embrace, taking in your scent, feeling your heartbeat pounding against his chest.

"This is NOT the last time you will see me," he whispered, his voice filled with vulnerability and fear.

You freeze, caught off guard by his sudden embrace, mind racing at the raw emotion in his voice. You're quick to accept his comforting hold on you, melting into his touch and burying your face into his chest, your arms wrapping around him tightly, clinging to him like a lifeline. "...you can't guarantee that, Zayne.... Neither of us can..." Your words are whispered softly, carrying the weight of your sadness.

Zayne ran his hands down your spine, cupping the small of your back and pulling you closer to his chest. He didn't respond, just held you, trying to imprint this moment into his brain. This... This could be the last time he held you and he wanted to remember everything, from the feel of your skin to the scent of your combined body heat.

"I'm not trying to guarantee anything," he uttered, squeezing you tighter than he intended but he didn't care. The pain that he felt thinking about you dying... he couldn't put it into words.

"I'm saying that I won't lose you. I won't accept that!" Zayne leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against yours, the desire to keep his self-control intact long gone. If you were really going off to the mountain for months, he wanted to be able to feel you. He wanted you close so badly it hurt.

Leaning into his touch, you eagerly return the kiss with equal passion, hands tangling into his raven hair. A soft sigh escapes your lips, your heart fluttering as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips on yours.

Zayne's hands wander down your body, gripping tight around your hips. His lips met yours again and again, every kiss taking him closer and closer to heaven. He could feel himself getting swept away in the moment and losing his inhibitions. The urge to hold you tight never left and only grew until he wanted to press you to the wall and refuse to let go. But he forced his emotions back under control, knowing that there were more important things to discuss.

He finally pulled away, letting it sink in that this could truly be the last time you would meet.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting the captivating green of his intense gaze. When you speak your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but your tone is filled with a deep sadness. ".... Zayne.... I want you to know that whatever happens.... I love you"

His heart lurched at your words. He had always thought there was no way to make this situation any worse than it already was. But your confession made it so much harder.

He couldn't let his emotions get the best of him, not under these circumstances, but his voice remained soft when he finally spoke. "I have something I want you to know as well," he said, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. "Even if we don't get to meet again... know that I love you as well."

His confession causes your breath to hitch, heart fluttering as it swells with joy, knowing the feelings you've harboured for so long are reciprocated. You let out a soft sigh, breathing in his familiar, soothing scent, your hands gently stroke through his hair.

"....I wish I had told you how I felt sooner, we could've had more time together.... But at least now I know you feel the same way I do...." You try to keep your voice light, though the regret lacing your words is poignant, sending a wave of warmth through Zayne. Despite everything he could feel his own emotions starting to come back under control, some level of calm returning the longer this moment went on.

You were right, you could have had more time together... He had pushed you away so many times during your appointments and now he was being haunted by the possibility he had wasted too much time.

But at least now... he would know he had said the right thing in your last moments together.

"...We both feel the same way," he repeated, almost in disbelief.

A soft yet sad smile forms on your lips, the thoughts of what could have been weighing heavily in your mind, and the possibility of this being your last moment together causes your heart to ache. "....I swear that I'll do everything in my power to stay alive.... I don't want this to be the last time I see you.... But if I don't make it back, just know that I fought as hard as I could"

You promised to stay alive, but Zayne could hear the defeat in your tone, the fear and worry of the possibility of never seeing him again hanging in both of your minds like a dark cloud.

He squeezed your hands, not wanting to let go even though he knew he'd have to at some point. His eyes never left yours as he considered his response.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure this isn't the last time we see each other." He tightened his embrace, refusing to let go for even a second. "But if you don't come back..."

His voice broke for a moment as the pain threatened to overwhelm him. "Know that I will wait for you. Forever if I have to."

You swallow the lump in your throat, desperately trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall as the pain of having to leave him becomes almost suffocating. taking a deep shaky breath, you look into his eyes, seeing yourself reflected in the deep green.

"...I have to go.... The team are waiting for me..." Even though you whisper softly that you need to leave, your body makes no move to tear itself away from his warm embrace.

The reality of how little time you have left together hits Zayne like a freight train. His body freezes. He couldn't bear the thought of letting you go, as if his body would fall apart if he lost contact with yours even for a second.

"Please..." his voice was pleading now. He didn't care if he sounded weak, desperate even. "Just a few more moments, that's all I ask."

Sighing softly you hold him tighter, you couldn't bring yourself to deny his request, especially when he sounded so broken and desperate to keep you close to him. You could feel your heart cracking at the realisation that once you let him go, you'd have to leave him behind.

"Okay...just a little longer..."

And so he held you, content to simply stay like this, breathing in your scent, running his fingers through your hair, feeling the softness of you against him. Just another minute or two, anything to delay the inevitable and keep you here, safe in his arms.

Unfortunately the moment is cut short by the beeping of your phone, a cruel reminder that your time together is over. You sigh in frustration, glaring at the offensive object as it continued to ring, signalling that you had to leave. Silencing the call, you turn back to Zayne, a sad smile on your face as you both share a silent understanding that this is it.

"I don't like this," he murmured, his voice low as his eyes met yours in a moment of shared disappointment. You had both spent too long not telling each other the truth and now you were forced to suffer the consequences. Even just another minute together would have made it so much easier to bear.

"I don't either..." You agree quietly, your trembling voice showing just how truly devastated you are to have to go "...I guess this is goodbye...."

"For now." He whispered firmly, hesitant to allow even the possibility that you wouldn't come back, and his words were as much for his own sake as yours. The seconds seemed to stretch out and fly by all too quickly, and Zayne didn't want to be the one to let go first, afraid of what would happen the second you parted.

"Come back to me, okay?" His voice was tight and strained, hand reaching up to gently brush a loose strand of hair out of your eyes. "Come back to me and keep that promise you made."

Leaning into his touch, your eyes flutter closed briefly, a stray tear rolling down your cheek. "...I will... I'll come back to you and I'll never leave again... I promise, this won't be the last time we see each other." Your voice is full of determination despite the way it trembles.

And Zayne believes you, with every fiber of his being wanting to believe you, wanting to trust that you would make it back. That he wouldn't lose you so cruelly to something neither of you had any control over.

"I'll wait, even if I have to wait forever."

His words were soft yet full of a quiet ferocity. He would wait for you, even if the world burned down around him. He wanted you to know that he would do whatever it took to make your promise come true, no matter how long it took.

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #lnds #lnds zayne #zayne x you #love and deepspace zayne

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chaichaiiskai · 1 year ago

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Hi okay so if you're still doing a request can I get a (baki) Pickle x bottom male reader. So I want public sex where Pickle FuCks Reader Hard infront of everyone kinda like the reporter scene but you know with consent but if your not comfortable with that just normal rough sex in a bed room or forest since that's where Pickle is from.

If your not comfortable with this then that's okay i understand.

notes: OKAY, so, I did not see this until I wrote the last pickle request so I'm gonna connect this ask with that one— it's right here if ya wanna read it, deffo recommend it bc of lore :D hope ya enjoy this too !!! can't even lie, I'm thoroughly invested in the story of Pickle and Cucumber and I'm honestly thinking about keeping these two as reoccurring on my blog ngl.

warnings: mdni, homophobes do not interact, amab reader, he/him pronouns, violence against others that aren't reader, murder, blood and blood depictions, brief description of violence against woman and their wombs, mxm, pickle is very protective and basically yandere but who wouldn't be during the jurassic time period, rim jobs, lack of prep before anal, noncon mentioned but not against reader, reader is called cucumber by the facility and is basically a nickname, cumflation, belly bulge, size difference, very massive, very long, giant cock that is more weapon than genital, rough and unprotected sex bc duh they're both primitive men, hunting of animals, drugging // food tampering— I think that's it, lemme know if I missed anything.

The ultimate goal of the experiment was to further test the pure, raw strength of the primitive man when fueled by emotion and longing, going without food for a week. And their experiment proved to be true, far too true as a matter of fact. Multiple casualties would be forever staining the pages that reported the experiment and any sane person would have ended the experiment then and there to reunite the two lovers again.

However, a man at the top, who thought of nothing but himself, wanted to see just how far Pickle would go, even if that meant more casualties would have to be made. And so, the bloodbath ensued.

As Pickle roamed the facility halls, wave after wave came at him, rubber bullets aimed his way and raining on him that proved to have no impact on him whatsoever. He easily swiped aside the nuisances that are in his way, swiping away the small people until they go flying, hitting nearby walls— the sound of cracking bones, splattering, and coughing is sickening. So sickening that some of the scientists, though they love their jobs, find themselves going against the higher-ups.

One bravely moves in front of Pickle and holds his hands up, attempting to seem as if he was defenseless and then began to point behind him, pointing at a large door that was down the hall the primitive man was currently stalking down.

"He's there! There!"

He quickly announced, and then used his other hand to wave in the direction of the security camera he knew was currently watching the entire sight.

And on cue, the giant doors opened. To your surprise, the wall opening woke you out of your forced slumber that was brought onto you by a primitive form of depression sparked by your loss of companionship.

With heightened abilities, Pickle smelled you before he saw you, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he was unable to make a sound, simply getting into all fours again and bounding towards you at full-speed. Despite being weakened by the lack of nutrients, you slowly sat up onto your hands and knees before feeling yourself being tackled back to the ground, bodies rolling until the two of your slammed against a tree, Pickle's back took the blow and nearly uprooted the thing. He rolled again onto a patch of grass, still holding you comfortably in his arms until you were in a patch of grass, dropping you onto your back while he buried his face into your neck, starting to nibble onto any part of it that he can reach, sharp fang-like teeth scratching over your skin and leaving indents.

The door to this new enclosure is shut and on the outside, the cleaning procedure begins, but not without some scolding to the researchers who went against the higher-ups. Cucumber and Pickle did not seem to care about whatever was going on outside of them, far more focused on each other and keeping each other close.

From then on, Pickle cannot be more than a foot away from you, and he can only sleep when he's on top of you, shielding you from whatever threatens the outside.

The only scientists he allows inside the enclosure are small, fragile-looking women. He'd already killed a few of the male scientists who dared to enter, a warning and a threat. And recently, in hopes to appease the two primitive men and get back on their neutral sides, wild animals have been introduced into the enclosure, giving the illusion of a hunt for the both of you, and unfortunately, your enjoyment in fruit had been ruined thanks to the scientists and their cruel, cruel experiment.

You were only able to eat what Pickle hunted, and in another week, you looked more alive again, even helping with the hunt and relishing in Pickle's presence yet again. So far, it seemed that Pickle seemed to enjoy crocodile meat quite a lot, whilst you had your own preferences. And once you were back at a healthy level of energy, Pickle immediately recognized it and let his instincts win, one could not blame him for feeding into such carnal desires.

After an especially filling meal, you find yourself being hunted just like your previous meal, but it's the kind of hunt that gets the hair on the back of your neck standing. Your primitive partner growls at you in a suggestive manner and suddenly, he's chasing you around the enclosure, getting the adrenaline pumping in your veins and his. And when he's had enough, he's got you pinned down onto the ground, pulling at the loin cloth that keeps you from him until it comes off, making him toss it aside. He's hurried and hungry, yanking his own loin cloth off as you roll onto your stomach, eager for him to mount you, hardened cock swinging between your legs while a bead of pre dribbles out the top. You're on your knees, propping your body up in the ideal position for— breeding essentially.

Pickle is eager himself, lining his massively thick, veiny dick up with your rim, nearly growling at the anticipation as he presses the head against it and starts to push. Every part of the tanned man is large, including his third leg that was just a few inches over a foot in length and thick like a world record-breaking, sizable anaconda. He tried to force himself into you, but you push him out, obviously because it's been a while and it seems to frustrate the beast, eliciting a growl from him as he eyes your little hole with his brows furrowed. Everytime you breathe, it winks at him, almost like it's taunting him and you can't help but to grow frustrated, huffing at him from over your shoulder, but he can't stop staring at your hole, curious eyes drilling themselves into your ass.

Then, yet another instinct comes over him as he leans down, shoving his tongue past the first ring of muscle, the fat thing nearly longer than his cock. The sensation is strange but it only makes more pearls of pre dribble from your tip, your own cock seemingly throbbing as his wild tongue throbs around inside of you from behind, forcibly stretching you with its width. The muscle thrashes around inside of you, wildly moving about, darting in and out of you like an excitable puppy drinking water from a lake. His tongue movements are uncoordinated and hungry, so much to the point that it's darting about with no clear destination, even causing a few stray licks to the underside of your balls that makes you flinch every time.

Pickle isn't particularly sure what he's doing or why he's doing it, but he couldn't stop himself from feeding into the curiosity. It surprised you as well, considering he's never done to you before and you had never felt so good down there like this.

Shamelessly, a group of researchers and scientists were watching this ensemble unfold in real-time, gathered around with food in their hands like shameless perverts watching an adult film.

For science! They would most likely say, ignoring their own instincts to shove a hand in their pants at the scene in front of them.

The licking, although pleasant, was becoming too much and there was a buildup you were feeling in your shaft that had you panting like a dog, clawing at the ground and smashing your skull against the dirt. For some unknown reason, Pickle took your sounds as a signal of sorts and he remembered his own issue, heavy uncircumcised cock seeming to throb and lift with eagerness. Yet again, he pulls himself back to position himself properly, lining himself up with your hole and then pushes the tip in, a chirp of excitement escaping him as he plunges in deeper, going in about halfway before you feel as though the insides of your stomach are literally being rearranged. Fertile balls are pressed up against yours as he manages to jam every inch into your awaiting hole, somehow you're able to take every inch, an impressive feat within itself. Perhaps, this is why he took you as a lover. A flash of memories comes to mind to both you and Pickle.

. . .

Pickle had his share of sexual partners— instinctually he went after women, who he ultimately killed by accident after ripping through their wombs with the deadly length between his thighs. He had found a woman once, able to take him fully, but she did not recuperate his feelings and escaped him after a session of breeding. Eventually, Pickle stumbled upon Cucumber, a man of smaller stature than him, but strong in his own way. Their first meeting was anything but friendly, both of them going after the same prey of a Jurassic animal, looking for their next meal, fighting each other while simultaneously fighting the creature in hopes of getting meat. Ultimately, they ended up killing the beast together and bregrundingly shared, taking from the hunted beast without acknowledging each other much after.

But through unfortunate events, you continued to run into each other at different points in both of your traveling journeys, but continued to ignore each other regardless. And on one of those fateful meet-ups, however, Pickle had made a mistake— a mistake that brought on a sense of fear that he'd never once had to deal with before.

Consuming a wasp.

The pain he'd felt from it made him more vocal than ever, scaring away beasts and other people alike. However, Cucumber was not fearful, instead, he went a pang of sympathy for the man who he'd considered somewhat of a companion.

Immediately jumping into action, tapping into a nurturing side that he sometimes would ignore, he wandered hurriedly to the nearest lake of water, cupped his hands and gathered a healthy amount of it into his hands and wandered towards the other man. He growled at that primitive man who was still in excruciating pain, opening his mouth in an attempt to get the message across to him and with tears in his eyes, Pickle obliged, reminding Cucumber of a whimpering babe who was hungry for milk.

Dumping the handfuls of water into Pickle's mouth, you watched as he held the water in his mouth for a moment and then spit it out, along with the wasp, coughing up quite a storm. You frowned as he coughed, hesitantly patting his back afterwards, and after a while, you left to gather something to soothe the residual burning— fruits, which you forced Pickle to eat, despite his disdain for eating things that he did not hunt himself. But when he did as you wanted, the burn disappeared and you were ready to take your leave after helping him— only to have the man hot on your tail, everywhere you went, following you closely from behind.

Surprisingly, you didn't shoo him away, and that was what began the true extent of your strange relationship. It didn't take much longer before he would develop something new, love, and you returned the feeling. And in a moment of intimacy one late night, under the stars, he'd mounted you for the first time like a woman and breeded you under the moonlight. It was somewhat romantic, even with the guttural sounds of pleasure and delight that came from you both. And when you took him in his entirety without complaint, he was even more infatuated with you than he'd already been.

. . .

The primal man is grinning at this point as he's able to properly mount you, beginning to thrust at a pace that has your body rocking back and forth, his mouth and the area around it shiny with his own saliva as he plunges further. You're lucky you're stronger than the average and modern man, claws digging further into the dirt to keep yourself from toppling forward. Pickle is pounding into you, thrusting his hips with a tenacity that's enough to shake the trees around you, you're lucky your body is built for the brutality.

Watchful eyes are carefully observing, even going as far as to have a discussion onto why the two of you had chosen each other as mates since there was no chance of either of you reproducing. Then again, did reproducing matter much to the primitive people of your time? Apparently not, though Pickle seemed to be /breeding/ you as if it were indeed, possible.

Poor Cucumber was experiencing the true strength of Pickle's excitement, quite literally being fucked into the ground by a beast of mass destruction. The researchers collectively feel a sense of great respect for you as you handle the creature on top of you with gritted teeth, groaning and growling as you take every inch. It's a rough experience that leaves you teary eyed, wobbly lipped, and whining, just like all the other times he has his way with you. Pickle doesn't seem to let up, not even when your teeth chatter as a familiar and growing pleasure comes over you, blossoming in your hips and cock, strings of white spewing from your tip and onto the ground beneath you in spurts that seem to last far too long. Your cock seems to soften after cumming a second time, though it continues to twitch and swing with the pistoning of barbaric hips that continuously drive you forward. Squelching and the sound of skin repeatedly colliding is nearly as loud as the proud growls Pickle does, his chest vibrating with an animalistic equivalent of pride when you cum, squeezing his erection enough to milk him just right.

And fortunately, your poor hole doesn't need to take much more abuse before Pickle reaches his edge as well, unleashing copious amounts of his load into you, cum spilling out the edges where your bodies connected, dribbling out in the dirt like lines of salt. You'd felt full like this before, never able to get used to the feeling but still enjoying it regardless, a strange after result is the slight pouch in your lower belly that is made due to an immense amount of cum. Pickle holds himself there for a bit before pulling out and he's /still/ coming, ropes of the sticky white landing on your back and your rear, the insane amount he's dumped into you beginning to spill out and trickle from your gaping, spasming hole. Your lover lets out an affirmative, satisfied groan and then lays down onto the ground on his side right next to you. He wraps one of his lengthy arms around you and pulls you towards him, your chest neerly flush against his, and you rest your forehead against his shoulder, panting as you attempt to catch your breath, almost as if you'd been running after an especially fast prey. Pickle shuts his eyes and rests his chin on top of your head as he slowly shuts his eyes, having been drained of energy. It's not long before he's asleep and his body naturally locks in place around you, almost like a protective barrier. One of his legs is draped over yours, hooked behind your knees, his monstrous cock nestled between your thighs while yours is squeezed between your stomach and his abdomen, lower bodies entangled where it's almost difficult to distinguish between limbs. His arm is still wrapped around your back, the other had joined, slipping beneath you as his hands interlocked behind your back. This position is new, he's usually laying right on top of you when he sleeps, completely covering you up like a shell on the back of a turtle, making it nearly impossible to see you beneath him unless one looked from very specific angles.

You're tired as well, hole still leaking with Pickle's cum as your eyelids grow heavy. Your body is hot and sticky with sweat, making your skin stick to his, but you always find comfort in his presence, snaking your own arms around the massive man's body the best way you can before you drift off to sleep as well.

To the researchers and facility crew who are still watching on the security cams, they see the cuddling session as wholesome— despite the previous actions of you both— and nearly coo at the cuddling session.

Perhaps they would need to adjust their research and find different questions to think about...

#— chai’s asks. !!#— chai rambles. !!#— anonnie. !!#male reader #x male reader #amab reader #baki smut #baki the grappler smut #pickle x male reader #pickle x y/n #pickle x reader #pickle x you #pickle baki #baki pickle #yandere baki hanma pickle

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

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pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: "i am looking for a maid, preferably one of eight-and-ten...a young handmaid for my second son, aemond."

warnings: nothing.

notes: an anon requested their first meeting, so here it is.

his handmaid's tales I main masterlist

It began with the Queen.

“How may I serve your Grace.”

“I am looking for a maid, preferably one of eight-and-ten,” Queen Alicent had told the septa in private. It was gloomy outside, with dark clouds blanketing the sky. She had just finished lighting four candles. “A young handmaid for my second son, Aemond. He is the only of my children not to have one. I’d like for her to be sweet and devoted and quick on her feet, a girl who will swear her undying loyalty and service unto him and his needs.”

His twentieth nameday was fast approaching, set within the next fortnight. She felt this would be a fine gift for him.

The septa took a moment to think. “Does her breeding matter?” she asked. “I know of a girl- she is exactly what you desire, but she is a bastard, born to one of the serving wenches at Harrenhal.”

The queen’s nose wrinkled. “A riverlands bastard?”

“She is said to be Lord Lyonel’s granddaughter, my queen.”

“So a Strong bastard….” Alicent rubbed at her temple, “I suppose…if she is what I ask for, and that you can assure she’ll remain loyal to him.” She then sighed, shaking her head. “Though, do keep it away from my son, septa. He carries such little love for House Strong. I do not wish for him to turn his ire onto her if he ever found out.

The septa frowned. “Do you genuinely believe the prince would dare harm an innocent girl, your Grace?”

Alicent tugged at her gown's flowing sleeve, sniffing. “That is why I ask for you to keep her heritage a secret.”

Two weeks later, you stood in Prince Aemond’s bedchamber as his new handmaid. The septa was at your elbow, mumbling a flood of demands into your ear. “Stand straighter, child, for the sake of the gods. But keep your head bowed, gaze locked on your feet. You mustn’t ever behold the prince unless he allows it.” You ran a hand down your arm, feeling the skin prickled with goosebumps, before lacing your trembling fingers together.

To your right was the Queen, dressed in a pretty gown as green as summer. She said very little to you, if not nothing.

“Ah, Aemond! My dear boy, please join us,” she greeted quite happily when her son arrived at the doors of his room. You kept your eyes down, counting each loud footstep of his that loomed closer with every second.

“Who is this?”

Queen Alicent cleared her throat. “Your new handmaid, son.”

Prince Aemond remained silent. You could feel his gaze. One. Two. Three…four, five, six…. You swallowed, counting each heartbeat that quickened inside your chest as you willed yourself to stay still and brave. Do not tremble. It would be an embarrassment, no doubt. You felt your nails digging into your palms. Fear cuts much deeper than any sword.

“I was…unaware I needed a handmaid, dear mother,” he finally said.

“Aegon and Helaena have theirs, and Daeron’s been by his side in Oldtown since he was a young boy. It is unlike a prince not to have his own handmaid. She will do you well.”

“Do me well?”

“Yes!”

The septa pinched the skin of your arm, causing you to flinch before lifting your face to meet his eye from across the room. The prince...he was handsome, terribly so, you thought. Tall and silver-haired, dashing and imposing, with a deep violet eye. “I was brought here to serve you,” you told him, “-to do anything and everything my prince commands.” Prince Aemond skimmed you up and down, an eyebrow rising. “Anything? Such as…?”

You glanced at the septa, unsure of what to say next. “Um, well, my prince, I shall fix your baths and sew any ripped shirts if you’d like? I might also fetch you your wine if desired-”

“She’ll do whatever you ask of her, my prince,” the septa interjected. Queen Alicent smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Does that not please you, son?” She then leaned to mutter something close to his ear, and he stiffened, aiming his cool stare at you, before relaxing.

“Alright. You are suffice,” he decided before turning to his mother, his face softening. “Thank you, mother.”

Queen Alicent leaned to kiss his cheek before pushing past him out into the hall. The septa soon followed her, leaving you and Prince Aemond alone in the room. Thump. Thump. Thump. The prince stole another look at you. “What might I call you?”

You gave him your name, dropping low into a pretty curtesy. Every time you bow, your neck is at the mercy of the royals. “A beautiful name,” he said. His voice sounded throaty. He was clothed in black leather, from his shoulders to his ankles, and the cloak he wore around his shoulders. At his waist hung a longsword. “Thank you, my prince. It was my mother’s choosing.”

The raven had arrived at Harrenhal at midday, a flurry of black wings that carried a letter demanding your sudden attendance at the Red Keep at the request of the queen herself. Your mother was reluctant to send you off at first but eventually did so with five sweet kisses and a bright yellow mullein flower that she slipped into the pocket of her old green cloak.

Prince Aemond hummed. “Well, if you’d like, I have two shirts that are in need of sewing. Ser Cole knicked them with his own sword during my training four mornings back.” He gestured to his closet, nicely carved from weirwood, pale as a bone. The look of it reminded you of your mother and the gods you left behind at home.

You nodded, bowing. “As my prince commands,” and you moved towards the closet to fetch his shirts, although you would likely need to venture out to find a needle and…

A hand touched your arm.

You spun to meet him. “Do you need something else, my prince?” Prince Aemond stood so close you could see the long pale scar peeking from behind his eyepatch, his dark eyelashes, and his jutting chin and high cheekbones. He was far more beautiful up close. You felt butterflies in your belly, stirring up a strange fluttering feeling; it crept up your spine to your throat.

“Do you fear me?”

You bit your lip. “No.”

He hummed again, eye flickering across your face. You do not believe me, don't you. You felt it glide over your browbone, to the slope of your nose, and pausing at your lips. “Fix my shirts, then. I have needles and thread in my closet as well. You do not leave the room unless I dismiss you.”

“She is yours. Your handmaid. Everything she does next is at your own will and mercy,” his mother whispered to him. “But do treat her well, Aemond. It is through kindheartedness that you receive devotion.”

tag list: @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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chiqelatasblog · 6 months ago

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In the Middle of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Four is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub- Zero x Reader, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x Reader, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x Reader

Author’s Note : I apologize for the delay! The past couple of weeks have been incredibly stressful for me. I had several meetings and had to write protocols for my client’s case. Additionally, I visited a friend who was staying in a different province, four hours away from where I live. Everything seemed to overlap (and to top it off, even my menstrual cycle was 17 days late due to the stress). But now, everything seems to be settling down, and I’ve managed to clear my mind and focus on writing this chapter as soon as possible. I decided to split this chapter into two parts because I felt it would have a better impact, and I wanted to give the final chapter its own spotlight. I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for your patience and understanding.❤️

CHAPTER FIVE : (READER)

Until now, you never thought that you could fall in love with three people at the same time.

You didn’t realize a few months ago that such a thing was possible, but now it felt as natural and normal to you as breathing. It was as if Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas had always been a part of your life. You got used to their presence so easily that now it’s hard to imagine your life without them; you were so attached to them. It was a fact that you didn’t know them until a few months ago, but although you couldn’t quite describe it, it felt as if your souls had known each other for a long time. Your movements resembled pieces of a jigsaw puzzle—they were so complete. There was a nonverbal communication between you; sometimes you could effortlessly communicate without speaking, even just by looking. This situation was very special and unique for you, as you had never made such a connection with anyone before.

Each moment spent with them felt like a blessing. When Bi-Han’s stern gaze softened just for you, it made you feel cherished in a way you had never experienced before. Kuai Liang’s calm presence was a sanctuary, a steady anchor in the chaos of life. And Tomas, with his unyielding loyalty and kindness, filled your heart with warmth and light. The bond you shared with them was deeper than mere friendship. It was an unspoken promise, a silent understanding that no matter what happened, you would stand by them. You hadn’t yet said it out loud to any of them, but you loved all three with a special bond and emotion. Your actions and looks might have betrayed your feelings, but you lacked the courage to put it into words.

You would find yourself watching them, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude and affection. The way Tomas’s eyes glinted with mischief when he teased you, or how Bi-Han’s rare, gentle smiles made your heart flutter. Kuai Liang’s reassuring touch or kiss on your shoulder during moments of doubt spoke volumes about his unwavering support. Each of these little things cemented their place in your heart, making it impossible to imagine a future without them.

They had become a part of you, woven into the very fabric of your existence. And even though the words were yet to be spoken, your heart had already made its choice. They were the kind of people you would want to keep hidden in your heart forever, to protect and watch over.

Loving Tomas was like experiencing spring. He wasn’t as serious as his two brothers; he was polite, with a naivety that softened the expression in his light gray eyes, making them irresistible to look at. Despite the scars on his soul from a very young age, Tomas was brave. He was the first person to choose to trust you, and that trust felt like a precious gift. His sense of humor was not only funny but remarkably similar to yours, making your conversations a source of endless delight. His presence was like feeling the gentle warmth of the sun after the harsh cold of a long black winter. Every moment spent with him was filled with hope and joy, like the first flowers of the season blooming and signaling new beginnings.

His love was tender and kind, much like the soft rain that revives the earth after a prolonged drought. Being with him allowed you to embrace your inner child, escaping the harsh realities of life. You found joy in the simple pleasures of watching TV shows or movies together, taking care of mundane tasks, having small, meaningful conversations, and spending time with Ninja. His ability to bring simplicity and happiness into your life made every moment with him feel like a cherished memory in the making.

Loving Kuai Liang was like experiencing summer. His body was warmer than normal due to his pyromancy, and you found yourself surrounded by a gentle, safe warmth next to him, especially when wrapped in his strong arms. It was such a soothing feeling that most of the time, it made your eyelids feel heavy and sleepy because of the peace you felt. Although touching Kuai Liang was wonderful, he was afraid to touch you because of his dark past, fearing that he might tarnish you. When you heard that, it felt like you had been shot in the brain, and your heart painfully squeezed thinking about what this strong man had been subjected to. None of them had told you exactly what they had been through in the past—you knew bits about what happened with Leilani and a few other masters, but nothing more—but it wasn’t difficult to guess. So you left it entirely up to them to control the speed at which they wanted to move forward in the process. You wanted them to know that they had this power, that they had a say.

Every time you spent with Kuai Liang filled you with a vibrant energy, warming you to the core like basking in sunlight. His love was wild and passionate, yet he was also incredibly kind; it set your soul ablaze, much like the intense heat of a scorching day. You felt comfortable next to him, his presence enveloping you like warm summer nights. You enjoyed walking outdoors with him, cooking together with his help (especially since discovering his distinct fondness for sweets last week), chatting about past missions, and witnessing the proud expression on his face when you asked him to show his powers.

Loving Bi-Han was like experiencing winter. His true self, which emerged after overcoming his initially harsh and inaccessible exterior, exuded a unique warmth that demonstrated winter was not just about coldness. Like soft snowflakes falling to the ground in the serene beauty of a winter landscape, his touch was gentle and filled with longing. Though not as openly expressive as his two brothers, you could sense his love in the way he touched you or looked at you every time. Despite the coldness that seemed to envelop him, his gaze held a warm invitation that melted away the chill, filling you with a warmth that drew you to him.

Unlike Kuai Liang, Bi-Han was not one to avoid contact. Although the ice forces surrounding him usually caused harm to both himself and others, this rule didn’t seem to apply to you. Since realizing this, it was as if he couldn’t stop touching you. He never verbalized it, but every time a part of his body—his arm, hand, or leg—came into contact with yours, it was evident how much he cared. Though his touch initially felt cold and eerie, you soon grew accustomed to it, even finding it addictive. Despite appearances, Bi-Han served as the cornerstone among the brothers, keeping them united and shielded with his protective and steadfast demeanor. Being included in that circle filled your heart with love and made you feel special.

Even though Bi-Han was the last to let down his walls around you, getting used to him was quick and effortless, much like with the other brothers. You enjoyed conversing with him about his clan, listening to him describe his daily routines, and especially watching the city view in the evenings. The silence felt peaceful rather than suffocating, allowing for a range of unexpressed emotions to be felt in that moment. Moreover, witnessing his moments of care for Ninja when he thought no one was watching was another detail that melted your heart.

You were deeply connected to three men in a way that scared you a little. Your emotions were incredibly intense—the love you felt for them, their choice to trust you despite their painful pasts, the respect you held for their strength and courage, your anger at the injustices they faced, and your desire for revenge. You had never experienced such emotions so clearly and intensely, shaking you to the core. It was somewhat frightening, as your priorities suddenly shifted to them instead of yourself. Your sole focus became freeing them from the clutches of the book and its curse, with less than a week and a half remaining until the deadline.

Despite your efforts, you hadn’t found a solution yet. Since the owner of the book could only summon them once, you wouldn’t be able to see them again after the time limit passed. The thought of this damned you, filling your heart with great fear at the prospect of what they might face if Sektor failed to protect them when he came to retrieve the book after you, and it fell into the hands of a new person.

You were prepared to do whatever it took to prevent this outcome, but the lack of a solution filled you with terrible anxiety and drove you to the brink of madness. Just two months ago, your biggest concern was unemployment and paying rent, but now your problems had evolved into something entirely different. Your own worries seemed insignificant compared to the future of the men you loved. Breaking this curse had become the most important thing in your life right now.

Bi-Han’s change in attitude towards you had somewhat lessened the effect of the curse on you. However, it remained a relentless force, constantly gnawing at you in a corner of your mind. Whenever you were close to Tomas, Kuai Liang, or Bi-Han, it seemed to roar in your mind, filling you with a desire that was hard to resist. Your skin practically begged you to touch them, and sometimes the desire was so intense that it felt like you were engulfed in flames—it hurt and clouded your judgment, making you feel almost foolish. At times, the urge became so overwhelming that finding refuge in the bathroom seemed to be the only solution. While your fingers didn’t always provide the satisfaction you sought, they at least allowed you to regain some semblance of control. But the lingering feeling in your mind never disappeared. It was akin to eating without feeling satiated—it was relentless and unyielding.

Each passing day seemed to bring a new level of torment, as if the curse intensified with every sunrise. The pain became unbearable, almost akin to torture. You couldn’t eat, sleep, or even think properly in the last couple of days. Functioning normally seemed impossible, and at times, it became so overwhelming that even breathing felt like a challenge. You didn’t know how to endure this any longer. You were painfully aware that each day was worse than the last, and yet there seemed to be no end in sight. You were drowning in a sea of agony, struggling to keep your head above water.

Despite the agony you endured, you were determined to bear the burden alone. You knew that all three of them wanted to help you, hating to see you suffer. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept their help. You didn’t want them to be involved with the curse in any way. Forgiving and moving on with your life would be impossible if they intervened, so you chose to ignore them and continue caring for yourself in your own way.

Thrusting your hands into the pockets of your raincoat, you gazed up at the reddening sky, returning from yet another unsuccessful job interview. How you wished the answer lay somewhere out there. You had tried everything written in all the sources you could access, masking your disappointment even as each failure chipped away at your hope. Trying to guess how they felt and what they were thinking only added to your frustration, yet you refrained from showing it, knowing they needed your support more than your despair. In the ten years since they were cursed, they had endured far more disappointments than you had faced in two months. You could imagine how futile it must have felt for them to continue hoping. They had exhausted their strength fighting disappointment after disappointment, opting instead to cherish the present moment—a reality that broke your heart a little.

The fact that they had accepted their situation and grown tired of fighting weighed heavily on you. Yet, you couldn’t blame them for choosing this path. Instead, you took it upon yourself to fight for them. However, with each passing day and no solution to the curse in sight, a heavy weight descended upon your shoulders, threatening to crush you. Despite the growing despair, you knew you had to keep fighting for them. You were their only hope, their only chance at breaking the curse.

Witnessing them struggle against the influence of their past only intensified your own turmoil. Despite Tomas sometimes managing to fall asleep, there were nights when he woke up with unfamiliar eyes, as if he didn’t recognize where he was, his body stiffening as if his breath would be snatched away. Occasionally, you were able to calm him down in the morning, but even then, Tomas seemed powerless against his own imposing body.

Kuai Liang, on the other hand, often woke up drenched in sweat from nightmares, avoiding your attempts to soothe him. He repeatedly muttered about his fear of contaminating you too, leaving you barely holding yourself together as you fought the urge to tightly embrace him. His pain was palpable, almost physically hurting you.

As for Bi-Han, there were times when he hadn’t slept for days, his body tensed with the need to protect them from imagined external dangers, leaving small traces of ice and freezing cold wherever he passed. Rings of exhaustion encircled his eyes, his face taking on a statuesque and lifeless appearance, his gaze fixed on the windows and doors. It took you hours to convince him that there was no imminent danger and coax him into relaxation.

All three of them exuded danger; their capabilities to take lives were apparent from their looks and the threatening aura they emitted. Their muscular, powerful bodies spoke of a lifetime of training for combat. This reality became especially clear when they touched you—it was too easy for them to cause harm if they chose to. They possessed a suppressed power that pained you to witness. Despite being honorable men, it must have wounded their pride and soul to see themselves in such a vulnerable state.

Your train of thought was abruptly halted by the sound of someone calling your name. As you lifted your gaze from the sidewalk, you were met with the sight of a stranger standing beside Sektor, the same man you had encountered weeks ago under rather peculiar circumstances. Sektor, as formal as ever, greeted you, his black hair streaked with long gray tufts and his neatly trimmed beard suggesting recent grooming. Standing beside him was a figure who exuded an otherworldly aura, his piercing blue eyes unsettling and filled with an uncanny intensity. With a formal gesture, he crossed his arms, revealing intricate dragon tattoos that seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, mirroring the luminance of his gaze. Despite the chill in the air, there was an unexpected warmth in his smile as he uttered your first and last name, as if he had been anticipating your arrival.

You stood frozen, momentarily taken aback by the presence of the enigmatic figure before you. Tentatively, you ventured, “Lord Liu Kang?”

“Yes,” came the calm reply, confirming his identity. Despite his formidable stature and commanding presence, his voice carried a soothing timbre, putting you somewhat at ease. Strands of his long, obsidian hair were gathered in a half bun behind him, dressed in traditional Far Eastern attire, his hands were swathed in bandages, to his hand to elbow. It was surprising to see him in such ordinary garb, far removed from the divine image you had conjured in your mind. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of power and authority that emanated from him, accentuated by the eerie glow of his tattoos and the intensity of his gaze.

“Sektor has briefed me on the situation and the curse,” Liu Kang continued, taking a deliberate step forward. “May I have a word?”

As you silently nodded in agreement, Liu Kang motioned for you to follow him, leaving Sektor behind as the two of you made your way to a more secluded area, away from the crowd.

“Do you know how to break Quan Chi’s curse?” you voiced the question that had been weighing heavily on your mind since you first laid eyes on him. As a god, you assumed he held the answers to questions and problems that eluded mortals.

“It’s a curse I’ve encountered before,” he replied, his demeanor calm yet tinged with a hint of anger that simmered beneath the surface. “An ancient and demonic curse, leaving behind lasting damage, particularly to the mind. I am familiar with how to dispel such curses, but the solution is not one you will easily accept.”

“I want to save them.” Your voice suddenly became muffled, the tears that filled up as you thought about this situation and tried to hold them back, now that the three of them were not around, instantly began to flow down your cheeks. If you were a little embarrassed that you were crying in front of this man-god you never knew, the helplessness and grief you felt was even greater. “I can’t let them go back to the book again. What needs to be done to lift the curse? Please tell me, this has to stop.”

“You possess a pure heart,” The Fire God’s gaze fell upon you, a mix of sorrow and compassionate understanding that softened his features. “It has become increasingly rare to encounter individuals like you in this day and age… Black magic is inherently cruel, and so are its remedies,” he continued, his expression growing solemn. “There is only one method to lift the curse: the owner of the book must make a sacrificial offering of themselves.”

You fell into a stunned silence, grappling with the weight of his words as they reverberated in your mind. Your lips parted, but for a moment, it felt as though words had deserted you. Eventually, you managed to utter a whisper-like voice.

“So, what you’re saying is…”

“Death,” Liu Kang interjected sharply, his tone cutting through the air with finality. “This curse, rooted in ancient and potent sorcery, is designed by practitioners of black magic like Quan Chi to be unbreakable. The spell binds not only the cursed individuals but also the owner of the book, tethering your life energy to its pages until they return to its confines. Thus, any attempt to resist only serves to intensify the curse’s grip, compelling you to act against your will. The only path to freedom is through the ultimate sacrifice.”

Liu Kang’s gaze darkened with anger, a muscle twitching on his chin as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes, which seconds ago were warm and comforting, now blazed with righteous fury, their intensity piercing through the air like a searing flame.

“The curse is insidious,” he began, his voice laced with frustration. “It draws power from your life energy and intertwines it with their fate. As long as the owner of the book lives, the curse will persist. However,” he continued, his tone lowering to a solemn register, “if the owner willingly sacrifices their life, the curse will vanish along with the book, its source extinguished forever. It’s a trade-off, a cruel exchange that inevitably claims one side or the other. That’s the essence of black magic.”

You found yourself speechless, unable to even swallow past the lump in your throat. The gravity of Liu Kang’s words hung heavy in the air, casting a pall over your thoughts. Sacrifice your own life? The notion seemed incomprehensible, unfathomable, yet here it was, staring you in the face like an immutable truth carved in stone. With your family, dreams, and aspirations still within reach, could you bear to relinquish it all? Could you summon the courage to make such a sacrifice?

Strangely, these questions didn’t pierce your heart as much as the thought of never seeing all three of them again. Each day seemed more agonizing than the last, and you knew that the brave facade you wore didn’t fool anyone. Yet, you couldn’t bear the idea of burdening them with the curse’s weight and prompting them to take drastic action. You had found them too soon to lose them; the prospect losing them now felt unbearably cruel, like a dagger twisting in your soul. Their presence had became so integral to your life that you had actually forgotten what loneliness felt like.

You loved them, each with their own unique characteristics and qualities, with a possessive and fierce intensity unlike any love you had ever known. So when the answer came to you in a heartbeat, it didn’t scare you; instead, it settled on your shoulders like a comforting blanket, a peaceful weight that affirmed your resolve. Their needs, desires, and happiness were paramount to you, more precious than anything else in the world. As you reflected on the countless hardships they had endured, the thought of subjecting them to further suffering became unbearable. The power to end their torment lay within your grasp; you could not turn away from that responsibility. Though you couldn’t be with them in the way you longed for, you were determined to secure their well-being, even if it meant sacrificing your own life. They deserved nothing less than to reclaim the lives they had been denied for so long, to find happiness and peace in a world free from the curse’s grip.

“You don’t have to do this,” Liu Kang said, his voice soft yet filled with understanding.

“And shall I allow them to return to the book? No, I will never allow it,” you declared, your voice ringing with newfound determination. “I made a promise to them… My love for them eclipses all else, even my own life.”

Even as the curse neared its end, you couldn’t bear the thought of it being their final memory, tainted by your tears and suffering as each day brought more agony. You wanted to leave them with fond memories, to be remembered in a positive light. The idea of confessing your love to them seemed daunting until just ten minutes ago. Despite never feeling ready to bid them farewell, you knew it was inevitable.

“How am I to do it? With a knife?” you asked, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “I… I can’t take my own life. Will you help me?”

A myriad of emotions flickered across Liu Kang’s face, as if your question had unleashed a torrent of conflicting thoughts within him. You were taken aback by the sight of such ‘human’ emotions on the face of a god.

“I wish there were another way, one where you wouldn’t have to bear this burden alone,” Liu Kang sighed, his voice heavy with regret. “Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas aren’t merely my chosen warriors; they’re also my friends—more than just allies. You are sacrificing yourself to save them; of course, I will assist you in any way I can.”

“And will you make it as painless as possible?” you asked, your voice tinged with a slight fear.

With a solemn nod, Liu Kang replied, “They will remember this act of immense bravery and courage for the rest of their lives. Your sacrifice, while saving them, will also haunt them forever.’’ You acknowledged it inwardly. Yet, the moment Liu Kang proposed the solution, your decision was made. You meant every word you said; they meant more to you than anything else, and you wanted them to reclaim the life that had been stolen from them. If sacrificing yourself was the path to ensure their freedom, then so be it.

“I want to bid them farewell,” you said, your gaze falling to the ground. “But the final act… I cannot bear to do it in front of them, especially Tomas. After what happened to his family, it would be too traumatic for him.”

‘’Of course,” Liu Kang replied, his voice filled with understanding. You gulped and lifted your gaze to the sky, silently observing the clusters of red clouds and the golden sun, its light waning as it prepared to set. The realization that this would be your final sunset weighed heavily on your chest, a palpable heaviness that seemed to anchor you to the ground. As you tried to swallow past the lump in your throat, a tear escaped, tracing a solitary path down your cheek. Your voice emerged hoarse, almost strained with emotion.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this. I would have cherished more moments with them.”

“Sometimes, even a god cannot interfere in the complex fabric of life,” Liu Kang said, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky alongside you. “Each thread is woven with its purpose and outcome. There are two paths before you, and the latter entails your choice to end your life. While I respect your decision, I must ask one last time: are you certain about this?”

As Liu Kang’s luminous blue eyes bore into yours, a sense of calm washed over you, a tranquility that spoke of acceptance and resolve.

“More than anything.”

***

As you returned home, it felt as though your body no longer belonged to you. You couldn’t recall how you had made the journey back; it was as if you had been moving through molasses, each step slow and heavy. Though your surroundings appeared blurred, your thoughts remained clear, cocooning you in a blanket of comfort and unwavering determination.

Upon softly opening the door, the scene that greeted you shattered what little remained of your heart. Bi-Han occupied the single seat he always favored, gently stroking Ninja’s head as the cat slept soundly in his lap. A rare, tender smile graced his lips, a sight that had become increasingly frequent in recent days. Meanwhile, Kuai Liang and Tomas sat cross-legged, engrossed in something on your laptop, their occasional laughter filling the room with warmth and joy. The serene atmosphere tugged at your heartstrings, leaving you both comforted and conflicted. How could you possibly break the news of your decision to them?

Caught in a state of frozen uncertainty, it was Kuai Liang who first noticed your presence. His expression of happiness dissolved into pure astonishment at the sight of Fire God and Sektor standing behind you.

“Lord Liu Kang?” he exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice. As his words hung in the air, the rest of the brothers turned their heads towards the entrance, mirroring Kuai Liang’s surprise. They remained rooted in place for a few seconds before Bi-Han took decisive action. Carefully lowering Ninja to the ground, he strode forward to stand before Liu Kang, bowing his head respectfully in greeting.

“Lord Liu Kang.” Bi-Han uttered, his tone a mixture of reverence and warmth.

Liu Kang’s gentle smile widened as he placed both hands on Bi-Han’s shoulders, lifting him upright. “Bi-Han, it has indeed been a long time,” he acknowledged. His glowing eyes shifted to encompass Tomas and Kuai Liang, who had gathered behind Bi-Han. “It is truly a pleasure to see the warriors of the Lin Kuei, defenders of Earthrealm, and my friends once again.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Kuai Liang replied, his voice infused with warmth and sincerity as Bi-Han’s. They all expressed their respect and embraced each other in a brotherly hug, a sight that surprised you, especially seeing a god joining in. Engaging in small talk, their camaraderie was palpable. Bi-Han’s gaze then shifted towards Sektor, who stood silently beside you. His brow furrowed slightly, silently questioning his right-hand man.

“Sektor? You didn’t come all the way here just to show Lord Liu Kang, did you? It’s still more than a week until you’re supposed to take the book.”

Sektor didn’t answer, instead, when he gave you an evasive glance, Bi-Han instantly caught his gaze and his expression hardened. As he crossed his arms on both sides, the cold waves of air that began to spread over him tingled your skin.

‘’What’s going on?’’

‘’Bi-Han,” you interjected in a gentle, strained voice, struggling to suppress your emotions while the curse writhed inside you more cruelly than ever. The pain surged higher and more severe than you were accustomed to, causing your knees to momentarily tremble. Bi-Han easily grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to himself, his expression shifting from one of composure to one of anxious concern in an instant, causing your heart to flutter. Knowing how strict he was with himself about showing his feelings compared to his brothers, it filled you with happiness to see how much he had progressed in such a short period of time. It was the greatest proof of the depth of his feelings for you. Bi-Han was a stoic man, never one to show vulnerability. Seeing him like this now was both heartwarming and overwhelming. He was laying himself bare before you, offering his feelings on a platter, and you realized you could easily hurt him if you chose to, because he was showing you his vulnerability so openly.

“Are you all right?” Bi-Han’s hand gently cupped your face, his calloused fingers stroking your cheek. “Did you cry?”

At his question, Tomas and Kuai Liang turned their gaze toward you. You quickly composed yourself, the callouses on his hand providing a comforting touch against your skin. With a slight tremble in your voice, you managed a reassuring smile, your eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and sadness. You wanted to remain strong until the very end, to etch a lasting impression in their minds.

“I’m fine,” you replied, your voice surprisingly calm despite the turmoil within. You savored Bi-Han’s protective touch, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the warmth of his presence. The scent of cold and fresh snow emanating from him filled your senses, your fingers traced the contours of his strong features lovingly, committing each curve to memory. A lump formed in your throat, making it hard to swallow, as you fought back tears that threatened to spill over. Gently winding the few remaining tufts of his black hair into a small bun, you planted a tender kiss on his pale lips, conveying all your emotions in that fleeting moment. Stepping back, you caressed his cheek one last time, the rough texture of his short stubble a familiar sensation against your fingertips. Bi-Han’s expression grew increasingly worried, his furrowed eyebrows revealing his confusion as he searched your eyes for answers.

However, instead of offering an explanation, you gently slipped out of Bi-Han’s grasp and made your way to Kuai Liang, who stood beside him.

“What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?” Kuai Liang’s voice was laced with concern as he carefully cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking your skin. You responded with a soft smile, kissing one of his palms before silencing him by placing your finger on his lips. His brow furrowed in confusion, the joy from moments ago fading from his face. You felt a pang of guilt for dampening his spirits, but you knew that everything you were about to do was for their well-being. They would no longer suffer, be exploited, or have their consent disregarded. They would reclaim their dignified lives, where they rightfully belonged.

As Kuai Liang fell silent, you withdrew your hand, savoring the warmth emanating from his body for what would be the last time. Despite his formidable appearance, he exuded a comforting aura, his skin radiating health, his stance unwavering. The faint scent of ash, a remnant of his pyromancy, mingled with the aroma of cedar reminiscent of summer nights, enveloping his bronze-toned physique. His amber-brown eyes, usually filled with determination, now held a soft, worried gaze as they met yours.

Struggling to maintain your smile, you rose onto tiptoe and pressed a gentle kiss to Kuai Liang’s lips. “It will be all right.” you assured him, though your voice faltered toward the end. Blinking back tears that threatened to cloud your vision, you swiftly moved to Tomas’s side before Kuai Liang could reach out to you once more.

There was an obvious panic on Tomas’s young face as he scrutinized you from head to toe with his gray eyes. You felt a pang of guilt for causing such distress. Though you kept your shoulders straight, reminding yourself of your purpose, and tried to maintain a smile, tears welled up in your eyes again when Tomas uttered your name in desperation. Instantly, you enveloped him in a tight hug.

“Talk to us, what’s going on? Did someone hurt you? Just give us their names,” Tomas pleaded, his muscular arms circling you protectively, as if he wanted to shield you from everything, even though you were the one who wanted to do the same for him.

You shook your head in response, planting a kiss on Tomas’s cheek. The faint scent of embers lingered around him, reminiscent of burning wood. Whether from his smoke magic or not, the smell defined Tomas—wild and free. Despite his formidable abilities as an assassin, his naive trust in you was evident. Stepping back, you met his gaze, his gray eyes almost appearing blue in the light. Though he possessed frightening strength and abilities, the vulnerability in his eyes told a different story. Swallowing back your emotions, you resolved that he wouldn’t suffer from the curse’s torment any longer.

You remembered how Tomas had reacted when the power went out a few days ago—it was as if everything had been reset that evening, despite the progress he had made since leaving the book.

“Tomas, it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re not in the book; look, I’m here. Your brothers are also here,” you reassured him, trying to calm his frantic state.

Thanks to the small fireball Kuai Liang created in his hands, Tomas became clearly visible. The silver-haired assassin stood frozen, breathing heavily, fists clenched, his gaze darting around erratically. Sweat matted his short hair against his forehead, glinting in the dim light of the room.

“Tomas,” you called softly again, reaching out to him, but Bi-Han stopped you, gripping your wrist firmly.

“He might hurt you,” Bi-Han warned, his voice harsh and protective. “He’s out of his mind right now, more like a cornered animal than a human being.”

“He’s just scared, that’s all,” you countered, disregarding Bi-Han’s warning. Carefully, you approached Tomas, making sure not to startle him further. “Tomas? Let me touch you, let me show you that you’re not there anymore.”

As you raised your hand to touch him, Tomas’s gaze fixed on you, his jaw clenched tightly. An angry, almost aggressive snarl escaped his lips. Bi-Han and Kuai Liang moved to protect you, but you signaled for them to stay put. Sudden movements and sounds would only agitate Tomas further.

“You’re not there, Tomas. It’s been two months since you came out of the book. You’re in my house, next to me. Look,” you reassured him, your hand gently touching his cheek. Tomas flinched violently, but he didn’t lash out. Though he remained as still as a statue, his gaze shifted to focus on you.

“You don’t want to scare Ninja anymore, do you?” you continued, noticing a slight softening in Tomas’s expression. A low, plaintive sound escaped his throat, resembling the whimper of a wounded animal. “Shh, everything is fine. I know, I know. Come, let me hug you.”

Gathering courage from his stillness, you wrapped your arms around him. Tomas melted into the embrace, his grip tightening around you as he took a sharp breath. Despite the pressure from his strong frame, you made no sound, understanding his need for this connection. As Tomas whispered your name like a prayer, your heart swelled with love and pain, wishing you could heal the wounds inflicted on his soul by the curse.

Your hand found the short tufts of gray hair, stroking them lovingly as you planted a kiss first on his cheek and then on his forehead. “I’m here. It’s all right, you’re safe, Tomas.”

And now you had the power to break this curse.

“You frighten me,” Tomas’s voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention. His words echoed the fear and confusion swirling within you, amplifying the emotional turmoil.

You fought to maintain the dwindling smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss Tomas goodbye on the lips. Every touch, every gesture, was imbued with a depth of feeling that words could not fully express. It was a bittersweet farewell, filled with love and longing. Then, you turned to look at Kuai Liang and Bi-Han, their expressions clouded with concern.

“I love all three of you,” you whispered, the words heavy with emotion. For days, you grappled with how to express this overwhelming feeling, the realization that they had become the foundation of your world, each one holding a profound significance in your heart. The mere thought of voicing these sentiments once filled you with breathless anticipation, but now, as the words escaped your lips, they carried a weight you couldn’t bear alone. Indeed, the pain of the curse paled in comparison to the heaviness in your heart. “Please don’t be angry with anyone, okay?”

“Why are you saying these things?” Bi-Han’s voice cut through the air like shards of ice, his tone rigid and unyielding. Understanding his reaction became easier as you got to know him. He tended to become aggressive when he didn’t want to show his emotions – especially when panicked or afraid. This was one of those moments.

“To whom, why should we be angry?” Tomas’s voice conveyed his confusion. His genuine perplexity only served to deepen the ache in your chest, reminding you of the innocence he still retained despite everything he had endured. You took a deep breath, after stroking Tomas’s cheek for the last time, you stepped back. However, Kuai Liang stopped you by grabbing your arm.

“Tell us what’s going on.” he demanded, his voice taking on a tone you had never heard before. It was the first time you heard him speak like this. Despite his usual warmth and politeness, even when discussing his past, his voice now turned cold, almost resembling that of his older brother, but never had it been this harsh and demanding.

“I will lift the curse,” you stated firmly, leaving no room for argument. “It’s my decision, so don’t hate me or anyone in this room for this, okay? I want what’s best for you.”

“Don’t we have a say in this? And how will you lift the curse?” Kuai Liang’s tone showed his displeasure. He shook you, and the words came out as a snarl. The fire burning in his eyes was evident, his touch alarmingly hot. But behind this intensity, the concern and fear he felt were clear in his expression, open and vulnerable. “Speak!”

“This is a farewell,” Bi-Han said in a single breath, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. “You are saying goodbye to us.”

“No!” Tomas, standing up to Kuai Liang, grabbed your other arm and turned you around to face him. “Tell me it’s a lie.”

You swallowed hard. As your composure, which you tried to maintain, slowly crumbled, your lower lip trembled, and tears flowed freely. An expression of denial appeared on the faces of the three of them, indicating their refusal to accept what was about to happen.

“I’d love to,” you responded to Tomas. “But Bi-Han is telling the truth.” After inhaling deeply, you squared your shoulders and fought back the tears. “I love all three of you very much. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I made a promise, and I will keep it. I will set you free.”

“How?!” Bi-Han appeared in front of you with a roar, gripping your chin and forcing you to meet his furious gaze. “Whatever sacrifice you’re considering, I won’t allow it. Do you hear me?! You’re not doing anything! We will find another solution.”

“There is no other solution,” you said tearfully, freeing yourself from his grip and placing your hand on his. “I can’t set you free any other way, Bi-Han.”

“No. I said no damnit!” Bi-Han’s voice was adamant. “You stubborn woman, listen to me; I won’t allow it.”

“I’m so sorry,” you said, your voice trembling. “I wish there was another way, but it’s the only way, and I’m ready to fulfill it gladly. I’m not going to let you stop this.” You glanced over your shoulder at Liu Kang. The Fire God watched in silence, his gaze betraying a mix of sadness and anger at the injustice of the situation. “I am ready.”

As Liu Kang nodded his approval, an aggressive growl rumbled from Bi-Han’s throat, his dark, furious gaze fixed on Liu Kang now. Layers of frost and sharp ice began to grow on his skin, a chilling armor of determination as he prepared to confront a god to protect you. It was evident that while they respected Liu Kang deeply, you held an even greater significance to them in that moment, compelling them to face him in order to shield you from harm.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t come close—” he warned, his voice carrying the weight of finality.

“I have the utmost respect for you, Lord Liu Kang, but if you take one more step, I will have to attack you.” Tomas’s voice pierced the tense air, devoid of its usual warmth, cold and chillingly clear. His bright eyes, once filled with warmth, now darkened and focused with an intensity that chilled you more than Bi-Han’s powers.

Aware that what you were about to do would haunt you forever, you steeled yourself. Despite the weight of your decision, there was no other choice. Your sole aim was to bring an end to this ordeal swiftly and without further harm. The thought of anyone else being affected by the curse was unbearable.

“Nobody’s going to do anything,” you said, turning your gaze away from Bi-Han and fixing it on the wall behind him. You couldn’t bear to meet their eyes. “I order all three of you to remain in your places and not to move.”

Your command hung in the air, heavy and tense. A suffocating silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of their ragged breaths. This was the first and last time you’d give them orders. It was for their sake, but it didn’t ease the guilt gnawing at you. You’d betrayed their trust. A few more tears escaped down your cheeks as you walked towards the book on the kitchen counter, still avoiding their gazes. You easily slipped out of Bi-Han’s loosening grip, determined to see this through to the end.

As you mentally prepared to pick up the book and materialize into the Fire Temple, it remained stubbornly unmoved. Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried to lift it with both hands, but it felt as if the book weighed a ton. A searing heat radiated from your fingertips to your hand, threatening to melt your skin and expose your bones if you held on any longer. With a small whimper, you pulled your hands back, and Liu Kang came into view.

“The curse knows what you’re about to do, that’s why it won’t let the book move.” He explained.

“But… if we can’t take it with us—then…” you trailed off, a sense of helplessness washing over you.

“Yes,” Liu Kang replied in a carefully flat voice.

“I don’t want them to witness this,” you said, your eyes flickering to the three men you held dear. Their faces revealed a tumult of emotions—betrayal, concern, and fear all intertwined. Despite their futile attempts to defy your command and approach, their efforts proved fruitless. Veins protruded on their skin, and deep furrows etched across their foreheads, with Tomas even beginning to bleed from his nose. Knowing there was no alternative, you fought back a fresh wave of tears, though they continued to betray your resolve. “All right,” you sniffed, quickly dabbing your eyes to dry the tears, lifting your chin to meet Liu Kang’s gaze once more. “Do it quickly, please.”

“Liu Kang!” Kuai Liang shouted, trying to launch the fireballs that appeared in both his hands but failing because of some kind of invisible wall that forced him to stay still. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

“Get away from her!” Bi-Han said furiously. “I swear, if you touch her, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“No, you won’t hurt him.” In as soft a voice as possible, the second command poured from your lips. “This is my last plea to you, please don’t hurt anyone.” Your gaze turned to Sektor, who caught your wordless request. With silent steps, his head tilted to the ground, he approached, took out the hunting knife from the scabbard at his waist, and handed it to Liu Kang.

“No!” Tomas struggled on the spot, shouting, trying every way to break free from the order that was suppressing him. It destroyed you to feel the desperation in his voice. “No, Sektor, stop! Lord Liu Kang, don’t do this. Please!”

“Place your hand on the book. I know it will hurt you, but I will make it as quick and light as possible,” Liu Kang said, falling deaf to the screams behind him. However, there was a weight in his voice that made him seem more mature than he was. You did what he said, taking strength from the gentle expression on his face to keep you calm. A sizzle rose up in your flesh. You bit your lower lip and held yourself back from squealing in pain. You were going to handle this quietly; you were going to stand strong for them.

‘’Repeat after me: as the keeper of this book, I offer a pact. I unbind Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas from the Lin Kuei Clan, the chains that tether them to this book, in exchange for the sacrifice of my own life. From this moment onward, they shall walk free from this curse. My blood and my life shall seal these words.’’

After you echoed his words, despite the screams and chaos around you, Liu Kang delivered the first stab with the knife from Sektor. When the blade pierced under your ribs, you gasped sharply. The pain was more sudden and searing than you had anticipated. Your balance wavered, and the burning pain in your hand seemed insignificant compared to the deep cut now bleeding beneath your ribs. As your misty gaze fell on the book under your hand, you saw the length of the cut forming there.

“Stop! By the elder gods, please stop! Bi-Han, brother, stop them!” Tomas’s desperate cries rang in your ears. Turning your head to him, you murmured in a voice hoping to comfort him.

“It doesn’t hurt, I swear.” Tomas’s expression shattered, his gray eyes shining with unshed tears, making him look younger and more vulnerable than ever. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

When Liu Kang raised his hand for the second blow, you closed your eyes. At that moment, Bi-Han’s furious, despairing voice cut through the air, filled with deadly determination.

“Liu Kang, she’s innocent! Stop it now, or I swear to you—No!” Bi-Han’s voice rang out as the knife plunged into your stomach. Your knees buckled, and you collapsed to the ground, but you kept your hand on the book despite the pain. Your hand went numb, whether from the pain or from the nerves being destroyed, you couldn’t tell. Everything had become a big ball of agony. The metallic taste of blood rose in your throat, filling your mouth. You coughed to avoid choking, and blood splattered around, some of it flowing down your lips.

‘’It’s okay… It… Doesn’t hurt.’’ You managed to murmur, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. Your lips felt numb, as if disconnected from your voice, and your tongue seemed to weigh heavy in your mouth.

“Don’t lift the curse, stop!” Kuai Liang’s cries were muffled by the pounding in your ears. Everything around you blurred into a chaotic whirl of colors and sounds, like trying to focus underwater. Each breath was a struggle, a battle against an unseen weight pressing down on your chest. Despite the pain, you clung to consciousness, fighting to stay present amidst the overwhelming haze of approaching death. “Don’t take her away from us. Please, Liu Kang, stop this madness! Let the curse stay, we want it back. Give it back—Just stop!’’

Liu Kang didn’t stop. As he lowered the knife for the third time, aiming for your heart, you felt a deep slit open in the cover of the book under your hand. Despite the excruciating pain, a weak smile formed on your face as you realized the curse had finally been lifted. It was over. They were free now. You could feel the pressure of the curse lifting, and you knew they must have felt it too. As blood continued to rise from your throat, flowing relentlessly from your lips like a crimson cascade, Liu Kang hesitated before withdrawing the knife, gently lowering you to the ground. Numbness crept through your body like tendrils of frost, slowly engulfing your senses. The pain, once sharp and all-consuming, now ebbed away like a receding tide, leaving behind a dull ache. As your vision blurred and darkness encroached, you could barely discern the outlines of three figures, their forms wavering like shadows in the fading light.

You tried to talk. To say that it doesn’t hurt, you’re glad that you finally lifted the curse and set them free, to say that you loved them with all of your heart even words cannot describe how you felt for them. But the words tumbled meaninglessly from your lips, your tongue felt too heavy and it became increasingly difficult to breathe.

“Shhh, don’t talk. We will save you, qīn’ài. Everything’s going to be fine.”

You felt a hand on top of your head, the gentle caress tracing soothing circles. It was Kuai Liang, you surmised from the familiar touch. His fingers moved with care, each stroke bringing a fleeting warmth that chased away a fraction of the cold surrounding you. Then, a sudden pressure on your wounds jolted you, eliciting a sharp whimper that escaped your lips.

‘’You foolish, stubborn woman! We won’t let you go, did you hear me? Don’t you dare give up on us now. I’ll make your life hell after the act you pulled.”

Bi-Han’s words echoed in your ears. Despite the harshness of his tone, you detected the underlying concern beneath his façade, acknowledging the conflict in his emotions. Each breath became more labored, and you wished desperately to convey your remorse to them. But deep down, you knew that if faced with the same choice again, you would make it without hesitation. Because your love for them outweighed everything else. Yet, as another cough wracked your body, you realized that words were futile. Numbness enveloped you completely, and the chill in the air seeped into your bones, causing you to shiver uncontrollably. You surrendered to the encroaching darkness, unable to resist its pull.

Your heart beat weakly one last time, then stopped completely.

***

Author’s Note: My apologies for the cliffhanger! But I’ve already started writing the next chapter, so you won’t have to wait too long again unless something important comes up. Also, I’ve decided to turn this into a series, as I have a couple of ideas brewing. If you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to share them with me on my blog. If I find them interesting or relevant to the story, I’ll incorporate them into it and give you credit.✨

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